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DC Rarepair Week, Justice League Fics
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Published:
2025-02-13
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Bruce, You Need To Communicate. Actually, Stop Talking.

Summary:

Bruce needed looking after. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for (a low bar), but he got into more scrapes than any of Ollie’s other friends (a very high bar).
Case in point, the man was currently slumped against the governor of somewhere or other, laughing uproariously, spilling champagne onto his own suit. Ollie frowned, lowering his glass. He knew Bruce’s real laugh, and this wasn’t it. It rarely was, in public. But this wasn’t even Bruce’s society laugh. It was too tense. Strained.

Written for the DC Rarepair Week, Day 4: Out Of My Depth self discovery | first love | parenting

Notes:

What is this? Hell if I know. I tried for friends to lovers identity porn, and you got this. Friends to lovers to friends to friends with benefits? Or something.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It’s not like Oliver Queen never came to Gotham. Batman or not, he had friends here and occasionally actual business for Queen Industries. Usually the Bat just turned a blind eye and Ollie slipped in and out as fast as possible. Tonight was different. Tonight Batman had actually asked him to come, and play bodyguard to Brucie Wayne of all people. Apparently Batman had a couple of Rogues threatening to put plans in motion tonight, and needed an extra pair of hands. 

Ollie took a sip of champagne, just enough to keep up appearances. It’s not like he was going to say no; he was always glad for an excuse to check in on Bruce. He’d known the man for…gods, probably since they were in kindergarten. And Bruce needed looking after. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for (a low bar), but he got into more scrapes than any of Ollie’s other friends (a very high bar). 

Case in point, the man was currently slumped against the governor of somewhere or other, laughing uproariously, spilling champagne onto his own suit. Ollie frowned, lowering his glass. He knew Bruce’s real laugh, and this wasn’t it. It rarely was, in public. But this wasn’t even Bruce’s society laugh. It was too tense. Strained. 

Shit. Ollie wound his way across the ballroom, sliding an arm around Bruce’s waist. 

“Brucie! So sorry, could I steal you away for a moment? There’s these baked oysters you absolutely have to try, and Leyla says she’s been trying to get your attention all evening!” 

“Ollie! Darling, of course!” He flung an arm around Ollie’s shoulders. “You’ll excuse me, I hope, Governor. We must talk again, you have my number, of course? Wonderful, excellent, I’ll see you soon.” Bruce barely slurred, but he leaned a little too heavily against Ollie’s side as they walked away. If he wasn’t mistaken, Bruce was even limping slightly. 

Ollie half-dragged him out of the ballroom, and down the hallway to the library. He wanted to make sure they weren’t interrupted. Bruce sank onto a settee by the fireplace, dropping his head against the back. 

“Want me to kick everyone out?” Ollie was only half-joking. He flopped down beside Bruce, crossing his legs. 

Bruce shook his head, eyes closed. “Just…need a moment.” 

“You look like you need a whole week, dearest.” He frowned, checking his friend’s temperature with the back of one hand. 

Bruce brushed his hand away irritably. “I’m fine, Ollie. Not drunk, not sick.” 

“You’re in pain,” Oliver argued. “Your shoulders feel like they’re made of granite.” 

“Why, Ollie.” Bruce waggled his eyebrows. “I know you’re not complaining about my gym routine.” 

Far be it from him to complain about that. Oliver rolled his eyes, shoving away memories of their boarding school years. Seeing Bruce Wayne shirtless had been many people’s bisexual awakening; Ollie was hardly special in that regard. Even if he’d had more chances to explore that awakening than most.

“I’m trying to make sure you’re not going to pass out on me,” he grumbled. “You looked about ready to fall over in front of that Governor Whats-his-face.” 

Bruce just grunted and shifted closer. He was close enough that Ollie didn’t miss the wince when he moved his left leg. Ollie leaned forward, reaching for Bruce’s pant leg. He wasn’t going to wait for Bruce to lie to him agai–

Bruce caught his hand, pulling him into a kiss. Familiar and soft, his aftershave sharply spiced. Ollie melted into it, fingers tangling in Bruce’s. 

When he broke away for breath, Bruce held him close, running a thumb along his jaw. Callouses rasped against stubble. He leaned forward, placing another kiss at the corner of Ollie’s mouth. Ollie followed him back against the settee, sinking into kisses and the feel of Bruce’s hand twining into his hair. 

When he was feeling maudlin, Ollie might call Bruce his first love. It had come to a natural end with their school days, when Ollie moved back to the West Coast and Bruce went on his whole soul-searching/party tour of the world. 

Ollie wasn’t a lovesick kid anymore, but he wasn’t blind, and it had been…good, having Bruce in his life again these last few years. It was good having someone to talk to about parenting half-feral children. Someone who was familiar with your messes because they’d been there the whole time, if only in the background. It was good to be able to look across a crowded room again, and know he’d see that sardonic brow lift before one of them rescued the other. He knew Bruce didn’t let many people see him in these quiet, thoughtful, grieving moments. Ollie didn’t take that honor lightly. 

There weren’t many people outside the League he’d trust the way he trusted Bruce. 

Ollie sat back, far enough that Bruce didn’t try to follow. Shit. He was here on League business. He was here at Batman’s request, because there was a threat. Fat lot of good he was as a bodyguard, if he was making out with his ex in the library the whole night. Although…said ex was technically the person he was assigned to guard. If he was being technical. 

Batman would definitely not be pleased if Ollie let the gala get attacked because he was making out like a boarding school boy. Ollie raked his fingers through his hair. “You, uh…” he managed a laugh. “You better not give me that cold or whatever you’ve got.” 

“What a romantic,” Bruce drawled. 

Ollie snorted, bumping his knee against Bruce’s. “Yeah, well–” he broke off, frowning at his friend. Bruce had winced at the bump. He’d winced before, too. Right before he kissed Ollie. 

Ollie yanked up Bruce’s pant leg, smacking his hand away as Bruce tried to stop him. Beneath the suit, his leg was wrapped in a sleek white web. Oliver blinked, then sat up to glare at Bruce properly. “What the hell? Is that a cast?” 

“3-D printed,” Bruce admitted, finally dropping the act. His face creased and he leaned back as he let the pain show. 

“You’re walking on this? When did you break it?” 

“Three days ago.” 

Ollie buried his face in his hands. Breathe deep , he ordered himself. 

“It’s fine. I needed-” 

Ollie reached out, clapping a hand over Bruce’s mouth. “Just…stop talking. Just for a minute.” 

Bruce probably made some expression of annoyance, but Ollie couldn’t look at him yet. He was still breathing deeply. 

Finally he turned, facing Bruce. “I know you’re absolute garbage at taking care of yourself, but why the hell are you hosting a gala three days after breaking your leg? Why the hell is Alfred letting you? Why the hell is Dick letting you? I know that boy will kick your ass with zero hesitation when he wants to.” 

“I’m fine. It’s an important night.” Bruce leaned forward, tugging his pant leg back down. “We should get back before we’re missed. It’d be a shame to have the scandal without any reality to make up for it.” He winked. 

Ollie gave him his most unimpressed look. “Don’t try to distract me again.” 

“You weren’t complaining before.” 

“Bruce, I-” Ollie raised his eyes to the ceiling. Dammit, that was Bruce’s stubborn voice under the flirting. He’d heard that voice before, usually before some activity that risked their academic careers. Or billion-dollar industries. Or a stability of small governments. He took a deep breath. “You have a snapped tibia, Bruce.” 

“Cracked. It’s not snapped through.” 

“Bruce.” 

“What if I promise not to leave your side all night?” 

“How did you even break it?! You’ve been in meetings all week! I know, because I tried to call you about a half dozen times, and every time you were fully booked!” 

“Ollie.” 

“Were you in the hospital this whole time?”

“I’m fine.” 

“You are not fine! And you don’t get to slither out of this by kissing me and avoiding all my questions! Is this why you need a bodyguard?” Ollie wasn’t sure when he’d stood up, but he was on his feet now, glaring down at Bruce. 

“Ollie, keep your voice down.” 

“DON’T TELL ME–” 

“ Keep your voice down. ” 

Ollie’s mouth snapped shut. That wasn’t Bruce’s voice. He knew that voice – knew it as well as Roy’s or Diana’s – but it wasn’t Bruce’s voice. 

Ollie took a step back. Reassessed. Jaw, shoulders, voice, mouth, injuries… “Shit,” he hissed. “Shit!” 

Batman watched him steadily. 

Ollie stared back. “You’re shitting me.” 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly. “I should have told you sooner.” 

Ollie began to laugh, flinging himself back on the settee. “No shit, Sherlock.” He covered his face with both hands, then dropped them to look at Bruce. It set off another wave of laughter. “You goddamn asshole.” 

“I received a tip that there might be an attack tonight. Not highly likely, but in my current state, I can’t do much if there is, so–” 

“Bruce, shut up.” Ollie held up a hand. “Give me five seconds to process.” 

Bruce shut up. 

Ollie took a deep breath. Released it. Took another. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going out there and shutting this party down. We’re more than halfway through anyway; it’ll be fine. You are going to bed, and staying there even if I have to sit on you to make it happen. I’m staying the night, and we are going to have a good long talk about how stupid we’ve both been. Mostly how stupid you’ve been. Like 95% how stupid you’ve been, since I’m not the one going to parties on a broken leg and kissing old friends to prevent them from getting me medical attention.” 

“Hn.” 

“Yeah. Good talk. I’ll be back soon.” Ollie clapped him on the shoulder and got up. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “Damn. I owe Hal twenty bucks.” 

“He guessed my identity?” 

“Not even close, but he bet I’d make out with Batman by the end of this month.” 

Bruce’s mouth twitched. “Did he, now?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

“I believe my schedule is free on the first of next month. We’re about due for a sparring day.” 

Ollie waggled his eyebrows, opening the library door. “Now we’re talking.”

Notes:

I was really trying to write something soft and romantic, and these two veered into bickering married couple at 210 mph so I dunno guys