What a night!
I waved goodbye as Clark carried away a very drunk Lois Lane.
The down-to-earth reporter shot me a small smile as he and his wife headed for the elevator, leaving behind the empty vintage I'd brought sitting on the table.
Did being a reporter require you to hold your liquor well?
Lois had held up pretty well despite knocking the glasses back. Hell, Clark had drunk even more, and the dude barely seemed buzzed. I had Volition protecting me, and even then I could still feel the effects crawling through my body, even if my mind remained pretty clear.
On the other hand…
Dick was face down against the table, very much passed out.
"Alright, come on, buddy." I shook his shoulder a little and got a groan for my trouble. "Time to go—"
A hand tapped me on the shoulder.
I looked back and saw Barbara holding a Sharpie, a mischievous grin already spreading across her face. Then she pulled out a second one and held it out to me.
So I did what every man should do and accepted it with a smile.
One did not deny the time-honored tradition of scribbling on your shitfaced friends.
"I'll get the left, and you get the right?" I whispered.
Barbara nodded, and the two of us quietly went to work.
The minutes passed as I drew a wonderful masterwork on our drunk friend. By the time I put the Sharpie down, I couldn't help but marvel at my own genius.
Barbara glanced over, saw what I'd done, and had to cover her mouth as she started giggling.
Unfortunately for us, that tiny noise seemed to be enough.
Dick groaned as he slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. I had to bite the inside of my cheek as I saw Barbara's contribution in full. One side of his face looked like he had a beard and a monocle. On top of that she somehow had managed to fit a twirly mustache too.
"…What's wrong?" Dick groggily stared at us. "Is there something on my face?"
"No," we lied.
Perhaps because of the lingering drunkenness, Dick didn't really question it and just grabbed some water from the table. The high-class bar was mostly empty, thankfully, so no one gave it away.
Although Barbara and I did have to mime for silence at the occasional waiter passing by. Despite a few amused glances, none of them commented.
Pulling out my roll of hundreds and dropping some hefty tips probably played a part in that. Or maybe Wayne staff were simply cool.
Bruce Wayne's coolness seemed to rub off on the rest of his business, so I wouldn't be surprised.
As if summoned by the thought, Bruce arrived.
He was walking alongside another black-haired young man, both of them seemingly deep in conversation, so they failed to notice Dick's rather amazing new look at first.
"It's getting a bit late. How about we—"
Bruce froze as he stared.
In an incredible act of self-control I could only respect, I saw only the barest hint of a twitch in his shoulders.
The young man beside him was not nearly so controlled.
"Pfftt…" He bent over as laughter broke out of him.
"What happened?" Dick blinked as he stared at the young man.
"Nothing!" Barbara slapped the young man on the back. "Tim just got something stuck in his throat. Right, Tim?"
"Yeah." Tim quickly recovered and shook his head. "Just a little throat trouble."
"It's late. You should get back to the mansion," Bruce said casually. "The family will be worried if they don't see you."
I got the feeling Dick was in for quite the show, especially once I saw the glee on Barbara and Tim's faces.
"Yep, it's late!" I slapped Dick on the back as I helped guide him toward Tim. "It was amazing meeting you, man!"
Dick grumbled a reply, still a bit wasted, as he leaned on Tim and left the bar. Barbara raised her hand as she came by, and we shared a triumphant grin.
I met her halfway and gave her the best damn high five ever.
We both laughed as she left and followed behind the other two.
Heh.
"Seems you were busy while I stepped out." Bruce snorted as he motioned for me to follow him.
"Barbara's idea, not mine, I swear." I cackled as I followed him onto the bar's balcony.
—
Bruce still felt a faint amusement lingering in his chest at the sight of Dick's rather… artistic face.
"Drawing a dick with the letters of his name," Bruce said, his mouth twitching. "Original."
"The joke was right there." Jean bowed his head exaggeratedly. "How could I possibly ignore it?"
Bruce quietly chuckled as he finished off a small beer.
A comfortable silence settled over the balcony, most of the employees and customers already gone for the night, leaving only the two of them.
Despite… the rather trying events of the night. It was still a relatively relaxing affair compared to his usual schedule.
Bruce wouldn't particularly mind doing a repeat of this, although hopefully with far fewer mentions of Batman next time.
Befriending him wouldn't be so bad if nights were like this.
Should he try to simply invite him more often?
Or would Jean's luck interpret that as some sort of scheme? Could it read intent that clearly?
Perhaps he should–
"Bruce, this may be a bit weird…" Jean Valjean paused, looking oddly hesitant for a man who had spent most of the night loudly insulting Batman. "But I have a request, if you don't mind."
Bruce kept his face still, offering him only a small smile. "Of course. Ask away. No promises, though."
Jean gave a small laugh.
Meanwhile, Bruce's mind moved through a dozen different possibilities. Was Jean about to ask him to back his operations in the city? Something connected to Wayne Enterprises?
Jean sucked in a breath.
"CanIhaveyourautographprettyplease?"
Bruce blinked.
Oh.
"Sure…" Bruce chuckled as he reached for a pen.
"Yes!" Jean pumped his fist as he pulled out a notepad. "Best way to end the night ever!"
Bruce couldn't help but agree that, thankfully, the night seemed to be ending on something mundane.
Then the air rippled.
A green portal screeched open across from them, tearing into existence with a sound that set every instinct in Bruce's body on edge. His hand went to his communicator hidden in his sleeve, but the moment he pressed it, he could already tell the signal had failed.
"Ever cautious, aren't you, Bruce?" a disdainful voice said.
A man stepped through the portal wearing a pantomime of Bruce's own suit. His armor was dark gray, with silver plating along the chest, shoulders, forearms, and boots. His cowl had large white eye lenses, short owl-like points along the sides, and a sharp beak-shaped ridge over the nose, while a heavy black cape hung behind him like folded wings.
Bruce shifted into a fighting stance.
"Owlman, at your—"
"NO BALLS TONIGHT, BAT BITCH!"
A crack of thunder tore through the sky and struck the supposed Owlman dead-on.
"GAH!"
Perhaps because of the extra metal plating, Owlman dropped hard and writhed across the floor, his entire body spasming under the sudden burst of electricity.
"Are you okay, Mr. Wayne?!" Jean grabbed Bruce by the shoulders and shook him. "We gotta get you out of here! Batman's multiplying!"
…What?
"You dare—" Owlman growled.
"AGAIN!"
Another crack of thunder screamed down.
Bruce could only blink away the brightness as Owlman collapsed again, this time with a sharp cry of pain.
The man's hand desperately twitched toward his utility belt.
"He's resisting!" Jean screamed.
A third lightning bolt screamed down and struck Owlman again, paralyzing him mid-reach as he writhed against the floor.
"QUICK!" Jean pulled Bruce forward in a drunken stumble. "STEAL HIS SHIT!"
Bruce's instincts took over, and the two of them proceeded to strip his apparent double with judicious efficiency.
"STOP, YOU—"
"THUNDERRRR KICKKKK!"
Jean's foot shot forward and slammed straight into Owlman's crotch.
The man let out a high-pitched squeal, and Bruce winced as he heard a sickening crunch.
…Bruce was beginning to dread this friendship already.
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.