Two Gorgeous, Genius Billionaire Superheroes Walk Into A Party...
The cave was dark, the only light being that of the enormous computer screen flickering with incoming data and criminal profiles. The hum of the console mingled with the occasional fluttering of the bats and tapping on the keyboard. Leaning back in his chair, Bruce Wayne rested his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers, contemplating the information before him.
"Ahem." Bruce quickly spun his chair around to face his butler. Alfred was in his pajamas, yet his thinning hair was combed and his demeanor was as formal as ever. Slight bags beneath his eyes indicated that he hadn't gotten more than a couple hours of sleep. All this Bruce took in subconsciously, his conscious mind still processing data and patterns. "Master Bruce, a letter has just arrived for you." Bruce raised a thick dark eyebrow and checked his ridiculously expensive watch. 4:02am.
"I didn't know mailmen had night shifts." Bruce accepted the offered envelope, studying it with a well-trained eye. Bruce Wayne. Wayne Manor. Gotham City, New Jersey. No stamp. No return address.
"I don't believe they do, sir." Bruce grunted and slipped the letter into a scanner, eyes skimming the computer screen as new information popped up. No fingerprints, no chemical residue, no metal, no radioactivity, no anomalies of any kind. Just a regular letter. Warily, Bruce removed the envelope from the scanner and slid a fingernail under the flap. No powders, no gasses. He slipped out the sheet of paper, reading the handwritten letter with uncontainable curiosity.
Mr. Bruce Wayne,
You are hereby invited to the best damn party ever thrown. Stark Tower, North Building, Manhattan, Friday night at 9. We both know Brucie doesn't miss a good party.
I'm looking forward to meeting the legend himself. Feel free to bring a bird if you like, there'll be plenty of chicks already there.
Bring your favorite suit. I know I'll bring mine.
Tony Stark
Bruce reread the letter five times, unsure if all of the references were simply coincidences, which he didn't believe in; his so-called paranoia; or an indication of knowledge on Mr. Stark's part. Of course, Bruce knew that Tony Stark was Iron Man. What kind of detective would he be if he missed that? But had Mr. Stark figured out Bruce's secret? He supposed there was only one way to find out. New York City was nice that time of year. And besides, Brucie doesn't miss a good party.
–
"Sweet! Tony Stark! He's like a less intimidating you!" Dick crowed, strapping himself into his seat as the private plane prepared to take off. A young blonde stewardess in a shockingly short skirt winked at them as she pushed a cart of refreshments past their plush seats, presumably to set up their in-flight meal at the dining table. Bruce shot the teenager a distracted glare before returning his attention to his smartphone.
"This isn't for fun, Dick." Dick pulled a face and slumped down in his seat.
"'The best damn party ever thrown.' Gee, could've fooled me. Only you could turn a party into a mission, Bruce."
–
Bruce and Dick stepped out of the limo with charming smiles already in place. They waved cheerfully for the flashing cameras, stopping to shake hands and kiss cheeks with familiar faces in the paparazzi.
"I'm going straight for Stark; you try to grease some pockets for the Foundation, make some new friends. But remember, New York is new territory. Try not to step on any toes." All of this was said from the corner of Bruce's mouth as he and Dick posed for a tabloid photographer. The camera flashed and Dick rapidly blinked the spots from his vision.
"Sure, give me the dirty work," Dick grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. His cheeks were aching from the forced grin by the time they finally made it to the door and went their separate ways.
–
The party was loud, some popular indie band blaring through the speakers and shaking the building. The lobby of the business tower had somehow been transformed into a dance hall. A bar lined one wall of the room, ten bartenders mixing drinks for guests who had yet to get a buzz going. Tables scattered the rest of the perimeter, and the center of the room became a makeshift dance floor. Most of the party-goers were already wasted and grinding shamelessly against each other.
"Bruce Wayne!" Tony Stark shouted over the thumping bass, striding across the room with an outstretched hand. His Armani suit was impeccable, a dark blue that made his eyes pop, but his tie was loosened around his neck and a small lipstick smear on his collar tattled on his previous activities. Inky black hair was slicked back and his beard was neatly trimmed.
"Tony Stark!" Bruce returned merrily, 'playboy' smile planted firmly on his face as he grasped the hand and shook vigorously. Bruce was wearing a charcoal Calvin Klein suit, the jacket unbuttoned and conspicuously missing a tie. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his hair was slightly mussed. All of this had been carefully arranged ahead of time.
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne," Tony enthused. His sparkling eyes raked over the fellow billionaire with a sort of hunger.
"Likewise Mr. Stark." Tony grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder, steering Bruce deeper into the improvised ballroom, weaving his way through the hordes of people dancing and drinking.
"Please, call me Tony." Tony swiped two drinks from a passing tray and handed one to Bruce, fingers brushing his knuckles lightly.
"Only if you call me Bruce."
–
It was only half an hour in and Dick was utterly bored. And frustrated. Every time he went for a drink, he got carded. Old enough to die for his country (with his guardian's permission), but too young for a martini. Figured. Everybody at the party was plastered. Well, almost everybody. But Bruce and Tony were doing a damn good job of faking it: leaning against each other, giggling, whispering in each others' ears, stumbling slightly as they walked. Dick could see chemistry between them and smiled. Bruce had finally found an equal.
At last Dick spotted a boy about his age, standing awkwardly in a corner with both hands wrapped around a champagne flute. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dick rushed toward the stranger, praying that the conversation would be more interesting than his previous attempts at small talk with hammered supermodels.
"Dick Grayson," he introduced with a polite bow of his head, leaning against the wall beside the young man. The boy blinked up at him.
"Wait, Dick Grayson as in-" Dick cut him off, waving one hand in the air in annoyance.
"Yeah, yeah, Dick Grayson as in Bruce Wayne's ward." The other man took a sip of his drink, bright brown eyes dancing over the rim of his glass.
"Well, I was gonna say 'Dick Grayson, as in the Flying Graysons,' but I guess your way works too." Dick's eyes widened before he gave the man a curious glance, noting the tousled brown hair, cheap suit and expensive looking camera around his neck.
"Who are you?" The other boy shot him a secretive smile before looking down into his glass of what appeared to be champagne. Dick knew better. No way the guy was twenty-one.
"Just a man with a new-found appreciation for swinging from ropes." Dick contemplated this for a minute. He had never actually seen the pictures, but he'd read the file. And they were in New York, his territory. Dick grinned and held out a hand.
"Peter Parker, amiright?" Peter looked up, startled, and shook Dick's hand apprehensively.
"Yeah, how'd you know?" Dick raised an eyebrow at the camera, lips twitching in amusement.
"I've seen your stuff in the Bugle. It's good work. Can't be easy to get such good pictures of a man who climbs walls." Peter blushed and looked back down at his drink.
"Well everyone has their secrets." Dick smiled and glanced over at Tony and Bruce, who were slowly, subtly, making their way toward the elevators.
"Yes, we all do."
–
Bruce laughed and pretended to take a sip of his drink, purposefully ignoring the arm still wrapped around his shoulder. The warm weight was surprisingly comforting.
"But enough about me," Tony chuckled, squeezing Bruce's bicep. "Tell me about you." Bruce smiled easily, swaying a bit to the music as they staggered around the room.
"There's not much about me you can't read in the papers, Tony." Tony laughed loudly before he leaned in close, cupping one hand at the side of his mouth and whispering in Bruce's ear.
"One gorgeous, genius billionaire superhero to another, that's ginger ale. You can drink it." Bruce's lips twitched down slightly before the fake playboy smile was back on his face.
"Thanks, that was sweet of you." Tony grinned and leaned in to whisper in his ear again.
"Between us though, there's one thing I just couldn't understand." Bruce raised an eyebrow at the other man. Tony jerked his head toward the far wall and breathed, "Why'd you get the kid involved?" Bruce's smile froze in place, his eye twitching, before he spoke through unmoving lips.
"I don't think this is the time or place for such a discussion, Mr. Stark." Bruce glanced around discreetly and spotted the elevators, subtly changing their direction to lead them there. They stumbled through the crowd, putting on quite a show of sloppy smiles and near-falls.
"Well y'know this building has a lot of floors," Stark slurred, waggling his eyebrows. Bruce smirked and stopped them in front of the elevators, turning to face the other man, whose arm slid down to encircle his waist.
"We might as well pay Spiderman's rent while we're starting rumors," Bruce whispered, stepping closer so the two were chest to chest. Tony's eye's flickered across the room to where Peter was scanning the crowd through his camera lens. Grinning, Tony wrapped his other arm around Bruce's waist, tugging his hips flush against his own.
"Mmm, saving the world, one broke superhero photographer at a time." Bruce leaned down and captured Tony's lips with his own, bringing his hands up to tangle in his dark hair and deepening the kiss. He could always blame the booze.
–
"Oh my god!" Peter cried, almost dropping his camera. Dick jerked his head around and followed Peter's line of sight, eyes finally landing on the lip-locked heroes. Dick grinned and crossed his arms over his chest, slouching against the wall.
"Quick, snap a picture while it's still PG." Peter hurried to comply, fumbling with the camera for a second before the telltale flash indicated his success. A moment later, Tony's hand slid down to grope Bruce's ass, and Peter snapped another picture, if only to assure himself that he wasn't imagining it.
I'm considering making this the first in a new series which crosses over with Marvel. But only with Tony and Peter, since they're the only Marvel heroes that I actually like. What are your thoughts?