Title: The Suit (pt 6)
Genre: fanfic (Batman Beyond)
Setting: sometime early on in the series
Rating: Bruce uses a naughty word.
Notes: Still not my characters, still plead for a lack of sue-age. Hope I did a little better job of proof-reading this section….
VI.
The first half of the ride home is tranquilly silent. Though he's only known Terry a few months, Bruce has come to understand that silence, in Terry's case, rarely means anything other than a calm before the storm. And given tonight's events, not to mention the way Terry's hands are gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white, Bruce is expecting more than a little thunder and lightning.
It starts out normally enough. "Your friend," Terry begins. "How well do you know him?"
Well enough to know I can count on him. Well enough to know he's the most loyal friend I've ever had. Well enough to know that despite all that he'll never stop being a royal pain in the ass.
"Well enough," says Bruce.
Terry frowns, keeping his eyes stoically on the road. Reflected streetlamp light makes criss-cross patterns on his face. Bruce wonders if he knows that his frown is really more like a spoiled little child's pout.
"How much does he know?" Terry asks, his voice carefully neutral.
Bruce smirks into the darkness. "He knows enough."
"He's dangerous," says Terry.
Bruce snorts. "Not for me." He doesn't say the next thing that comes to mind, but the words sit there thickly in the silence between them: Maybe for you.
Terry's frown deepens. "I don't like him."
"Yes, I got that impression."
They're nearing Wayne Manor now; Bruce can see its outline on the horizon, and he thinks fleetingly of the warm fire and Ace at his feet before he realizes that that thought is awfully close to something a tired old man would think. He grimaces and shoves it from his mind.
Terry sighs loudly. "All right, enough with the cryptic old man vibe. Tell me the truth. Who is this Grayson guy?"
Bruce knows he could continue to beat around the bush, or change the subject entirely, or sternly demand that they not discuss this at all. But he's talking to a boy who came to him for help, who figured out his biggest secret, and really, what harm can it do?
"He's my son," says Bruce.
They are blinded by the bright headlights of an oncoming car as Terry abruptly swerves into the other lane. Bruce feels himself involuntarily trying to hit the brake as horns screech, brakes squeal, and angry voices start yelling. Of course the noise is relatively muted by the Cadillac's thick glass, but it doesn't take much imagination to read lips and count fingers.
"Your son?" says Terry, madly turning the steering wheel to put them back into the right lane.
"Adopted. And if you get us killed before we get home you're fired," says Bruce grimly.
"But you never – But that would mean –"
"Drive first, yap later," Bruce snaps.
Terry falls silent for a moment, then says suddenly, "Um. I guess I'm wearing his suit."