Author's Note:

Disclaimer: Batman/Bruce Wayne and everything related to him are not my ideas. All of this stems from the incredible imagination of the writers and artists at DC Comics, the cast and crew of Christopher Nolan's Batman franchise, and, of course, Bob Kane and Bill Finger.
However, Anastasia Williams and everything related to her are my ideas from my own imagination.
I also have never been to Hawaii, so accuracy and such is probably pretty horrendous—sorry.
This story is entirely AU, but it goes along the lines of Nolan's Batman Begins and The Dark Knight.
While it is along the lines of the movies and some real life things, I am tweaking things in my own way to make them fit well into the story (ie, Bruce's eyes are BLUE, not brown).
This story is rated T for language and some possible suggestive themes. I might up the rating if things get too drastic and violent.
YES, this is another Bruce Wayne/OC story, hence the sarcastic nature of the title. I know it's entirely AU, OOC, and non-canon.
This is for my own guilty pleasure, and for anyone else's, too. If you don't like these kinds of stories, DO NOT READ.
However, I will do my best to avoid the common OC and BW/OC topics and keep the characters as in character as possible.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are adored!

PART I

Monday, February 7, 2000; 10:24am – Hilo International Airport; Hilo, Hawaii

"There must be another way, sir. A week is absolutely absurd!" Alfred was fuming, but aside from his raised voice he managed to keep his composure better than Bruce ever could have. Even so, seeing Alfred this furious was amusing enough to keep Bruce stifling smiles behind yawns.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it'll take a couple of days for the parts to arrive and a couple more for me to repair 'em," the large—girth-wise, mechanic refuted. "There's nothing I can do."

Clenching his fists to maintain the composure he always held, Alfred only gave a curt nod in parting before stalking back towards where Bruce was sitting. Taking his ice blue eyes away from the wet and rainy runway, he glanced up at the approaching butler. "I'm afraid, Master Wayne, that we'll be here for quite some time. Some quick trip to Sydney this was," he muttered, and Bruce struggled to keep a smile back yet again.

"Well, where are we stuck, Alfred?" the young billionaire questioned as he stood. Alfred gathered their two duffle bags next to him, all the luggage they had brought.

"Hilo, Hawaii, sir. And a long way from Princeton, I'm afraid. Or Gotham, for that matter," he added in a mutter.

Bruce couldn't hold the snicker that escaped him, earning a glance from the butler. "I'm sure I'm not missing much."

After renting a large luxury Chrysler, they were given directions to the nearest, high-rate hotel. Even though it was a couple miles north of Hilo and closer to a tiny town—no, village, called Honomu, it only took twenty minutes to find it. And by high-rate, it was a tiny, four-star hotel for honeymooners. Though Alfred was clearly in a sour mood-well, clear enough for Bruce to see but anyone else to think that was how butlers normally acted—the cozy little inn itself actually raised his spirits slightly.

It had been Alfred who had practically forced Bruce on a vacation to Sydney to enjoy summer on a southern hemisphere beach in hopes of lightening his mood, and, as Bruce suspected, spend some time with him. After all, Bruce hadn't been back to the Manor since he left Gotham University, much to both Alfred's and Rachel's dismay. Not even for Christmas. So Alfred had taken it upon himself to kidnap the Prince of Gotham and force him on a vacation. Alfred couldn't put up with Bruce's brooding around the hotel for longer than three days.

And here they were, stuck halfway between their departure point and their destination with a broken engine. If Bruce was absolutely jumping to return to the east coast, it would be very possible for the pair to purchase first class tickets on the next flight out of the tiny airport. But he had no motivation to be jumping to do anything at all, let alone return to the cold and dreary New England area. And he suspected that Alfred secretly appreciated the delay as a way to spend more time with Bruce.

So Hilo it was.

The lobby was quaint and homey, but as clean as a hospital. Marble tile brandished the floor and there was a plant or a pot of flowers wherever there was space for one without cluttering the spacious room. A couple different sofas, all a deep maroon color, created small, incomplete squares with a polished wooden coffee table in the center of each. An unnecessary fireplace was against the far west wall while most of the east wall was covered in glass, which was speckled with rain, to reveal the rocky shoreline less than a football field away. The front desk was also made of marble, matching the floor, and behind it, a young Hawaiian woman sat busy at work, her deep brown hair failing in ringlets over her shoulders. Aside from her and them, there were only two others in the lobby; one was a teenaged bellboy and the other was a curious guest who looked to be nearly the same age as Bruce, peeking down halls and through windows.

That thought alone made him cringe inwardly. The poor man was married, a new gold ring brandishing his left ring finger. And he looked to be barely out of college, if he even went. Romance of any sort was not Bruce's thing. Rachel came close, dangerously close, and he supposed if he ever did marry anyone—not that he was planning on it—it would be her. But he hadn't seen her since he left Gotham University and the most prominent image in his mind when he thought of her was their childhood days at the manor, laughing and playing; not their early college days where whenever she had time, she tried her best to drag him out of his books and cheer him up. Wasn't there another hotel good enough for Alfred's standards somewhere on this island? A Four Seasons or a Hyatt with a cozy, isolated penthouse?

"Hi, how may I help you gentlemen?" the secretary asked as she finally glanced up, a wide and bright smile lighting up her pretty features.

Bruce tried his best to smile back, but he just wasn't in the mood. Thinking of Rachel dampened his spirits just as much as any nightmare of his could.

Alfred, instead, took the honors. "We would like a room, if you please, miss."

At the suggestion of a single room, Bruce awoke slightly from his depressed trance, but as the secretary was already keying in information on the computer in front of her, Bruce did notice that this hotel wasn't exactly the Ritz Carlton with thousands upon thousands of rooms. And even if it was a cold and rainy February, the off-season, he doubted this place even had a dozen rooms.

"Certainly. For how many nights?"

At this, Alfred hesitated, still slightly angry that it would take a week to fix an engine. "A week, please," Bruce answered for him, earning a quick glance over and a nod from the woman as she arranged a room. Bruce was used to being stared at by now, so he paid the glance over little mind as she continued.

"Alright. And may I have a name?"

"Alfred Pennyworth," Alfred answered for Bruce as the young billionaire glanced out the wall of windows. The rain had gotten heavier since they had left the airport.

Nodding, the woman quickly entered the information and produced a key card to set next to the keyboard in front of her. "You'll be charged for the first night now, but the rest of your stay will be charged when you leave. The total will be $359 for tonight."

Alfred was fishing for his own wallet in his pocket, but Bruce had been paying enough attention to beat him to the punch. Not that it mattered, Alfred's walled contained cards connected to Bruce's accounts. Handing the sleek, platinum credit card to the secretary, she took it and began typing the information in right away.

It took her less than thirty seconds to reach the name on the card and pause, her deep brown eyes glancing up to Bruce as she struggle to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. Uneasily, she finished up with the credit card information and handed it back to the boy billionaire with a wider grin than before.

"Perfect. Mr. Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne. Your room is room eight, on the second floor and at the east end of the inn. Check out time is 11am. Enjoy your stay," she added, her eyes remaining locked on Bruce.

He made sure to turn away first before he frowned, earning an amused smirk from the elder butler.