The Coffee Crusader

Cheride

Peter Burke grimaced as he set his coffee cup on the desk with an obvious thud.

"What's wrong?" Neal asked, looking up from the case file he was studying. His eyes widened in apprehension when Peter turned the grimace on him. "What?"

"Close the door," Peter instructed, his tone suddenly ominous.

"Why? No one's here; we're the only ones stupid enough to still be working at six-thirty on a Friday night."

"Close. It. Now."

Confused, and suddenly a little scared, Neal did as instructed, then slowly returned to his seat across from Peter's desk. "Whatever you think I did," he said, "I swear I didn't do it." When there was no immediate answer, Neal prompted again, "Peter, what's wrong?"

"Don't call me that!" Peter snapped.

Neal was more confused than ever. "Don't call you Peter? It's been a long time since I've had to resort to Agent Burke, but if you insist—"

"No!" Peter looked around furtively, assuring himself no one else was in the office. "Call me Bruce."

Neal's lips snapped shut on whatever he'd been about to say. After a couple of seconds, he was willing to venture a response. "Peter," he ignored the older man's glare, "what is going on with you?"

"I'm tired of this," Peter retorted. "Tired of working late in an office, tired of wasting so much time on boring bank fraud when there are actual dangerous criminals on the street," his voice was rising as he continued his litany, "tired of having to follow so many rules, tired of not even being able to use my real name, and most of all," he suddenly shoved his mug to the side of the desk, sloshing brown liquid as it went, "I'm tired of this godforsaken swill that passes for coffee in this place!"

Neal stared at him in dumbfounded silence for a beat or two before finally muttering, "Holy undercover freakout."

The words did nothing to calm Peter. "Don't be a smartass, Dick, and I mean it; call me Bruce. Right now. Say it."

Neal swiveled his head around to scan the bullpen quickly, seeing for himself that they were truly alone, then turned back to look at his handler. Or, he supposed, his guardian, though it had been a really long time since he'd thought of the man that way. "Okay, Bruce, calm down. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"I just told you," Peter snarled, "I'm tired of this. It's pointless, and it's boring, and it's got really bad coffee. Do you know the kind of coffee I had back at Wayne Manor? How much I loved having Alfred bring me a fresh cup whenever I wanted it?"

"That's what you have me for now," Neal pointed out.

"I'll admit I do like it when you have to fetch for me," Peter smiled, "but that doesn't change the fact that the coffee you fetch is total crap."

Neal was suddenly angry. "You're really gonna bitch about coffee? To me? After I spent four years in prison to set this cover? Four years in orange jumpsuits and a six-by-eight cell? Drinking instant coffee, by the way. And you're going to complain because you're tired of your cushy Peter Burke lifestyle? I gave up being Nightwing for this! So whatever sort of bat you've got in your bonnet, you need to cowboy up and deal with it. We're here to do a job and you don't get to waste all our years of hard work just because you suddenly want to be some kind of coffee sommelier or something."

"Oh, no. You don't get to lecture me on doing the right thing or what our job is supposed to be. Our job is what I say it is, and I'm getting pretty tired of chasing after accountants too stupid not to leave a money trail that leads right to their own bank accounts." He straightened his back and shoulders, drawing himself into an almost regal pose. "I'm not just the boss, in case you've forgotten. I am—"

"Yeah, yeah," Neal interrupted. "I've heard it all before. Vengeance. The night. Blah, blah, blah."

Peter glared at him. "I'm Batman." His deep, gravelly voice didn't impress Neal.

"What you are is bat shit crazy. I'm taking you home to Elizabeth."

"Selina," Peter said petulantly, earning his own glare from Neal.

"Elizabeth. If there ever comes a time when the entire white collar division has to learn the truth—including that my name is really Dick—it's going to be over something a lot more important than coffee. So I'm taking you home, you're going to spend the weekend with your lovely wife and drinking all the fancy coffee you want, and then Peter Burke is going to come back here Monday morning ready to track down more stupid accountants, you got it?"

Peter pouted. "But—"

"No buts. You give me any trouble about this or try to blow our covers, I'm going to tell everyone about the time you got beaten up by Wonder Woman."

"Dick, you wouldn't."

"Don't test me, Peter. Now get your stuff together and let's go."

"I liked you better when you were a little orphan waif," Peter grumbled as he shut down his computer and then stood to leave.

"I'm sure you did," Neal chuckled. "But you behave, and maybe we'll see if Elizabeth could flip on a bat signal for a second, just for old time's sake."

That got Peter's attention, and he grinned suddenly in anticipation. "Do you think maybe she'd put on her catsuit, too?"

"TMI, buddy, TMI!"

"Come on." Peter laughed as he clapped the young man on the back. "Let's get our weekend started. If you promise to behave, I can probably stay home for the next forty-eight hours and be Bruce to my heart's content."

"It's a deal," Neal promised. "Then you can get back to being Peter Burke." He waggled his eyebrows and grinned gleefully. "And you know when and where that'll be."

"Don't you dare," Peter warned as they walked out of the glass doors side by side.

But Neal couldn't be deterred.

"Same bat time, same bat channel."

~END~

Look, I'm really not a comics girl (or a crossover girl, as far as that goes), but I did grow up with the Adam West series (though this certainly doesn't purport to be true to any particular incarnation), and that's the reason Batman is my favorite superhero ever, and the reason I'll always choose DC over Marvel any day of the week. (The fact that they've got Matt B. in their universe these days doesn't hurt, either!)

Mostly, though, it's the first of April (at least for me; FFN may have already rolled the date), so I had to commemorate the date in some manner, right?