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Art is a Lie

"Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth." Pablo Picasso

Blake sat on the couch and thought about balls. Big balls and small balls and every size balls in between. And not the happy to think about sort of balls that meant sex was on his mind and an orgasm was optimistically in his future. No...he was thinking about the sports kind of balls. Mainly what was bigger than a baseball but smaller than a basketball? He'd never been one for team sports as a teenager and neither had Arthur. They'd both preferred martial arts, gymnastics, and running to keep in shape. The rest of his family was pretty much the same. So yeah, he knew the various important city teams but that was about it. And he'd been good with that lack of knowledge until this moment.

How big was a rugby-nevermind. Wrong shape. He was pretty sure that those things looked like an American football.

After a few more minutes of thought and wasted brain power Blake finally decided that he wasn't wrong to think that maybe a bowling ball worked. He remembered bowling at a friend's party when he was fifteen or so and that had been about the right size. Probably. The only problem was if he told Bane that his knee was currently so swollen it looked about the size of a bowling ball-well Bane probably didn't use the regular ones. They came in much bigger sizes too, he was pretty sure. Blake also couldn't see Bane as being a big fan of bowling to begin with either. Bowling was a stupid game unless there were bumpers. Then it was fun. Especially if it was the glow in the dark kind. Actually...maybe the ball hadn't been that big? Damn.

Looking down the length of his body to where his leg was currently elevated and resting on a table, they'd cut away his one pant leg earlier, Blake couldn't help but glare at his knee even though the injury it had sustained wasn't currently obvious due to the massive ice pack and towel over it. Not even the fact that he was in a private waiting room and didn't have to deal with anyone not family wasn't enough to alleviate the unfairness of it all.

Hadn't he gotten out of the fucking riot with nothing worse than some bruises, sore muscles, and the dislocated shoulder? And hadn't his father put said shoulder right back in for him so it wasn't like it had been that big a deal? I mean yes that last injury had ruled out Bane tying him up for a while with that special rope he'd gotten him-and yes, he had to baby the arm for a bit-but he'd been in pretty damn good shape all things considering.

Then that damn meth head had happened.

There he'd been, standing in the hospital hallway, about to crack open the ice cold can of Coke he'd just purchased from the vending machine. Which, for the record, he'd had to wait in line for at least seven minutes to get. He'd been absolutely minding his own business and completely deserving of all that caffeine and sugary goodness, God dammit. And then out of nowhere-aka one of the nearby patient rooms-a man wearing only an untied hospital gown had come running out with a very large syringe in his grasp while he made a break for it, screaming at the top of his lungs. Which would have been bad enough before one factored in the fact that the shithead was running straight at an apparently deaf little old lady who might have seen her hundredth birthday already. Or at least was damn close.

Fuck his life sometimes.

He'd had no choice. He'd had to throw the can of coke at the fucker's head in a pitch that suggested he might have made the team if he'd ever tried out for baseball. Especially since he'd thrown it with his left instead of his right.

The pop ploy had worked beautifully, really, the man hitting the ground hard and staying there long enough for Blake to get over there and physically restrain the hyped-up druggie until security arrived to handcuff the man and become their problem. And that should have been that. His last good deed of the day.

The fucking bastard had lurched forward and BIT him in the calf while the guards were trying to get him up! And while trying to shake Mr. Bitey off he'd tripped over a 'good Samaritan' who'd come over to help him and had ended up hitting the ground himself. Knee first.

God dammit.

So then he'd had to get the bite looked at because human bites were 'super' dangerous and his aunt had insisted even though it hadn't really been that bad. And she'd made him put his right arm in a sling even though he'd have been fine without one. Dammit. The sling came after they'd had to X-ray his knee to make sure nothing was broken as added insult to injury. Also again, because his aunt had insisted. Just in case. And then he'd had to tell yet another nurse that yes, he was up to date on his tetanus shots and this wasn't the first time he'd been bitten in a non sexy way. Ergo stop coming near him with the goddamn needles!

Oh, and let's not forget that by the time someone had gone to get him a new coke there was only diet and Coke Zero left. He did not drink that shit!

Blake also did NOT want to know what Bane was going to say about this once he heard. Especially since the man's last words to him before leaving Gotham had been about not getting injured. Sigh.

In his mind Blake pictured himself dressed as a sexy version of Roger Rabbit. Or a Playboy Boy version really since he couldn't pull off Jessica Rabbit and didn't know a woman who could. Anyway in his mind he looked pretty sexy as he told Bane that he didn't mean to be bad, it was just drawn to him this way.

Fuck. He needed to lay off the movie quotes. Too many people didn't get them anyway. This is so what he got for staying up late tormenting Bane with them yesterday and early this morning.

"How's the knee, then?"

Turning his head Blake shrugged at Eames, who was currently his only company and looked far worse than he did. Though Arthur had done a great job on the man's stitches. They weren't likely to scar at all.

"Could be worse. You?"

"Thank Christ for pain meds."

"Truer words."

After sharing a look of commiseration Eames slyly asked if Blake had let him man know about the riots and his injuries yet.

"There's a fourteen hour time difference, remember?" It would probably make the news worse if he woke Bane up with it. Not to mention the fact that the longer he could go without reporting in the longer it would seem that he'd stayed out of trouble. Hopefully.

Eames smirked. "Putting off the unavoidable? Good luck with that. Especially since I'm betting he's an early riser."

It was on the tip of Blake's tongue to make a joke about how he hoped Bane was an early 'riser'...but he just couldn't be bothered. And it was just too easy. So instead he pointed out that Eames shouldn't bet on anything given how sucky he was at gambling.

"Fine then, don't listen to me. Your breakup, Mate."

Shit.

"Okay, fine. So when he asks how badly swollen my knee is...what do I say?"

"Lift up the ice pack."

Doing as ordered, fuck but his knee was a rainbow of color and it hurt to move, Blake joined Eames in studying the damage in question. The damage to his knee, anyway. He was ignoring the bite because that frankly pissed him off the most. Fucker.

"Right...I can't think of a fruit or ball that fits. Least not without one to compare. Does your man play sports? He'd be a killer at rugby, I bet."

"No idea. And not helping."

"I'd just say it's a bit swollen. By time he gets back it won't be as bad, especially since you know the family is going to watch you like hawks to make sure you don't overuse it and follow doctor's orders. And even if it's still bad you can honestly say you didn't know how else to describe it."

"And that will work?"

"He's your bloke, not mine."

True. Eames so wasn't Bane's type. Of course Eames also wasn't Arthur's usual type so what the hell did he know?

"I can't just text him, can I?"

The look Eames shot him said it all.

"Right. Damn. Wish me luck."

Smirk out in full force Eames deliberately pitched his voice to be as high and squeaky as possible.

"May the odds be ever in your favor."

"We're no longer friends."

)

Bane valued control over all else. Control over his destiny, his life, and his body. He strove, every day of his life, to control what could be controlled and eliminating whatever got in the way of the plans he'd set in motion. Robin Blake, Bane had come to realize, was chaos given form. A force of nature that Bane had to acknowledge was likely out of his control and always would be. The younger man couldn't be controlled unless Robin chose to bend himself to Bane's will. And given that the Gotham cop seemed to take unholy glee in upsetting the balance in Bane's life Bane couldn't see that ever coming to pass for more than an hour or two at most.

And in a strange way, one that made no sense to Bane, he didn't want that to happen since it was Robin's present personality that made him so intriguing and beguiling. So easily able to draw Bane away from his world and into Robin's. A world where he was not in control and could never find his footing.

That made Robin dangerous. Very dangerous.

His time here in the gym was making that fact brutally obvious to Bane as he failed to follow his usual morning routine. His mind refused to turn off or focus on topics other than his phone, which continued to not signal an incoming call from Robin. Everything his body had done up until this point was done on automatic while his every thought focused on someone else. Caring for someone else who, Bane knew, was not someone who would be in his life long regardless of Robin's present injuries. Unless Robin was more badly injured than had been reported. People often underestimated the severity of head injuries. Internal bleeding could be dismissed as heavy bruising and-

Bane's phone began vibrating in his pocket.

Retrieving it immediately Bane kept up his pace on the treadmill as he checked the readout on his screen. It was Robin.

Not even consciously aware of the sigh of relief he made Bane accepted the call and then brought the phone up to his ear.

"Robin."

"Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you up or interrupt something. If I did, I can call you back."

"I've been waiting for your call."

"Oh. Why would you...how the hell do you know what happened? It's only been a few hours and you're on the other side of the friggin world! Wait...do you have guys watching me? There's no way you can have-I would have noticed if-No. There's no way you've been having me watched and no one in my family noticed. They'd have to be like elite ninjas and those don't exist anymore! I should know, my family is friggin Japanese."

Oddly enough the level of suspicion and insult in Robin's voice soothed him. Nor did Bane feel the slightest guilt in refusing to reveal his sources.

Bane could also hear background noise from something or someone near Robin.

"Right. I'm an idiot. You or Barsad has a media alert on me, don't you? You've got something that alerts you when I'm mentioned on the news and right now we're probably being mentioned plenty. Heroes of the hour and all that. Grandfather's already being hounded for interviews. That's it, isn't it?" Robin's voice was smug now.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not."

"Oh you wanna play it like that, huh? So then you don't need me to tell you about my injuries because you already know all about them, right?"

Bane trusted Barsad as he trusted no other. And he was not about to question his second in command's report or allow Robin to draw him into his scheming.

"I already know, yes."

"Fine then. Last question before I hang up on you...have you ever played rubgy before?"

What the...?

"No...?"

"Just checking. Kisses. Bye."

Robin hung up on him. Bane actually had to listen to the dial tone for a good half a minute before that fact registered.

Pulling the phone away from his ear Bane glared at it and then got off the machine, not even bothering to check the miles run or the time clocked in. At that moment none of it mattered. What mattered was the fact that the person he wanted to put over his knee and spank until Robin was never physically capable of sitting down again was on the other side of the world and therefore out of his reach. And while the option of getting someone else to do it for him was theoretically possible Bane would allow no one else the pleasure.

The chime of an incoming text chilled Bane's blood, his instincts warning him that the contents of said text would most likely push him over the edge where Robin was concerned. It was what Robin did.

And yet to avoid or delete the message without reading it was ultimately pointless.

Pulling his phone out Bane called up the message. That featured an attachment.

'What ball or fruit does this resemble to you?'

A tic already twitching under Bane's eye he accessed the attachment, his screen soon filled with an image of what he assumed was Robin's leg. His very bruised and swollen leg. And there was a bandage wrapped around the man's calf along with other assorted bruises scattered about.

"Bane?"

Angling the phone in Barsad's direction Bane didn't bother to point or ask for explanation.

"There was no mention of a knee injury. My apologies. Give me ten minutes to find out what happened."

Inclining his head Bane watched his second step away to a quieter part of the gym, Barsad's phone already out and pressed to his ear.

Looking down at his own phone Bane glared at the image on it for a minute or so and then went to find a punching bag.

Unfortunately there wasn't one.

So Bane took a seat on a bench and was about to go online to find footage of the riots when something that had been nagging him at the back of his mind caught his attention. It had easily been pushed aside by the rest of Robin's 'antics', but it had registered as something important to think about later.

'My family is Japanese.'

Not 'I'm half Japanese' or 'We're Japanese' or something along those lines. 'My family'.

Robin could have meant that his family, including himself and his twin were Japanese...and maybe that was what he'd meant. Though technically speaking only the grandfather was actually Japanese, the rest born in America according to the data collected. Aside from the son in law and possibly the twins. Their country of origin was still very much unknown.

It was probably nothing, but he was still going to arrange a DNA test as soon as possible. It would be interesting to find out if Shin Blake was actually the twin's father.

Tucking that thought away once more Bane went back to his original plan of looking into the riots, not surprised to find plenty of coverage already available online. People couldn't seem to help recording themselves and everything that happened to them during the day in one form or another. Occasionally that was helpful instead of immensely irritating.

Using Robin's family name to help narrow down his searches Bane had just finished listening to a reporter talk about the heroism of the famous Gotham family, no actual images of the fighting or saving shown, when Barsad came up beside him again.

"He was injured in hospital. A crystal meth addict was running loose in a hallway and your cop took him down. The addict proceeded to bite your man in the calf to show his displeasure, which led to your man being off balance and colliding with another man in his immediate vicinity. The end result was the cop's knee hitting the floor with a great deal of force. It's not broken though. Just badly bruised."

"Trouble literally follows him wherever he goes."

"So it would seem."

"You're not telling me that that makes his very dangerous."

Barsad's face was expressionless as he pointed out that Bane already knew that.

That some part of Bane wanted Barsad to tell him that he should stop seeing Robin irritated Bane almost as much as the other thoughts currently running through his mind. Namely that he was forced to admit that Robin had been right all along when the cop had warned him against getting involved with him.

Robin was one hundred percent going to rub that in his face, which couldn't be allowed to happen.

A heavy sigh that had not come from him had Bane looking over at Barsad again, the other man's face still completely expressionless. And said plenty about what Barsad wasn't saying or expressing.

"Keep me posted on his injuries and actions until we return to Gotham. I'll deal with him then."

"Understood."