Chapter Text
Zach sat on the floor and tried to stay calm. It was simple statistics. He had lived in Gotham City for almost two years and this was his first time in a hostage situation. His number was up, that was all.
He tried to count his blessings. They didn't even have costumes or chemical weapons, just guns. Guns and a lot of shouting, and now he was sitting on a cold floor with his wrists zip-tied behind his back while they argued.
Their plan seemed... tenuous. It involved getting Batman to cooperate and they didn't all agree that it would work, which seemed like the kind of thing you would want to be really, really sure of before you started waving guns at people. As the only hostage left on the top floor with the three ringleaders, he did not share this advice.
He expected the door to bust down, but it didn't. There was just a draft, a change in air pressure, and then the big dark costume in the doorway, a deep voice saying, "It doesn't sound like you've thought this through."
Two guns pointed at Zach. "It's simple," the loudest of the goons said. "You can spend the next hour running around and defusing all the hostages, and maybe-maybe-not making it in time. Or you can crack the joint for us, make a big show of chasing us into the night, and we guarantee everyone gets out alive."
"I see."
They waited, but that was all he said. "What, you want a cut?"
Batman smiled, barely. "Keep talking."
The leader grinned knowingly. "I knew you had to be doing business. No one's that clean, and you have some very pricey hardware. Ten percent. Please don't insult me by haggling. I got a big crew to pay."
"Mm. Ten percent of everything?"
"Is there something other than what's in the safe? We could talk finder's fee."
"There are ten hostages." Batman crossed the room in a few heavy steps and stopped beside Zach. He reached down with a gloved hand and stroked it across Zach's cheek once. Zach stopped breathing. "Fifteen minutes. Alone. Since I won't need all that time for freeing the others." There was a frozen silence.
The goons glanced at each other nervously. "Uh. We're trusting you alone with him?"
"You were hoping to watch?" This wasn't happening, this wasn't happening, this wasn't happening. Zach was having some kind of wet nightmare and Batman had not really just— "I'm just walking him up to the roof for a quiet chat. I'll have him back in fifteen minutes."
The leader pulled it together for a nasty laugh. "Sure. Ten percent. Don't ask, don't tell, right?" He motioned to the others and everyone lowered their guns. "Clock's ticking, see you real soon."
Zach stumbled to his feet and up the stairs, trying not to jerk away from the hand steadying him. Nothing made any sense. The roof access door let them out into a cold spring night with a bitter, driving wind, then clanged shut behind them.
Batman walked ahead, out of touching range where Zach could see him. "You're safe," he said. "Those are some deeply stupid criminals. Unfortunately, one of them has a working knowledge of explosives. I'm sorry I frightened you." He turned away, touched his ear, and started rattling off information to someone.
Zach stood closer to the wall, trying to stay out of the wind. He tried leaning against the wall, but that was wet and even colder. His arms were still bound, he was wearing his shitty barista uniform t-shirt which didn't even have long sleeves, and his teeth chattered with relief.
Batman finished his call and came back. "Response time's delayed. I need to stall another ten minutes to buy the bomb squad enough time. That'll mean going back in there."
"Okay?" Zach bounced on his toes, trying to stay warm.
"Can you handle pretending I've hurt you? If you can, it'll keep them off balance. If you can't, I'll think of something else."
"Oh. Sure, no problem."
"Good." Batman started to reach out, but pulled his hands back. "We'll need to make you look roughed up, and your hair is too short to show any change. Tell me what you're comfortable with."
"Okay." Zach closed his eyes and thought. Then he kept them closed, because it would make saying the whole thing out loud less embarrassing. "Slap bruises on both cheeks. Grab bruises on upper arms and shoulders. Shirt cut off, gagged with shirt, dirt rubbed into one side of my face. Pinprick by the corner of my mouth and on my wrist by the zip tie so it looks like I've been fighting. Fly undone, belt burns on neck, belt left up here or leave it around my neck. If you help me down, I'll start roughing up my knees." He opened his eyes. "Will that be enough?"
In a slightly strangled voice, Batman said, "I was aiming more for torn shirt and dirty knees."
"If that's what you're up for, 'kay." Oh god, he'd embarrassed Batman. Zach was too far gone on adrenaline and panic to shut up. "But I'm a masochist, and you're Batman. Look, I'm sorry. I know that makes it weird. I swear I am not trying to make this more than it is, which is a very bad situation that I want to get out of alive. But they're spooked. If you drag me down there bruised and covered in my own snot, you can keep them talking for as long as you need to. This is something I can do, and I promise it will not freak me out. I trust you."
Batman stood motionless.
"Okay, look, forget I said anything, ripped shirt's great, I still need to do the knees." He relaxed a little when Batman put an arm around him to help him down. He wasn't being handled at arm's length, so maybe he hadn't been terminally creepy.
"It's good tactics," Batman said slowly. "It's still assault."
Zach laughed, grinding his knees into the gritty mud of the roof. It soaked through the denim instantly, a shocking chill. "I ask for worse assault on a Saturday night at the Raptor. This is just window dressing."
"To be absolutely clear. This is not required, and I am not doing this for fun."
"That is absolutely crystal clear." But I'm not the one that started a game of Gay Chicken with armed criminals, he didn't say. "Face and throat first, so they have time to color up."
Batman crouched down. Zach could have touched foreheads with the armored cowl, which was surreal. Then Batman was unbuttoning his jeans for professional reasons and what the hell was his life.
The belt around his neck was warm with body heat. "Ready?"
"Yeah." Zach hissed as the grain of the leather yanked back and forth around his throat, one, two, three. The belt landed on the roof. The heat of it blossomed and then settled in for a long, uncomfortable stay. "That'll do it. Okay. Face. For best marks, least pain, hold my head steady with the other hand flat and let the slap sink in instead of pulling your hand back right away. Avoid the earrings. This is gonna start the waterworks and I'm gonna let it."
A slap would hurt less if he could relax his neck and jaw, but the wind still screamed across the rooftop and straight through his t-shirt, so that wasn't happening. He braced himself against the supporting glove, closed his eyes, and WHAM. Jesus Christ. His nose stung with the sharp smell of blood, and he gasped out a sob without even trying for it. He didn't try to say anything reassuring, just braced for the other side and took it.
"Doing fine," he managed after a few shuddering breaths. "Carry on."
"I'll leave the shirt hanging around your wrists. Just before we go in, I'll weaken the zip so you can pop it with a hard twist. If it snaps too early, the shirt should hide it." Batman worked through the rest of the list, warning him before each new touch.
Zach was grateful for the cold and the fear and the guys with guns waiting five minutes in his future, because otherwise he would be in danger of the world's most awkward erection. By the time they got down to rubbing grit and blood into one side of his aching face, Batman was being so gentle it edged on tender.
"Did I forget anything?"
Zach shook his head, flexed his jaw to ease the gag a little, then tried to stand. He needed help with his balance. He was shaking all over and giddy as hell. They stood by the door for a couple more minutes. Batman talked through the contingency plans in a low voice and Zach nodded. Then Batman fiddled briefly with the zip tie, got a good grip on Zach's shoulder, and opened the door.
The reaction was worth every single bruised nerve. The goons went pale. One of them actually lowered his gun. Zach let himself be shoved onto a chair so he wouldn't fall down. He shivered and made brief, guilty eye contact with each man before looking down at the floor. Wow, his nose really was bleeding a little.
"We were discussing my cut," Batman said. "How much was it, again?"
Zach staggered out the fire exit, breathing hard. The street was quiet. At ground level, the air was still. Everything seemed warped, like nothing had happened. The people walking by imagined they lived in a world without goons and explosives and terror.
He reached for his phone. Shit. The contents of his pockets were somewhere on the floor of the lobby. He would have to shatter someone's dream of a friendlier world.
He picked a nicely dressed man and a woman walking arm in arm. Hands raised to show they were empty, he stepped out in front of them. "Please help. It was a villain thing, I just need to get home, and I don't want to walk two miles without a shirt."
"Oh my god," the woman said. "We'll call the police for you."
"No, don't need the police. It's all settled, I just need to get home."
Reluctantly, they gave him a ride, driving away as soon as he got out at his apartment building. No keys. He buzzed the super's apartment, then the one neighbor he knew by name. No answer. Someone would go in or out, let him into the lobby, call the super for him. Eventually. He rubbed his arms and paced to stay warm.
The shadows by the bushes shifted. Zach yelped. Batman stepped out, keys, wallet, and phone in his hands. "I found these."
"Th-thanks." Zach stuffed things back into his pockets.
"The police would have helped you get home safely."
Zach didn't manage to stop his bark of laughter. "And tell them what? Blame it on the bad guys? Say I asked for it? Anyway, ever seen what happens when a twink brings a black eye to the cops? I have."
Batman drew up slightly taller. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'll have a word with them."
"Uh. If you think it'll help." Zach tried to imagine it and shrugged. "Thanks for my stuff. And for getting me out of there. I'm okay. Really. Gonna go inside now." His teeth were chattering almost too hard to talk.
"Take care." Batman stepped back into the shadows.
A week later, he found a card in his mailbox, with no envelope or postmark. It was blank except for one printed paragraph.
If you're willing to visit the downtown precinct, I would appreciate a character reference. Ask for Commissioner Gordon.
Zach put on a good shirt and headed out two hours early for his work shift. He could do this.
When the desk officer asked his business with the Commissioner, he hesitated. Should he show her the card? She sighed. "Is this a mask thing?" He nodded gratefully.
Ten minutes later, an officer escorted him to a surprisingly nice private office. Commissioner Gordon was a graying man with an unfortunate mustache. Zach held up the card. "I'm here to give a character reference?"
"Yes, I've been expecting you. Have a seat." Gordon pulled a paper form from a drawer. "We can do this entirely off the record, but if you're willing to make an anonymous statement, it would help me to have it on file."
"Sure." Zach stared at the form. "What do you want to know?"
Gordon paused. "We have suspects in custody who made... unsettling allegations about vigilante behavior. A hostage from the incident is unaccounted for. Can you shed any light on that?"
"Yeah." Zach started talking. They went through all the time and place details, and he showed his wrist where there was still a line of scabs from the zip tie. "You probably found my belt on the roof."
"Can you describe it?"
"Brown leather, white metal buckle. Would a DNA match help?"
"Yes. I'll bring a kit when we finish here. Now." Gordon looked at him steadily. "What the hell happened?"
Zach told him. "It was my idea to make it look that bad," he repeated when he had finished. "He was just gonna mess up my hair and rub some dirt on my knees. He didn't pressure me into anything and he didn't make it weird. He is by far the most respectful person I have ever asked to hit me in the face."
Gordon's mouth twisted into a smile. "Is that a long list?"
Zach went cold. "Long enough."
Gordon put down the pen and looked serious. "You disappeared from the scene instead of waiting for police help. Why?"
"Is this going on the record?"
"Not if you don't want it to."
"Are you confirming something he said?"
"Yes."
Zach took a deep breath. "Off the record, as a queer man, I am afraid of the GCPD."
Gordon nodded. "We're aware of the issue. It's difficult to weed out, but I want you to know I don't condone discrimination or abusive officers. Do you have a personal complaint against any officer?"
Zach shook his head.
"Do you have anything to add to your statement on the incident that you don't want written down? Anything at all."
"No."
Gordon picked up his pen again. "Have you seen the Batman since that night?"
"No, and I don't expect to."
"Can you say more about that?"
Zach rolled his eyes. Fine. On the record, then. "Facing evidence of someone's dirty celebrity crush had to be creepy for him. He will never want to look at me again. Are we done here?"
"Yes. Thank you for your report. I'll get the kit."