Fanfic
I saw the Dark Knight on Monday. It was a great movie, and it left me with a yen for Batman/Gordon fic. Since I only found one, I had to fall back to the old standby: "write it yourself."

No title yet. If anyone has suggestions, please share.

Pairing: Batman/Jim Gordon.
Rating: R
Summary: Jim feels the presence behind him, and knows that the only reason he does is because Batman wants him to.
Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Big spoilers for the Dark Knight.



Jim feels the presence behind him, and knows that the only reason he does is because Batman wants him to. He takes a long drag on his cigarette (Barbara’s been after him to quit, but life is too stressful to even consider it now), and turns around.

Batman is sitting on top of the dumpster, and he looks as imposing as ever, “Jacobs pulled the strings on the Marsten murder –” he tosses Jim a folder, “ – here.”

Jim doesn’t even bother to look at it – it’s going to contain everything they need to put Jacobs away for a long time. He grimaces, “Right. And I’ll just tell them that the most wanted man in Gotham gave me this.”

“You’re a smart man, Commissioner. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

And he’s not sure, but he suspects that Batman is teasing him. It’s really hard to tell with the mask, and the fact that his mouth and jaw always returns to the exact same position when he’s not speaking. Jim takes another long drag. Slow suicide has got to be easier than the balancing act he’s got right now with the mayor and his officers and Batman still showing up to help despite the fact that he’s at the top of Gotham’s most wanted list.

Of course he’ll figure something out. That’s why he’s in the filthy alleyway behind the building having his cigarette, not out front with convenient ashtrays and other cops. If he’s going to continue to work with Batman, he’s got to give him some leeway.

“You would make this a lot easier for everyone if you would let me tell the truth about Dent’s death,” he says, knowing he’s not going to make any more progress than he did any other time he’s asked.

“The people of Gotham need to believe that he died a hero.”

“The people of Gotham are out for your blood, Batman,” Jim says, “When are you going to set the record straight? Harvey’s been dead for over a year. I don’t think the community’s memory is as long as you think it is.”

“Trust me.”

“That’s the problem,” Jim says, taking another drag then dropping the butt on the ground, “I trust you, but I can’t get anyone else to trust you. And you don’t trust anyone.”

“I trust you.”

Jim blinks. Okay, he’d probably already known that. A little bit. Somewhere back in his mind, in a place where he puts things he doesn’t ever acknowledge in case they might not be true anymore, he knows that Batman trusts him. But hearing Batman actually say it is surreal.

Batman descends from his perch with unparalleled grace – not polished like an acrobat, but sharp and deadly, like a predator. He’s not nearly as tall as he seems to be, Jim sees when he walks closer, maybe only an inch or two above him. And considering those boots, maybe not even that. Batman the Urban Myth is eight feet tall.

“You’re our ally,” Jim says, “I know you are, but I’ve got a standing warrant for your arrest and I keep running out of ways to keep from having to do it. Let me tell the truth about what happened. Then maybe the next time I face the mayor, I won’t have to lie to him. I won’t have to explain to my son why I’m supposed to arrest his hero.”

Batman is silent.

Jim sighs. He wants another cigarette already (always seems to happen when dealing with this man), but he’s trying to cut back.

“Thank you, anyways,” he says, waving the folder vaguely.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Batman says. He always says that.

“No,” Jim says quietly, “I really do.”

Batman moves a step closer, and –

He kisses like an attack. Like it’s something he’s going to win. Like he’s never considered that he might not emerge victorious from everything he does.

Jim’s back hits the wall, and he grabs Batman’s shoulders for balance. He can feel the armor, and maybe just a hint of the muscles underneath. Batman’s tongue is in his mouth, and Jim had figured out years ago how to breathe during a kiss, but he’s totally forgotten it at the moment, because Batman’s hand is on his crotch and that’s short-circuited his brain for now.

He can’t do anything but groan into Batman’s mouth and buck his hips. The hand shifts, and then there’s the rough glove right against his skin and really, he’s not a young man, hasn’t been for a long time, so he shouldn’t be so hard already. But he is, and really he shouldn’t be thinking about this because –

Batman breaks the kiss and drops to his knees and –

“Oh, holy – ” Jim shoves his fist in his mouth because the last thing he wants is to yell and have somebody come and find him in flagrante delicto with –

Batman sucking him like he can somehow win this too. Jim bites down hard on his hand when his orgasm hits, and manages to not make a sound.

When the feeling comes back to his feet, and his head clears a bit, Batman is already gone.

He is not going to think about this. Not going to think about sex in an alley with the most wanted man in Gotham. He’s going to add this to the list of things that he can never, ever tell his wife about, and the list of things to be tucked back in a small corner of his brain and not acknowledged ever.

He’s going to pull up his pants, go inside and figure out some way to use the evidence he’s been given for the Marsten case.

Jim has another cigarette before returning to his office.