Chapter Text
I could tell them.
I could confront their groundless accusations, make them regret they even got out of bed this morning with a sharp, quiet remark. But I don't.
I shift slightly on the chair, my fingers entwining to prevent them from wandering restlessly. The Batman never fidgets. My eyes rest on the silent monitors, half a dozen news stations on at the same time.
The world never rests.
I could tell them. I don't have to get off the chair. Half a spin, so I can glance at them sideways. I don't have to speak, just a look. A full, annoyed look (something they would probably call a Bat-glare, for sure), and the small group will disperse, either embarrassed or afraid.
My hands untangle, closing into tight fists in my lap.
They can't possibly think I'm not listening. The monitoring chamber is not empty, given, but the other voices don't swallow theirs. I should make them stop, because this is not the first time I've heard them talk like this. I kept to myself in the past; I have no time to get involved in this... gossip. Besides, people talk about Bruce Wayne all the time. 'Millionaire playboy' is probably part of the menu on the galas I don't attend. And at the ones I do, too, for discretion seems to be part of a dying courtesy. This shouldn't be bothering me.
Besides, he has super hearing, yet he hasn't stopped them either.
There's a reason why I prefer to work solo, though I believe the Justice League serves a purpose. Gotham is not the world, and I can barely keep up with Gotham. I want people to stop dying of stupid diseases that are curable, to stop dying of starvation, of ridiculous wars. I wanted a better Gotham, and Batman was born. I wanted a better world, so Batman joined the Justice League. A global approach made sense at the time. I didn't expect this constant disrespect of my privacy.
For all the good global action does, it seems the only entity that might be able to actually succeed at making the world a better place is humanity itself. It's easy to forget that, between alien invasions and metahumans trashing half the globe; it's very easy to put mankind in a golden cage and forget that half the job is theirs. Ours. It is very easy to forget that I am human, too.
I bite my left thumb, let my right hand play with the belt catches. Maybe they need to be reminded that I'm human, yes, and that my patience is finite. I hear them laugh, and their words are far from appropriate. Were their rumors true, they would've been things far too precious, too sacred to joke about.
I thought, the other times, about telling him about what they say; yet I dismissed it, knowing it would had been way out of character. The Batman does not care for such meaningless things. I have a mission, and it's time consuming and soul scorching. I still wonder what he would say. Would he blush and stammer, reassuring me that they couldn't be further away from the truth, like a farmer boy from Kansas? Or would he ask me if it bothered me, if I wanted him to stop them, all concerned about me, like a good boy scout?
Or would he laugh, and touch me the way he touches, me knowing it drives me mad to have him breach my personal space, his eyes twinkling in that alien way of his, like we were sharing some running joke?
But then, I never mentioned it. I wouldn't think I should have to, anyway, to that good for nothing super powered, x-ray vision equipped, super hearing alien dork not paying attention.
I prop myself up on my left fist, drumming the console with my free hand, perhaps a tad too hard. Our association is born out of need. He can't stop world hunger or civil wars or change outdated policies and political regimens. He can't save everyone. He can't right every wrong, no one can. And, actually, no one should. I think if I lived in a totalitarian paradise, I would fight for my right to be a jackass.
It's never simple. Humans have a right to make their own choices. All I want is for them to make the right choices and not blow each other's heads off in the process. And since that isn't hard enough, we get metahumans, aliens, sentient machines, robots, mystical creatures, spirits, time travelers and alien spirited mystical metahuman time travelers, in numbers that border in the ridiculous, and they all have an agenda. So we have an agenda to stop them, because, suddenly 'humanity reaching for a better world' - it's, well... I don't want to say pointless.
But it does seem pointless.
How many times has he asked me to stop? I know he's afraid I'll eventually take on more than I can handle. I am only a billionaire playboy with a costume and issues, after all. I know he respects me, and there's a reason why we share the mission. But for all he tells himself that I am quite capable, he also knows I can't bend steel with my bare hands and that I can't fire heat rays of my eyes and every look at my scars reminds him that I'm definitely not invulnerable.
I am only human, just like the majority of the populace on Earth. But what I do is not pointless, and I am capable. Yeah, I am vulnerable and mortal. I acknowledge my weaknesses and instead of proudly standing deflecting bullets, I side step them and reach for cover. Instead of super speed I rely on stealth and tactical advantage, and if I don't fire heat rays from my eyes or don't have (god forbid) super breath, I provide myself with 'toys' and means to get enemies into my reach. I mean, it's not rocket science. And I know rocket science.
I scowl, collecting my thoughts and bringing my hands together again. Wally's stupid conversation unnerved more than it should.
I could tell them. I know Alfred would say something along the lines that, if it isn't true, it shouldn't sting. I cross my legs, staring at the screens. I like monitor duty better when I'm alone. People tend to make me uncomfortable, trying too hard to acknowledge me or too hard not to. And there's this, this unexplainable interest in my personal life, and that is exactly what gets me. Whose business is it whom do I get involved with? I could tell them that no, we aren't. But that's information that they are not privy of, so I keep away from their comments and bet pools.
Besides, they couldn't be more wrong. Superman is infuriating half the time. We have had about one civil conversation this week that didn't end on me threatening him or telling him off, or him threatening me or sulking after I told him off.
With all the things that happen on the world, around the world and outside the world, they shouldn't have time for this.
It really bothers me when I hear someone say we're falling in love.