The Day Harvey had to move in with the Billionaire

[heirtogotham]

Harvey Dent

Harvey was in for the evening, for once he had no speaking engagements, no rallies, no backlogged cases. It was the first time the lawyer had free time in weeks, and spent it stretched back on his couch in his apartment with his laptop on his thighs, tapping out a few ideas for the impending Garcetti trial. Bruce was busy, so Harvey figured he might as well be, too.

Bruno whimpered, and dragged his leash off of the kitchen counter, taking it to Harvey with a woeful expression before he dropped it and panted at him.

"In this heat?"

Bruno sat, showing Harvey how well he sat. It usually got him what he wanted."Okay, fine. We're out of milk anyway. But just a short one."

• • 
    The black and brown dog picked up his leash and pranced to the door, scratching at it and whining.
    
    "Bruno, no! Down." Harv slid some socks and shoes on, and grabbed his keys and wallet. He really couldn't blame Bruno for wanting to get out for a while, and figured that even a short walk to the store would help settle the dog.
    
    After snapping his leash on and making Bruno sit, Harv opened the door, yanked out on the end of the leash.
    
    "Bruno!" It never changed, no matter how many times Harvey tried to make him walk calmly, Bruno always shot out of the door like an arrow. He swore that somehow he got that from Bruce.
    
    The blond locked the flimsy bolt after them and followed the impatient dog downstairs. His phone laid forgotten near his computer where it was charging up from being on all day.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Bruce was calling to check on Harv, just as he said he would, and the phone only rang and rang. After the fifth time, he gave up and went home to change. But a nagging voice at the back of his head thought letting it sit like that was out of the question. Charles would get his way, which was to dress in all black and go check on the lawyer themselves.
    
    After today, they couldn't be too careful.
    
    Charles arrived at Harv's apartment ten minutes later, approaching the already open door into the stair well cautiously, taking the stairs slowly, and stealthily. The front door to the blond's apartment was open, ajar and the lights were off, and rummaging around could be heard. That was not like Harvey Dent at all.
    
    Slowly, the brunette peeked his head around the door frame, watching a few people rummaging about and knocking over furniture when they couldn't find something they were looking for. It was Maroni's and Falcone's men, Charles could tell by the smell.
    
    Luckily, the lights were off and it made everything easier. He jogged quickly back down the steps, toward the alley behind the complex and rummages through some garbage before he found a crowbar. Perfect. He silently scaled the wall to Harv's window into the bedroom, broke the lock off and entered the apartment that way, sneaking up behind one of the goons. He whacked the man over the head, where neck met skull, and watched the man go down without so much as a sound.
    
    There were three others, and it was Dark, but they were wise to Bruce by now, some were firing off rounds toward where they thought he was, but he was the other direction now, smacking the bar into the another head, grabbing the man by the shirt and beating it into the tiled counter.
    
    Another went down, and another, same as the first few, and no one decided to grab a light, not risking it, and as the last went down, Charles was covered in blood, head to toe, beating the daylights out of the last one (he caught a glimpse of his face, it was a falcone, another nephew, and dammit, he wasn't letting him live). Crowbar to head, he only stopped long enough to sneer.
    
    "Your family once almost took the breath right out of me. Abused me, and now, you'll know what it feels like from the other end." And with that, before the man could even speak, Charles gauged his eyes out with the forked part of the bar, leaving the man screaming.
    
    

    Harvey Dent Bruno had wheedled his way into a longer walk than Harvey planned for, they'd gone twice around the park before heading back home, carton of milk and a bag of apples in hand.
    
    Harvey jogged up the stairs and paused, noticing the door was already open. Everyone who lived in the building was usually careful about leaving it closed and locked.
    
    Harvey backed up, sensing something wasn't quite right, and put Bruno in the back seat of his car, locking him in before fumbling through his jeans for his cell phone, which wasn't there ... of all the times. His /other/ phone, however, was in his back pocket, and Harv took it out, opening the screen as he approached the building, just in case.
    
    Carefully, he pushed the door open and looked around, taking a couple cautious steps in. Everything looked normal, but by the time Harvey got to the stairs he heard a man /screaming/ as though he was being scalped.
    
    Harvey broke into a sprint, taking the stairs three at a time, pressing the red button on the phone in his hand. Whoever it was sounded like they were /dying/.
    
    "Someone needs help-" he panted into the phone when it went to a voiceless message, "I'm at my place and all I can hear is screaming, I think it's coming from-" Dent's eyes widened.
    
    "Shit. My place. Please come."
    
    He hung up so that he could be called back and shouldered the broken door open to find a crime scene that was gory, even by Gotham standards. There were three limp forms on the floor of his wrecked apartment and a forth was wailing in pain, having his eyes wrenched out by a large man in black with a crowbar.
    
    "STOP WHERE YOU ARE-"
    
    

    Bruce Wayné He had been smart, beanie over his head, leather gloves on his hands. All things he could burn later. On hearing Harv's voice, Charles turned, sitting on the man wailing under him in pain, sicking him right in the jaw to shut him up as he looked up at the blond, un-phased.
    
    "Wasn't planning on goin' anywhere, Harv."
    
    

    Harvey Dent Harvey's jaw dropped and he closed the mangled door as best he could, not reaching for a light. The less he saw of this, the better. They looked like they were still breathing, in the dark, but it was hard to be sure.
    
    Careful not to use either of Bruce's names, Harvey walked closer, Tyler burning through to the front of his mind as they saw blood on Charles.
    
    "Are you hurt?"
    
    There was blood /everywhere/, the counters, puddles of it on the couch Harvey had been sitting on only minutes before, on the phone he'd forgotten.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné ‎"No," He said, voice low, not quite Batman's and not quite Bruce's. He stood, the man below him and the other's weren't going anywhere, and they surely weren't moving, so he was positive they were out cold or close to death.
    
    "Police been called?" he asked, dropping the crow bar to the ground with a thud, ready to torch the place and the evidence.
    
    

    Harvey Dent ‎"No," Harvey said, looking around in disbelief. Everything had been ripped to shreds. These men were obviously looking for something, and Harv could guess what.
    
    "I called someone else, but he's busy." All the men were breathing, shallowly, and Harvey could see their guns scattered across the floor, holes in his walls. They hadn't just come for information.
    
    He looked closer, at the men's faces, or what was left of them, and began to recognize who had been sent after him. The ADA recalled with chilling clarity exactly what each of his would be assassins specialized in. Each of them were skilled enforcers versed in worse things than simple murder.
    
    It wouldn't have been a quick death, even Tyler admitted that.
    
    Harvey moved closer to Charles, out of instinct, some of the sickened feeling fading when he was close enough to hand Charles a clean dishtowel for his bloodied face.
    
    "We can't just leave them here."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné ‎"Not going to," he said, using the towel to wipe off his face before throwing it down onto the man who's eyes were still oozing red. He walked around to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of alcohol from Harvey's cabinet, and cracked it open on the counter. He trailed over the apartment with it, including the men on the floor.
    
    Then he pulled out his book of matches. "Do me a favor, Harv, go grab yours things you need and step out of the apartment. I'll be right there."
    
    

    Harvey Dent He laid his shaky hand on Charles's arm, Tyler had stepped back in his mind, seeing that Charles had everything perfectly under control. He'd thank him later.
    
    "Wait ..." Harv closed his hand around the matches, gently. "You can't, they'll die here. There are other people in the building, not just me."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné ‎"You want the police to see this, Harv?" he asked, tearing his hand away. "Call the 911 now, the fire'll be out before it spreads. I can't cover this up any other way." He removed his clothes that had gotten splattered with blood and drenched them too, throwing them on the men.
    
    "Ya gonna let me or not?"
    
    

    Harvey Dent Harvey opened his mouth to reply when his eyes changed, going from unsure to sharp in the space of a second as Tyler knocked Harvey out as surely as choking him.
    
    "There's more behind the fridge, a couple bottles of scotch" Ty answered as he grabbed Harv's laptop, bunching the cord in his hand and kicking the eyeless man in the ribs as he walked past them, hard enough to crack them under the skin.
    
    He stalked towards their bedroom, which was already torn apart, and grabbed a letter from the nightstand, his new suit, a blue tie, a dark shirt and walked back out, nodding.
    
    "Light it up."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné He grabbed the bottles and drenched the rest of the place, waiting for Tyler to be done and out of the place before he flicked a match against the grind of the book and threw it onto one of the men. The fire department would get his just in time to see Harv's place more than gone and have it look like the mob did it. Piece of cake.
    
    He jolted out of the apartment, shirtless, in his boxers and no shoes. He had to leave them behind to burn up with everything else.
    
    

    Harvey Dent As though he was waiting in the hallway, bored, Tyler held the shirt and a pair of pants he'd grabbed for Charles. Barefoot was no problem, but Bruce Wayne running out of Harvey Dent's apartment in his boxers might raise a few eyebrows, no matter how much Tyler would have enjoyed ending the charade.
    
    Ty smiled through the door at the flames, as though he enjoyed seeing the place he always hated immolate.
    
    "Put those on, we have a few seconds. It's just fumes for now." He watched the flames spread, licking their brightness from the fumes of the alcohol to the wood of the floor that needed refinishing, to the counter, and up the bloodied couch. The flames gained strength and color, and thick, black smoke started to roll it's way to the ceiling and out.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles grabbed the clothes and quickly slid the pants and shirt on, shaking out his hair, one hand gliding through it as he watched the apartment go up in, literal, smoke. He watched T enjoy the sight, knowing full well the blond didn't like that place anymore than Bruce and him did.
    
    "You're staying with us," he stated, not giving them a choice. "Press can't argue, We're being noble in offering up our too large for one person penthouse."
    
    

    Harvey Dent ‎"The night just keeps getting better and better ..." Ty mused with a smirk, and pulled the fire alarm in the hall before putting a hand on Charles's back and running down the stairs with him.
    
    "I've got to go pretend to look scared now ..." he sighed, under his breath, really enjoying himself. People started to panic and run out of the building, some out of the fire escape, using it for it's intended purposes for once.
    
    They made it out to the street and Tyler pulled his car keys out of his pocket, walking them to the dark blue car where Bruno was barking loudly in the back seat.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles followed, watching the people and the ruckus he had caused, quickly making it to the car, to make it seem like he was pretty upset as well. They could say he was coming to bug the lawyer when he stopped by to this. It wasn't too far a stretch.
    
    Sirens could be heard approaching and Charles did his best to look comforting if not a little panicked.
    
    

    Harvey Dent Ty stayed by the car, his arms crossed as he looked down at the sidewalk. He'd already dumped the things in his arms in the trunk of his car. The only real sadness he'd ever let himself feel was in Bruce's absence, it was hard to feel that with Charles right beside him, especially after knowing he just took down four enforcers single handedly. If anything, Ty wanted to congratulate him.
    
    He moved a little closer, and took a deep breath, still looking at the ground as he sighed.
    
    "Nice work with the eyes ..." he whispered, leaning into Charles a little.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles hid a smirk with his hands, leaning against the car and not looking at the building, but at Tyler's feet. He acted on impulse and the mob wasn't anything you thought twice about when they were trying to get close to your loved ones.
    
    "Another nephew of Falcone. Brother probably to the other one," he said, knowing Tyler would know what he meant. There was no choice, he had to do what he did.
    
    

    Harvey Dent Ty nodded, "Yeah. He was, actually. Same sort of asshole, too." He pulled a disgusted face that came easily as he looked at the fire.
    
    "The others were almost as bad, trust me-" he nodded, "you did the world four huge favors. Jail would never be good enough for them."
    
    He stole a glance over at Charles, fire from the building shining amber on his dark blue eyes, "Kind of sexy as hell, actually."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné The police were coming, Charles could hear it as the firetrucks pulled up in a hurry, so their conversation was drowned out to just them hearing it anyway. He shifted, looking at Tyler in the eye, smirking only a little, mostly through his dark, glossy eyes.
    
    "Yeah. I needa find a bar," he mentioned, hands into his pockets, fingering the matchbook. He needed to collect four more.
    
    

    Jim Gordon Jim arrived on scene, watching what was the ADA's apartment, and the building go up in flames. Everyone was out luckily, and Dent didn't look hurt, and... was that Wayne? Goddammit, how did he know that yutz would be there?
    
    Slowly, Jim approached Dent, looking at them both from over his glasses. "Care to give the story?"
    
    

    Harvey Dent Tyler sighed. Showtime. He'd let Harvey out, but that would take a lot of explaining before he could talk to Gordon. It was just easier if he did this himself.
    
    T nodded at the burning building. "I went to the store, and came back to find this. Obviously I'm getting a little close to something someone powerful wants kept quiet."
    
    He added under his breath, "I know I am, actually. Bruce came over just as I was coming out of the building, he really picks the best times."
    
    

    Jim Gordon Jim nodded, arms folded over his chest. Work of the mob, obviously, trying to intimidate or get rid of the threat, and Harvey was definitely a threat right now. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead before stepping closer to Dent, so Wayne couldn't hear.
    
    "Last thing we need a mob hit out on you going through. I know you can't stay low, but I'd feel better sending an extra patrol car by every night..." he looked up as the apartment building started to creak under the pressure of the flames, " where ever it is you'll be staying now."
    
    

    Harvey Dent Tyler rolled his eyes a little, "And who are you going to send to look after me, Jim? Wurtz? Ramirez? I'll be fine. Besides, I'm staying with him-" Ty nodded at Charles, "until I find somewhere safer. His security isn't bad."
    
    All the same, Jim's concern was well-placed. Harv didn't take the threat of what might have happened if he hadn't gone to the store seriously enough. T was glad this happened to shake him up a little, make him pay attention.
    
    

    Jim Gordon Jim huffed an almost unbelievable laugh, shaking his head. "Blake or Montoya, but if you're sure you'll be fine with /him/, I'll trust you to call me if anything else suspicious comes up."
    
    

    Harvey Dent ‎"Well, my phone is currently bubbling and smoking, but I'll get ahold of you somehow if I need you." He smirked, shaking his head right back.
    
    "I need to talk to you later, alone." He emphasized with a look from his dark eyes, "about what they might have done this to stop."
    
    He couldn't help but smile a little at Jim's contempt for how safe Bruce could keep him. Little did he know the man standing beside him was the best, most thorough protection in the world. If something got through /him/, it was nothing but fate.
    
    

    Jim Gordon ‎"Alright. Contact me when you get time.," he said, moving away, and then stopping as he retraced back, finger in the air. "Actually, come to the station later, we'll need a statement anyway. We can talk then? Just let me know." And then Jim, giving Wayne a bit of an analytical glare, walked off to tell the rest the situation.
    
    

    Harvey Dent Tyler just nodded, and waited until Gordon was far enough away not to hear him.
    
    "Good to know your secret is safe," he muttered at Charles, risking a touch of his hand to his back. "Come on," he pulled his car keys out of his pocket, "we'll find a bar and then-"
    
    Tyler locked eyes with Charles, savoring the words, "you can bring me home."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles just pretended he couldn't hear the conversation, but his well tuned ears were not so deaf. He shrugged and opened the car door, smiling at Tyler. "Let's go then, I don't wanna stick around for this." He slid in and reached behind to scratch the dogs ears in greeting.
    
    

    Harvey Dent It was a good thing that Charles got into the car when he did, because Tyler was just about to lean in and kiss him on the mouth, and quite a crowd had gathered to watch the young politician's place go up in flames. It felt so right to do it, just press their mouths together and run his tongue over and past Charles's lips, so /natural/ that he'd forgotten that he wasn't supposed to do it.
    
    The blond sighed, a little annoyed with it all, and strode to his side of the car, climbing in.
    
    Tonight felt like /their/ night. Something about letting four of the worst pieces of filth Gotham had to offer die in a gorgeous blaze started the killers off on the right foot.
    
    Ty got into the car, and started it, backing up and then driving away without a look back as Bruno wiggled in the backseat, licking both men's jaws and hair in a relieved, puppy-ish greeting.
    
    Sinatra was playing on the radio, and Ty turned it up a little as they drove, relaxing back into the seat as he shifted and steered.
    
    Charles had just killed to protect them, four times over. Harvey may only have seen the horror in what he'd been doing to the man when they burst in, but all Tyler saw was the sort of rage he'd felt when he'd yanked the plug on the Falcone kid in the hospital, rage he wouldn't have felt if he didn't love Bruce. Knowing /those/ four enforcers, and what they were really capable of, Tyler knew even he would have been in serious, serious trouble if he'd been home, and Charles hadn't come. Sure he might have lived, but he knew there'd be pieces of him missing, or torn apart.
    
    Tyler drove them to a stop light at an intersection, the muscles of his long leg flexing through his jeans as he worked the brake. He watched the other cars for a moment and then leaned over, kissing Charles on the lips, slowly and deliberately before he pulled away, unhurried.
    
    "Thanks."
    
    There was no reason for anyone to have been watching them just then, and if they were? Tyler didn't give a fuck. He owed the man next to him his life, his sanity and he sure as hell owed him a kiss without shame.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Tyler owed Charles nothing, it was a repaid debt from eight year back. The brunette might not have been there mentally, but it was /still/ his body and he shared the same frightening memories as Bruce did of that day. Had Ty not been there? Who knows where the young billionaire would be now.
    
    The second Charles realized who the men in the apartment were, there was no more doubt in his mind of what had to happen. The mob killed everyday to shut people up, no remorse given for their families. Charles was not about to show mercy; if he saved another family in the process, or a father for a little kid? Perfect. But he did to save his best friends tonight.
    
    No one was taking them away from him.
    
    Breathing against Ty's mouth as he kissed him at the light, Charles touch a rough, calloused palm to the blond's jaw, giving him a knowing glance.
    
    "Not needed. You'd've done the same."
    
    

    Harvey Dent Tyler /had/ done the same, years ago, but it was something the vengeful blond never thought he'd have made up to him. He sighed, and closed his eyes at the feeling of Charles's rough hand on his skin, sharing a glance with him before the red light turned green against the brunette's face.
    
    Ty tongued the tip of one of his own canines, and was about to lean in and take another kiss, election be damned when the car behind them honked, and Tyler rolled his eyes.
    
    "Yeah, yeah..." he muttered at the impatient driver, and started off again.
    
    "Where to?"
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles sighed at the annoyance that was the people behind them, /but/ they had all night when they got home to their place. He let go of Ty's face, pointing towards the Gotham River, where the overpass was and then the bridge.
    
    "There's a bar just down under the bridge there, right by the shoreline. Ray's or something. Let's get a quick drink and then we can go home."
    
    

    Harvey Dent Tyler nodded, and turned the car down to the docks. The longer he thought about it, the better the fire was working out: four of the most vicious mobsters in Gotham were dead, he and Chuck were getting a night together out of it, and they had an excuse to live together, at least until the heat was off.
    
    He pulled up to Ray's, and shut off the engine, giving Bruno a scratch behind his ears.
    
    "Guard the car."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles slid out of the car, with grace and purpose, intimidation in his step, though barefoot, it didn't seem to matter. He avoided the broken glass on the ground, as if he knew where every little piece was, skipping gracefully over them as he reached the door. Pulling the dark bar's door open, he held it for Tyler and then entered, presence didn't go unnoticed, but not one person seemed to see him as Bruce Wayne.
    
    "Hey, Matches. Haven't seen ya in a while," the bartender, also known as Ray, greeted, looking at the blond behind him.
    
    "Been busy, Ray," Charles said, taking a seat at the bar. Obviously he'd been here a lot, and with the change in persona, it was unknown to anyone who saw him just how the brunette really was. "I need five fingers of scotch, and the same for my pal here." He hitched a thumb at Tyler.
    
    The dive of a bar wasn't known to many, it was mostly a mobster bar, you had to know someone to get in there or know it was even there, but Charles walked in like he owned the place, and not one person except for Ray even bothered to say a word.
    
    "You got it, Malone," Ray said, turning his back to get the drinks. Charles reached behind the counter for the jars of matchbooks he knew that Ray kept, having always wanted to take some, he had reason to now.
    
    

    Harvey Dent Tyler had recognized the name of the bar from Harv's files, but wasn't going to let that stop him. He grabbed the suit jacket from the trunk, shouldering it on over Harv's jeans and t-shirt and took a pair of sunglasses from the glove compartment, slipping them on over his blue eyes before he caught up to Charles inside, taking a seat at the bar.
    
    No one seemed to recognize Charles as Bruce, if only because no one would dare look him in the face too long.
    
    He smirked at the matchbooks, knowingly. "I've got one, you know."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné

    Charles took one of each style, a collection of different patterns from over the years that Ray's had been there, four styles to be exact. Worked perfectly. He pocketed them and shook some of the soot from his hair that had managed to get there from the burning building. He had to keep Bruce's name out of the fire, but should the name Malone come up or even Matches, well for it then. The mob needed to start to realize that there were other people in town besides the Batman and Harvey Dent who weren't afraid of them.
    
    "Oh yeah? Where'd ya get it?" he asked, taking the glasses from Ray when they were set down. Ray seemed to look at Tyler with a bit of recognition, but said nothing. Charles gave the black and silver haired mobster a look, one of those 'you don't know and if you question it, you'll regret it later.'
    
    Actually a few people had turned their heads to stair for a moment, but the second Charles saw them, they're heads went back down to their tables and drinks, or the girls they had with them. In just a few short months and few nights a week, Charles had managed to frighten the first mob families of Gotham into saying nothing. It was how Bruce had managed to get the lightly radiated bills into the mob banks.
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    Tyler took his drink, unruffled. He almost hoped someone would say something, Charles had taken all the fun for himself tonight.
    
    "Remember that trip we took back in college?" he asked, smart enough not to mention names.
    
    "I was talking with your .... Uncle, about things." Tyler pulled out his wallet and took out the carefully tucked away matchbook from a closed, rarely opened pocket in it.
    
    "I let him see the coin, he gave me this."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné

    Charles hadn't been around for that trip except the latter end of it, but with Bruce clear headed then and the memory was shared. 'Uncle' was to refer to the older version of them, Bruce and Chuck. He was pretty sure Tyler meant Chuck, because Bruce wouldn't know what those matches stood for. And those matches Tyler was holding, were exactly the ones that he picked up when he offed Malone.
    
    Taking a swallow of his drink, he put the empty glass down. "He just /gave/ them to you?" he found it hard to think that Chuck would give up such a possession freely, especially one with meaning. Unless... Charles hadn't really placed just /how/ upset Harvey and Tyler would be when he and Bruce disappeared.
    
    

    Harvey Dent ‎"Yeah," Tyler said, thumbing the foriegn writing on the cover of the book. "He did, why? Is it important?"
    
    He opened the book and looked at the still perfect row of matches. After Brucee disappeared, he kept these in hand almost more than the coin.
    
    "He actually came by after you left."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné

    In their own wallet, which he had remembered to take out of the clothes he burned, Charles kept the matches he took when he killed Malone. He pulled them out of the wallet and showed the identical book to him.
    
    "First kill," he muttered, leaning in toward Tyler. "Means a lot to 'im, but if he gave it to ya, must have been important." God he needed a smoke, but his cigs burned with the clothes. He'd deal, Bruce would whine about it later anyway when they couldn't breathe.
    
    "Oh yeah?" He asked, this time a distraught, as he knew now that it must have been worse than he thought; but he hadn't given it much thought when they left. HE warned them didn't he? They should have known...
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    Tyler looked at the two matchbooks, surprised. They were, of course, identical, his were a little older and more worn looking, but that just made them special. He had no idea at the time that it was a landmark in their lives in his hands for all these years.
    
    "Yeah," Chuck had come over, with older him and literally picked the drunk, dangerously high, broken boy up off the ground and /held/ him for what might have been hours or days. It was the only time Tyler let himself be saved by anyone, ever.
    
    "He explained a few things to me."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné ‎"And lemme guess? Harv didn't. Which was why he was with little miss trollop," he sneered, voice a harsh whisper. He didn't mind Rachel, but sometimes she was a condescending bitch, and it was just like her to give up hope on Bruce returning and taking Harvey from them.
    
    She deserved the breakup they had, Charles felt no fucking remorse for her backstabbing.
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    ‎"Trust me," Tyler sighed, his matches still tucked into his wide palm as he drank with his left hand.
    
    "If I could have told him I would, but we split so hard that we couldn't hear one another at all. It took me a while to even be able to see what was going on, and by that time, she sunk her claws into him. But that was a couple years down the line, just after she finally convinced him you weren't coming back."
    
    He never liked Rachel. "She seems all sweet on the surface but I could tell she was just trying to tie him down with kids so he'd marry her. Fuck that. Manipulative bitchnwas probably going to fuck up her birth control to do it too. Thank god he left. He wasn't happy."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné Charles' face screwed up into something that of annoyance. Figured that Harv would give up and that he'd have given up so much that he let Rachel convince him that Bruce was dead or never coming home.
    
    Had Charles needed to make it clearer? That /they/ belonged to them no matter what?
    
    "He would've, if we didn't come back. Nothing to change his mind."
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    ‎"She took care of him for two years," Tyler explained, still disgusted, "and got her feelings all hurt because he wasn't interested. You know how he is, he felt guilty after a couple of years of it. But he was never in love. He missed the hell out of you."
    
    He passed his hand over the back of Charles's arm, soothing him.
    
    "I'm the voice in his head that tells him when he's being played, or manipulated-" he took a drink, "just like you do for Bruce. I couldn't get through to him. But I would've fucking waited."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné

    Charles knew they had no reason to be really upset with Harvey, with all the prostitution they had to do, the shit with Ducard... But the point was Harvey could've been more hopeful, as he was often with the city itself, and he hadn't been. He literally gave up when Charles had all but told him they'd be back.
    
    "At least you believe in us," he mentioned, shooting Ray a look as he watched the two out of the corner of his eye.
    
    

    Harvey Dent ‎"I'm better at reading you-" Ty smirked, the expression exaggerated under the glasses before he took a drink, also noticing Ray's curious glances. "I knew what it meant."
    
    Ty watched the bartender for a minute, "This place isn't bad. I'd hate to see it close."

     
  • Bruce Wayné

    ‎"Yeah," he said, turning his gaze to Ray, leaning over the counter to grab a basket of pretzels. "Ray don't have no issues with that; he knows I've got his back here, dontcha, Ray?" Charles smiled, a little unsettling, and despite the lack of footwear and the odd clothing that fit a little different on the brunette, the man behind the counter nodded slowly and wiped a bead of sweat off his brow.
    
    "Yeah, Matches. I know," he muttered, wiping down the counter, "We all do." There was a slight grumble through the patrons, and it was obvious that Charles had been worked over a few of the mob families already. It was even possible the men he killed tonight knew him by name. Not anymore though.
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    Tyler just smiled, reminded of the bar back at school he used to frequent. They knew him well enough there to know not to want to get to know him better, and to stay on his good side. Driving a bottle opener into some asshole's neck in the alley his first night there did that, amongst other things. The young blond had been like eighty-proof, ready to ignite at the slightest friction.
    
    "It's too bad you weren't around much back at school," Tyler licked a drop of scotch from his lips, "we could have had fun."
    
    

    Bruce Wayné

    Stuffing a handful of pretzels into his mouth, Charles flipped out a a hundred and placed it on the counter for Ray. He was done here, and the more he just /stared/ at Tyler, the more he wanted to fuck him and he couldn't do that here. But they /did/ have all night.
    
    "Yeah. It was. Too bad someone was too wasted all the time to notice me," he grumbled, and not about Ty but about Bruce. Things would've been so different is Bruce had just listened from the start. Then again, if he had, they might never have met Tyler and Harvey when they did.
    
    "Come on, Gorgeous, let's get outta here," he slid off the stool, nodding a goodbye to Ray and few others who dared to look up when the brunette stood. No one made eye contact though. The thing with Matches' reputation there, was he never used a gun; if you crossed him, your life was slowly taken and you'd regret every second until your last breath. He'd made a few watch months ago when they first got back into town.
    
    After five men went down, in a group of people with nothing but a forked used on Charles' part, people stopped trying.
    
    

    Harvey Dent

    ‎"Gorgeous?" Ty raised a blond eyebrow as he stood, sliding his long legs to the floor from where they'd been curled around the wood poles of the stool after he downed half the glass of gold liquor in a smooth swallow.
    
    He pulled his car keys out of the hip pocket of his jeans with one hand, the other warming the curve of the small of the brunette's back as he walked out with the dark man who barely made a sound when he moved. Charles didn't need the kevlar suit to look and move like a shadow when he wanted to.
    
    "Back to your place?" he asked once they were outside, hooking a finger through the loop of his keyring.
    
    

    Bruce Wayné

    ‎"Yup," he answered, not caring if anyone saw them together, it wasn't Dent and Wayne, it was Malone and his strangely attractive friend. And to show, if anyone dared to look anyway,Charles took Tyler by the face and kissed him long and hard, toes splayed out on the gravel below them.
    
    Glaring back into the bar, he walked to the passenger side, and slid in. He waited for Tyler to get in and then said; "We got a real nice pool out by the balcony. Hot tub, too. But if ya just wanna stick to the usual, the bed is real nice," he smirked.
    
    

     
  •  

Comments

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Harvey Dent
Tyler laughed, a low, throaty sound that made Charles's lips buzz before he leaned over and kissed him again, tugging at his perfect lower lip with straight, white teeth.

"Nothing's usual with you, Charlie."

He was used to being the one who threw people around, the one whose presence darkened a room and made it go quiet, but seeing Charles like this, the effect he had on people was enough to make him half-hard just watching him walk through the bar.

Tyler pulled back and started the car, driving off.

Bruce Wayné
‎"No?" he asked, smirking viciously, eyes so dark they looked like the coal. He didn't bother with a fucking seat belt, he just leaned as Tyler drove, licking the shell of his ear slowly in one large circle and then biting the lobe with his left canines.

Meanwhile, his right hand slipped down Tyler's denim clad thigh and up his crotch to the zipper, that he slowly undid, reaching his long, rough fingers into flap of the underwear and massaging Ty's length.

Harvey Dent
‎"No-" Tyler felt hot blood rush through his veins, surging up his neck towards the spot that Charles was kissing, where the sharp points of his cultured teeth were digging into Tyler's ear.

When he felt Charles's hand palm over his leg, Ty let his thigh move to the side a little and groaned when he felt Charles's hand grip him. He was nearly completely hard already and Charles had barely touched him.

"That's good ..." he murmured, leaning back as he sped up, the well-made engine gunning softly..

Bruce Wayné ‎"I could do you right here, but I won't," he murmured into his ear, sliding the tip of his tongue toward the canal, breathing heavily.

He grasped Ty's hard shaft and pumped him, pulling his dick out of his pants and underwear, the thrill of being caught, being pulled over, loomed over Chuck's head and made his heart race. He always did love the little thrills.

Harvey Dent Tyler, on the other hand, loved a challenge and fought to keep his dark eyes on the road as Charles stroked him. His heart pounded in his ears, mouth going dry, and his hips arched up into the rough, electrifying callouses of Chuck's hand.

"Do /me/?" he challenged softly, shifting gears. "Really?"

Bruce Wayné ‎"If I could, you're not in the position for letting that work," he explained, rough and low into the blond's ear, letting each word come out an airy breath.

Fingers tight around the cock, Charles flicking his thumb over the head, rubbing and caressing in small circles while his tongue did the same movement and action against Tyler's ear.

Harvey Dent
Tyler's hand gripped the wheel and he let out a long, rough breath from between his teeth as Charles worked him over.

"Christ-" he swore, spreading his thighs wider, fighting not to just pull the fuck over and do this on the side of the road. Charles's hand felt almost as good as his mouth did, stronger, rougher and the scratchy pad of his thumb made Tyler moan with every pass, unable to stop himself.

"I've ... never let you do that before-" he swallowed hard, hormones surging with his blood as he fought to keep control, "what makes you think I will now?"

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Bruce Wayné
‎"I've been real compliant to you, Ty, given you everything you ask for, that you need and want. I /let/ you fuck me because I /like/ it, not because of your superiority complex," he explained, voice still low, lips drifting down his jaw slowly as he spoke, deliberately slow.

"The truth is, you need to give back sometime. Or I'm gonna get bored." His hand reached down further to grasp Tyler's balls still in his underwear, squeezing them good and hard.

Harvey Dent
Tyler's dark eyes rolled back for a moment and he went through a red light, not caring either way. They had to get to the penthouse /now/. The little threat made Tyler glare as he rounded the corner with a jerk of his hand on the steering wheel, tires squealing on the pavement as he accelerated again.

"And fucking me would keep you around?" he couldn't be stern, not with Charles tonguing his neck that way, and his hand around his balls.

Bruce Wayné ‎"Switching things up would make it less boring in the long run," he growled, tongue skimming the pulse in his neck, teeth grazing and biting it. He knew Tyler was one of those to say yes now and then in the heat of it change his mind, he had to have control and letting someone else have it was an issue.

"You trust me, don't you?" He squeezed a little harder.

Harvey Dent
Tyler groaned, and tipped his jaw back, his throat arching for Charles's mouth to devour. He trusted Charles, but giving up control was hard. Tyler was created to control things, to beat them into submission if he had to or kill them if they wouldn't behave. Harv had done it lots with Bruce and Charles both, but Harv was different, more pliable, more of an angel than he was.

"Yeah," he panted, pulling the car into the private garage of Bruce's penthouse, the visitor's section. Charles was driving him insane, the way his hand was kneading him made him incredibly hard.

"Fuck, yes-" he groaned, stopping the car and pulling out the keys, hands shaking with lust, "yes, I trust you."

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Bruce Wayné ‎"Good," he said, as the car stopped, he let go completely, needing to keep themselves together for the security cameras, at least until the elevator, where the security became Bruce's and not the managements. He grabbed Tyler's things and let Bruno out of the back and made his way to the elevator, flashing a smile back at the blond, leaving him to put himself back together, at least for now.

Harvey Dent
Tyler sighed through his nose, dropping his head against the seat as he did his best to get himself looking presentable again, at least to a security camera. Just when things were getting good they had to be Bruce and Harv again for a few seconds. He wanted to hit something.

Removing the glasses, Tyler got out of the car, glad he had the jacket on no matter how distant the cameras might be. He strode into the elevator, glaring at Charles for getting him this worked up and walking away.

Bruce Wayné
When Tyler finally made it into the elevator, he smiled rather jovially, and pressed the button for the penthouse. The second the doors were shut, the brunette was all over Tyler, kissing him into the back of the car, hands down his pants, rough and needy, not bothering to be sweet or nice about it.

He undid the button of the pants again, Tyler was still hard and he palmed him and reached down to grab his balls with his other hand, rolling and squeezing, all while mashed lips met, tongue slide, and teeth gnashed together.

Harvey Dent
Tyler wanted nothing to do with sweet or nice. He groaned as he was forced back into the elevator, and his hands clawed at Charles's back, yanking him in sharply so that their bodies slammed together from collarbones to thighs, all undulating, needy muscle under too much clothing.

That could be fixed.

As Charles picked up where he left off in the car, Tyler's hands undid the button of the borrowed pants, ripping it right off, and ruining the zipper, tearing it out of the fabric as he forced them down Charles's thighs.

He bit at Charles's lips, their mouths fighting as much as they were kissing, and he plunged his hand into Charles's boxers, moaning low when he found his already seeping dick, perfectly hard. Knowing what Charles wanted to /do/ with it made his pulse jump, and he started to stroke him, slowly, mapping his girth and length with his fingers.

Bruce Wayné
He bucked forward, hips moving to their own accord, into Tyler's capable hands, as they were a messy mash of two people in a small elevator, and dog just lying on the cool metal floor. It didn't fucking matter though. Charles killed four men, burnt down an apartment, and got his matches.

A fucking celebration was in order and he planned to start it off with a tall, leggy blond.

The doors jolted open and Charles shooed the dog out as he messily picked up Tyler's things and threw them into the living room, not letting go over him with one fist to his cock, dragging the blond with him and finally kissing him again. He practically threw himself on the blond, leg latched around him as he made to remove all their articles of clothing, scattering them across the penthouse.

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Harvey Dent
Tyler stayed close, matching Charles step for step and stroke for stroke as he tore the shirt he lent him in his haste to get it off of his perfect body, like covering him for another moment was painful.

The two of them were a ball of raw hunger and limbs, muscled backs rising and falling quickly as they groped their way into the bedroom, shedding everything behind them: shirts, pants, underwear, shoes, socks, so that by the time they hit the bed, they were both naked and hard, flushed and virtually climbing each other.

Tyler was thrumming his hand over Charles's cock, fast and hard, grinding his palm over the tip as he bit at his lips and neck. Bruce Wayne would have marks all over him tomorrow, and Tyler would only be upset if he tried to cover them up.

He felt the bed against the back of his thighs and fell back, pulling Charles down over him as he did.

Bruce Wayné
Naked, flushed and ready, Charles fell down on top of the blond, grinding and bucking his hips, rolling their hard-ons together, causing a built up friction. He pushed Tyler up the bed a way, and then worked his way down his muscles and perfect body, taking care to leave no place below the neck untouched, not marked or bruised, whether it was by teeth or nails.

And just as he had done so many years ago, he sank his teeth down into the bite mark where he first marked Tyler, claiming him as his own, binding them together forever. He tongued it a bit, reaching below to work Tyler's cock over in his hand, moving down after a few strokes to see his entrancing with a tracing thumb.

Harvey Dent
It wasn't just a graze, or a rough kiss, Charles actually re-opened the scar on his hip, making it bleed around his white teeth and over his tongue. Tyler moaned into the pain, especially there, and arched his long back, muscles quivering as he sank his fingers into Charles's dark hair.

"Fuck ..." he almost shouted, eyes rolling back.

Tyler's entire torso was sweating and well bitten now, pink and red nearly everywhere, laced with swelling purple. He was going to love it tomorrow when every movement reminded him of Charles and tonight.

The stroke of his cock helped ease him and the blond looked down, thrusting sweaty hips into it before the sweep against his entrance made his jaw drop and his hips /buck/.

"Charles-" he growled.

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Bruce Wayné
Licking the blood away from the wound, though it continues to seep droplets of dark red, Charles moved down, trailing his tongue around the base of Tyler's cock, down and under, lapping at his balls and then sinking his teeth in carefully, sucking one into his mouth. He hummed around the sweaty skin, pressing at the blond's entrance, teasing for what was to come, literally.

Watching the dark side of Harvey writhe was entrancing, and Charles was sure that he'd never let go of control once, that /this/ sort of pleasure wasn't something he knew at all.

He pulled back, mouth swollen and red from sucking, from /pleasing/. "I'm going to make you come so hard," he growled and then sucked the tip of Ty's cock into his mouth.

Harvey Dent
If Tyler had never let go of his control for Charles, he sure as /hell/ hadn't for anyone else in the world. It was only because it /was/ Charles that he was letting it happen at all.

Surprisingly, however, the rub and press of something /there/ felt good enough from Charles that Tyler reached over his head with one hand, and wrapped a fist around the edge of the headboard as he watched the dark haired man, not wanting to risk trying to stop him out of sheer reflex.

But who would want to stop /that/? Charles with his lips red and full, dark eyed and blood thirsty was the most beautiful, erotic thing he'd ever seen.

"Christ-" he swore darkly, free hand in Charles's hair, clutching, "you're good at that."

Bruce Wayné
He dipped, swirled his tongue, sucked, and did it all over again, deeper down each time until he had the head of Ty's dick to his throat. Back up again, he repeated several times, pressing that finger around and around the blond's entrance, getting him used to the feeling.

And, Charles, as much as he was one for not caring, he did, and if Tyler was /not/ okay with this, he hoped the blond would speak up. He knew how it was to be fucked when you really weren't comfortable with it.

Finally, he popped of the cock, face flushed, eyes dark, gazing at Tyler for a few minutes as he caught his breath, and then ducked his head down again and swiped his tongue in a smooth circle over that same entrance he had been teasing before.

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Harvey Dent
Charles was working him over with his firey, expert mouth until Tyler's spine felt like it was made of melting candle wax, burning from the base up. He could feel himself start to relax around Charles's exploring, insistent finger, unable /not/ to the way Charles was doing it.

And then, his /tongue/ slipped down there, and Tyler wasn't able to stop the torn, keening moan than left his mouth, betraying exactly how /much/ he liked it.

"JesusfuckingchristCharles​ ..." Tyler gripped the headboard harder and his nails dug into Charles's scalp.

Bruce Wayné
That had done it. Forget being sweet, forget being nice. Charles plunged his tongue into the blond, padding and licking making Tyler most /louder/, like it was his god given right to do so. He reached down under his own waist, stroking himself deliberately, grunting against Tyler's entrance.

Pulling back, he reached to the nightstand and found the lube, spreading some into his hand and on his fingers, plowing those into the blond two at a time to loosening him up more as he slather his own cock.

Harvey Dent
The wet, strong press of his tongue, /inside/ Tyler was so dirty, and hot and fucking /wrong/ that he could hardly think. It blanked his mind out to any thought that wasn't the word: yes, and he even heard himself moan it, loudly.

The rough blond barely had time to open his eyes and look down when two fingers stretched and filled him. His body was used to it, hardly a beginner at being fucked and fucked well, but he /gasped/, hard and swore as Charles fingered him.

Tyler was sure he felt the headboard bend under his grip. Still, that word ground into the air from his lips over and over, like a harsh, gravelly chant, "Yes, yes, yes ..." as blood dripped down onto the sheets from his hip.

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Bruce Wayné
He leaned and licked some of the blood off Ty's hips, fingering him even still, in and out, scissoring his entrance until he /felt/ good an ready to be fucked. Then, with the moaning giving him a cue to go ahead, he pulled them out and replaced his fingers with the tip of his cock.

"You sure?" he asked, one last time to be sure, because this was it. He pressed and pushed the tip into Ty, waiting to be sure it was okay.

Harvey Dent
Charles's fingers left him and Tyler arched, feeling his dick there instead, just barely inside him, driving him crazy. The slight press made the blond moan and grasp at Charles's shoulders desperately, trying to pull him closer.

"God, fuck, yes /do/ it-" he snapped, unsure /when/ he started to sound like a begging slut, but he couldn't help it. Charles made him do it, he made him want what he thought he'd never, ever allow.

"Fuck me."

Bruce Wayné Again, not gently, Charles pressed into the Blond, slowly at first but then just slammed into him, pressing hard against his prostate, pulling back and doing it again. He did this over and over, holding Tyler's hips, pushing in hard, bucking, waiting until the blond seemed /comfortable/ enough to let him ravage the shit out of him.

"God dammit, Tyler... you feel so fucking /good/," he moaned.

Harvey Dent
Tyler was writhing everywhere but his hips, which Charles held perfectly still. He felt split open by Charles's cock, impaled and exposed, every nerve inside him alive and screaming with pleasure when he hit that /spot/ inside him.

The tall blond almost shouted, breathing roughly and digging his nails into Charles's back, clawing at him to try and deal with the pleasure. He'd never had anyone /inside/ him before, and it was making him unravel fast and hard.

He didn't want to be treated gently like this, like he was breakable because he wasn't, he could take anything Charles could dish out, not because he was too weak to say no, but because he was strong enough to handle it all and fucking like it the next day when he could barely walk.

"Yeah," he growled, darkly, nearly unable to speak, "more." He glared up at Charles, fierce with shocked ecstasy in his black eyes, "c'mon, harder."

[heir-to-gotham.livejournal.com]

Bruce Wayné Charles let go of Tyler's hips, palms flat to the bed as he jutted his hips up, rocking his cock into the blond's, over and over again, grunting and moaning under his breath. He held on to, instead, Ty's calves, bucking and thrusting.

"Harder?" he asked, bending forward again, now taking hold of Tyler's shoulders as he thrust harder into him, unrelenting, into the headboard, over and over again.

Harvey Dent
The headboard started to slam against the wall behind them and Tyler gripped Charles's arms as his head fell back, jaw dropped at the force of it. It was like Charles saying he needed him so much that he'd kill him if he left all over again, Tyler understood it, even if no one else would. He definitely knew Charles would never let himself fuck precious little Harvey this way.

With challenging, dark eyes, his body all but putty under Charles's hips, starting to squeeze around his cock, Tyler pushed him.

"Come on-" he moaned, as much as he could while he was being fucked into the mattress, blood spattering and staining the sheets, "c'mon, Charles ... take us back from her."

Bruce Wayné
Charles pushed, harder and harder, into the blonde closing his eyes, squinting as he felt out the the man below him. It was like nothing else, Harvey was great, but so pliant, willing to give and give, but Tyler, was whole other breed. A man who would never be topped, who would never allow it. Charles fucked harder, faster, thrusting more than he had ever before, grunting and moaning. whorishly, even if he was the one doing it.

Harvey Dent
Tyler groaned hard, the force of Charles in and over him overwhelming, like some sort of fucking hurricane that threatened to rip him apart.

Knowing they both needed it, Tyler shoved and clawed, fighting Charles even as he felt himself start to come, trying to push him away because it felt too /good/ to handle.

"Charles!" he shouted, voice going harsh on his name, fighting harder, arching up, pushing away, yanking him in, scratching, kissing, biting, shoving, wild and unhinged, irrational, passionate, an inferno to Charles's darkness as he bucked one last time and came with a yell, exploding white and thick between their hard stomachs and clutching Charles close as Tyler's head dropped back, barely able to breathe as the world went hot and bright behind his closed eyes.