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hellraisered · 2 years

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Can you write a fic of Batman and Bane playing Scrabble with deep homoerotic undertones? <3

batman / bane ( one sided ? ) || scrabble

Gotham, on rare occasions, had the capacity to be a pretty city. The richer you were, the more appealing the gem of New Jersey tended to be — it was hard to hear gunshots and see sirens all the way up in questionably pricey high-rises under the delightful haze of a champagne buzz. But here, low and ever lower, near the docks nestled where the waves sometimes lurched onto pavement, there was very little to appreciate aesthetically.

The rain wasn't relaxing here, beneath crumbling and leaking concrete, enclaves besmeared with mildew and mold; rather, it was torrential, deafening as if one was in an echo chamber. This was where the homeless of Gotham sought refuge when the shelters were full (as they always were), desperate to stay dry rather than wellfed. And it was here, surrounded by those too tired to care about anything more than their own wellbeing, where these two men were virtually invisible.

Perhaps Batman hadn't thrown a punch out of respect for the people who dwelled here, but even the Dark Knight's patience and consideration had their limits.

Quiet, nearly seething, Bane sees his jaw tighten.

"I'm not here to play games," hissed through clenched teeth.

Bane had made friends, here, in the hovels of Gotham, finding himself in their company during periods of withdrawal. He knows some of them by name, others by face. He knew better than to think that places were homes; people were, and this was one of his. Now, though, he feels the burn of Venom coursing through his veins, and the throbbing of the swell in his musculature (it was a part of him, now - better than blood and water combined, as necessary as air). He sees something in the Bat's eyes - disappointment, perhaps, for a second, and then back to the patent curtness he was known for. Bane barely fits in the chair he was situated in. The wooden bench strains and creaks underneath his weight, and in front of him is a table - small, square, the indications that suggested it was once dedicated to playing chess faded, little more than chipped paint on molded wood.

"Then perhaps you should be." One massive hand gestures to the seat at the other edge of the table. "You'll get what you've come for either way," and a fist slowly tightens to indicate what "another way" would involve, "but I imagine the easier route is a bit more appealing to us both."

The cloaked figure is frozen in place, and Bane thinks that Wayne has decided to be boring, but eventually, the Bat takes a seat. The corners of the pieces of Scrabble littered across the table are worn from use, some of the lettering beginning to distress. Bane sweeps all of the pieces into a small pouch, equally distressed, and places the scrabble board on the table.

"You first," Bane gestures — an act of goodwill.

Impatience is still visible in the way the Batman moves, in the stiffness of his posture, and in the way he quickly procures a game piece. Bane knows his adversary is only acquiescing to his request because spending a large amount of limited energy on an avoidable fight is foolish, but he is satisfied regardless, smug.

He had gotten quite good at this game, down here with the strays and pariahs during his periods of recovery. People always tended to bond better over a game. Happiness was rare in places like this, so it was necessary to find it in the littlest things.

Batman toys with a game piece between his index and middle finger, and to some extent, it's funny to imagine that those were the fingers and knuckles that have bruised and broken his ribs too many times over the past decade. It was almost an intimacy, at this point. They didn't always feel like enemies, even if he had broken the Bat's spine, though they were certainly not friends either. He didn't see them even as something in-between, though — their dynamic managed to escape any definition others tried to apply to it. Only he could understand — him and Batman — the real Batman, not the mask of Bruce Wayne he wore in the mornings, on television talk shows, on yachts with women hanging off of his shoulders.

The quiet click of wood hitting wood was pleasant, and Bruce had put down an "S".

"There was a girl here, two nights ago. Brown hair, just above her shoulders - looked like she didn't fit in here. She would have been noticed." And although the Bat phrased this as a statement, it was unquestionably asking something. He had a cupid bow-shaped mouth, and without the stubble, it was far too easy to imagine a softer version of Bruce Wayne. Bane put down a "Y".

"Yes," and he pauses thoughtfully. "I remember her. Pretty girl, earrings and a shiny coat that no one down here could afford."

Bruce places down a "Z". Bane notices that the pad of his thumb slowly rolled over the front of the piece before he put it down, probably the result of an action made while in thought. And yet, that simple action was one he found himself so easily fixated upon. There were very few words that started with "SYZ", so it was evident that the both of them were working for the same goal. Almost as soon as his fingers left the table, Bane places an "I" above the "S". Their fingers could have touched, had he been faster. Maybe he'll be faster, comes his next turn.

"Is." he says the word aloud, claiming it and its associated points for himself.

"And the girl?" Batman pressures. There's tension in his voice. In the middle of his sentence, he places an "A" above the "I". His shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes, and sometimes Bane forgets Batman is a human, with a circulatory system, with needs.

"She's been coming here routinely, for the past few nights." He places an "N" next to the "A". "I think she may be looking for someone, but she doesn't concern me. I have more important things that require my attention." And at that, Batman shoots him a warning glare. Beneath his mask, Bane smiles. Bruce Wayne's eyes were the sort of blue that you only saw in movies and on supermodels, comparable to sapphires and the like, but Batman's eyes were darker and more human, like angry churning seas and muddy lakes, or puddles of rain. Batman places a "T" next to the "N".

"Ant." Scraping baritone declares.

Bane pulls a "W" from the pouch, and despite being so small, it feels heavy in between his fingers. It almost burns, but it doesn't.

"I know you know more than that." Batman firmly digs his fingers into the meat of the table, the tensing of his muscles visible through the fabric of his suit. There's not much time left here, between the two of them.

Bane puts the "W" in front of the "ANT", and never has he been so uncomfortable with the obvious choice.

"Want."

The word mocks him silently on the table. The letters carve their way into his mind, make him a bit sick, make him think of a man he doesn't want to associate with desire, and at this moment, he's happy the mask covers his face.

"She-", and he had stuttered. Batman surely noticed, as he always did, but he hopes that the caped crusader made little of it. "She was looking for a business card. I found it strange, why she'd be looking for anything here, but it was as if someone she was waiting for never arrived."

Batman looks to the left, away from him and the board, and "WANT" stares at him in his stead. They're both thinking. Perhaps they're thinking about different things entirely, but they're both thinking. Bruce stands abruptly, jostling the table some, and Bane recognizes that their time together is over for now.

"Behave yourself," the Bat says pointedly, apparently satisfied with the information acquired. "Or I will be coming for you next."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Bane tries to make himself sound firmer than he's feeling — he'd want it plenty of other ways. There's something caught in his throat, lodged, like the physical manifestation of a strange, unidentifiable emotion that had intruded on this private conversation. Before that emotion could make itself known, however, the Bat waves his cowl and is disappeared not a moment later.

The letters still stare up at Bane, and the fact that they don't say something else agitates him. They singe him further in the Batman's absence. "WANT". It's taunting him. He doesn't want, he has. (And although he doesn't want, maybe he needs.)

An angry grunt escapes his mouth, and with a sideswipe of his hand, "WANT" clatters quietly to the ground, overshadowed by the sound of worsening rain.

#yes. i can!#bane #batman #batbane #no beta reading i die like the dog i am

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highly-opinionated-ramblings · 4 years

Text

All this Batshipping talk lately and I completely neglected to mention BANE! A true travesty! But better late than never, I guess, so here’s some Batbane speculation:

Over the dozen or so times that Batman has caught Bane and thrown him back in jail, he has always insisted that Bane should focus on his recovery and start over, leaving behind the life of a criminal.

And, as he’s led away to his dozenth-or-so prison cell in Gotham, it finally occurs to him that, hey. Maybe Batman was right, after all. He didn’t choose to have been born a criminal’s son, serving time in Peña Dura. Making an enemy of Batman, though, was his choice. And if the choice is his, then maybe he can choose to undo what’s been done. Maybe he can start over.

This time, he dedicates all his time and energy into remaking himself. The prison guards and psychologists and social workers and everyone else is baffled by it, really, but in the end they’re just glad he’s responding to their efforts for once.

The Wayne Foundation sponsors the behavioral rehab program that Bane is a part of, so Bruce knows. He’s a little suspicious of Bane’s sudden change of heart- you can’t be too careful with people like him, in his experience- but hopeful that he really is finally taking his advice seriously.

When Bane is released back into society, Batman visits him, just to sort of gauge what’s going on with him. Bane is almost unrecognizable to him, out of mask and sober as he is (who knew he had such a charming smile under there?).

Bane thanks him for never giving up on him, and persuading him to finally change his ways (Bruce feels a twinge of guilt for having suspected him of having ill intentions), and says that he’s excited to try living life as a normal citizen of Gotham for once. Although, he is a little apprehensive about it, he admits sheepishly. There’s definitely work to be found for someone with his strength and abilities, but he’s never really done this before. Where does one even go to rent an apartment, he wonders?

Bruce offers to help him get settled. They pick out a new name for him to live under, and set him up in a little apartment in the Narrows. Bruce offered to see about a better location, but Bane insisted. The Narrows is the place in Gotham where he feels most at home, or so he says. They get all his new employment paperwork taken care of and boom! Bane’s life as a normal, unassuming, non-crime-lord begins.

Batman continues to check up on him, of course. You can never, ever, ever be too careful, you know. But eventually he gives up being suspicious. It’s clear that Bane has no ulterior motive here.

As he gets to know him better, something a bit unexpected happens: Bruce begins to really enjoy Bane’s company. He never had the benefit of a traditional education, but he’s brilliant nonetheless. Endlessly curious about the world around him, always asking questions. He spends his salary on books and night classes at the local community college. He and Bruce have some great conversations. He understands now what R’as saw in him.

Everything’s going well, until Bruce and one of the kids- I don’t know, let’s say Jason- go out one night on a the trail of a gang of thugs suspected of a string of robberies. They track them to an empty warehouse, but when they get there, who should they find but Bane, standing over a pile of unconscious guards.

“What are you doing here,” Batman demands, trying to keep his voice down so they don’t get caught.

“These guys stole money and resources from the Wayne Foundation,” Bane hisses back. “I can’t just let that slide! There are other prisoners who need that money!”

“We have it under control! There was no need for you to come here!”

“Yeah, well, I had it under control, too!”

“That’s not-”

“Look, are we going to finish this or what?” Jason interrupts, and Bruce gives up.

They bring Bane with them and allow him to help them take out the rest of the thugs. Bruce instructs Jason to treat Bane as he would a new recruit to the team- watch him closely and be ready to help him at any time if he looked like he was in trouble. Not that he needed to worry, though- Bane can hold his own in a fight.

It’s after that night that Batman reveals his secret identity to Bane. “If you won’t listen to Batman,” he says, “maybe you’ll listen to Bruce Wayne. This city is well-protected. We can handle it, I promise. You just focus on living your new life, ok?”

“Very well,” says Bane. What was he going to do, argue with the man he owed DOUBLE for his recovery? “On one condition, though.”

“And what is that?”

“You’ll keep coming to visit me sometimes.”

So Bruce does. The two of them continue to spend as much time together as either of their busy schedules allows. They talk. They spar, sometimes, at Bane’s request. Ok, they also make out, once or twice. They get found out by the kids and, after the initial “what do you mean, Bane???” phase, Bane is all but adopted as a member of the family. He graduates college and gets a new job with Wayne Enterprises (entirely of his own efforts, Bruce insists, he had nothing to do with it).

Turns out, the life of a normal, unassuming, non-crime-lord can be pretty sweet, after all.

#My writing #batshipping #Batbane #or...#Banebat #?#anyway the POINT is #Bane is a fantastic character #writing-wise I mean #he's basically a blank canvas!#you can do whatever you want with him!#and he would make a great partner for Bruce I think #sorry for leaving this one off the earlier list by accident

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