Work Header

A Night to Forget

Work Text:

Bruce groaned and rubbed his head. It was morning, he was in his bed, and he was naked. He also couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. He tried to piece together details from the previous night in his head. It was the annual Wayne Foundation Charity Ball – a masquerade where the Gotham socialites pretended to care about a cause for a few hours while they got drunk and mingled. At least it raised a lot of money for orphaned children, which was all Bruce cared about.

He felt movement in the bed next to him. He couldn't see who it was because the blankets were pulled over her, only the messy blonde hair peeked out over the top. Perhaps he'd been roofied – there were a lot of gold-diggers out there trying to get knocked-up so they could get a piece of the Wayne inheritance. Whatever happened, he needed to play this cool and get details. A name would be a nice place to start.

He reached up for the edge of the blanket, briefly feeling the soft, golden locks brush against his fingers.

“Oliver!?!” he shouted as he pulled back the covers.

“Ugh, wha...” the man groaned. “Oh, my head. What happened?” Oliver asked as he tried to take in his surroundings. “Bruce?”

“Oliver, what are you doing in my bed?” Bruce asked. “And please tell me you're not naked,” he quickly added.

Oliver lifted the sheets and peeked under. “Fine, I won't tell you I'm naked,” he said with a smirk. “Where are we? What happened last night?”

“We're in my bedroom,” Bruce responded. “But as to how we got here, I have no idea.”

“Rohypnal?” Oliver suggested.

“That possibility had occurred to me. Anyone could have slipped it or something similar into our drinks last night.”

“Got anything valuable that someone would want?” Oliver realized how stupid that sounded after he said it – they were in Wayne Manor, after all. “I mean anything out of the ordinary? Mystical artifact, top secret documents...?”

“I think the real question is why put us naked in bed together? It seems more like a revenge motive. You and Dinah aren't fighting again are you?”

“No, we are not fighting – I mean, not really. We're on a bit of a break, but that's normal for us,” Olly said. “Do you think we can continue this conversation with pants on?”

Bruce smirked. “Not as confident as you usually are without your costume, eh?”

Oliver laughed. “I got nothing to be ashamed of, Bruce, you should know that. I do run around in tights all day.”

Bruce just shook his head and stood, fully naked, his bare backside to Oliver. He strode into his walk-in closet and slipped on a pair of black boxer briefs. He grabbed a second, black pair and tossed them out to Oliver.

“Nothing in green?” he joked as he slipped them on under the blankets.

“You just assume that everything in my wardrobe is black, don't you? Bruce asked.

“Well, maybe I'm a bit biased in that regard,” he answered, getting out of the bed and stretching. “I mean, I only ever see you in one suit.”

Bruce again walked into the closet and returned a few seconds later with a pile of neatly folded clothes which he handed to Oliver. On top was a lime green polo along with a pair of tan cargo shorts and white ankle socks. As he dressed, Oliver noticed Bruce pulling on a pair of similar shorts only in navy.

“How'd you get that big one?” Olly asked. Bruce, short of zipping his pants, paused and gave him a quizzical look. “I mean the scar – on your back. I was wondering where you got it.”

“Oh, uh, Scarecrow,” he said simply. “He got me with his scythe while I was trying to shake off the effects of the fear gas. Still not at bad as this one,” Bruce said raising his arm to show a scar on his side. “Joker. The knife slid right between my ribs, a bit higher it would've gone right through my heart.”

“Ouch,” Oliver said, wincing. “Check out this one,” he said turning around. He reached an arm over his shoulder and pointed to a v-shaped scar on his shoulder. “Deathstroke. Sword went right through to the other side.” he turned to face Bruce again pointing to a similar mark below his collar bone. “He nearly took my arm off with that one. Can you picture that? The Green Arrow – an archer – with only one arm. How would that work?”

“Hmm, crossbow?”

“Ha-ha, funny man,” Oliver mocked, sliding on his shirt. “Didn't know ole Batsy had a sense of humor. Now, you got anything to eat in this mausoleum or do we have to go out for breakfast? I'm starving.”

Bruce pulled on a light gray polo that matched Oliver and slung his arm over the other man's shoulder. “You know I have a butler, right?” The two laughed as they walked out of the room.


“I can't believe that Bruce has the entire mansion wired with video and sound – including his bedroom.” Roy said leaning back in his chair.

“I've told you before, he's paranoid,” Dick said, flipping off the feed.

“I'm just glad Oliver doesn't have cameras in his bedroom,” Roy said with a laugh. “Or, at least I hope he doesn't.”

Dick laughed imagining how furious Dinah would be if she found Olly had been recording their nightly “sparring sessions.” “Well, at least our plan seemed to work. If Oliver's been as hard on you as Bruce has been on me, they deserved a little payback. Anyway, they seem to have mellowed out a bit in the process.”

“Yeah. And, I never would've pictured Bruce as a cuddler. I think he was actually smiling while he was spooning Olly. Do you think they'll be mad when they find out it was us that spiked their champagne?”

“Probably. But it'll be totally worth it when they see the recording we made.”