Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the original characters and the situations the characters find themselves in. Thanks so much for continuing to read and giving me feedback on my work. It's muchly appreciated and I do read every review you send me!

Note: Sorry for the lack of updates, everyone. Since the pandemic I've been working a lot more, not less, and I haven't been in the best frame of mind to work on certain fics. I will try to do better this summer, so please bear with me!

Also...it contains a minor spoiler for 'Grey Anatomy' if you aren't past at least season five.

Art Is When

'Art is when a human tells another human what it is to be human.' Adrian Elmer

Between his injuries and the vacation days he'd accumulated Blake had been 'strongly' advised to take the next two weeks off aside from his scheduled court appearances. And while normally he would have fought to cut that time in half at the very least-this time Blake didn't make so much as a peep. It would give him more time to hunt Roman after all, and to be around for his family if they needed him. So far he wasn't having much luck with the former, which pissed him the fuck off, but at least his family was safe and Blake told himself that was the main thing. That he still had plenty of time before Roman 'might' turn his sights on him and his brother.

Glancing across the room to the clock on the wall Blake sighed, willing it to go faster so that he could get his testimony over with. Though in this case he had some serious sympathy for the defendant, so wanting to hurry up her sentencing sorta made him feel like a dick. That she'd done it was unarguable. She'd flat out admitted as such when they'd arrested her. It was the why she'd done it that would affect how she was sentenced in the coming days.

The girl had worked at the coffee shop for years, paying her way through school, and over those years she'd risen to the position of evening supervisor. She'd put up with a lot of crap over those years-Blake was a cop, he'd spent plenty of time in coffee shops to know-and things hadn't been helped by a consistent string of idiot managers and other people not doing their jobs. The busier morning shift had expected evenings to finish their chores for them and do extra prep and cleaning for them so that their jobs would be easier when they came in in the morning, and mornings, it seemed, were always very vocal when anything wasn't up to 'their' standards. And since the managers worked with mornings and didn't want to deal with their complaining...evenings had to fall in line with mornings' demands.

Or that's what this supervisor had done until a few months ago when she'd finally snapped and punched both the morning supervisor and the assistant manager in the noses to-and Blake could quote her on this-really give them something worth complaining about.

The whole case had confirmed what Blake had always known, which was that he was not cut out for the service or retail industry. Also that the people working those jobs often deserved hazard pay. Volunteering at one of his grandfather's shops was the closest he'd ever gotten to working in a store-and God willing that would never change.

And that being the case-and his sympathies being squarely with the defendant-Blake's thoughts turned to how he could word things when he got on the stand to try and help the poor girl out. Which meant his mind was occupied with that for about eight to ten minutes before his phone signaled an incoming text.

Pulling his cell from his pocket Blake navigated to retrieve the message, which was from his brother and was straight to the point. It was Arthur after all.

'The Gotham City Museum was hit last night. A lot of portable, easy to fence jewelry taken. The calling card was left behind'.

Not surprising. Roman would need money and want to indulge himself now that he was out of prison. According to Bane the Russians had been a lot kinder to the bastard than he and Arthur had originally thought, but Blake figured he wasn't wrong to assume they hadn't been as 'nice' as Roman would have liked. Plus the guy had to be aiming to get laid as much as possible right now. That would definitely have been high on Blake's to do list if the situations had been reversed. They were keeping an eye on the city's best escort services websites for that reason. So far no luck.

'At least that will give us other avenues to investigate.' Blake didn't bother to ask if Arthur had already started to put out feelers with known fencers. Of course he had.

'Eames is going to use his contacts as well'.

That would be useful. Especially if Roman thought he'd be safer doing business with low level scum instead of the best like he once had. Heck, the majority of fences Roman had used back in the day were either dead, in jail, or wouldn't give him the time of day.

'Roger that.' Blake typed, not sure what else to say. It wasn't like he had any good news to relay. No bad either, which he should be grateful for. Mostly he was just annoyed.

'Have you heard from Bane?"

Oh joy. Thank you, brother dear, for rubbing salt in my wounds, Blake silently told his twin in his head, scowling at the screen as he typed out a simple 'No.'.

'Should I leave you to your sulking about that fact?'

Why couldn't he have been an only child?

Of course that thought was immediately followed by imagining what his life would have actually been like if he hadn't had Arthur and that-well that was unbearable just to think about. He wouldn't have survived without Arthur. Wouldn't have wanted to, most likely.

'Love you, Little Brother. Even when you're being annoying.'

To lighten the mood Blake added some emoticons and then a GIF of a cute toddler blowing kisses.

'Love you too. Stop worrying.'

'I'm not worrying. Worrying is your job, remember?'

'Right. How could I forget? And Eames is making a lot of disturbing noises in my kitchen. I'm going to investigate. You might want to pray for him.'

"Will do.' Though they weren't remotely religious and never had been. 'Bye.'

'Later.'

Putting his phone away Blake hoped that whatever trouble Eames had gotten himself into the mess wasn't bad enough to land the Brit in the figurative doghouse. Or his couch. His twin and Eames had been very couple-y since the riots with Arthur actually fussing and babying Eames a little. Naturally Eames was eating the attention up with a spoon.

But more than the fussing it was the fact that Arthur was willing to ask Eames for help when it came to Roman that made it clear just how close the two really were for all their needling and complaining about the other. Arthur trusting Eames with as much of their past as Arthur had said he'd told him-well of course he'd teased his brother by asking if he should start looking into wedding venues for the couple. Such teasing was his duty as an older brother after all.

Arthur's response had been to smack him upside the head and walk away.

So yeah...he was starting to plan Arthur's bachelor party in his head.

He was pretty sure now that Arthur and Eames were unavoidable. Like Bones and Boothe, Castle and Beckett. The will they, won't they dragging on for years of seasons before the writers of their fates finally allowed them to have their happily ever afters. Or as close to happy as characters on TV shows were ever allowed to be. Especially ones that lasted more than six or seven seasons. He had a working theory that any show that went over that went from a drama to soap opera and became unbearable to watch.

Don't even get him started on fucking 'Grey's Anatomy'. As soon as they'd broken up Callie and George-well that was that. And for Izzy, for fuck sakes.

Scowling in remembered fury Blake turned his head at the sound of his name, getting to his feet when he saw who it was.

Looks like they'd be getting to his testimony today after all. Excellent.

)

When he was sure of the timing Bane pulled his phone from his pocket and then went into contacts to access Robin's number. And then hesitated, finger hovering over the button. But he and Robin needed to meet to discuss their mutual prey and Robin's connection with the Long Syndicate, Bane reminded himself. A connection Bane's own contacts had failed to uncover. Because the connection was one related to Long AND the Black Tiger. He was sure of it. The latter had been long dead by the time Robin's stepmother had spearheaded the dismantling of the Long Syndicate so it was something more personal. Something that connected Robin directly. Robin AND Arthur. That's what Bane's gut was telling him. He needed more information. Information Robin was currently withholding from him. But had promised to tell him. In person. And as Bane's men had thus far failed to hunt down Roman more information was obviously needed. Prey was not allowed to escape Bane's jaws.

Bane pressed the button and then brought the phone up to his ear.

The voice, when it came, was not Robin's.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Bane. I apologize for answering my grandson's phone."

"Mr. Blake." The grandfather.

"My grandson, as you might know, is not the best at taking care of himself." The older man's tone was fond and rueful-the validity of which Bane took with a grain of salt. "Robin overtaxed his injured knee earlier and is now paying the price. The painkillers put him out, and he has yet to wake up. I answered in case the call was important."

"I see." Bane had no problem believing Robin had done precisely that, while also acknowledging that it was just as likely Robin's grandfather had seen an opportunity to interfere and had taken it. "I was calling to set up a meeting with him. Do you believe he'd be up to talking with me in person sometime tonight?"

"He'll be up and about in an hour or so. Very little keeps him down for long."

As that fit nicely with his own timeline Bane asked if Robin's grandfather would pass along the message that Bane would drop by the family building in two hours then. If Robin had indeed further injured his knee then Bane wasn't going to ask that the other man meet him elsewhere. Assuming the grandfather would allow it, which Bane doubted. No, the older man would undoubtedly want his grandson to have the home advantage.

"That should work nicely. I'll call down to the doormen to alert them of your coming arrival. Robin is planning to eat dinner with the family in my apartment, I'll tell them to clear you for my floor, you could join us for dessert. I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"I'll look forward to it. I, too, am curious to meet the man Saito speaks so highly of. But don't feel you need to wait on dessert for our arrival."

He did want to meet the older gentleman, but more than that Bane wasn't about to let Robin's grandfather think that he wasn't up to meeting him head on. He'd known the two of them would likely cross paths at some point when Robin had first caught his interest. Takahiro Blake was an intriguing man.

"That's right, Robin mentioned you were in Japan and did business with Saito san. I hope your trip was fruitful for you both."

"I believe it was, yes."

"Good. You'll have to tell me about your visit to my homeland when you arrive. You can of course bring your Mr. Barsad with you, if you like. Robin tells me you rarely go anywhere without him."

Ironically he'd planned to bring Barsad with him. A way to ensure his own behavior once faced with Robin again. So Bane accepted the invitation on Barsad's behalf.

"Excellent. I'll see you both then."

A brief exchange of goodbyes, and then Robin's grandfather ended the call.

Bane put his phone away and then turned to look at Barsad, who was sitting opposite from him on the plane. "His grandfather answered. We're both invited to his home, where Robin will apparently be in two hours' time."

"He intercepted the call?"

"Apparently Robin re-injured his knee and required medication that put him out."

Barsad seemed to consider this. "According to my information the only scheduled outing he had was a court appearance. A lot of sitting, and he wouldn't likely ask for a chair or something to elevate the knee as needed."

Not to mention the fact that Bane would bet significant money that Robin was ditching both his sling and his crutches whenever he thought he could get away with it. The younger man needed a keeper.

"Will we be meeting just the two of them, or will more of the family be present?"

"He didn't say." And Bane hadn't thought to ask, which annoyed him.

Inclining his head in acknowledgement Barsad didn't call Bane on the oversight. Which just made it that much more vexing to him.

This was what being around Robin was doing to his brain. It had to stop.

)

If nothing else at least everything ran like clockwork when it came to Bane's plane's landing and his pickup from the airport. Bane had his driver take him home first so that he could unpack and then shower and change for the evening. He deliberately made no special effort with his appearance, though Bane did spend a couple minutes debating whether or not to wear the tie Robin's brother had discarded when he'd broken in to Bane's home. But he was in no mood to wear one, and so discarded the idea instead. Instead Bane settled for a simple white dressed shirt, paired with black slacks and a sports coat. His Rolex and black boots finished the look off.

Satisfied with the image he wished to project Bane left his bedroom and met up with Barsad in the front hallway, the other man still wearing his clothes from earlier, sans tie. Barsad had dressed in the role of an assistant during the trip, his true position and skillset something they liked to keep under wraps when dealing with those too stupid to realize the true danger Barsad posed them.

Dressed all in black, from suit jacket to dress shoes, Barsad unarguably looked more attractive than Bane did-which was only annoying him now thanks to Robin's flirtation with the man over the phone. Yes it had been meant to rile him up and Robin hadn't been serious about it, but now Bane found himself noticing the way Barsad looked and the fact that men and women seemed to find his second very attractive. Bane did not get those sorts of looks.

He'd made his peace with his face, dammit. He hadn't been vain even before his face had been 'ruined'.

"Something wrong?" Barsad asked, picking up on Bane's mood.

"The cop is causing me to de-evolve."

Barsad's lips twitched ever so slightly, the other man wisely not commenting.

And as he'd rather be faced with a bomb than discuss all the ways in which Robin was perplexing him Bane suggested they head out, Barsad getting behind the wheel this time while Bane sat in the back and occupied himself with his phone for the length of the drive.

Once they'd arrived and were out of the car Bane occupied himself with taking in the converted warehouse and the security put in place to guard it. The outdoor cameras and sensors were cleverly worked into the architecture and landscaping but Bane was fairly sure he missed little of it as they walked up the path to the main doors where two men stood waiting.

Both men were carrying, Bane noted, and the way they held themselves said military to him. They were also old enough to be seasoned and experienced, and while Bane had no doubt he could get through them without Barsad's aid Bane was willing to believe they would prove an adequate barrier for most. So long as they weren't mobbed.

Of course the glass doors were bulletproof, so they'd just have to get behind them in time to save themselves and further secure things inside.

"Mr. Bane. Mr. Barsad. Welcome."

The man on the left inclined his head in their direction and then turned to open the front door for the other man, who walked through and then began entering a code into the next set of doors and then opened one for them as well.

Neither man demanded that they surrender any weapons that might be in their possession or patted them down. Bane assumed this was because they were expected and invited, and not typical behavior when faced with men the former soldiers had to recognize as very real threats. Bane could see that knowledge in their eyes and body language for all that they remained professional as the second man followed them into the front hallway, stating that he would escort them to the elevator and punch in the code that would allow them to access to Mr. Blake's living quarters.

The security to even access the elevator required both a swipe card and a code, the guard holding the door open for them once it opened.

"It will take you directly to his floor. Enjoy your visit."

"How long have you worked for Mr. Blake?" Bane asked, curious as to whether the Blake family patriarch had only recently boosted his security or if he always employed guards at the doors.

"Seven years."

Long term then. Good.

"Excellent security." Barsad observed once the doors had closed and they were on their way up.

"Yes." Which reminded Bane. "My security still hasn't figured out how the younger Blake twin got into my residence, have they?"

A mix of anger and vexation flashed in Barsad's eyes at the reminder. "No."

"We'll have to discuss that with him if he's here tonight."

Barsad's tone was decided dark as he stated that yes, they really should.