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The Birthday Present	By : Kip Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 8479 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Batman series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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It had been a slow night, until he'd spotted a very familiar and unwelcome face in the darkened alley below.
Joker! What are you doing around here? Nothing good, that's for sure! Stealthily, Batman started to tail the arch villain, being careful not to lose him or to let himself be spotted.
The old theatre! So that's where he's hiding out these days? Hauling open the trapdoor on the roof, Batman let himself down carefully into the maze of gantry's and boardwalks up in the higher levels of the old building. It was sheer bad luck that several of the boards were rotten, and even worse luck that the Joker happened to be standing below when bits of decaying timber started raining down onto the old stage.
"It's the Batman!" Gesturing for his henchmen to cover the stairs, Joker tugged on a rope, and the floor dropped out from under Batman's booted feet. The Dark Knight barely had time to fling out a line to arrest his fall, when the mob descended.
Kicking and punching his way through the hired help, Batman sent the last man into unconsciousness just in time to feel something impact on his armoured chest.
Gas! And of course everyone else in the building was immune… Shit! Dizzy, he swayed for a second, until a crashing blow to the side of his head felled him, and his own personal lights went out.

Waking up was as unpleasant as he'd expected, as much to do with the company as the suddenness.
"So, Batman … How very typical," Joker leered even more widely than usual, busily running the end of a sharpened spike along the contours of one of Bruce’s armoured thigh-plates.
"Snooping around as usual, poking your snout in where it's not wanted." The deadly lunatic frowned, "You do have such wonderful toys though … I wonder how this suit comes off?"
"It doesn’t." Batman told him.
Not for you, anyway...
"Oh, it must do sometime…" Joker waggled a suggestive eyebrow then held his nose, "Ewww, really!"
Somewhere off to one side, Harley Quinn was giggling.
That woman has definitely got a screw loose… Bruce thought darkly.

"You're getting too predictable, Joker!" Batman growled, subtly testing the strength of the restraints that bound his wrists and ankles to whatever he was lying on.
"Perhaps, but I'm sure we can remedy that!" Joker grinned happily. "You see, when I got in this evening I lit a fire … It's good for what ails you!"
"Mistah J … It's getting a bit warm in here." Harley hurried over.
"I do tend to agree with you, Pumpkin." The Clown Prince of Crime sniffed. "My, my, do I smell something burning?" He glanced around. "Harl, did you overcook the toast again?"
"Mistah J…" The clown girl sounded anxious.
"Yeah, maybe it is time to love him and leave him." Joker agreed. "I'd like to stay and watch you die, Batman; but I've got other fish to fry,” He turned to Harley, “Or should that be kippers to smoke?" Bantering good-naturedly about that, Joker and his sidekick headed off. Presently there was the sound of an outer door opening, "Oh yeah, Bats? I forgot to say … FIRE!!!" The Joker called back, just before the door slammed.
"Fire?" At that moment, Bruce finally realised that he had been smelling smoke for quite some time, "Hell! The building's alight!"
Escaping their subterranean confines, the flames finally made their stage debut: licking up the brick walls, tasting the bundles of cloth and gulping down the dusty props left over from better days, and growing as they ate.
Got to get out. The whole place is going up! The stage could collapse at any minute! Struggling against his bonds, Bruce fought urgently to free himself.
"Batman!" The call cut through the snap and snarl of the blaze, "Hold on!"
"Nightwing…" Bruce's response was ragged, forced from a dry throat. Dick! No!!!
"I'm coming!" The younger hero was shouting.
"No… get out, save yourself…" Above his head, Bruce could clearly see the wisps of smoke beginning to leak out of the massive roof beam.
That beam's already alight inside. Chained down onto the ancient table, his arms ached as he continued to fight the restraints. The draught from the aerial trap-door was keeping the smoke at bay, even as it fed the fire.
Why can't I feel the heat? The idea tormented him almost as much as the pain in his pinioned limbs. What had those two lunatics done to him?
"Batman!" That voice didn’t belong to his former Robin, the pitch was far deeper than Nightwing's and with a much better bass.
That's…

A sudden jolting rush of air and speed, and Bruce was free; at least free of the table. Finding himself slung over a pair of massive shoulders like a sack of potatoes, instinctively Bruce tried to retain at least a semblance of dignity. Like that was going to happen…
No point resisting. Kal's in full Superman mode, which means that he intends to save me whether I want him to or not…
Trying to relax into a relatively comfortable position while not letting himself get too shaken around, Bruce settled for being rescued with minimal bruising. Being airsick over a buddy was not good for a person's street cred, or for a friendship; especially when in fact you were really no more than a few feet off the ground…
"There!" Kal deposited him gently, but triumphantly, out on the cobbled street, very decently letting Bruce hold onto him while coughing the few traces of smoke out of his lungs.
"Green Lantern got Nightwing away safely." Superman anticipated the question that his caped colleague was fighting to form. "Easy there … you want a glass of water or something?"

Bruce nodded weakly, while managing not to choke too obviously. Keeping Kal occupied sounded like an excellent idea.
That way it might not occur to him to offer to donate me some extra oxygen… I have no intention of looking like I'm sucking face with him in public … medicinal purposes or not… That Lane woman is bound to turn up, stalking Kal, and that would be just too damned embarrassing; even without factoring in cameras. It's bad enough Kal spends half his costumed life hauling her arse out of trouble; I don’t want her getting any ideas about me becoming the competition.
Bruce prided himself on his understanding of human nature, and it hadn't taken him long to sum up Lois Lane: from the second he first saw her he had known that she would be Trouble, with a very big capital T…
The damned woman knows too much about everyone, including me. When she finally gets her claws out, I don’t want it to be my face that she's aiming at… A wave of dizziness swept over him, but thankfully, before he could fall over and embarrass himself totally, the steadying hand returned...
"Batman?" Kal offered him a deliciously cool looking glass of water with one over-large hand, while gripping him around the shoulders with the other arm. "You okay?"
"Mmm." Bruce sank the entire offering in one long swallow. That felt good! And of course, neatness freak that he was, Kal would have made sure the glass was perfectly clean too…
He’ll make someone a good wife one day… Bruce thought sarcastically.

"How did you manage the fire-proofing? J'Onn could make use of that…" The Kryptonian was asking.
"Fire-proofing?" Bruce stared at his friend through watery eyes.
"Yes, that coating you were wearing?"
"Coating?" Did Kal need his eyes examined? "What coating?"
"That darkish layer? It was all over you when I pulled you out of there?" Kal prompted tactfully. "It seems to have dissipated now though…"
"Kal, you can be as polite as you like. I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Despite the way he was feeling, which was pretty awful, but a lot better than he ought to be feeling, given that he should technically have been part-roasted by now, Bruce was careful not to offend Kal: the Big Guy was a lot more easily upset than people supposed.
Sensitive… Hardly the sort of descriptor you expect to apply to someone who smashes through concrete walls with his bare hands… Then again, very few people had seen the way Kal tended to snivel softly to himself and chew at his lip while watching Bambi … Mutual time spent at voluntary fundraising events had revealed far too much of the inner Man of Steel: not that Bruce was complaining, since it usually gave him an uncanny amount of ammunition …

"No…" Sandy was muttering. "I won't let you… won't let you hurt him…" He twisted on the wide sofa, shifting restlessly, "No heat, take it away…"
Poor lad, nightmares just like young Bruce: those two are ideally suited. As Alfred approached the sleeping man, the elderly butler rubbed at his eyes. Just for a second it had seemed as if Sandy were glowing slightly.
Too many late nights, old man … you need a holiday … or an optician…
"Bruce!!!" Sandy bolted upright in the chair, startling them both.
For a second neither man spoke.
"Master Sandy, are you alright?" Alfred enquired politely.
Sandy thought that over, "Uh … I'm fine thanks Alfred; I must have fallen asleep."

"Indeed you did, sir, about an hour ago." Alfred gestured to the tray of sandwiches and drinks located on a convenient table. "I checked on you earlier; however, I deemed it best to leave you to your rest, since you seemed to be quite comfortable at that point."
The blond ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at a wayward curl.
"Was the dream very unpleasant, sir?" Alfred asked, passing him a cup of freshly brewed tea.
"Only the last bit really." Sandy pulled himself upright. "But it was strange all the way through."
"Strange? In what sense?" The Butler enquired.
"Well… I knew I was dreaming about Bruce, only I couldn’t ever see his face. In fact I couldn’t really see any of him." The blond glanced at Alfred. "Except I knew it was him…"
"Such is often the case in dreams." Alfred agreed. "Quite often the sleeping mind substitutes one thing for another."
"Yeah…" Sandy blinked.
"What happened … in the dream?" Alfred wondered, "To cause you such distress at the end?"
"Bruce was going to be burned alive," Sandy said softly. "Alfred, is there any way to reach him? See if he's okay? I don’t want to fuss, or worry him; but …"
"But you are unsettled?"
"Yes."
"I suggest that you ready yourself for bed, I shall attempt to telephone Master Bruce and check if he has determined what time he will be returning."
"Do those corporate defence sessions always go on so long?" Sandy wondered absently.

"These things vary tremendously; there is no set pattern," Alfred stuck diligently to the cover story that Bruce had created, "Can you recall any features of the dream?" He asked, hoping to distract the younger man so that he would not actually have to lie to the blond.
"Sort of. I think it was down-town Gotham? The bit they call The Narrows?"
"I am familiar with it." Alfred acknowledged. Both the term and the damned place… the amount of times I have had to go and collect an injured Batman from the clinic, after poor Dr Thompkins has repaired him yet again...
"It was very dark." Sandy hesitated.
"I believe that is usually the case in that area." Alfred agreed. "But you were saying?"
"There was a large building, some sort of cinema? No! A Theatre! That was it … rows of ruined seats and a huge wooden stage. Anyway, there was a man there. He had a white face and bright green hair. He looked like he was wearing some sort of awful lipstick … Like a clown?"
"Most unpleasant." Alfred nodded. That sounds exactly like the Joker…

"Unpleasant was the word for it." Sandy shivered. "In the dream Bruce was trailing him along the streets, and the back alleys, then he followed him into the theatre building. The other man caught him following, and for some reason they started to fight. I don’t know why, there didn’t seem to be any reason for it. The clown-man threw some sort of pink gas at Bruce, and while he was coughing, a girl in a stupid fancy-dress costume sneaked up and hit him from behind. The pair of them tied him to a huge block of wood. That's where it got really confusing."
"In what way?" The older man wondered.
"At first they were talking to Bruce, but then the man started trying to stick some sort of metal spike into Bruce's leg, only they couldn’t get it through the dark stuff, so they left him tied there and ran out of the building. The place was on fire by then. But it’s the last part I really don’t understand."
"In what way?" Alfred waited patiently.
"The clown man was saying that he wanted to watch the bat being cremated, but I don’t remember seeing any bats. Why would anyone set light to a dead bat anyway? And what does that have to do with Bruce?"
"Who knows what our dreams may be trying to tell us?" Alfred commented carefully.
And how could you possibly have made that particular connection?
"Might I suggest that you go and get ready for bed, sir?" He said, to cover any lapse.
"You'll come and tell me once you get through to Bruce?" Sandy looked at him expectantly.
At least Alfred was quite comfortable with giving an honest response to that request, "Most certainly," He promised solemnly.

* * * * *

"So what happened this evening, if I might enquire?" Alfred neatened up the desk area as he waited for his employer to reply.
"I was on patrol when I spotted the Joker and Harley," Bruce admitted. "I followed them; but it was a trap. He led me to the old theatre in the Narrows. Joker distracted me and Harley got the drop on me with some gas and a club hammer. I woke up, trussed up like a chicken, tied to one of the old stage props. Joker tried to bait me; but I wouldn’t go for it. They left me there … with the building on fire around me."
"I thought I could smell smoke on your armour." Alfred nodded. "Evidently you escaped before the situation could become too serious?"
"No, that’s the strange thing, Alfred, I shouldn’t be here now, I was caught right in the middle of it all. Nightwing was around, and he knew I'd gone into the building, so when I didn’t come back out, he came looking for me, discovered the place was on fire and called in the Justice League. Kal got me out before the roof fell in; but I don’t have any explanation as to why I'm alive."
"Indeed?"
"Kal was saying that he could see something around me. He called it an aura."
"An aura?" Alfred frowned.
"He said that he thought it was what kept the heat from frying me." Bruce told him.
"And do you have any idea of what Superman was referring to, sir?" The older man wondered.
"None," And Bruce would very much have liked to…

"How very intriguing…" Alfred stated.
"Yes, isn't it?"
"More than you might know, sir. While you were out, Master Sandy had a rather lucid nightmare."
"He doesn’t usually have nightmares…" Bruce frowned, concerned.
"Nor does he usually dream about you, in your ahem… other suit, as it were, being tortured by the Joker."
"He what?"
"The content of the dream was very much as you have just described events, varying only in a few irrelevant details."
"But how is it even possible?" Bruce sat there, puzzling over the possibilities, "You're sure that Sandy never left here?"
"Indeed not," Alfred was almost scathing. "I checked on him regularly, and fetched refreshments when I judged that he might be ready to wake," He looked at his master, the man he had helped raise, "What about this has you so concerned?"
"Alfred?"
"Are you more worried that Master Sandy sensed that you were in trouble?" The old man fixed Bruce with a firm stare. "Or are you more concerned that he somehow knows your other identity?"

"He knows?" How could Sandy know? Bruce was always so careful.
Except for the other night … Damn! I knew that would come back to haunt me! I should never have given in to impulse…
"There were definite hints, images and words, supplied by his subconscious mind. It seems quite plain to me that Master Sandy is gradually coming to the realisation that you are the Batman, even if his waking mind has yet to fully assimilate that fact."
"Oh Lord…" Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "Alfred, what should I do?"
"It is not my place to say, sir."
"Rubbish," Frowning, Bruce looked up at his trusted confidante, "What would you do, Alfred; if you were me?"
"Apart from get an early night occasionally?"
"Alfred!"
"If I were in your position; and I have to say that I am heartily grateful, for any number of reasons, that I am not; I would tell him," The older man stated firmly, "Everything."
"You would?"
"Indeed. Sandy is not stupid. Your constant absences concern him, as do the injuries you often display on your return."
"What does he think? Has he mentioned anything to you?"
"I really couldn’t say," Alfred wrapped himself in his professional dignity. "Anything I might have learned was in the strictest confidence."

In other words, nothing more is going to be forthcoming on that topic. It’s down to me now. "I'll talk to him in the morning, Alfred; first thing."
"If you really want my opinion, Bruce, I would go and talk to him tonight ... now, in fact: this will not improve with time."
Bruce simply sat and stared; Alfred never called him by his first name. Never!
Except that one time the night that my parents died, when Alfred promised me that he would be here for me … If he's THAT serious about this, then I should be too!
"I'll go up there as soon as I've gotten out of the suit and cleaned up." Bruce said firmly, recalling how Sandy had reacted to The Batman.
Which wasn’t entirely Sandy's fault, as the Bat wasn’t exactly playing nicely that evening… Once more, Bruce felt a flush of heat over his appalling lapse in control. Acutely ashamed by the memory, and pre-occupied by how to breach the topic to his blond friend, he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary in his ongoing reactions either.

"Sandy?" Bruce knocked on the connecting door and waited. "May I come in?"
The light inside the other room flicked on, "Mmm." The blond scrubbed his eyes and yawned.
"Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Alfred said you hadn't been in bed long." Bruce was instantly remorseful.
"No, and I wouldn’t have minded anyway," Sandy gave a shy smile. "It's always good to see you … the time doesn’t matter."
"I know I haven't been around much lately."
Because someone opened a few doors at Arkham a week ago and let the loonies out.
"But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to."
Only by the time I've gotten home, I've been too shattered to do anything except flake out in my own bed for whatever's left of the night.
"I was beginning to think," Sandy stopped in mid-sentence. Reaching out, he ran a wondering hand over the bruises already beginning to form along the side of Bruce's chin. "What happened to you?"
Bruce could have lied, made up some lame excuse; but this time he wasn’t going to, "I… that was part of what I came to tell you," He said slowly.
"You've come to tell me that it's over between us? You've met someone else?" The blond looked resigned, "You don’t need to worry: I won't make any sort of fuss."
Frustrated now the Bat roused, instinct making Bruce reach out to grip Sandy by the shoulders, calloused finger tips digging into the thin cotton t-shirt. "No!" This was his mate, there was no other!

"Bruce,” Sandy winced visibly. “You're hurting me!"
"Sorry!" Control regained, Bruce was mortified. "I really am... I didn’t mean to … you just ... I was surprised, that's all," He flushed, "I forget my own strength at times."
"I'm not stupid." Sandy looked away, staring dully down at the counterpane. "And I'm not into pain either, even if you are."
“I’m what?” Bruce couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. This conversation seemed intent on transforming into something utterly bizarre! "What?" All he could do was stare at the blond.
"I'm not criticising you; just saying what I see. It's pretty obvious that since you're not getting what you want from me, you'd start looking for it somewhere else." Sandy sighed, "I may not have done the whole 'gay circuit' thing; but I know that it's out there," He glanced quickly away. "I only wish you weren’t letting people injure you like this. I… care about you, and that sort of thing has got to be dangerous."
Bruce was amazed.
And he's more worried than angry … he cares that much about me?
"You think …" Bruce sat back and took a long calming breath. Well of course, looked at from Sandy's point of view; that was a totally logical explanation; even if it didn’t happen to be even close to the right one.
Then again, I've tried so hard to prevent anyone from linking Bruce Wayne with the Batman, why should I be surprised when they don’t?
"Sandy. It's nothing like that." He put as much reassurance into his voice as he could.
"It isn't…?" Sandy glanced up at him from under tear-spiked eyelashes.
First I nearly force him to… Bruce locked down on that thought. Now I've made him cry … what sort of bastard am I?

"Bruce, just tell me what you're thinking! I can't read your mind." Sandy whispered.
"Can't you?" Pulling off his own shirt, Bruce sat there, mind made up. "Touch me, Sandy. Like you did to John that day? I want you to know that I mean what I'm saying."
"I can't just make it happen," The pale eyes flickered miserably over his. "Don’t you think that if I could turn it on and off, I would?"
"You can turn it down though." Bruce leaned in and stole a kiss from the tempting lips.
"Yes…" Sandy sighed. "Otherwise we couldn’t get ever close like this."
"So how does it turn up again?" Bruce murmured, kissing his way along the side of Sandy's jaw.
"I…" Sandy breathed a hot stream across the side of Bruce's ear. "Don’t know… this isn't fair… you're making me horny, and I can't think straight when I'm horny."
"I don’t want you straight…" Bruce teased. "I want you… to be with me."
"Really?" Warm arms reached out in delight and wrapped around him. Letting himself be pulled onto the bed, Bruce proved that he meant that, by fervently kissing, nipping and sucking everything that he could reach. Sandy was addictive and he wondered if he could ever have enough?

"Bruce?"
"Mmm?" Reluctantly tearing himself away from mapping down every glorious inch of Sandy's spine with his tongue, Bruce waited while his partner twisted around in the bed and grabbed for something in the bedside drawer.
"Would you," Sandy hesitated. "Uhm, could we…"
"What, Babe?"
A spectacular blush appeared on Sandy's tanned features, a rose-pink dusting spreading right down his neck and chest, as he held out a shaky hand and pressed something onto Bruce's palm. “Could we... use this?”
Hastily skim-reading the label, Bruce stared at the small tube. Lubricant? Oh my…
"Sandy?"
"Are you ready to take me…?" Amazingly the blush increased.
"God, yes!" Bruce knew an opportune moment when he fell into it. Then the practicalities began to intrude. "Uh, which way do you want to try this?"
"Not sure…" Sandy smiled shyly.
"Lay on your side." Bruce remembered reading something about that being relatively comfortable, and he really didn’t want to squash Sandy under his weight.
I want to make this good for him… Encouraging Sandy to bend the upper leg, Bruce gently located his target and methodically prepared the way.

When Sandy could take three fingers without signs of discomfort, Bruce judged them both ready to try more. The way Bruce was feeling now, he certainly didn’t expect to last, but he was determined to make their first time as pleasant as possible for his partner.
"I want you, so much!" Sandy groaned, writhing under the gentle attention.
"I want you too…" Kissing and nipping at Sandy, to distract him from any discomfort, Bruce steadily closed the distance between them, until he could feel the firm flesh opening for him.
"Do it." Sandy pleaded. "Now, Bruce, now…"
"Oh." A sharp intake of breath and the body under his went tense. Determined to be patient, Bruce forced himself to wait again, holding himself back by sheer willpower, while Sandy's inner muscles accepted him, and then incredibly, Sandy relaxed, allowing him in. "Oh…" The blond moaned. "God…"
"Oh Sandy, you feel so hot!" Bruce murmured, sliding further into the scalding interior, "So tight." Somehow he managed not to rush, to hold back on the increasingly desperate urge to thrust, "So fucking amazing." Slowly, that was the key, slow and easy, although apparently his lover was getting other ideas.
"Please," Sandy writhed in his arms. "Push, Bruce! Please!"
"Don’t want to hurt you." Bruce murmured.
"Not hurting. Feels so good," The blond leaned back into him, sending Bruce deeper into the tight passage. "I need you, Bruce … just do me."
There was no way he could refuse that. Body screaming for release, Bruce went with it. Catching Sandy by the hips and thrusting into him, he felt the leading edge of the incoming wave lift him. Blindly his cock dug forward, penetrating deeper into the inviting slickness.
"Yes! Please, Bruce, take me!" Sandy was begging. "Fuck me."

Putting his whole weight behind the move, Bruce leant into the shaking body, sliding one hand around and clasping his palm tightly around Sandy to pleasure him at the same time, the other arm wrapped possessively around Sandy's shoulders and chest.
"Take it right in." He rumbled, rocking his hips and claiming his lover.
Uttering short incoherent moans, Sandy bucked into Bruce's hand, impaling himself more and more desperately onto Bruce's cock with every reverse thrust.
"Go on, Bruce! Do me hard!" Sandy whimpered, straining into the callused palm. The heat was building in Bruce; he could feel himself preparing to unload.
Not yet, not yet…
Sandy writhed against him, and then jerked. "Oh … Fuck!!"
Delighted, Bruce felt thick liquid dripping between his gripping fingers. He thrust in one last time as Sandy's internal muscles clenched desperately around him. Only then did Bruce let himself free-fall into an utterly breathtaking climax.

After a sinfully long interlude, Bruce finally regained enough of his higher brain functions to remember that he had come to Sandy's room for a reason, and that what they had been doing wasn’t it…
"Sandy…"
"Mmm?" The pale eyes flicked open, "I can't do it again that soon, Bruce; not even for you."
"Sure?"
"Positive."
"Good." At least now, he might have a chance of getting to what he had come here for. Damned if Sandy wasn’t just too tempting!
"Good?" The blond raised a querying eyebrow.
"Then when I show you what I came to show you, you won't be thinking of other things, will you?" Bruce trailed one finger along a gleaming golden curl.
Sandy blinked at him in confusion, "Translated, means what?"
"Translated, means … get some clothes on, Blondie; I have something to show you."
"With clothes on?" A burnished eyebrow lifted in disbelief.
"You cheeky git! Get your mind out of the gutter!"
"Sorry, it just naturally heads that way…" Sandy grinned, and rolling out of the bed, loped off into the bathroom, "I'm not putting anything on, until I've taken something off…" He called back.
Bruce took a second to examine his own state: sticky and getting crusty in places.
Definitely time for a shower...
"Hhmm… Be more environmentally friendly to do it together, and save water, wouldn’t it?" He muttered to himself, and trailed his lover into the other room.
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The Birthday Present