Note: I do not own anything Batman related, all that goes to DC and the wonderful Christopher Nolan. I only own my original characters and plot. C:
So after months (eight yes I know) of waiting…. Here we go? Yeah yeah I know that it's been too damn long, but life catches up and yep. But I've really tried to make this a long and decent chapter for you all!
And I've noticed that this story contains a lot of phone conversations…. Let me know, do you guys mind or should I find a way to cut back on them? I need you to let me know!
P.S. If you go to my profile, there's a link to a collage I made of Nicolette's outfit for the date! Check it out if you want! :)
Thanks to all my reviewers and all those that favorited and alerted!
Get ready for some sexay time.
Friday…
NICOLETTE ANDERSON
The rest of week was a throbbing blur. Nicolette's head didn't really hurt once the drugs kicked in, but the craziness surrounding her did. Marina wouldn't let her take the train to or from the studio, which meant that Nicolette was in Marina's sight for the better part of the day. Not to mention that she still had rehearsal and her normal workouts. She'd cancelled her classes for the rest of the week, just to give herself a break; she never cancelled class and the college administrators understood her predicament. Ever since the attack on the train and the murder right downtown, things had changed. Everyone in Gotham seemed to retract a little.
For now though, Nicolette just checked her locked door an extra time before bed and left it at that. She had just done so when her phone rang. Nicolette jumped a bit and then laughed at herself for doing so.
"Hello?" she breathed into the phone.
"Nicolette, it's Bruce." He sounded nervous to Nicolette's ear.
"Bruce? Is everything alright?"
"Oh yeah, yeah. I was just…just making sure that you're still up for tomorrow." Nicolette laughed.
"The mighty Bruce Wayne is afraid he's going to get stood up?"
"Well...no. But I mean-"
"Have a little more faith in me that that Bruce. Although… I am going to be at the studio all tomorrow and I may not get off in time to run home…" She trailed off, just to tease him.
"And?"
"Can we meet somewhere? And then you can use your fancy car to take me wherever it is that we're going." She heard him sigh.
"Well, alright. I was expecting you to twist our plans around your schedule anyway."
"Hey!" Nicolette interjected.
"It's the truth Nic, come on." His pet name was slightly condescending, on purpose.
"Oh Brucie, I know it's the truth. I'll meet you whenever and wherever you wish. She made her voice into a sugary sweet Barbie voice that she hoped Bruce would hate.
"How about the lobby of my penthouse building? It's only a few floors away from me, so it won't be any inconvenience. Shall I send a driver to fetch you?"
"No, that's quite fine. Poor old me can trudge the Gotham streets alone."
"See you then sweetie pie. 7:30, don't be late." His voice was acidic.
"Oh I wouldn't miss it for the world." Nicolette hung up and immediately slid down to the floor, crippled with laughter.
"Sweetie pie!" She exclaimed, not be able to contain her amusement. For now, the headache had faded away. Something that Nicolette hadn't experienced in quite some time was started to plague her: butterflies. Nerves. Anxiousness.
Gah, a date. With Bruce. I haven't been on a date in years. And a fancy date nonetheless. Nicolette's eye wandered towards the clock.
"Almost ten, time for me to get some beauty rest!" She said, mimicking all the stereotypes as shown on TV. Nicolette cleaned up her things from the living room, double checked the locks once more, and headed into her bedroom.
It was the sight of her crumpled black dress, bundled up pitifully in a corner that made her freak out.
"The dress! I never got it from Mar!" I can't go on the date wearing this old thing…
Figuring it was too late to call Marina or get her dress dry-cleaned, Nicolette set off in a frenzy. Soon the ironing board was propped up in the middle of the room, a steaming iron sitting atop it.
"Oh you poor thing… Nicolette murmured, lifting the sad sight of a dress off the floor. I'll never get all the wrinkles out. The dress itself looked terrible. It probably shouldn't have been sitting in a crumpled heap for a week, and it showed. A valley of wrinkles and creases spread across the fabric like a map.
"Wonderful," she said acerbically. Nicolette spread the dress out on the table, ready to attack it with her iron and the power of steam….right when her phone rang. She answered with one hand, still figuring out the best strategy to assault this mess.
"Hello?" Nicolette wedged the phone between her neck and her ear, needing both hands to viciously iron the dress.
"Lette? What're you doing?" A flash of steam enveloped Nicolette, causing her to erupt in a fit of coughing.
"Um, I'm just, uh, doing some ironing." She tried to say it as smooth as possible.
"Ironing?" Marina said flatly.
"Yeah, ironing. What a woman can't iron when she wants to?"
"You wouldn't, by chance, be ironing a black dress would you? And you wouldn't be ironing said black dress because you forgot to come pick up the red dress….hmm?"
"Uh…no. I just felt the need to get some ironing done tonight…no special reason." Butterflies danced around in Nicolette's stomach. How does she always know what I'm up to? It's like she has a sixth sense!
"Bull shit. Listen, I'm shooting over there now to drop the dress off.
"Mar, you don't have to do that. A certain black dress is just dying to be ironed and worn to a fancy restaurant."
"Oh Nicolette, you're in denial. I must do this. Do you realize that tomorrow, tomorrow, you're going on a date with Bruce Wayne?I will not allow you to go on said date in that sad little dress."
"Bruce won't mind what I wear! I could show up in yoga pants and he wouldn't notice!"
"Oh dear. It's worse than I thought. I'm almost here now." She hung up, leaving an exasperated Nicolette with the dial tone.
"Yay." The iron let loose another explosion of steam, causing Nicolette to cough again. Damn thing. She ripped the plug from the wall, blatantly ignoring proper plug-pulling etiquette, and walked back into the living room.
"It looks like a torture scene in here!" Marina called from the bedroom. Nicolette sighed. She must've found the ironing board dilemma. "Oh this poor dress! What've you done to it?"
Nicolette didn't even bother responding. With one final zip she had successfully managed to get herself into the dress Marina had brought her. They were usually the same size, but Marina tended to buy on the…tighter side.
"Ok I'm coming out." Nicolette shuffled out of the bathroom, avoiding looking at herself in the mirror.
"Oh, muy caliente. Damn girl, you have it. This date is yours. All yours." Marina began what Nicolette could only describe as fawning, while she just rolled her eyes.
"Did you even look at yourself?" When Nicolette didn't answer, Marina continued. "Why must you be so impossible Lette?"
"If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best." She muttered, smirking. Mar exclaimed something in Spanish and then huffed a sigh.
"Ok, I really have to be going. Now. If I don't see you tomorrow, be safe and have fun. And do not give me that look. You know what I mean." Mar winked and then took a few strides towards the door. "But Lette, no matter how funthings may get…please bring my dress back in perfect shape. No more of that." She pointed to the black mess that was now hanging over a chair.
"Alright, fine fine. Now out! I need rest!" Marina left, still with a concerned look for her dress written all over her face. Once she was gone, Nicolette threw the lock and headed back to the bathroom. She had a six o'clock practice in the morning.
BRUCE WAYNE
Another uneventful night. Another night with no new leads or a single goddamn scrap of information. At least no one died tonight. Bruce ripped the cowl from his head, throwing it onto the floor of the bunker. He didn't want to go back to the cave tonight, didn't want to see Alfred's deeply understanding and concerning face, didn't want to be plagued with memories of the good times. I came here to wallow.
Bruce sat down in a chair that he had recently relocated from the cave to here. The bunker looked mostly the same, minus the expansive supercomputer. After the first Phoenix attacks he'd reinstated it, wanting as many places to go as possible. He wasn't sure if Alfred or Lucius knew, but at the moment he didn't really care. A part of him still yearned for mourning, which he'd denied himself. He had a purpose and right now it wasn't that. Someday, when he could give up this mantle, he would. He'd mourn for Rachel, Harvey, and his parents. All the people he couldn't save.
"God what am I doing?" Bruce closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cool leather headrest. He feels like he's stuck in the repeat cycle of a washing machine. Sleep, wake up, pretend, Batman, frustration, and then eventually sleep again. There he sat, carefully contemplating the black threads of his life. Bruce eventually fell into a dreamless sleep, still sitting up in the chair.
Alfred knew Master Wayne wouldn't be coming back to the Manor that morning, and after a quick stop to the Bruce-less penthouse, he only knew of one more place to check. Alfred filled a paper bag with some necessary breakfast goods (fresh-baked that morning too), and set off. I should just stop cooking for him. My food just goes to waste everyday.
Alfred whistled a slightly cheery English tune from his childhood as his loaded himself into his most prized possession: his glorious Rolls Royce. He started driving towards the last place he could think of. He had been fairly certain Master Wayne had abandoned the bunker, but there was no other place that the Batman could take refuge if he didn't want to occupy the cave.
Alfred drove towards the river, glad that the morning traffic had not built up yet. He took his time, watching the twinkling blues of the river pass by outside. In the distance, the large gated 'Wayne Enterprises' facility loomed. He'd feel a bloody fool if he took at that time to navigate the labyrinth of buildings only to find that Bruce wasn't there. He is gut told him that he was though.
Once he reached the compound, Alfred stepped out of his vehicle and went to unlock the large chain link gate, only to find it already unlocked.
"So I was right." There were only two keys for said lock and Alfred was in possession of one of them. Bruce must've come here last night then… meaning that he was probably passed out in the empty concrete bunker. So now Alfred just threw the gate aside and returned to his Rolls. Once inside, the gate slid back into place and Alfred began the maze of buildings leading to the secret entrance of the bunker. The sprawling compound had two entrances, actually. One was large enough to accommodate the size of the Tumbler while the other was just for…visitors. For now, he just parked and went inside by getting through a series of locks and hidden doors. He finally reached the password-protected lift entrance, which was casually concealed in the warehouse floor.
The lift began to descend and Alfred prepared for the shockingly bright lights to flicker on, but he didn't have too, seeing as the lights were already on. No shocker, the Tumbler was parked haphazardly in the far corner and pieces of the Batsuit were littered in a zigzagged path towards where the supercomputer used to be.
"Master Wayne?" It's not like Alfred was naïve enough to expect a response. His shiny leather shoes clicked pointedly as he crossed the long expanse of concrete before him. Sure enough, his ward was passed out, mouth open and all, in a stiff looking office chair. Alfred set the bag on the floor and promptly shook him awake.
"Wah- Al-Alfred?" Bruce jolted awake.
"Master Wayne, if I may implore you, why must you decide to sleep in the most uncomfortable of places? You do own two large and luxurious beds in two wonderfully convenient locations."
"I- ah…." Bruce seemed more confused and frazzled than he did awake. "What time is it?"
"Eight o'clock. And you have a nine o'clock meeting. Eat something." He picked up the paper bag from the ground and placed it in Bruce's lap. Even with the smells of freshly baked goods wafting towards his nostrils, Bruce still looked at Alfred with wide and slightly glazed eyes. "And here's a fresh change of clothes. I'll be waiting in the Rolls." Alfred, feeling a little bit fresh as well this morning, patted Bruce on the head. "You best wake up Master Wayne. You do have a date to go on tonight."
"Ah, right." Bruce shook his head, trying to clear it of its muffled and incoherent thoughts. "Yeah I'll just, uh, be a moment." Alfred cheerfully walked away, pretending to not notice the slight elation in his ward's eyes at the mention of his date.
NICOLETTE ANDERSON
Practice, practice, practice. That was her morning. When Nicolette left the grandiose brick building in downtown Gotham at noon, she felt worn out, but there was still a patch of butterflies rumbling around in her gut. Only a few more hours of work and then… yeah. Nicolette started walking down the street, legs quite sore from the morning rehearsal. The rehearsals for the lead parts of their ballet, yet another rendition of Giselle, were growing more intense as the try-outs loomed closer. Nicolette had a feeling she'd end up with a semi-large, but non-lead, part. Although she wanted the coveted part of Giselle, it would be given to a younger girl who could easily pull of the 'fair maiden' façade.
Enough griping, I have a train to catch! Nicolette started walking down the block, a little bounce in her step. She only had one afternoon dance class and one class to teach at the college. If she planned correctly, she'd be done around three-ish, and that's if the trains were running on schedule. This gives me plenty of time to make it home, clean up, and get dressed for tonight.
Soon enough she reached the railway platform and was lucky when she was able to board a train right as it was leaving. Still a little anxious, even on a full train, Nicolette stood near the door. Her stop was only second on the list, so it wasn't long before Nicolette was back on the street, close to the studio. Today she only had a children's class, seeing as the older kids were all at school. Nicolette fished her set of keys out of her bag once she reached the door. After a moment of fiddling with all the keys she had the right one popped out and she was quick to slide it into the lock.
She flicked on the lights, left the door unlocked for the incoming horde of children, and then pushed her way into the office. She hadn't been here on Wednesday, forced to take a 'break' by Marina. It was obvious that Mar had been here though. There were papers strewn, a coffee cup here and there, multiple trains of thought about budgeting and marketing on the white board, most of them incomplete. And of course, on Nicolette's desk: a massive pile of post-its.
She picked up the stack and started flipping through them all. They were all scribbled in Marina's nearly illegible shorthand.
"Message for Ms. Anderson. Q's about B.W." –Gotham Reporter
"Q's for Ms. Anderson. Possible front page spread. Reply soon." –The Gotham Inquirer.
"Possible couple photo shoot with Ms. Anderson and B.W?" –The Gotham Times
"You have got to be kidding me!" Nicolette tossed the whole wad into the trash bin. People are ridiculous…and it'll only get worse after tonight. With a groan, she slumped into her chair. That's my only qualm about this date. I do not want all this attention, merely for going out with a guy. I want to have a front page spread for actually doing something.
Out in the main room, the chatter of a few children and their parents began to echo in the entire building. Nicolette readjusted her the bun on her head, which had been falling slightly, and slipped out of her yoga pants so she only had her dance outfit on. She walked out of the office, a slightly forced smile on her face.
"Hey kids! Who's excited for class today?"
The kids hadn't been excited today. It just so happened to be a rare sunny Friday in Gotham and they would've much rather been outside playing then practicing their plies. By the time they were picked up at one thirty, Nicolette felt like going to sleep for a long, long time. Instead, she changed into work clothes (black slacks, a nice top, and flats), locked up, and headed straight up the block to a Starbucks.
Caffeine was usually only a morning thing for Nicolette, but she felt that today a little extra juice wouldn't hurt. Thankfully the wait time was minimal and she was able to board the two o'clock train headed towards the college, a double-shot espresso in hand. The train was fairly quiet and was void of suspicious figures. Nicolette allowed herself a seat near the exit. She sipped her drink, watching the glittering skyscrapers whoosh past. As the hours flew by, the butterflies in her stomach only grew stronger. She tried to take a few calming breaths so that she wouldn't be all flustered for her class, but it wasn't really working. It seemed those butterflies were in direct accordance with any thoughts she was having about Bruce or tonight, which were happening more frequently as the day progressed.
Just an hour and then I can get home… Nicolette departed her train and started to walk the short distance through the campus. Being the extraordinarily nice Friday that it was, the campus was filled with groups of kids strolling through the large grassy areas and even a few games of Frisbee were going on. As Nicolette made her way to class, she noticed a few stares from students, but she brushed them off; there wasn't anything to get upset about, right?
Her classroom was primarily empty when she entered, only a few kids were million around and chatting. Nicolette dumped her bags in her little office and then readied her lecture notes. Today they'd be discussing the Great Purge in Soviet Russia, which was always an interesting topic. Nicolette spent the last few minutes she had rehearsing her notes once more. Once the clock struck 2:15, she cleared her throat and greeted the class. Silently she checked her class roster, noting that the same girls were still missing from her previous classes.
"So, what do we know about the Great Purge?"
An hour and a half later, which was half an hour later than Nicolette wanted to be there, the final student left the classroom. The hour and a half had done nothing to quell her nerves, and now it felt as if a stampede of butterflies were hurtling around in her stomach. Her things were all ready, and once she flicked off the light in her class, Nicolette felt free. The sun was still shining brightly, so Nicolette took her sweet time walking back through campus, allowing the sun to warm her thoroughly. Internally, she was making a schedule of all the things she was going to need to do before her date. She was good at making schedules. Schedules were safe, controllable.
The train was actually on time for once, and Nicolette boarded in a somewhat optimistic attitude. Tonight won't be so horrid…it'll be nice. I'll get treated for a change. The ride was short and before she knew it, Nicolette was unlocking the door to her apartment. The clock on the wall proclaimed it to be 4 o'clock on the dot. 3 and a half more hours… First things first, Nicolette peeled off her work clothes and then stuff those, along with her work-out clothes, into the washing machine. She figured she might as well wash them now, in case she wouldn't have time later tonight. Will it be a late night? Gah, I'm going to be so bad at this! I haven't been on a real date in years!
Once she got the washing machine going (and it was a piece of junk so it took some banging to get it started), she decided a hot bath would be just the thing to calm her nerves. After she added a pinch of fragrant bath salts and a heaping amount of bubbles, Nicolette sank her body into the warm bath. Her tense muscles immediately loosened, the warm water working its magic. The comfort of the bath almost made her want to sleep, which she was really good at doing. Instead, she just closed her eyes and took deep, calming, breaths. She didn't know how much time had passed, but once a slight chilly tinge infected the water and most of the bubbles were gone, it was time to pull the plug. Once the water had drained, she turned on the shower to quickly rinse and carefully wash her stitches. They didn't hurt as much as they had, but even the water stung a bit. Once she was completely and thoroughly clean, Nicolette slipped into a fluffy cotton robe. She wrapped up her hair in a towel to complete the look.
Sitting down at her vanity, Nicolette decided what to do with her face. Her hair successfully hid the stitches on her temple, so she didn't have to worry about trying to hide them with makeup or just not hiding them at all. The problem was, Nicolette was not a makeup person. Yes she wore the bare minimum to appear presentable, but sweat and makeup don't usually mix too well, so Nicolette typically went without. But, with the looming threat of cameras and reported, she figured it'd be a good idea to give more advanced makeup a shot.
Her makeup drawer contained the basics: concealer, foundations, some eye shadows, etc, etc. Nicolette applied her base and then some powder. The look still appeared natural, but polished. From all the fashion shows and commercials on TV, Nicolette remembered something about gold eye shadow looking good with blue eyes, so why the hell not? She brushed some on her lids and then layers a slightly darker gold over it. Nicolette as pleasantly surprised with how good it looks. She finished off her eyes with a streak of eyeliner and then some mascara. Overall, she thought she did a damn fine job.
Nicolette shuffled out of the bathroom, wanting to check the time. Thankfully, it was only five thirty, which gave her plenty of time to execute the plan she had for her hair. Fifteen minutes later, Nicolette was boiling some water for tea, her hair entangled in a mass of curlers. Once the kettle started to whistle, she removed it and quickly poured the water into her mug. Tea always seemed to calm her down when her nerves were on the fritz. Nicolette dunked her tea bag under and added a few sprinkles of sugar.
Once done, Nicolette took her mug and went out onto her small balcony. It was just starting to get dusky and she could see the rays of the setting sun glittering off the river. In the distance, Wayne Tower was strikingly bold against the dimming sky. She sighed. From her apartment, Nicolette could see the beautiful, shining skyline of downtown Gotham and then the grungy, smokestack lined sky that was the Narrows. The extreme high-low spectrum of Gotham, right in front of her. Nicolette took a sip of her tea. The familiar earthy flavor immediately had a soothing effect.
With time on the clock ticking away, Nicolette drained her mug and went back inside. She had already laid out her nail polish, a nice shiny black. She sat down at her kitchen counter and began to put on the polish. It took no time at all, but afterwards she was stuck hobbling around, trying not to touch anything.
Once her nails had successfully dried, Nicolette went on back to her bathroom. She still had an hour and she didn't know what to do with herself. Her hair wasn't quite ready to come out of the curlers yet, so she settled on packing a small black clutch with some necessities. That only took a few minutes at the most though, she again she was left with the time predicament. Oh to hell with it! The curlers started coming out, one by one leaving gentle waves behind. Her usually pin straight hair was now abundant with soft curls. She used to curling iron to spruce up a few spots, but overall it was a very effective look. With a final touch-up of her makeup, Nicolette was ready for the dress. It was hanging gracefully on the back of the door, the silky material looking rich and splendorous. Nicolette ran her hand down the back, slowly slipping the zipper down. She had to hand it to Marina, she did have very good taste. The dress almost slid on, adhering like glue to the few curves Nicolette did have. Once she had it zipper back up, she closed the door, ready to see how it all looked together.
"Wow…" Nicolette gave herself a bit of a half smile, running her hands down he front, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. She hadn't felt this dolled up in such a long time. Nicolette slipped on a pair of black pumps and then some gold stud earrings. She felt somewhat like a diva. Something's missing… she said with one last glance in the mirror.
"Ah, lipstick!" Nicolette smoothed on a red shade that almost perfectly matched her dress. One more once over and she sighed a mixture of victory and relief. Everything worked perfectly.
"Gah it's almost seven!" In a hurry, she grabbed her clutch and scurried out of her apartment. Thankfully her building had an elevator, so she didn't have to brace five flights in heals. Once she was street side, Nicolette was beginning to contemplate her transportation options, right when a man tapped her shoulder.
"Excuse me Miss, but I'm assuming that you're Miss Anderson. I'm Alfred; I'll be your chauffeur tonight." The elderly gentleman smiled, a twinkle and a bit of a hidden joke in his eyes. He motioned towards a shiny Rolls Royce, of which Nicolette eyed dubiously.
"I assure you Miss, Master Wayne has sent me to fetch you." At this Nicolette lightened up and laughed.
"Leave it to Bruce," she muttered.
"Dinner awaits Miss." Alfred pulled open the door and motioned inside.
"Please Alfred, call me Nicolette."
Alfred enjoyed driving Nicolette to the hotel (and no it didn't have to do with that fact that she didn't get makeup on his seats or babble about Master Wayne's good looks). Master Wayne was right…she is different.
"How long have you been working for Bruce, Alfred?" Nicolette asked, sitting comfortably in the back.
"Oh I've been working for the Wayne family for quite a long time, longer than you've been alive."
"You obviously enjoy it then?" Alfred smiled.
"Although Master Wayne can be a bit obstinate at times, yes, I have no regrets about my career choice." He saw Nicolette smile in his review window, which elicited a chuckle out of himself.
"You're in for a night. I do hope you've bloody well prepared yourself." She laughed/
"Alfred, it seems with Bruce you can never be prepared."
BRUCE WAYNE
Bruce paced nervously in the elevator as it made its way to the ground floor. This was new. Bruce Wayne, nervous about a date. The elevator ride was short and automatically heads turned as he stepped into the lobby, dressed smartly in a perfectly tailored classic black suit. Bruce wasn't five steps from the elevator before he was ambushed by staff asking if he needed anything, anything at all. He refused them all, simply stating that he was waiting for someone.
The lobby was buzzing with lavishly dressed people, all gossiping about some new socialite that broke their set of norms. Somehow, they all unconsciously began to gravitate towards him.
Alfred should be here soon… Bruce checked the watch that graced his wrist, glad to see that it was a few minutes to 7:30. It felt weird being on this side of things…being the person waiting for someone else. Not that he minded. As Bruce waited somewhat awkwardly in the lobby, his ears began to pick up on the mind-numbing dross that the others were speaking of, and to his surprise it was about him. The surprising part wasn't that they were talking about him, because that he was used to at this point, but it was that they were talking about Nicolette. I swear if they're trashing her…Bruce felt a little outraged. He didn't hear any negative comments from their mouths, but their words were sarcastic and scathing to say the least. Internally, he swore. The trials and tribulations of life as Bruce Wayne… Just as Bruce was about to walk over and interrupt their conversation in a famous Bruce manner, a Rolls pulled up outside. It's time.
Bruce smoothed down his lapel, adjusted his coat, and took a breath. The Rolls was stopped now and he saw Alfred exit the car and walk around to open the back door. He was grinning like an old fool. The lobby seemed void of its lowly buzz now, and Bruce suspected they were waiting to see who would get out of that car. For once he was in the same boat as them. He watched as Alfred offered her a hand and then as a graceful figure slowly lifted herself from the car.
As she glided, yes glided, into the building, Bruce barely noticed her gorgeous, body-hugging gown or the way her hair was gently curling down her back. All he could see was her face. Once her feet stepped onto the cool marble floor of the lobby, he turned on his charm and sauntered forward, a small smile dancing on his lips.
"You look beautiful," he murmured in her ear as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"You clean up pretty well, too, Mr. Wayne," she said sarcastically. Bruce laughed. It seems the clothes don't cut down on her bitingly sardonic way of speaking.
"So are we off?" She asked. He noticed her quietly observing the ogling bystanders. It seemed she, almost unconsciously, held her arms in an attempt to make herself appear smaller, which put Bruce in an internal tizzy. How can she be self conscious? She's outshining any of them on their best day!
"M'lady, dinner awaits." Bruce linked arms with Nicolette and led her back out to the car where, like a gentleman, he pulled open her door and gently shut it once she was in. When he slid into his seat, Alfred was halfway through a sentence.
"…sure gave them a good surprise Miss Anderson."
"Oh you know it Alfred. I'm sure they're all calling The Gotham Times right now." Nicolette laughed. At least I don't have to worry about Alfred liking her.
"So where are we dining tonight Mr. Wayne?" She said in a voice that she probably meant to sound like snobby socialite, but to Bruce it sounded more sultry.
"I'm afraid it's a surprise."
"Will I like it?" She sounded more like herself this time.
"Well I do hope so. The food's far better than the banquet food we dined on the other night."
"Well if it's a step up from that, it must be high class." Ah there's that sarcastic tone I know and love¸ Bruce thought immediately, almost laughing out loud. They fell into an easy silence that lasted only a few short minutes and was broken by Bruce remembering something.
"How's your head?" He could've sworn he saw a slight blush creep up her cheeks, but it was getting dark and he just couldn't tell for sure.
"It's ah- fine. I'm fine. I still have the stitches but thank god for long hair right?" She carefully lifted up a portion of her hair to reveal the clean, yet grisly looking stitches.
"Whoever it was got you pretty well." He said, a crease forming between his brows.
"It could've been much worse. I'm thankful that this is all I got away with." Bruce wanted to counter her retort, but Alfred intervened.
"It seems we have arrived." Bruce looked at Nicolette to gauge her reaction. The restaurant he decided to bring her to (the decision had plagued him for days) was new, but the reviews were all fabulous.
"I'm afraid, Bruce dear, that I haven't heard of 'L'anneau de Feu.'"
"Trust me, sweetheart," he smirked at her, "they're fabulous."
"Fabulous? Oh then let's go immediately! Not another minute shall be wasted when I could be in this fabulous restaurant." Alfred opened the door at the right second and offered a hand to Nicolette while Bruce escorted himself out of the car.
'Thank you Alfred." He said, taking Nicolette's hand. "M'lady, are we ready?"
"Why of course sir!" Nicolette smiled this goddamn radiant smile, which made Bruce question the reality of the moment. Is this even fair? I haven't done anything to deserve half of what I've got right now. Bruce guided Nicolette forward, aware of the surprisingly few paparazzi that were clicking their cameras. Let them, tonight, they can take all the photos they want.
L'anneau de Feu did not only live up to, and exceed, it's reviews, but it provided the perfect atmosphere so that Bruce didn't even have to worry about putting on his 'Price of Gotham' face. He would've hated to do that to Nicolette.
"So Bruce, I've got a question for you." Nicolette swallowed the piece of bread she'd been nibbling on and folded her hands on the table.
"Shoot."
"You don't have to answer, I've just been avidly curious." She paused a moment and Bruce nodded for her to continue. "Those- what- seven years you were gone, where were you?" Thank god. At least that's easily fabricated.
"I was traveling."
"Traveling?" He mhm'd in response and lazily ate a bite of his meal. Nicolette became thoughtful for a moment, absently munching on her own dinner.
"Well it must have been a helluva vacation then." Bruce laughed.
"It was indeed. I mean, I was young. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do. I was…self-centered."
"Really?" It came out exceedingly condescending and Bruce knew that she hadn't meant it to sound that way.
"Sorry, that sounded harsh."
"No really, I was but now I'd like to think I've bettered myself." Bruce smiled at her. "But I'm sure you've read my life story. What about you?" He tried to hide another smile in the brief pause after his sentence. "I mean, what's your…favorite color?" His plan worked, as Nicolette laughed and some of the awkward tension was relieved.
"I don't have one." She said simply.
"How can you not have a favorite color? Everyone does!"
"I don't see the point in it. One day I'll prefer blue, the next it'll be green. Why does it really matter what my favorite is?" Bruce pondered this for a moment.
"I see your point there."
"That's because my point's correct." She said it so normally that at first Bruce thought she was being serious. A breath passed and then they both erupted into a fit of laughter. Her statement wasn't even that humorous, but their whole evening was just soaking with delight that the laughing wasn't a bit forced.
No words were spoken on the ride back to Nicolette's building, but Bruce really didn't need them. What with the even sound of her breathing and he could've sworn he could hear the faintest heart beat. He caught Alfred's eyes in the rear view mirror more than once, crinkled with joy at the picture that Bruce and she were painting in the backseat. Nicolette' leaning into Bruce's chest, Bruce's arm wrapped around her torso. True, they had both had a few 'drinks' (meaning he had sipped at a very mild bubbly while Nicolette had ordered a few drinks with a little more…kick), but the action felt all too natural.
"Miss Anderson, we've arrived." Alfred's soft voice broke the atmosphere and Nicolette sat up straight and collected her small purse. Bruce took the initiative and opened his door holding out his hand for her to take.
"I shall escort you to your suite madam."
"Oh thank you fine gentleman." She took his hand getting out, but it quickly slid to a position around her waist. The lobby of Nicolette's building was empty, save for the dosing security guard.
"What floor?" He asked when they were inside the lift.
"Five." The pointed ding at each floor indicated their upward journey and soon, too soon, they were on floor five. It was just a short walk to Nicolette's front door from there.
"I had a wonderful time tonight." She said, one hand on her doorknob.
"Believe me when I say that this was one of the best nights I've had in a long time." Bruce knew what he was going to do shortly after he actually did it, but the next thing he knew his lips were locked onto Nicolette's and her hands were casually linking around his neck. The kiss was a slow one, neither of them wanting to take it too far just yet. After what seemed an appropriate amount of time they broke it, Nicolette laughing faintly.
"A proper ending to a proper date. Goodnight Bruce." She kissed his cheek once and then opened her door and she was gone. Bruce waited until he was in the elevator to exclaim,
"Jesus that woman. She will be the death of me." He seemed ready to embrace death though, by the looks of his smile.
Was that good or was that good?
It's about 2:15 a.m. my time and I WORKED to finish this tonight. I'm rather pleased with it.
So please please REVIEW. Unless you're an author on here you don't understand how much they help.
On another note, WHO IS EXCITED FOR TDKR? I CANNOT WAIT.