The first time Bruce Wayne met Alex it was at a society function. He’d broken two ribs and the second and third metatarsals on his left hand two days before. He was in a horrible mood, possibly deepened by a fever headache, but Alfred insisted he had to attend. So he’d put on the new John Varvatos suit they’d had tailored to fit him and that he secretly thought made his neck look big, hopped in a smashing red Tesla Roadster he’d bought, because if Alfred wouldn’t let him drive around in a Prius he could certainly have in the next best thing, and grinned like his face had been botoxed that way.
“Oh you really must meet Alexander!” Sabina, the hostess was telling him. “He’s an actor, you know, on that HBO show True Blood. Man’s an absolute laugh riot. Don’t know how I ever persuaded him to come.”
Bruce kind of agreed with the later statement, but his lips curled up sweetly and he said some flattering comment he’d be throwing up for days over. He was absolutely sure he did not want to meet Alexander. He never wanted to meet people at these events. The last person he’d wanted to meet at these events had half his face burnt off and then went mad. That seemed to happen a lot. He tried not to sigh as she led him over to a man holding court in the corner.
He was very tall, this Alexander. Bruce did not like having to look up to meet his eyes. He was also quite drunk. Charmingly drunk, Sabina would probably say. Bruce just saw it as uncontrollable excess. But he unfurled the smile and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure,” he said shaking Alexander’s hand.
“And you Mr. Wayne, I’ve heard quite a lot,” he replied. His accent barely tinged the corner of his words, but Bruce who didn’t know anything about him beyond the True Blood business, was quite sure he was Scandinavian.
Sabina left him them to go talk to somebody else and a bottle-blonde debutante barely out of her teens waltzed up, flirting wickedly with Alexander and batting her eyelashes at Bruce. Bruce did his best to be charming and at the first available moment turned slightly to watch the crowd, which as a testament to how boring the conversation was, was far more interesting than the current gossip in Los Angeles. After a moment jailbait debutante swept off to bother somebody else and Alexander turned to him.
“You don’t like parties, do you?” It was more of observation than a question.
Bruce blinked and made a face. “Please, what makes you say that?”
Alexander snorted, took another sip of his wine and said, “That tie makes your neck look big.” Bruce arched a brow. Alexander smiled back, one half of his mouth quirking up higher than the rest. “But the rest is pretty good.”
This time it was Bruce’s turn to snort. “I hope you have a lovely night.”
Alex said with a grin around a mouthful of wine, “Oh, I shall.”
Bruce turned away and rolled his eyes. He resolved to feign deafness the next time he came to Sabina’s parties, surely a trap and skeet accident could be engineered. Ugh, if only Bruce Wayne weren’t in his own small pathetic way necessary. Sure that he would never see Alexander again, he didn’t think anymore about him.
That was his first mistake.
*
Expect Brokeback the Musical tomorrow, along with more of ASkars/Batman. Saying that pairing aloud is actually one of my chief pleasures right now.
ASkars's epic love with Batman
“Oh you really must meet Alexander!” Sabina, the hostess was telling him. “He’s an actor, you know, on that HBO show True Blood. Man’s an absolute laugh riot. Don’t know how I ever persuaded him to come.”
Bruce kind of agreed with the later statement, but his lips curled up sweetly and he said some flattering comment he’d be throwing up for days over. He was absolutely sure he did not want to meet Alexander. He never wanted to meet people at these events. The last person he’d wanted to meet at these events had half his face burnt off and then went mad. That seemed to happen a lot. He tried not to sigh as she led him over to a man holding court in the corner.
He was very tall, this Alexander. Bruce did not like having to look up to meet his eyes. He was also quite drunk. Charmingly drunk, Sabina would probably say. Bruce just saw it as uncontrollable excess. But he unfurled the smile and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure,” he said shaking Alexander’s hand.
“And you Mr. Wayne, I’ve heard quite a lot,” he replied. His accent barely tinged the corner of his words, but Bruce who didn’t know anything about him beyond the True Blood business, was quite sure he was Scandinavian.
Sabina left him them to go talk to somebody else and a bottle-blonde debutante barely out of her teens waltzed up, flirting wickedly with Alexander and batting her eyelashes at Bruce. Bruce did his best to be charming and at the first available moment turned slightly to watch the crowd, which as a testament to how boring the conversation was, was far more interesting than the current gossip in Los Angeles. After a moment jailbait debutante swept off to bother somebody else and Alexander turned to him.
“You don’t like parties, do you?” It was more of observation than a question.
Bruce blinked and made a face. “Please, what makes you say that?”
Alexander snorted, took another sip of his wine and said, “That tie makes your neck look big.” Bruce arched a brow. Alexander smiled back, one half of his mouth quirking up higher than the rest. “But the rest is pretty good.”
This time it was Bruce’s turn to snort. “I hope you have a lovely night.”
Alex said with a grin around a mouthful of wine, “Oh, I shall.”
Bruce turned away and rolled his eyes. He resolved to feign deafness the next time he came to Sabina’s parties, surely a trap and skeet accident could be engineered. Ugh, if only Bruce Wayne weren’t in his own small pathetic way necessary. Sure that he would never see Alexander again, he didn’t think anymore about him.
That was his first mistake.
*
Expect Brokeback the Musical tomorrow, along with more of ASkars/Batman. Saying that pairing aloud is actually one of my chief pleasures right now.