Lover-Keeping it going!

Thanks to all the reviews!

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.

-Mark Twain

A Proposition

"Um…I d-don't think this was such a good id-dea." Crane had no idea as to why he was stuttering. He blamed it on the cold. The doctor made to get out of the car, but was stopped by Bruce, who placed a hand on his left forearm. The warmth of the older man's skin was pretty much the only heat in the car, and Crane's skin broke out in gooseflesh, the small bumps running up and down his body.

"Nonsense." Bruce said, the simple sentence making the brunette pause, his arm still in the air. "What would make you think that?"

"Because I, Bruce Wayne, am not famous, so I cannot see why I am in the same car as you." The sentence was curt, yet held the politeness of a trained businessman.

"Well, Doctor Crane, leaving you out in the rain isn't exactly what I call good hospitality."

Jonathon's mouth fell open in slight wonder, but he caught himself and snapped his jaw back up. "How do you know my name?"

The playboy laughed, the sound as smooth as his voice, and Crane had to try very hard not to slap him. "Why, doesn't everybody know the good doctor?"

"Good doctor?" Crane echoed, slightly confused. "What makes you think I'm a 'good doctor'?"

"You have a PhD don't you?"

The answer was simple enough to make Jonathon turn his head away in order to not let Bruce see him roll his eyes. How could this man be so oblivious? It was inconceivable!

"You don't watch the news too much, do you Mr. Wayne?" Jonathon asked, continuing to stare out of the window. He watched the rain hit the windshield, and then roll down it, making little rain rivulets as it went. He suddenly had the bursting urge to rush out there and just stand in the rain. If it wasn't so cold, then he actually believed he might do it. When Bruce took his hand away to run it through his own hair, he began to shiver again.

"Only when something intereting's on." The rich man replied casually. He glanced over at the other man and just now noticed that he was shivering. Bruce guessed he had a higher tolerance to the cold, for he thought the temperature could hardly be considered chilly. Then he remembered that the other was wet. He reached forward and fiddled with the knobs on the dashboard, and warm air suddenly began to blow out of the heater, filling the car up like a cup of coffee.

The shivers coursing throughout Crane's body subsided, and he turned to look at the raven-haired man beside him, gratefulness in his blue eyes.

"Thanks." He muttered sheepishly.

He jumped, startled, when Bruce suddenly revved the engine of the Lamborghini and pulled off of the curb. The black car zoomed down the road, acting like there was no such thing as a speed limit. If Jonathon had to guess, he'd say they were doing about sixty.

"Don't mention it, no where do you live, Doctor Crane?" Bruce asked, that cocky smirk still on his face from earlier. He didn't take his eyes off of the road while asking the question, and for that, Jonathon was grateful.

"Ummm…The Blue Goose, a couple of miles off of Main Avenue."

The older man looked at him with a raised eyebrow, mirth in his eyes, and Jonathon instantly knew what he was going to say.

"No, Mr. Wayne, I didn't name the place." He said, sighing, looking out to the road once more. "And if you make some outrageous comment about them stuffing geese under our pillows-"

"Mr. Crane!" Bruce exclaimed, a full-blown grin plastered on his face. "What kind of man do you take me for?"

Jonathon simply 'harrumphed' watching the buildings pass at what seemed like lightning speed.

After a while, the silence in the car seemed to stretch on and on, until finally Bruce spoke. The noise caused Jonathon to jump again, and he mentally swore at his own jumpiness. He was becoming more and more convinced that this man was doing it entirely to just see him jump.

"So….what is it that you do exactly, Doctor Crane?" The question itself was innocent enough, and without hesitation, Crane answered.

"I am currently jobless, Mr. Wayne." He said, still staring out of the window. The storm hadn't seemed to lighten up any, but his mood had. "An unemployed adult."

For once, Bruce took his eyes off of the road, glancing at the still dripping man, before looking back at his driving. His expression seemed worried, and to Crane it was funny. Almost like he cared.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He asked, his voice light, like he was treading on hallowed ground. "How will you live out your life jobless?"

"Simple enough." Jonathon replied, his tone back to being casual. "I'll just roam around until I happen to find one."

Bruce seemed to chew on this for a while, his expression remaining thoughtful. Jonathon mentally hoped that he didn't bust a blood vessel. Then again, who knew with this man? It was almost like playing a game of charades.

"What about if I offered you a job?" Bruce asked, glancing at Crane once again. He sounded serious enough, but Jonathon wasn't so sure. The brunette turned to stare at the other man, his expression veiled, in case he was joking, but he never busted out laughing.

"If I gave you a job, would it help?" Bruce asked again. "Would you be able to….support yourself?"

"I would think if it were you, Mr. Wayne, then I would be alright, though I don't see why you are so fixated on helping me."

Well, if a good person does bad things, then I don't think that makes him a bad person, do you?" Without waiting for an answer, the playboy continued. "It shouldn't, and it won't to me."

The seriousness in his voice made Jonathon blink. It was so abrupt, almost like the man was bipolar, which he probably was. "What exactly would I be doing?"

"You would be my personal doctor. You would be by my side all day, and act as my secretary." The reply was straight to the point. "Does that sound alright to you?"

"Are you sure you want me, of all people, as your doctor?" Crane asked uncertainly. After all, what sane person would? He had gassed thousands, no millions of people, and even put in Arkham because of it.

Bruce screeched to a halt outside of The Blue Goose Apartments, earning strange looks from people walking by.

The raven-haired man turned to him and said, "Why wouldn't I?" For a second, Jonathon could've sworn he saw a flash of Bruce's true face. He looked haggard, sleep-deprived. Like Crane had felt a few weeks ago after losing his most recent job.

Then it was gone, and that old, familiar and playful twinkle was back. It was a mask. "You're stop."

Jonathon looked around, as if noticing where they were for the very first time. "So we are. What time should I be in?" Jonathon had already gotten out, and was leaning in, his hands hanging onto the car door.

"Seven 'o' clock a.m."

"I'll be there." And Jonathon closed the door, watching the expensive car as it sped off. It turned a corner and vanished from his sight.

Suddenly realizing he was still standing in the middle of a thunderstorm, the brunette ran up to the apartment, raced up the stairs, and fumbled with opening the door. Upon opening it, he dashed in, and slammed the door, securely locking it.

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.

SupportSeverusSnape - Lol. H eacn't help himself!

AnathemasCurse - I'll try my best!

chicken-breast - I'll try, although I'll admit I'm not to good with the Nc-17 scenes...

SolitaryMovement - It's soooo hard to keep them in character! Just wait till you see what I have planned!

Thanks to all reviews!!

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