A/N: cilliiiiaaaan murphy is soooooo pretty, waaaaaay prettier then Katie Holms. Therefore the pairing of Rachel and bruce is completely incorrect. It should be Jonathon and Bruce
Summary: Bruce Wayne, struggling layer and wannabe songwriter finds a broken bird lying in the gutter and decides to take him home…leading to very interesting circumstances.
Disclaimer/warnings: Don't own it, don't sue. Totally AU, and slashy slashy slash, oh how I love my slash. Don't like slash? Then…well….you're weird…
Whenever it rained in Gotham City it looked like an angel was crying on a sea of blinding lights. The lights at the tops of the tall towers in upper Gotham glowed like little stars in the rain and the reflection from the little tear drops made them sparkle like no fluorescent light should. Whenever it rained all the business men and women put up their black umbrellas and painted on their sour faces. Whenever it rained the poor crawled under the trashcans and awnings and begged for money. Whenever it rained it was always cold out. Whenever it rained in Gotham city…it was ugly.
"Shit," Bruce Wayne muttered darkly to himself. It just had to rain today, the one day he decided not to bring an umbrella to work. But stupid him, it was October, and in Gotham October meant rain, rain, rain.
He stood by the cheap glass doors of his friends law firm and looked up at the disgustingly pretty city. Everybody knew that only the corrupt sadists lived up there in those big, shining towers. It was sick. All the good people were rotting in their moldy apartments while the monsters got to live in those beacons of light. His eyes landed on Wayne Tower.
It was mocking him again. That stupid tower whose name he bore. By some sick coidince he bore the same name as the richest man in the city, who also happened to go by Bruce Wayne.
But this Bruce Wayne was not rich, no not by any standards. He was at the point of going broke, his career as a lawyer wasn't going well, he never won a case and well to be honest he rarely ever saw the inside of a court room. All he did was stand around and hand Rachel papers. He had no girlfriend or lover, he had no family, he wasn't exactly a friendly man either.
No god really must've hated our poor, broke Bruce Wayne. Every day he walked past Wayne Tower and everyday he once again remembered that while some other guy named Bruce Wayne was living it up in that tower…he was rotting in the narrows.
Heaving a sigh the man opened the door and stepped into the freezing rain. He tried to pull his coat over his head to keep his hair dry, of course he couldn't wrestle the jacket over his head, so he opted instead for yanking it off and holding the cheap coat over his head. Of course the business people looked at him like he was crazy…he glared back. Sometimes he'd pretend to bite them. Oh yeah, that freaked them out.
He walked past the tall shining towers and across the bridge onto the island known as the narrows. Bruce heaved a relieved sigh. Okay so there was an Aslyum on his sweet little island, and true there were crazies around every corner…but it was home. Here nobody looked at him weird for not wearing a designer suit, here nobody minded if he started to sing little songs to himself when he walked home after a bad day at work. Here was where the rebels and the artists lived. Of course all the painters were away, they couldn't exactly paint in the rain…but on a sunny day, they'd paint the prettiest pictures, not of the huge sparkling towers of glass….but of sunny fields. Sunny fields that simply didn't exist in Gotham.
He walked past a row of shops and slipped into an empty one and bought a hot chocolate and a crappy muffin. He just held the cup of hot chocolate for a moment, savoring it's warmth. They did make the best hot chocolate in the narrows…of course it was probably laden with chemicals that would probably kill him in the next 10 or so years, but who cared, it wasn't like he had anything going for him.
Humming a little song he'd began working on last night, Bruce strode past a familiar street of tall apartments and a heard a small whimper coming from the ground. Shit, did he step on a dead poodle or something? Ah, nope, just a drunk guy.
"You do know you're lying in the middle of the street," Bruce informed the lump his foot was currently on top of.
It grunted and whimpered again.
Bruce's curiosity heightened, it sounded so…weak. He moved his foot and knelt down beside the drunken lump. "You okay, buddy?" Touching the ground with a hand Bruce felt something warm…warm? It was raining, the rain certainly wasn't warm. Bruce examined his hand and reached it up to the street light. His eyes went wide, whatever was on his hand was shiny and had a crimson shade to it. Blood. He quickly wiped it off on his coat and looked now with alarm and a slight twinge of fear at the lump.
"Hey, man, you're bleeding…"
It didn't respond.
Bruce sighed, poor guy was dead. He stood up and took a step away from the body. It wasn't that uncommon in the narrows, finding a dead guy. He carefully nudged it again with his shoe. He didn't understand why, but Bruce really didn't want this guy to be dead. Maybe it was how sad…how utterly broken that whimper sounded.
It rolled over and Bruce leapt away from it. "Go away," It moaned.
It curled into a tight ball, back to Bruce"Go away…"
"You're gonna die."
"Don't care." the lump turned its head to looked back at Bruce. Thickly lashed wells of blue looked up at him, twinkling with laughter. Angular cheeks, flushed red, and soft, pouty lips that were turned a pretty shade of pale blue formed a little smile. "Nobody cares."
Those eyes…those shining eyes had him hypnotized. They were daring him, taunting him…to do what? What do you want me to do? Bruce thought, what did this beautiful creature want him to do. Bruce's common sense was screaming not to touch him, a guy this pretty had to have a pimp, and the pimp would kick Bruce's ass later. But something was drowning out his common sense, something more compelling then all the money in the world.
There was something in those sky blue eyes that forced him to kneel down next to that curled body and carefully untangle the long limbs. Bruce looped a weak arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around the smaller mans waist and limped home with the unconscious, blue eyed man, whose name he didn't even know. For all he new this man was gonna kill him when he got Bruce alone.
But for a moment…just a moment, those sky blue eyes had promised Bruce a world…a world made of blue skies that were never seen in Gotham…a world where angels smiled and the sun still shone, like it never did in Gotham. Maybe that sobbing angel up in heave was sad because she lost the bleeding creature that was propped at Bruce's side.
A/N: Sappy…yes…made by a sleep deprived teen…yes. So tell me whatcha think and review, I'll probably add more tomorrow cause winter breaks coming up! Meannning….drum roll vacation from stupid school! Yay! And I only have one test this week. So lotsa reviews please!