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?"

• • 
    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.
    
    

     
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