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Cherry Pie

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It was almost a shock when Bruce Wayne had causally strolled into his office and handed him an invitation to one of his charity banquets. Almost. The man flashed him a signature smirk as their hands brushed when Jim went to grab the envelope. Bruce lingered in his space for a few more seconds, more than necessary, and then waved a goodbye.

Jim couldn’t understand what had changed in Bruce; how the other man previously viewed him as just “Commissioner” to now “Jim Gordon.” How Bruce seemed to indulge in being next to the older man, his mood brightening whenever Jim was around. How a worldwide famous billionaire would find a deadbeat, divorced cop entertaining was absolutely mind boggling to Jim - and as much as he thought about their dynamic, he couldn’t understand why now, and why him. Out of literally anyone else in Gotham.

That aside, though, Jim went to the banquet. It was as flashy and glamorous as he remembered last years being, but with just a little more in attendance this time. He knew that Bruce would make a straight beeline for him the second he saw the commissioner, so Jim decided to lay low and stick to the outskirts of the crowds. The charity events Bruce hosted were fun as long as you were rich. Jim’s not sure why he even gets invited to these, and even more unsure of why he continues to attend them.

But he knew it was for the free food.

Jim sat down at an unoccupied table with a slice of cherry pie; It was the same served as an option for desert every year and it was fucking incredible. He found it kind of sad that the highlight of an expensive charity event was the cherry pie it served, but at this point could he even complain? He ate it in bliss.

“Fancy seeing you here.” A silky voice whispered in his ear. Jim jerked up and turned to see Bruce smirking down at him, amused by his startled reaction.

“Ah, yes. Hello, Bruce.” Jim cleared his throat. “Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

“My pleasure as always!” Bruce pulled a chair from another table and sat across from Jim. The older mans jaw tightened and he was sure Bruce noticed it. Bruce seemed to notice everything he did.

“You eat that same pie every year.”

Jim looked down at his empty plate, it having no crumbs or sauce that would indicate that there was ever a pie on it. He looked back up to see Bruce watching him with an intense gaze, before it flicked away when a group of people gathered around him. He excused himself from the table and Jim nodded curtly, relief making his hands shake.

After that interaction, the night went smoothly. He sat alone at the table for another hour before collecting his keys and heading outside for a smoke. Stubbing out the bud on the doorsteps of Bruce’s mansion, he got into his car and drove home.

It was a pleasant surprise to find Batman perched on top of his roof when he pulled into the driveway. The man rarely ever visited. He stepped out and waved up at the Bat, the other regarding him with a head nod before jumping down.

“You weren’t waiting too long, I hope?” Jim unlocked his front door and Batman followed him inside.

“Just arrived.” The grainy voice replied. Jim felt two large hands rest on his hips, the Batmans forehead resting in between his shoulders.

“I missed you.”

Jim let out a breathy laugh at that, leaning into the bulky warmth behind him. A hand left his hip to run under his tuxedo and across his chest, the other moving to unbuckle his belt. He groaned when he felt the warm glove cup him through his boxers, already hard and leaking and wanting.

It was poetic, really, when a few minutes later he was on his stomach with his back arching up and the Batman thrusting into him harshly. In a daze of feeling nothing but the constant pleasure, he could make out the Batman’s breath panting heavily against his neck. It smelled like cherry pie.