Kiss and (Don't) Tell

by Anonymous

Summary:

The Justice League think they can figure out Batman’s secret identity. Batman scoffs and says he could kiss all of them on the mouth (in his civilian identity) without them figuring out it’s him. So Batman makes a bet with the Justice League. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 1: A Penny for Your Thoughts

Notes:

Hello, this is my first time posting my writing ever. Saw this amazing Batman the Playboy post on tumblr and laughed, so I decided to give it a shot. Hope you enjoy.

It’s worth noting that this fic will be more kissing the homies than any actual romance. If we do happen to get to romance, it’s going to be BatLantern cause they’re hilarious.

It was no secret to anyone in the Justice League that Batman knew everyone’s secret identities. No matter who you were or how many precautions you took, Batman would know. And he wasn’t even discreet about it, always eager to offer constructive criticism on safeguarding identities or reprimanding certain behaviours he’d labelled as “tells.” It was a subject that would always eventually end up surfacing in meetings. Some people, like Diana, saw no problem in sharing their secrets; but others preferred to keep theirs close to their chests. Naturally, everyone respected each other’s choices at the end of the day; but it was hard at times. And no one made it harder than the Bat.  How exactly was Hal supposed to trust a man that took any given opportunity to insult him? Batman had obviously violated his privacy in order to dig up his identity, which Hal wanted to remain secret , and then went out of his way to remind Hal that he knew before disappearing. Because, naturally, Batman rarely showed up at the watchtower for something other than meetings and monitor duty, never lingering more than what was absolutely necessary. So Spooky would show up for business, be a pain in the ass, and then leave.

All of this made Batman, in Hal’s humble opinion, a total jerk. And today was a perfect example of it. 

The Justice League was supposed to be having some sort of celebration for something that Hal couldn’t quite remember. But it had been important enough to warrant them being in the Watchtower and to bring out the beers, and Hal would never say no to free drinks. It was going great, truly. This was probably the first time they were all together with no world-ending threat in sight. Well, almost all together. But, then again, that was part of why everything was going great: no Batsy. And no Supes either, which kinda sucked, but hey— you win some, you lose some. Hal vaguely remembered Diana saying something about Supes being with Batman doing god knows what. Probably distracting him so he wouldn’t come and ruin the fun. His sacrifice was a nobel one, and Hal would drink in his honour. 

But fate is one cruel thing, and as it happens, Hal’s bat-less joy only lasted for an hour or so. The clock was rounding eleven when the door to the meeting room opened to reveal a smiling Superman. He looked as cheery as always, and Hal was honestly glad to see he had been able to make it after all –until he saw who was behind him. Hal knew the rest of the League had thought the exact same thing as him because of the several choked gasps. And really, Hal wishes he had timed it, because he was certain it took Batman under a minute to start being a condescending piece of shit. 

Wonder Woman smiled at the pair with genuine glee. Diana was probably the only member who was always happy to see Batman, besides Superman. But the biggest difference between her and Supes was that she never saw anything wrong with the Bat’s behaviour. As Clark would look elsewhere awkwardly whenever Batman was a little too mean, Diana would shrug it off without an ounce of concern. She even found the guy endearing somehow! Liking Batman was truly Diana’s fatal flaw. And with that background, it was expected for Diana to be the only one to formally greet them: “Superman, Batman! Thank you for joining us,” she beamed. 

“Yeah, sorry we’re late,” Superman starts, his smile turning more apologetic as he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, “I had to finish something for work, and Batman just had to—”

“Take care of some personal business.”  

And wasn’t that mysterious and purposely obtuse? Well, Batsy had just totally ruined Hal’s good time, so it was only fair that he returned the favour. Sporting his best shit-eating grin, Hal leaned back in his seat, “Oh? What type of personal business?” He made sure to say the next bit in a tone he knew from experience got under the Bat’s skin, “Don’t tell us you got yourself a Bat-lady!” 

On the seat to his right, the Flash tried to hide a chuckle as he averted his gaze. The rest of the room erupted into a buzzing. Superman seemed momentarily uncomfortable with the concept of a “Bat-lady,” but didn’t say a thing after being met with one of Batman’s glares. Not that anyone but the Martian Manhunter truly noticed, all being too busy laughing at the mere idea of Batman being late over a girl. Green Arrow even pretended to wipe a tear from his domino mask as he said,  “So that’s why you won’t tell us anything about your personal life! You don’t want us to steal your girl?” 

Hal contemplated that he perhaps had drunk a little too much as he bursted out laughing. 

Batman allowed them thirty seconds (again, Hal wished he had timed it) of joy before answering as despondent as ever, “Unlike you, I take my privacy as a serious issue and do everything that I can to protect it.” 

Funny how a sentence could immediately drown the happiness out of someone. Not for the first time, Hal wondered if Batman was actually some sort of vampiric creature that fed on the joy of people and left its victims all sad and gloomy —not unlike the Bat himself. Leave it to the Batman to turn a joke into a lecture. If Hal had been a better man (or a sober one), he would not have fallen for the obvious bait Batman had just sprung. But drunk Hal was nothing but petty: “What do you mean, unlike us? ” Air quotes and all.

“For starters, I don’t go around getting drunk in uniform,” Batman grunted as Hal cursed the consequences of his own actions. “I also don’t go around with extremely recognisable features, like a distinctive goatee, out in the open,” he nodded at Green Arrow before narrowing his gaze on Hal. “And don’t get me started with you, Lantern.”

Green Arrow must have also been very drunk, Hal realised, as he squeaked in indignation and said: “Alright, there’s no need to insult my awesome facial hair!”

Hal scoffed, indignation, irritation and all other possible -ation with a negative connotation building up inside him as he stood up from his chair and slammed his hands against the table in a dramatic motion. “The only reason you know our identities is because you’re a rude, nosy bastard who needs to know everything about us like a creep.” He glared at the Bat, maintaining eye contact as a statement despite feeling his soul burn away the longer he kept it going. Hal Jordan would never in his life admit to it, but the Bat was the scariest being he had ever met in all the known universe, and his glares could probably disintegrate a man if he wanted to. But he couldn’t let something as insignificant as absolute terror stop him right now. With all the confidence he could muster, Hal sat back down and crossed his arms as he laid out his killer blow, “We’re not stupid, Spooky, we’re just polite and respect boundaries. We could easily figure you out if we wanted to.” 

Green Arrow, bless his stupid, stupid soul, decided he was also okay with suffering damnation for all eternity alongside Hal and joined in on his charade: “Yeah, just admit you needed the ego boost and move on.” 

Batman paused for a second. It was just a second, but it was a second Hal (and Green Arrow, whatever) had managed to shut Spooky up. He was taking this win and never giving it up. Let it be known Hal Jordan made the Dark Knight, the Batman, hesitate! This was going down on history books! Except Batman didn’t quite get the memo and spoke after said second, “Villains don’t care about boundaries and privacy.” 

Batman’s voice was as flat as ever. Hal pursed his lips in annoyance, already prepared for the incoming fight. Seriously, what was this guy’s deal? The only reason why he managed to pull off the whole mysterious thing was because he refused to be around. If he bothered to be an actual human being instead of being the embodiment of emo, he would most definitely slip here and there with his so-called “tells.” And while it’s true that villains don’t give a damn about privacy, it must mean that everyone, Hal included, was doing something good if they hadn’t figured out the Justice League’s secret identities. That, or— 

“Well, they’re certainly more considerate than you.” Arrow’s words stole a small snort from the Flash, who thus far had remained seated in an anxious silence. He never liked these discussions and often gave Batman the reason. Traitor. But hey, at least he had a sense of humour. 

“Seriously, Spooky, you can’t possibly be as good as you think.” Hal took a moment both for dramatic effect and to cook up the most outrageous thing he could come up with on such short notice, “You talk all big like you could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing it’s you.” 

“I could.”

Hal heard more than saw the Flash falling off his chair while making a choking noise.

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed that and that it wasn't too OOC. The next chapters will hopefully be posted soon. Aaand constructive criticism is more than welcome ^^

You can also talk to me on tumblr if you want.

Chapter title from Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? by Fall Out Boy. Fic title inspired by a Mark Hamil tweet.

Chapter 2: A Dollar for Your Insides

Summary:

The only reason why no one confronted Batman was because Green Lantern wasn’t around.

Notes:

Chapter title from Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? by Fall Out Boy.

As a timeline/reference that’s not too relevant to the story: this is an early days!JL, about a year old. Jason is currently Robin, Nightwing is still more little shit than charmer and the only one that knows about the batfam atm is Clark. JL consists of Batman (duh), Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman and Hawkgirl. The secret ids that have been shared are Diana (she doesn’t really see the point in having a secret identity,) Shayera and J’onn (aliens and such,) and Arthur (he spends most of his time in the water and his surface dwelling family is dead, so it doesn’t matter to him.)

After two and a half weeks of fighting aliens and mediating political conflicts, Hal Jordan was finally back home. Home in its loosest possible definition, of course, since he didn’t bother going back to his shitty apartment, preferring to crash in his much classier room at the Watchtower instead. Hal told himself it was for convenience, but he was not going to pass the opportunity of sleeping on a good bed without having to think about how late his rent was. So after spending some good fifteen hours sleeping on what felt like the pillowy equivalent of heaven, he was almost sad when his alarm went off. Fuck , he thought, as he begrudgingly got out of bed to make himself presentable. The JL’s standard monthly meeting had unfortunately aligned with his return, which meant he’d be expected to deliver a mission report. 

Standing in front of the mirror, Hal combed his hair with his hands to make it look like he hadn’t just gotten out of bed while going over his report. The ring had already filed it for him, but not all the information that was requested by the Guardians was exactly relevant for the Justice League, so he just had to see what made the cut. That, however, wasn’t enough to make Hal feel more eager about pondering whether the details on Groy’s turbulent political climate was worth getting into —or going to the meeting in general. The pros outweighed the cons, however; there was usually a summary of significant events, and the Flash would fill in any blanks if prompted. Better than scouring the internet for hours to figure out what he had missed, for certain. It was probably the only good part of the meetings. Well, that and annoying Batsy.

The thought of Batman lingered for a second, making Hal feel like he was forgetting something important. Thinking about Doctor Doom wasn’t Hal’s preferred hobby, so there had to be something in particular worth thinking about. When was the last time he saw Spooky again? Hal almost felt stupid, squinting at his reflection as he scourged his brain for recent non-space-related memories. It was moments like this in which Hal seriously contemplated starting a journal, as it was slowly getting harder to keep track of everything. But Hal still resisted the idea —he had been called Sailor Moon one too many times, and he refused to feed into the cliche by having a dear diary. Besides, Batman was not going to be how he caved in. Hal just had to think harder. Batman hadn’t been there when he left, and the last time the JL had been all together before that was…

“Fuck,” Hal muttered, meeting his own wide eyes through the mirror. How could he have forgotten that?

 

---

 

Hal arrived at the conference hall twenty minutes early, as per usual, feeling an enthusiasm that had been all but nonexistent an hour ago. And as usual, the only people there were Wonder Woman and Batman. Diana smiled at Hal as soon as she saw him, wrapping him in a hug that did what no chiropractor could to his back. “I am glad to see your travels were safe, my friend,” she greeted. Hal was touched, of course, but noted they should probably have another conversation about how much strength it was safe to use while hugging a regular human. They kept chatting for a couple of minutes, both ignoring Mr. I Am The Night, who was silently typing away into the main terminal with a body language that announced his mood clearer than any sign reading TALK TO ME AND YOU DIE in big red letters ever could. Yeah, Hal was not touching that with a ten foot pole. Not yet at least. 

Conversation with Diana was reaching trivial topics when a loud voice interrupted. “Look who’s back in town,” Green Arrow smiled in that jovial way that made him look like an ad from the 50s while throwing an arm around Hal’s shoulders. From the corner of his eyes, Hal spotted Black Canary rolling her eyes and smiling lightly. Hal barely had the chance to wave at her before being interrogated by Arrow on his latest exploits. Their chat eventually transitioned into recent events because there are only so many lighthearted anecdotes you can pick from a diplomatic mission. Notable Earth events included the New York Yankees setting a new record in something baseball related, apparently.

More people filled the room as the clock mercifully neared the hour, just before Arrow started getting too frustrated with Hal’s lack of interest in sports as a whole, and everyone went to take their seats. Batman was somehow already fully installed in his chair, looking almost bored. How he managed to move without Hal noticing him was beyond him; moments like these made Hal wonder if Spooky wasn’t actually some sort of ghost or half cat— Catman or Batcat? All of Hal’s control was poured into not laughing at the idea when Martian Manhunter materialised in his seat, who was punctual to the t. 

They only had to wait two more minutes for Flash to arrive. Two more minutes with which Green Arrow managed to rope a poor, unsuspecting J’onn into watching a baseball game with him on the weekend. Shayera was only spared from sharing the same terrible fate by a red blur bursting into the room, “Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” Taking his seat next to Hal’s, the Flash mouthed a welcome back before sheepishly glancing at Batsy and Diana. There was a mildly disapproving look from her, a barely concealed groan from Green Arrow and a polite greeting from Superman. Spooky just stared blankly for point two seconds before starting the meeting. 

Eyes fixed on Batman, Hal barely listened to Superman’s report on how he and Hawkwoman rescued people trapped by a hurricane in Mexico and Texas without even realising. Hal had absolutely nothing against the Flash, the guy was totally cool and a good friend. But it always bothered Hal how he got away with being late. Whenever anyone else arrived late, the Bat would tear them a new one. He probably took some sort of sadistic satisfaction in reprimanding people that Hal’s highschool psychology teacher would have a field day with, would probably cite Freud and all. Not to mention he was always mad at Hal no matter what he did. But if it was Flash, nothing.

Professionalism was more important than petty jealousy or whatever else this could be called, Hal decided. At least for what was left of the meeting. So with that in mind, he delivered a summary of his activities in Sector 459 and their possible impact on Earth without a speck of guilt in him over the shitshow he was going to start on purpose.  As he sat back down, Hal caught Arrow’s gaze. Neither of them may be psychic, but green-to-green communication proved to be effective right then because Hal could almost hear the Are you doing it? He almost scoffed at that. There was no way in hell he was letting it go. Hal Jordan smelled a challenge, and he would rather give up his ring than back down. Green Lantern must annoy Batman. It’s his true purpose. 

It was just a matter of timing.

The meeting officially wrapped up nearly half an hour later. Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone got up, looking for some idle chatter before going back to their Saturday afternoons. Hal himself would already be getting his ears talked off by either Flash or Arrow at that point, but today was different. There was a rather limited window of time to act in because Batman always managed to Houdini his ass out of the Watch Tower as soon as Diana said her goodbyes to him. Based on the way both Superman and Diana were currently talking to him, Hal calculated less than a minute before the Bat’s disappearance act. It’s now or, well, next month , Hal thought. But Hal Jordan knew there was no time like the present and Green Lantern was a man on a mission. Summoning all the charm that being a flyboy bestowed upon you, Hal stretched out, being the only person still sitting down, before calling out: “So, Spooky.”

All eyes on the room fell on Hal, turned to Batman, and then bounced back to him. The Bat was completely still, but it was hard to say if it was a startled kind of freezing or his usual brand of motionlessness provided by his gargoyle genes. Arrow sneered before making his way next to Hal, J’onn stared intently and Flash sat down again. Deliberately provoking the Bat wasn’t out of the ordinary for Hal, but doing it after and not during a meeting? That was new. With the public engaged, Hal was almost giddy. “How’s the smooching going?” No time or patience for foreplay at the moment, Hal’s plan for world domination of the day had to be concise and precise. He gave Bats a three second interlude (time he spent staring blankly at Hal, of course) to answer before continuing, “You know, you said you totally could kiss us full on the lips without us knowing. I thought I’d ask for an update on that?” The same type of cockiness that had gotten Hal a broken nose in the Air Force practically oozed out of him as he said: “Or was it all bark and no bite?”

 “I could do it, but I won't.” The reply came a little too quick, something that both caught Hal off guard and made his stomach swoop a bit. Batman usually favoured long suffering sighs, smouldering glares and icy silences over the normal, direct answers of a normal person. Getting such a direct and intense response, albeit in the strangely monotone way the Bat managed to be intense in. 

The Flash saved Hal from having to think about it too much by perking up, “Why’s that?” All curiosity, zero malice. Lame. 

Things were back to scheduled programming, it seemed, because the Bat took a breath before speaking again: “Informed Consent.” A spike of something red and dizzying churned in Hal’s stomach at Spooky’s tone. It was spoken in a way that made such a short answer feel like both the most obvious thing in the universe and an invaluable treasure. “I will not risk making any of you feel violated, or manipulated, for the sake of a stupid bet.”

The Flash gave a solemn nod, seemingly satisfied. Bullshit. That was just total and absolute bullshit. Nothing but excuses, a fancy way to divert attention. The sneaky bastard was manipulating the situation to make it look like he had the moral high ground and prompt others to back him up, instead of admitting he actually couldn't do it. Hal Jordan was not going to allow this to happen. Good thing he brought backup, and good thing said backup was dumb enough to follow Hal into certain death because he was still salty over a comment on his goatee. It was a matter of honour at this point, but it worked in Hal’s favour, so no complaints.

“So if we give consent, we’re fair game?” Arrow doesn’t even wait for any type of confirmation before continuing, “Try me, Batman. Even you can’t pull this off.”

Maybe Canary was too good for Arrow after all. She was too smart for someone with so little self preservation and no powers whatsoever to make up for it. But Hal was no relationship advisor, and couldn’t have said it better himself, so he ceased what he had been given in the form of Arrow’s nonexistent brain to mouth filter —something they had quickly learnt they shared in common. Sending a quick smile his way, Hal then turned to eye the rest of the League before extending the most cordial invitation, “Anyone else game?”

Silence again. The sound of his own heartbeat is deafening in Hal’s ears. He has no idea why this whole ordeal has been so incredibly entertaining, but the idea of it stopping so suddenly and in such an anticlimactic way was gut wrenching. Come on , he thought, you owe me a good laugh at least . And then the universe must have decided to grant his pathetic ass that one wish as the long awaited compensation for his life because, holy shit , Supes and Diana might have resigned themselves to death by Batman with the way they exchanged a quick look before the Wonder Woman bursts out laughing and says,  “It could be amusing.” 

And that was all it took to obliterate the ice because the Flash snorts, “Come get me, hot stuff! I’ll call you out!”

When the Martian Manhunter perks up, Hal is certain Batman managed to bash his head in at some point in the conversation, because there is no way in hell this was real. He studied the Bat for a moment before saying:  “I would be far too difficult a target.” 

The way he said it so wholeheartedly makes Hal think he will be the one doing the kissing here. Arrow first, then J’onn, because the way the Bat’s jaw clenches with the archer’s next statement was extremely satisfying, “Not just you. C’mon, Spooky, flirting well enough to get a kiss from me? I’m a classy lady.”

Black Canary’s sigh is somewhere between regretting all of her choices up until that point and asking a higher power for strength as she muttered, “D-class, maybe.” She received a blinding smile from Arrow in return, which made Hal understand why she willingly put up with all of that. Rolling her eyes, she smiled back before saying, “I’m in.”

Superman looked a bit nervous, but eventually raised a hand while his eyes were fixed very firmly on the wall in front of him. Wow, Hal didn’t see that one coming. He was not complaining though, “So that’s it then,” he was not even bothering with not sounding smug or keeping appearances, “anyone else?”

Shayera decided that enough foolishness had been indulged, decisively spoiling the mood with a simple: “No.” She was clearly trying to maintain her air of noble warrior, and maybe even a bit confused by the situation. Or at least trying to project that image, but Hal caught the shadow of a smile on her face and immediately knew that, more than anything, she was hoping for some entertainment. Hal would be more than glad to provide. 

“I’ll have to pass as well,” said Arthur. There was a joke to be made on Aquaman and wet blankets, but Hal was limiting the amount of JL members out for Green Lantern’s head to one for the day. “If I weren’t married, however,” he trailed off. Scratch that, Arthur was actually the funniest man alive. Fish? Funniest fish-man alive.  

“Batman, if you can kiss… how many people raised their hands?” Taking his sweet time to keep the act up, Hal made it a point to count on his fingers just because he knew it would be annoying. “Ah yes,” he gestured around lightly, “half the Justice League, without anyone realising it’s you, then you win.” He sweetened the deal by smiling dashingly as Batman scoffed and walked out, leaving the Justice League in stitches at their joke. Because, Batman? Being good enough at not only normal human interaction, but being skilled enough on flirting to land a kiss on half the league? Without having to rely on flash cards or divine intervention while making it so none of them recognise his body language, his voice and his build? Hal had seen miracles enough, but there was not a thing in the universe that could make this one happen.

Notes:

Hello. Sorry for disappearing for like three months? Oh well, we’re here now.

I was very surprised to see the amount of attention this got when I got back though —so big thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos all throughout. Now, I’m not going to lie, I am a bit scared for how the rest of the fic is going to go— I feel the rest will not be as good as the first chapter was. But what to do. So I hope you enjoyed this.

In other news, finding information on Green Lantern sectors was a fucking nightmare. I was probably looking it up wrong, but ended up finding this page. If anyone else knows another place to get GL lore, this is me kindly asking you to share.

Feel free to scream at me on tumblr ★

Chapter 3: Expensive Mistakes

Summary:

Brucie Wayne catches two birds with one party.

Notes:

Chapter title from Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) by, you guessed it, Fall Out Boy!

Happy December :)

When she started getting more serious with Ollie eight months ago, she failed to take into consideration the type of situations a formal relationship would entail. At the time, taking off the masks seemed like the most sensible way of continuing the relationship –and for the most part, it was. But it wasn’t too long after Dinah realised that she was probably expected to attend the next family dinner that she found herself wearing the most expensive shoes she had ever owned, walking down the red carpet next to Ollie. 

As it turned out, Oliver Queen wasn’t just some sweet, funny guy with a thing for chilli when removing the quiver from the equation, he also happened to be a famous millionaire. And while that explained a lot about him, it also meant that Dinah had been to more parties in the past six months than she had ever been to throughout high school.

Three premiers, two galas and one rather disastrous birthday dinner later, Dinah would like to think she was getting the hang of it. Yes, the parties and the people were exhausting; but after breaking her back between the office and the tights, there was something liberating in pretending to be a normal person (as normal as a rich person can be, of course.) And perhaps, it was the concept of pretending that had made her weary. When Ollie had first told Dinah that they had gotten invited to a charity gala in Gotham of all places, Dinah hadn’t been thrilled. She obviously wasn’t under any obligation to attend; Oliver had made that perfectly clear from the start. She ultimately agreed however, contemplating the strange glint in Ollie’s eyes.

Dinah was still in sweatpants but with her makeup done as she lazed on the hotel bed, going through some notes for the appointments she had scheduled for the next week when she finally asked Oliver what was so interesting about this particular event. “The parties are great and all,” Oliver was smoothing his white button-up as he spoke, only glancing back at Dinah through the full length mirror. “But the amount of money Brucie convinces people to funnel into charities  is impressive .”

Snapping her binder closed, Dinah rolled her eyes playfully. Oliver’s criteria for something impressive was unintelligible on a good day. “And you’re excited because of that,” she said, grabbing the long blue dress she’d wear for the night, “and not because he was a very dear friend?”

“He was,” Ollie smiled distantly, “for the year I knew him at school before he disappeared.”

“Well, he must’ve had a lasting impression.”

Ollie seemed to consider that for a moment, eyes no longer looking at the mirror but right through it. “I guess he did,” he finally said. They hadn’t been close in years, and maybe never had been at all, but a part of Oliver would never forget the strange and slightly off putting teen he met in boarding school. From what Dinah gathered, he used to be that type of person that you wouldn’t normally notice, but when you did, it was impossible to stop —a far cry from the man she had met a couple of times. “He changed a lot,” Oliver finally concluded, “but I’m kinda glad to know he’s still one of the good guys, you know?”

Dinah liked to think she knew. But instead of being reassuring, she chose to raise an eyebrow lightly and pin Oliver under an exaggeratedly inquisitorial look, “Should I be worried?”

There was a beat of silence while Ollie processed what Dinah was implying. He let a snort out, “Maybe a little.”

When they arrived at the gala, the thought of Bruce Wayne was barely present, overshadowed by the rollercoaster of emotions that those types of events provoked. Oliver immediately started greeting people while Dinah did her best to appear polite instead of completely disinterested. She was keeping an ear on the conversations, more out of habit than anything and was careful enough to smile slightly and nod occasionally. They were half an hour into the night, and she started contemplating asking Ollie if they could ditch the party early and go eat burgers, when her eyes met someone else’s across the room. Twenty seconds later, there’s a handsome man with a radiant smile offering his hand for a greeting.

“Dinah, darling,” she took his hand and Bruce’s smile only grew brighter as he spun her around to show off her dress. “Good to see you again. You look stunning!”

Dinah smirked, “What else is new?”

The laughter that followed her remark was deep and jovial, but it was interrupted not a second later by Oliver. He made his presence known with a loud cry of ‘ Brucie!’ before throwing his arms open as he went to squeeze the poor man’s organs out of place with the medieval torture method he liked calling a hug. Surprisingly, Bruce didn’t seem to mind one bit, embracing Oliver briefly before parting. Ollie then rested an arm around Bruce’s shoulder and batted his lashes at him, “Missed me?”

Bruce arched a brow, mischievous glint in his eyes, “You wish.”

Completely unmoved, Ollie just laughed before promptly skipping any sort of small talk and asking about the kids. The way in which Bruce’s whole face lit up even more as he started talking was enthralling in a way. He proudly told them about how Richie was graduating high school next year. Being more interested in the reactions than the conversation itself, Dinah studied Bruce’s expressions carefully. Despite being well known as a playboy and a bit of an airhead, Dinah had soon learned that Brucie Wayne enjoyed hearing other people speak more than speaking himself. He was rather skilled at keeping up conversations and entertaining guests, but there weren’t many topics that genuinely got him to talk like his kids did. When Bruce got to how Jay had already read all the new books he got for his birthday three months ago, Ollie interjected with a: “You got quite a bookworm, huh?” 

“You have no idea,” Bruce answered, “I never knew someone could read so much.”   He looked about ready to start talking again; however, his eyes suddenly widened in sudden realisation. He checked his watch in a clumsy move before looking up apologetically. “Sorry, I have to go,” he offered a rush goodbye and almost ran off before an idea crossed his mind. “Wait, how about you stay for the after party? We can catch up then.” 

Dinah and Ollie exchanged a quick look. I’ll make it up to you , Ollie said with his eyes. They both smiled back at him. “We’d love to,” she said. 

“Great, I’ll be seeing you then” 

 

---

 

The afterparty was so into the night that it was technically morning when a rather drunk Veronica Vreeland brought up spin the bottle. The feeble boredom that had started to itch under Dinah’s skin itched under everyone else’s. She took a sip of her Italian soda, hiding a smile behind the glass as she watched the idea be bounced around. Going to more parties than she ever had during high school apparently included playing the games she rarely did back then. It was a similar enough setting too, lazing around in a room with tipsy strangers, only recognising one or two faces distantly. Oliver and Bruce had left at some point to fetch more alcohol, but they had yet to come back. 

“Spin the bottle?” One of the men Dinah hadn’t quite caught the name of spoke. He hadn’t been noteworthy for most of the evening, offering dull commentary and blatantly fake laughter. “I think I’ll have to step back for this one.”

A blonde girl in a red dress whined, “How come?”

“No offence, Vero,” the man started, and Dinah got the distinct impression that she wouldn’t like what he’d say next,”but as exciting as the prospect of two ladies kissing may be, I’m not risking having to kiss Albert over there.” 

How much was good food and a little fun worth when faced with a total jerk, again? Jaw clenched, Dinah schooled her expression into something that didn’t scream rage and started piecing together an acceptable but not particularly polite way to tell the guy to fuck off. Ollie’s blooming laughter interrupted her efforts, however. He pushed the mahogany double doors open and walked into the parlour without a care in the world, two unopened bottles of scotch in hand and Bruce in tow. “Warren,” he tutted, setting the bottles down on the centre table, “Don't tell me you’re scared of a little action?” 

Warren took a moment to hopefully choose his words carefully: “I just rather not have that type of action, Queen.”

“Why not?” Ollie shrugged, sounding like he couldn’t possibly fathom it. There were some small giggles around the room, Warren’s indignation only provoking them further. When Ollie’s eyes fell on her, Dinah let out a laugh of her own, earning a wink from him. Suddenly, in one fluid move, Oliver placed a hand on Bruce’s chin and smoothly pulled him in for a kiss. It was barely a peck in all honesty, their lips only meeting briefly; but there was a moment in which the world seemed to stop alongside Dinah’s heart, she could do nothing but watch intently as Ollie’s green eyes met Bruce’s icy blues. He smiled, an alluring and enigmatic thing that Dinah knew usually went with bedroom eyes. Then, as abruptly as it had started, Oliver stepped away. “I’ll go fetch the glasses,” he said airily, “you guys get started with the game.” He made his way to the doors that had been left ajar with the same demeanour someone taking a stroll in the park had, leaving a rather bashful looking Bruce and a deafening silence. 

I’ll make it up to you, Ollie had said. Dinah was suddenly very interested in what he had in mind.

The feeling of ice spilling on her lap and the consequent shriek were both effective in snapping Dinah out of it. Being catapulted back into awareness of her surroundings, she was quick to piece together what happened. Perhaps the look of assessment she intended to give Clarissa was a bit withering, because the woman practically yelped out: “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” Her anxious attempt to help clean up was unbalanced, she managed to knock down the high table as she approached Dinah. 

“It’s okay,” Dinah starts

“No, no,” she pleaded, dabbing uselessly at the skirt with a paper napkin. 

“Let me,” Bruce said as he gently signalled for Clarissa to step aside. “We’ll wash it off, don’t worry,” he reassured the woman before guiding Dinah through the hall. One or two turns later, and Bruce finally stops at a door, opening it gingerly and stepping aside to let Dinah in first. It was a bedroom, with a neatly made full bed, a half full bookshelf, a bare desk and a wardrobe. Before Dinah could ask why they were there, Bruce had already disappeared into the adjacent bathroom. He re-emerged with a bowl and a towel, ushering her to sit down on the bed. Kneeling down in front of her, Bruce starts soaking the tip of the towel with the liquid in the bowl and patting the skirt with it. It was the first time Dinah takes a proper look at the stain, and she realises it’s not good. The fabric of the dress was thick enough for her not to feel it, but she then saw whatever Clarissa had spilled on her was dark and sticky —in conclusion, something that would be a hell to clean. 

The liquid Bruce was washing the skirt with foamed, which meant it was most likely a cleaning product and not just water. A sense of endearment tugs in Dinah’s chest as she watches Bruce work, a part of her wondering how often he had to do this that he had a cleaning solution ready in the nearest bedroom. The decision on how to proceed was already taken, so Dinah pulled Bruce up to eye level, “Thank you.” 

Bruce watched her carefully, something dark building in his eyes. “Sure,” he answered softly. His eyes glazed over, and his lips parted. He drifted a bit closer, “Can I—” The sentence was left hanging, his lips suddenly being met by Dinah’s. She dragged him closer, making the kiss deeper, enjoying the way he unfolded into it. Distantly, Dinah heard the door being opened. 

“I can’t believe you started without me,” Olie gasped dramatically. Bruce parted abruptly, a light blush on his cheeks and shame written on his face. Yet, upon meeting Oliver’s eyes, his expression changed to something more amused. Bruce knew an ambush when he saw one. Leaning casually against the doorframe, Oliver couldn’t have been more shameless in his satisfaction with the situation, and Dinah’s own pleased smile was hard to ignore as both their eyes were fixed on him. 

Then, with a terrible lightness, Bruce let go of Dinah. He stepped towards Oliver with his eyes lowered, only to drag him by the collar into a smothering kiss. “There, all even,” he whispered, and promptly left the room. 

Notes:

I got sick like three times while writing this and had a bunch of other [unfortunate] things happen. But since I am an optimist, I have full faith that the next chapters should be released with a maximum of a month in between.

In other news, Did you know there’s barely any fics with Dinah and Ollie as the main pairing? I read Green Arrow and Black Canary Wedding Special trying to get a better grasp on them. And, as funny as it was to see Dinah in a wedding dress kick Deathstroke in the balls, I think I need an easier introduction to their relationship. So I’m open to recs.

But, yeah. I hope you liked this chapter. I already started drafting a couple, so let me know who you’d like to see be smooched next (^^;)