A/N: Once again, my apologies for taking so long to update. This chapter has some gratuitous smut in it, fair warning! Thank you to all who reviewed and thanks for reading!!

Reeniecat

* * *

It was a Friday night, and Bruce, Alfred and Jack sat at the dining table, amiably having dinner together. Bruce was dedicated to gradually getting Alfred accustomed to having Jack around and was pleased to find he had apparently had some degree of success. This evening, at least, Alfred didn't get that stiff-upper-lip, British, pained look when Bruce announced that Jack would be staying for dinner. He had even become almost inured to Jack being around for breakfast on the weekends, although that seemed to tax him more than just about anything else.

"Pass the rolls, please, Alfred," Bruce requested. Alfred handed him the basket, and Bruce offered one to Jack, who smiled appreciatively and took one.

"You're a good cook, Alfred," Jack said awkwardly. He and Alfred had long ago come to some sort of truce, but he still felt a little demoralized by the older, very reserved man. Jack understood how important he was to Bruce, and he wished he could get Alfred to actually like him, since he obviously wasn't going to go away. But the sharp-witted butler never quite got over his mistrust of the stormy, unpredictable boy.

"Very kind of you to say so, sir..." responded Alfred, trying to sound sincere. He did his best to be civil to the young delinquent, for Master Wayne's sake, but...mealtimes had become one of the few opportunities he had to enjoy Bruce's company these days, to chat with him and find out what was going on in his increasingly busy life. With Jack there, he felt like an intruder. Still, at least Bruce stayed home more often....

Bruce had tried more than once to talk to Alfred about his relationship with Jack. He had tried telling him how happy he was to have someone in his life that he cared for so much, who made something as mundane as doing homework fun, who he could count on to make him laugh even when everything in his life seemed depressing and miserable. Alfred had gamely listened, but Bruce could see the whole situation was dreadfully unsettling to him, so he had always quickly dropped the topic.

Yes, Alfred had listened. He had done his best to partake of the conversation, tried to pretend as though his young charge were simply relating his day at school or discussing a favorite movie with him. But, he was from another generation, raised in an era when men in Bruce's situation kept their private lives very, very private, and Alfred had simply been unable to relax.

Although, he supposed with a sigh, the butler always knows. Long tradition, it was the burden and the responsibility of men serving in that unique situation to maintain appearances on behalf of their employers. Alfred had failed to envision himself in that particular role, however, and it didn't come naturally to him.

Alfred thought perhaps the whole situation would have been easier to bear if only the other young gentlemen had been someone--anyone--other than Jack Ramsey. Someone more...suitable for a youth in Bruce Wayne's social class. Someone who hadn't been a budding criminal....That, of course, was the problem. He could see how Bruce might find him...interesting. In need of salvation. His charge was always looking for projects....

Although, Alfred had to admit, Jack could be a likeable enough fellow, intelligent, humorous, even sweet-natured, sometimes. He supposed that, as far as Bruce's future was concerned, they were lucky he hadn't taken up with a young woman with a rough background similar to Jack's. A rough background and a more ruthless personality...at least, in this case, there was no chance of a pregnancy, with a resultant guilt-induced, ill-advised marriage to ruin his employer's young life.

Funny how things work out, he mused grimly as the boys bantered back and forth. He watched Master Wayne smile in that...that special way he had, just for him, the blond boy, as he playfully threw a dinner roll at Bruce in response to a teasing insult. As they...flirted, he supposed the word was.

One should be grateful for small blessings. He supposed.

* * *

Bruce took Jack upstairs. They undressed and started out with a warm shower, kissing as they soaped each other thoroughly, leisurely, using the shower head to rinse each other clean, allowing the erotic power of the rushing water to excite themselves in advance of what they knew they would end up doing to each other once they got in bed.

"I need to fuck you...." Bruce murmured into Jack's ear as he toweled him dry.

"Yeah, I can tell...." Jack said, amused, taking the towel away from him and draping it over Bruce's erection.

"Stop that. And, by the way, get your ass in my bed..." Bruce growled, then grinned.

They got in bed. Bruce took Jack in his arms and began kissing him unhurriedly, stopping every so often so he could look into Jack's soft brown eyes, or admire the light smattering of freckles on his nose, or take in the curve of his delicious mouth....Bruce sometimes felt he needed to memorize every detail of Jack's features, so he could go over them when they were apart for far too long, which happened far too often...he gently nipped Jack's lower lip, and once again wondered at the deep indentation of the jagged vertical scar that was so tantalizing to him. He took his fingertip and softly traced its path, from its origin inside his mouth, down to his chin. Jack watched him carefully, always alert to his moods, always ready to respond....

"I never asked you, how did you get this scar?" Bruce asked curiously.

Jack cast his eyes toward the window as Bruce nibbled his neck and took a breath. "I fell...when I was a kid," he said simply. "I hit the edge of a glass coffee table." He turned his gaze back to Bruce, who was now paying close attention, and shrugged, raising an eyebrow dismissively. Bruce gave him a skeptical look.

"Ok...so that's the short answer," Bruce commented. "What's the whole story?"

"Oh...it's one of those pathetic poor-Jack stories. I've got a million of 'em. I can have you in tears at a moment's notice, Brucey-boy, you don't want to go down that road tonight, do ya?" Jack asked sardonically.

"Tell me," Bruce encouraged. "Please."

Jack sighed. He absently ran his fingers down Bruce's back, winning a delicious shiver from the older boy.

"Ok, fine...I was five years old. My dad...he got drunk a lot. One night, I heard him yelling at my mom and I came downstairs to see what was going on. I saw him shove her backward, and she fell down. I was so mad...I ran up to him and started hitting and kicking him, just this stupid little kid pummeling a big ol' drunk...he grabbed my arm, picked me up and slammed me down. I happened to land face-first on the coffee table. Knocked out a bunch of baby teeth, cut my lip wide open, plus my arm was dislocated...my mom and I spent the rest of the evening in the emergency room. The next day, my father acted like nothing ever happened." His voice had taken on a ragged tone and Bruce could hear the hurt of a still-bewildered little boy.

Jack shrugged again and stared up at the ceiling. Bruce pulled him closer to himself and pressed his lips against Jack's soft cheek. "Oh, babe. That's...that's horrible. I'm so sorry, so sorry...." he said tenderly. Jack was always so determined to be strong and undaunted by the world, it was rare he let Bruce see his vulnerable side. When Jack spoke again, he had regained his usual bored, slightly condescending tone.

"Aw, don't go getting all mushy on me, forget about it. Hey, I don't want to talk about this shit anymore. Come on, I thought you wanted to fuck, huh?" Jack unconsciously sucked in his lower lip and looked hopefully at Bruce. Bruce nodded. He wished he could say something to make it right, to take away the bad memories, but he knew that wasn't possible. Jack didn't want him feeling sorry for him, that much he knew as well.

Bruce moved in for a kiss....Jack's mouth tasted so good, felt so good....Bruce loved feeling the boy's skinny frame moving under him, and he felt humbled knowing that this complicated young man he had somehow been lucky enough to find genuinely wanted him, not for his money or position, but for himself.

They moved together as they kissed, erections brushing against each other, hands exploring, squeezing, stroking. Bruce bit Jack's shoulder, and he enthusiastically returned the favor, maybe a little too much so...Bruce found the lubricant and gently prepared the other boy for their lovemaking, causing him to groan from deep in his throat as he eagerly lay back, pulling his legs higher and wider apart for Bruce.

The sight of his lover laying there, open to him, waiting to be penetrated by him, filled Bruce with a stomach-churning happiness he didn't understand or even care to try. He simply got on top of Jack and gave a deep thrust into the other teen, marveling at how velvety smooth, tight and warm the inside of his boyfriend's body was. He looked down to see Jack's face, tensed in concentration, but so sweet and trusting of him. Bruce smiled as he gently slipped his length in and out of him, watching as the other gradually relaxed and began moving in rhythm with Bruce's regular, deep, hard thrusts.

No matter how often they made love, Jack could never adequately prepare himself mentally or physically for the moment when Bruce would finally enter him after a mind-bending make-out session. He always felt flustered and weak in the knees, as though he were approaching the very top of a very steep roller coaster, about to plunge hundreds of feet in two seconds....

But soon, and always, as Bruce's hard member slid further and further into his body, gentle but relentless, he would find himself losing the power of intelligent thought. He'd instinctively wrap himself around the other, and then he would eagerly thrust his hips up to meet the dark-haired boy's muscular body, alternately crying out and moaning with pleasure. Often, he wouldn't even be aware of the sounds he made or the words that slipped out, "God, Bruce, fuck me...harder, please, fuck me, fuck me..." or of the deep groan that presaged his orgasm.

Bruce loved hearing Jack say his name during sex, he loved Jack's deep rich voice, and he loved feeling his body writhing under him as he rocked into him again and again. Bruce arched his back and came deep inside his love, his boy....his cock continued to spasm with the last of his release, and Bruce lay on top of Jack, recovering, kissing him feverishly, gently brushing aside a sweat-drenched strand of blond hair matted on Jack's forehead so he could press his lips against his skin.

"So incredible...you're so incredible...I love you, Jack," Bruce murmured in his ear.

"Yeah, yeah, you just like fucking me," Jack rasped dismissively, once he again had control over his speech function. Bruce opened his eyes and was glad to see an impish grin accompanied the cynical statement.

"Yes, that's true...but I do love you, you little brat. Why do you have to make me say it twice?" Bruce asked, amused.

"Can't say it enough. I love you, too..." Jack firmly snuggled up against his boyfriend, and soon they slipped off into a very sound sleep.

* * *

The following Saturday, after Jack had had breakfast with him and then headed off to work, Bruce was finally able to make good on his promise to himself to spend some quality time with Rachel. He called her, picked her up after lunch and took her to a movie. Then they went to the mall and enjoyed window shopping and people watching. Tired of walking, they eventually sat in the food court, chatting over Chinese fast food and diet sodas.

"Honestly, Bruce, this year has just flown by, hasn't it? It's going to be summer vacation before we know it. Do you have any big plans this year?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know, exactly...my Aunt Miri's been talking about having me come spend some time at her place in the country, and then having me work with her every day for a couple of months. She wants me to get to know people at the office, you know, start making connections for the future...."

"Really? Wow, she's going to start grooming you for the executive suite already? Are you up for that?"

"Well, my father started getting involved in the business when he was my age, I guess it's time. Anyway, she's a lot of fun and if I'm going to end up running the thing, I better get as much education from her as possible."

"But, is that what you really want? To be stuck in an office for the rest of your life?"

"I don't know!" So much of Bruce's future seemed to have already been written for him that he sometimes forgot that he had alternatives. "I guess this would be a good time to see if it is, right?"

"I guess so. I was kind of hoping you and I would have more time to spend together. I feel like I've hardly had a minute with you this entire year."

"Yeah, I know. We've both been so busy...."

"Yes, and your big buddy Jack certainly seems to take a lot of your time...."

"Well, we have a lot in common..." Bruce hedged awkwardly. "Look, do you want to see what Harvey and Cindy are up to tonight?" he asked, hastily changing the subject.

"Sure, call 'em and let's see if they want to hang out."

Just as Bruce pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, it rang. Bruce didn't recognize the number, and looked at Rachel in amusement.

"Maybe this is them, wanting to see what we're doing..." he said, and they both laughed.

"Hello?" Bruce answered.

Bruce heard Jack's voice, sounding tense, on the other end of the line.

"Hey, buddy, what's up?" Bruce asked, mouthing "It's Jack" to Rachel, who tried not to be obvious as she rolled her eyes. She watched as Bruce's mouth dropped open in surprise and his voice was tight as he replied.

"Oh, shit," answered Bruce. "Yeah, of course, I'll be right down."

"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"It's Jack. He's in jail," Bruce replied, abruptly. "I've got to go bail him out. Come on, I'll drop you off on the way."