Disclaimer: I do no own either Bruce Wayne or Jim Gordon...god my life is so incomplete. Lol
A/N: This madness, this crack was inspired by a video ad involving a remarkably gorgeous, clean shaven Gary Oldman modeling Donna Karan with Mila Jovavich. And I thought poor Bruce on the sidelines having to wait that long to touch...heehee. Copy/paste this if you'd like to see it. .com/watch?v=BAIWFv92dKY Enjoy!
"Turn this way darling..." the flash of a camera bulb. "Beautiful! Next roll please!"
The studio was filled to the brim with chattering hordes of models, photographers and make-up artists. All scrambling around like cackling chickens to fill an impossible deadline set by whatever media moguls they worked for.
It was an orchestrators nightmare.
And standing in the middle of this mayhem was Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham. Fitting perfectly amidst all the fashionable chaos in his pressed suit and slicked back hair, serenely over seeing the latest photo shoot for the cover of some magazine Wayne Enterprises owned.
Hanging farther back from the crowd, PDA in hand, was Commissioner Jim Gordon. A rather drab contradiction to the painfully beautiful models with his barely tamed hair and practically lived in suit.
He'd been bullied into this little appearance. It was either this or the fundraiser next week and the shoot seemed the lesser of two evils. Still, it didn't stop him from retreating from the action as if it were a spreading plague.
"No matter how many times you press that thing it's not getting you out of this," was Bruce Wayne's pleasant tone wafting over the madness.
"I'm still holding out hope for a bomb threat." Gordon grumbled and pushed the refresh button out of spite this time, but his inbox stayed infuriatingly empty. He put the device in his pocket with a defeated sigh. "How much longer is this thing, anyway?"
"I'm hurt, Jim." Bruce said, shooting one of those charming 'playboy' smiles at him. " I thought you wanted us to spend more time together."
Gordon felt that familiar hunted feeling when Bruce teased him openly in public. No matter how open they were with each other, their relationship was still under wraps as it were.
"Yes, well...I did." Gordon pushed his glasses up. "But this isn't exactly what I'd call quality time..." Gordon trailed off as he watched the oddest configuration of feathers and sequins roll by on a wardrobe wrack. Those didn't even look like anything realistically wearable.
Bruce chuckled. "Ten more minutes and we'll have stayed long enough to make the clients happy." A more personal smile appeared for a moment. "Then we can be home in time for an early night."
There was a promise in that tone that Gordon couldn't exactly ignore.
"Ten more minutes?" He asked with slight disbelief.
"Wayne!" Came a frantic feminine shout from the heart of the photo shoot.
Gordon watched Bruce grimace and sighed.
"Make that twenty," the younger man corrected as a woman came storming in their direction with enough waves of hostility to keep the frenzied masses at bay.
But where Gordon had been expecting some spoiled model who was going to use some brief meeting with Bruce Wayne to get her way, he was surprised to see it was the shoots very distraught looking photographer.
Bruce acknowledged her with a gentle smile.
"What seems to be the problem, Angie?"
"Well, it would be wonderful if models include in their resumes that they're allergic to fish, or if the catering staff didn't fail to mention that they slip fish into they're barely recognizable snack trays." The woman rambled on.
Bruce blinked. "I can see a problem forming here."
"You think?" Angie asked sarcastically. "Now we have no model for the shoot and the clients are going to eat me alive if we pass the deadline date with only half the thing done. I need more time, Bruce."
Gordon went back to his PDA, wondering if it was against his morals and that of the man standing beside him to call in the bomb threat himself.
Bruce grimaced. "I don't know what to tell you, Angie. I don't have the time to give you." He glanced at Gordon before returning his attention to Angie. "Don't we have a substitute?"
Angie shook her head, looking even more exasperated. "The allergy case sent him away. Said he didn't need an 'understudy'."
She suddenly stopped and looked Bruce up and down. "You know, Bruce, I think the outfits might be a little tight on you...but we could use you in the models place..." There was a hopeful note in her voice that Bruce didn't miss.
Bruce chuckled. "Now Angie, you know I don't even step within ten feet of a photo spread without thorough consideration of my appearance in it." The playboy said with a charming smile.
A rather sarcastic snort was heard from the otherwise occupied police commissioner which Bruce ignored.
"And besides," he grimaced playfully. "Donna Karan?"
Angie looked horrified. "Bruce, I don't have anyone else."
But Bruce, who'd been glancing over at earlier offender again suddenly smiled. Something genuine and completely sinister.
"I think 'we' have a solution," he said, suddenly resting a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "Don't we, Jim?"
Gordon's head suddenly shot up as he was brought into the conversation. "What?"
Bruce knocked on the door. "I think twenty minutes of self denial is pushing it, Jim."
"I'm not coming out!"
Bruce glanced at the stylist that had been pushed out of the room before Gordon locked them out. "How bad is it?" He asked her.
But she shook her head. "He looks fantastic, I have no idea what he's on about."
Bruce tried the doorknob but it was still locked. "You know I can open this door if I want to." He warned.
"Well you're going to have to, because I'm not setting one foot out of this room until that woman figures out a way to fix this."
Bruce sighed as he pulled his wallet out and flipped it open. "Have it your way," he said before pulling out a random credit card and slipping it into the space between door and frame. A little expert jiggling and the lock clicked.
Bruce honestly expected to find Gordon warding off whoever came in the door with a pair of scissors and a can of hair spray, or normally his gun if that hadn't been confiscated beforehand. But instead he saw a man younger then his significant other glaring at him under a mass of light brown styled hair and a harsh lined, clean shaven face.
"Well?" The man growled irritably and Bruce was shocked to hear a familiar voice coming out of the model.
The smile he broke into a moment later almost hurt. "Jim?"
"Don't you Jim me. We're all the way back to Commissioner at this point, Wayne."
Bruce was about to say something witty and not in his favor when he was interrupted.
"Who's the asshole holding up this shoot?" Came a sudden high pitched shout, much shriller then Angie's as a thin woman with flowing clothing walked into the dressing room. "I have an appointment at five that I'm not going to miss."
Bruce and Jim both looked at her, and the playboy discreetly stepped aside, putting the gussied up police commissioner in firing range. "That would be him." Bruce offered helpfully.
Gordon glared daggers at Bruce before he turned to see the model giving him a once over. An odd little smile that passed for coy touched her lips and Jim raised a brow.
"I think you'll do better in this then Erik actually." Gordon was feeling whiplash from the speed in which the womans demeanor had changed. "Melissa," she said, holding out her hand.
Bruce was biting his lip, standing just in Gordon's peripherals, trying not to give into a bout of laughter. Gordon tried not to look sour as he took the woman's hand. "Gordon."
She didn't even blink in recognition at the name. "Well, Gordon..." she purred. "Shall we?" She asked and spun in a flurry of blue sheer fabric as she waltzed out of the room.
Gordon followed her rather stiffly as he slammed the door behind him to shut out Bruce's laughter.
Gordon made a break for it the moment his 'handlers' stopped prodding and poking at his hair and clothes. It was an amazingly grueling two hours later and he wasn't sure how models managed to take that much direction without snapping. He wouldn't be surprised if most homicidal maniacs had a background in modeling at some point in their lives.
The word 'break' had seemed the best time to escape the madness.
Of course, it would have worked if another pair of hands hadn't grabbed him immediately, these ones pulling him behind the nearest piece of scenery.
"You're a little too good at this if you ask me," purred a smooth baritone in his ear. Gordon relaxed and tensed all in the same moment.
"You didn't give me a lot of choice in the matter," he tried for irritated. But the fitted jacket they'd forced him into was only covering his thin undershirt. And those broad hands were incredibly hot against the wool.
There was a chuckle and one of those burning hands moved up his chest as a thumb lazily trailed along his jaw. "Maybe you're right," Bruce conceded, his fingers moving up Gordon's cheek and across the still sensitive skin that was now bare over his top lip. "But this is a definite improvement, Commissioner."
Gordon shuddered and tried to push out of the strong hold even though he wanted to press into it. But this was not the place and most definitely not the time. And when he suddenly had more gel in his hair then Bruce Wayne it caused a serious case of identity crisis. "You're an immature tease, you know that?"
But Bruce ignored him and his feeble attempts at escape, even went so far as to pop open the first button of the high collar jacket. Which was a blessed relief and an alarming turn in direction all at the same time.
"I think I need to buy this coat. After I've seen you all over some leggy model in it, we need to put some proper use into it."
Gordon laughed, but it was a nervous noise from his throat. "Don't like the tables turned, eh, Mr. Wayne?"
"Not really," another button opened, enough to expose his throat. "I just don't think her perfume suits you."
Gordon jumped when Bruce's lips were suddenly pressed to his throat, directly over his pulse point, telling the shameless playboy just what he was doing was working just fine.
"I like my cologne better."
"Bruce..." It was supposed to end with 'not here', or 'not in thousand dollar clothing I can't afford'. But Bruce shifted and Gordon was suddenly back against the scenery, front full of young persistent billionaire/vigilante.
"I think I can afford a few accidental wardrobe malfunctions, Jim." Bruce said playfully, using his damned mind reading trick again. Or was he really that transparent?
"Accidental?" Gordon asked sarcastically, raising a cynical brow.
Bruce grinned, that one when Gordon knew he was trapped with no way of escape. The younger mans thumb brushed over his upper lip again. Gordon felt the shivers run all the way up from his toes this time with Bruce so near.
"Accidental or not, I'm going to find out what you taste like this naked." The last word was said so provocatively against Gordon's lips that he didn't even fight the kiss, he met Bruce halfway. Inhaling sharply at the raw and, yes, naked feel of the kiss as the jacket fell to the ground.
Photo shoots definitely beat fundraisers.
P.S. Reviews are the shining moments of my life here. X3