Bite Sized Bits of Fic

Wayne Charity Balls, as it turns out, are boring. He accepted the invitation on a laugh, sure that he'd at least have the opportunity to bug Bruce endlessly, but now he's starting to regret it. It's just all so dull. Dull people, dull conversations, dull food, dull dullness. About the only thing that has any value is the wine.

...Which may, on reflection, be a bit of a problem.

"Mr Jordan," Bruce finally deigns to speak to him two hours into the party, striding over with an insincere playboy smile and an entirely sincere Batman look in his eyes, "I see that you made it."

"That's what she said," he jeers, and has the truly awesome sight of Bruce blinking at him before forcing an ever so casual laugh, "seriously, though, I've been here two hours. Thought you were a detective, or something."

"Only an amateur one," Bruce says jovially, and gives him the subtlest death glare that he's ever seen. God, somewhere in the universe Sinestro is sobbing in envy, "and I've been busy. Lots of arrivals, lots of people that I haven't seen for years. You know how it is."

"Nope."

"Well, you can imagine," Bruce smiles, and it's possibly the nicest order that he's ever received from big bad Bats. Perhaps he really should go to more of these parties, "tell me, Mr Jordan, are you having fun?"

And, God, if he's thinking shit like that perhaps he really is a bit drunk. He beams a little brighter, just to cover it, "not really."

"A great-"

"The people are boring," he declares loudly, but decides that since he's still grinning everything is fine and the scandalized glances around them are for Bruce instead, "their conversations are dull, the music is awful, the canapes leave a lot to be desired and there don't seem to be any closets set aside for the good old pastime of making out. All in all the only actually enjoyable thing is the eye candy."

"Jordan-" Bruce starts warningly, then seems to remember that other people are watching and judging and forces a smile instead, "but Mr Jordan, surely that's a contradiction! You just accused all my guests of being boring."

"I did," he nods grandly, and lowers his voice to a whisper for the grand denouement, "but they're not the eye candy."

"...Oh?"

"You're the eye candy," he declares, and wobbles back a little. Catches himself at the last second, because he's still grinning and so he's fine, "I mean, god, have you seen your ass in that suit? Fucking hell how is anybody supposed to focus on anything else?"

"Hal..." Bruce stares at him for a second, almost thoughtfully, then gives a resigned sigh, "Mr Jordan, how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Only a few glasses," he huffs, and watches Bruce's eyebrows go up. Which is just insulting, really, because he is not anywhere near drunk and there's no reason to act like he is, "one or two. Or three, maybe four. Can you really blame me?"

"I can't, no," Bruce says very deliberately, in that certain tone that means that he'll be catching hell for this the next time he sees Batman, "wouldn't you rather sit down, though? Or lie down somewhere more comfortable? Before you... Ah, fail to indulge further."

He blinks for a second, sways for a second. Bruce watches him, patiently and carefully and with an odd smirk quirking the corner of his lips.

"...So you do have make out closets!"

"Later, Mr Jordan," Bruce says a touch wearily, almost fond as he shakes his head, "we can talk about that later."