Chapter Text
Bruce Wayne was sick of galas. Sure, all he had to do was pretend to be tipsy and stupid, but that act gets old around the 6th gala each month. This was gala number 8, and Bruce was bored out of his damn mind. He searched the room for at least a familiar face, or some sort of entertainment, but unfortunately caught the eye of the last woman he wanted to see tonight. Vicki Vale.
Bruce mentally prepared himself for the torture he was about to endure.
“Mr. Wayne! Funny seeing you here!” Vicki drawled, grinning at Bruce.
He did not think it was very funny.
“Ms. Vale! A pleasure!” Bruce responded, never mind the fact that it was almost certainly going to be the opposite of a pleasure.
“I have a few questions for you regarding your relationship with Oliver Queen.”
Bruce was caught off guard. For once, he hadn’t expected Vicki’s line of questioning. Sure, he and Ollie spent a lot of time together, but that wasn’t enough to draw her attention, was it? Bruce took a sip of his drink to stall for time.
“I might have answers if you’re playing nice.”
Vicki smirked. This was very bad news.
“My sources say you left a restaurant in the Diamond District… together.”
Bruce represses a sigh, but doesn’t take the bait.
“Together? I’m unsure precisely what you mean, Ms. Vale.”
“By together, Mr. Wayne, I mean you two were all over each other.”
Bruce was so fucking sick of galas.
“We were not all over each other, Vicki, our arms were linked.” Bruce sighed. Vicki, however, was unfortunately not dissuaded. In fact, her eyes lit up at Bruce’s modicum of surrender.
“So you admit it!” Vicki exclaimed with unrestrained glee.
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“Admit what?” he responded, dreading her next sentence. He glanced away, hoping for any sort of out. Why, of all times, weren’t his kids starting shit? He made eye contact with Oliver across the room, but now would be a really bad time for him to show up, so he quickly looked away.
“That you and Oliver Queen are intimately acquainted .” she prodded. God, when would she quit? Bruce had enough scandals for one man, he didn’t need his kids giving him shit for another one.
As Bruce attempted to formulate a response, Oliver himself (speak of the devil) appeared at his side. Bruce glanced between his friend and Vicki and barely suppressed a sigh.
“Apologies, Ms. Vale, but Bruce and I have matters to attend to in the parlor.”
Bruce cursed the day Oliver Jonas Queen was born. Of all the unfortunate fucking timing for a “rescue”, why now? He didn’t have time to try and cover his own ass before Ollie grabbed his hand and dragged him away, towards the parlor.
Vicki, of course, was not dissuaded. In fact, Oliver had just proved her point, and Vicki Vale would never give up on a headline.
They reached the parlor doorway, and Bruce had no idea what would happen next.
“Mr. Queen, I have a few questions for you as well! Shall we sit?”
Bruce Wayne considered throwing himself off the nearest balcony at the thought of being in the same room as Oliver and Vicki. Oliver didn’t give him a chance to respond before saying “I don’t think you’ll want to stick around, Vicki,” with his trademark shit-eating grin.
Bruce didn’t have time to wonder why Ollie said that before his back was to the doorframe.
What the fuck??
Oliver kissed him like he meant business, and Bruce didn’t even bother protesting. His arm found its way to Ollie’s waist like it was second nature, and Bruce pulled him closer. He was dizzy, and couldn’t form enough thoughts to remember that Vicki Vale was standing right there, watching Bruce make out with his childhood friend.
Bruce was almost too happy to be mortified. Until Oliver broke the kiss off, blew a kiss to Vicki Vale, and dragged Bruce inside the parlor. He shut the door behind them and collapsed into a fit of laughter against Bruce’s chest. Bruce held him up gently by the elbow.
“Oliver…” Bruce said, trying desperately to sound stern instead of fond. “...what the fuck?”
“Um, you’re welcome, asshole.” Oliver grinned. Bruce dragged a hand down his face.
“Vicki was asking me about our dinner on Tuesday.” Bruce said, glaring slightly at the man he was still gently holding. Ollie cocked his head in mild confusion.
“Oh, whoops. I thought she was trying to ask you out again. My bad, B.”
“And your solution was to…? Kiss me?”
“Well yes, bastard, and she left you alone anyway. So, you’re welcome.” Oliver grinned again. The bastard.
He then surprised Bruce Wayne for the second time that night and kissed him again, gentler this time. Bruce couldn’t figure out how to be mad at a man who kissed like that. Oliver then winked and headed for the door.
“Can’t wait to see the article, babe!”