Secret Identities
Kaitlyn October Snape's prompt: Harry Potter/Batman, Bruce Wayne/Sirius Black (Commissioner Gordon), They each find out the other is not who he seems.
*As Kaitlyn October Snape got inspired by a "Bite Sized Bits of Fic" prompt (DW : Redicuious) and is currently writing it, lets keep the plot bunnies going!*
"Who are you?" The voice grated, growled. Sirius went very, very still. He recognized this voice very well. In fact it was a voice he'd heard nearly every day grow into puberty, now into early adulthood. Sirius Black had his back to the speaker, but recognized that voice even if he wasn't meant to. All of Gotham would hear that voice and know their vigilante. Sirius snorts, realizing he's been placed the fool – Bruce is Batman, and now his behavior recently starts to make a little more sense in a this twilight.
"Easy," Sirius warns, not daring to turn around – his hands went up easy, without being told, "don't go and do something you're going to regret." There had never been a right time to tell, and now? Now it was too late. Sirius didn't have to exaggerate his unease, his nervous glance over his shoulder as Batman hovered there. Just in sight, at the corner of his eyes: a shadow that isn't a part of the night.
"Where is Commissioner Gordon?" It was a furious snarl now, a threat that Sirius would be a fool to ignore. He'd spoken wrong, again – he'd made it seem like he was the threat – he doesn't have time to curse, either in profanity or wand-waving. A heavy young and armored body shoved him into the wall and held him up, pinned there like a butterfly on display. Sirius let out a bark of laughter, at a memory of a black haired boy with a horrified curled lip at a museum display of insects. It's as reassuring as it is funny. He rests in this grip, at ease against the weight and angles of a familiar body – Sirius Black, is the one whose changed bodies after all.
"He isn't in any danger unless you're an idiot – which, by the way – I know you're not, Bruce." A harsh exhale, a whoosh of breath going out – pained, as if Sirius Black had kicked Batman in the gut. If anything that grip on his wrists tightens. Sirius doesn't mind, he's the one being an idiot. Bruce must think that Gordon's betrayed him, and Gordon would never do that unless tortured beyond his threshold of values and sanity. Sirius knows that, because he is the exact same way: the exact same person, as a matter of fact.
"Where is he?" A hissed plea: Sirius Black closes his eyes, pained. He doesn't know if he can do this after all, pack up everything and fly away. In a effort to banish such second guessing thoughts, he speaks.
"You don't need him anymore." It's the truth too, Bruce is all grown up – and Commissioner Gordon can be replaced. Sirius knows just how easily.
"Please." Choked, fearing the worst. Just this morning, Bruce had wanted nothing to do with him. Sirius feels wetness on his neck, and knows it's not sweat or blood, but tears. Batman is begging, it's what every criminal in Gotham would pay to hear – but Sirius feels fierce protectiveness rise up, and he sighs, giving it up.
"He's me." Sirius admits softly, closing his eyes so he doesn't see what Bruce's reaction will be.
"W-what..?" Young, shaky – but no growl to it: Bruce has forgotten himself.
"Call Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth: ask him the true identity of Commissioner James Worthington Gordon of Gotham City." Names, with wizards, are everything. Alfred had known him on fight sight, and Sirius had been okay with that. He hears every word Bruce says to his butler, whispered near his ear. Bruce does not dare let him go, and Sirius is …okay, with this trap, this non-escape clause. There will be no going away.
"Sirius Black..." It's the name he hears, his name that he opens his eyes to.
"That's right, Batman." Sirius sounds deadpan, least any accusation fall upon him first.