Chapter Text
“I warned you last time,” Wayne said, before he could say anything, “Pull up the Planet on your phone. I gave them a quote and everything.”
Jim sighed, reevaluating his life choices over the end of a dying cigarette. He made no move to get his phone out.
“I was there when you said it, Mr. Wayne,” he said, because he always seemed to be called when Wayne was sans clothing and in distress. “Half of Gotham has it on a t-shirt.”
“Good,” Wayne replied, shifting slightly on his feet. His abs were practically reflecting the dim Gotham sunlight. “I sold the underwear branding rights to Planned Parenthood, though.”
“Naturally,” Jim said, taking a drag. He exhaled slowly, resolutely looking anywhere but at the naked man in front of him, “So, this is ‘one hell of a surprise’?”
Wayne met his gaze with the confidence of a man who was probably below 10% body fat and well aware of it. And also batshit crazy. “I’ve been going commando ever since that day, Lieutenant.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “Banking on another demoralization attempt?”
“I get kidnapped every month,” Wayne said, waving a hand casually, “I wanted to keep things interesting when they pulled out the scissors this time.”
Well. Fully buck nude on a Gotham pier in the middle of the day was definitely interesting in Jim’s book.
“Oh wow,” Ramirez said, approaching from behind his left, “Wayne, you’ve been holding out on us.”
“This is a defiant moment for me, Ramirez,” Wayne said back, serene as he stared into the distance, “You won’t cheapen it by ogling.”
“I’m not ogling,” Ramirez said, her gaze slowly shifting up Wayne’s body as she, in one word, ogled, “I’m just trying to figure out if I should get the name of your waxer.”
Jim sighed as the press began filing along the tape a patrolman had set up a few minutes earlier, eager for a shot. He briefly held out hope that the scene would be too graphic for photography, and Wayne’s…nudity would simply be recounted in print.
A camera flash blinded him a moment later. Jim sighed around another drag on his cigarette, wondering if he should move out of the way.
Wayne, a trained media professional from birth, clocked his hesitance. “You’re already in the other two,” he said, keeping perfectly composed as he angled his body slightly toward the cameras. “Might as well make it an even three.”
“Three isn’t an even number,” Jim grumbled. He knew exactly what he looked like in those other two photos, because they were still hanging above the bullpen coffee station. “And I hate photos.”
“Oh don’t worry about it. I have my people buy up the Getty images rights and airbrush them afterwards,” Wayne said, which was horrifying. “You’ll look ten years younger.”
Jim turned, leveling a glare at the billionaire. Behind him, Ramirez choked on her spit, coughing suddenly off to the side like she was dying.
“Lieutenant Gordon, will you be arresting Mr. Wayne for public indecency?” a voice called out from the tape, vaguely familiar.
Next to him, Wayne froze imperceptibly. Jim turned to find the same damn reporter from the Planet -- Kent something? -- leaning over the tape, phone in hand.
“No,” Jim said, dropping his cigarette. He ground it on the pier concrete with his heel, taking his goddamned time, “Mr. Wayne’s…nudity seems to be a consequence of factors largely out of his control.”
Wayne and Kent stared at each other. On the tape line, the reporter looked near…salivating.
In response, Wayne was unabashed in his nudity and apparently trying to convey that by burning holes into Kent’s head. This only seemed to amuse the reporter.
“Is his continued nudity a part of the GCPD investigation?” Kent asked, knowing damn well it wasn’t. “Will Mr. Wayne be covering up? Inquiring minds on Twitter want to know, Lieutenant.”
Jim glanced at Wayne, who blinked big, vacant blue eyes back at him.
“Mr. Wayne is…reportedly having a moment of expressive self-defiance that the GCPD considers to be a non-issue at this time.” Jim said, “Officer discretion is always available when conducting an investigation, Mr. Kent.”
Kent raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you approve of Mr. Wayne’s nudity, Lieutenant?”
Ramirez began choking again, bending at the waist as she cackled into her knees. Wayne had raised a matching eyebrow to Kent’s, flicking a glance Jim’s way.
“No comment,” Jim said, feeling his cheeks begin to flush. “Move along, Kent.”
Kent, being an enterprising reporter, merely turned his attention on Wayne. “Mr. Wayne, any comment before the Daily Planet runs the story?”
Wayne opened his mouth, paused, then seemed to reconsider.
“No, actually, I think this speaks for itself,” he said, gesturing at his naked body. His open expression twisted into the beginning of a leer, “You can always follow up with me later if you need another quote, though.”
“Will you still be nude, Mr. Wayne?” Kent asked, raising another brow with textbook-perfect politeness, “We may need additional close ups.”
“I could see that happening, yes,” Wayne replied, grinning wickedly, “I--”
Jim spun on his heel, dragging a still-giggling Ramirez with him by the elbow. He didn’t need to hear the rest of that sentence. Hopefully Kent didn’t share it with the rest of America, either.
“Never say shit like that to a reporter,” he cautioned Ramirez, heading for their squad car, “Reporters are snakes. It’ll all end up on the record no matter what they claim.”
“Oh, I’m sure Kent’s got a snake he’d like to share with Wayne,” Ramirez said, waggling both eyebrows in a way that disappointed him to the core, “Get it, Jim? Huh? ‘Cause he’s got a--”
Jim hit the emergency alarm on his car keys, unrepentant. Everyone in a thirty foot radius jumped at the sudden siren.
“Whoops,” he said, shoving Ramirez toward the passenger door before clicking it off, “Damn keys. Always going off for some reason.”
Ramirez eventually settled in her seat, rolling her eyes as she clicked her seatbelt.
“Uh huh.”