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“Ok Mr. Wayne, since the interview is coming to an end I must ask one final question.”
Bruce Wayne smiles politely at the interviewer. He is younger than most of the other people Bruce has interviewed with, and the very definition of a magazine rag gossiper. He just wants to know everything he can about Bruce’s love life, mistakes, and other potential scandals.
Bruce, of course, gave him some good gossip. It was nothing that would ruin him or his reputation permanently, but definitely something that would make the viewers happy. Make the interviewer happy too, he’s sure. He’s good an old pro at dropping scandals, after all.
He’s just glad the interview is almost done now, though. He can only play Bruce Wayne for so long.
“What is your final question?”
“It’s a question, but also a fun game! Fuck, marry, kill,” a dramatic pause, “with the Justice League.”
“The Justice League?” His coworkers? Oh goodness, and the worst part? He can’t even answer it that honestly because he knows things Brucie Wayne wouldn’t know.
What even would be a Brucie Wayne answer? What would this rich socialite know if he wasn’t Batman? Would he keep up on Justice League scandals? Would he ignore them? Well, no. He wouldn’t. Brucie is a known Justice League sponsor so maybe he’d know more than most? If he was honest… well, maybe he could be a little honest.
“Kill Batman. He was like, ten minutes late rescuing me last time I was kidnapped and I’m so not over it,” it sounds like a joke, something Brucie Wayne would say when he’s in one of his moods.
The interviewer laughs, as Bruce expected, “Batman was late? Maybe he’s tired of rescuing you.”
“Still,” Bruce sniffs, “I’m priceless and I fund him. I expect him to always be on time. Now, who would I want to fuck?”
He’s already fucked Oliver Queen in his youth, so not him. Been there, done that and all. Wonder Woman? Always. Superman? Definitely. Hal Jordan? Never. But who would Brucie say?
“I’d fuck Superman, I think. He seems like such a good boy, and I’d love to make him cry… in a good way, obviously,” it’s definitely not untrue. Sometimes, when he’s particularly bored during meetings or dissociating as Hal speaks, he daydreams about holding Clark down and making him cry in all the best of ways. He wonders how far down the blush goes, and he wonders if Kryptonians have any special anatomy.
Jason once asked him how he could play Brucie Wayne as such a slut. Bruce had an appropriate answer to give to his young son, but the truth? He does love sex. It feels good, and there’s no shame in enjoying it. So, that is to say, it’s not as much of an act as he portrays it to be.
“Who I’d want to marry is probably the toughest choice,” he’s not sure if he even wants to get married. Ever. If he did have to choose someone, however, it’d have to be someone who can keep up with his lifestyle. Maybe Clark, but he already chose Clark for fucking. And he’s married.
Wonder Woman would be, probably, the smartest choice, but he fears she may still be in love with Trevor. Or, honestly, she’d challenge him in a way he wouldn’t win, and Bruce has a very hard time not winning.
He would pick Dinah, but he’d feel like he’s betraying Oliver choosing her. Even though Oliver doesn’t know he’s Batman, Bruce knows and guilt doesn’t care about rationale.
Hm, he needs to stop thinking as himself and think as Brucie: What would Brucie Wayne say? He’d probably pick someone as wild as him. Brucie would pick a little party animal… and that would be funny.
“Green Lantern. The things he could do with those constructs? And I’d get that every day! Just the thought makes me drool.”
The interviewer laughs again, “Sounds less like a marriage and more like a permanent friend’s with benefits.”
Brucie raises an eyebrow, “Is that not what marriage is?”
The interviewer’s eyes sparkle, knowing he got the story of the year, “Well you have it, folks! Our Bruce Wayne’s version of fuck, marry kill!”
Hal clicks off the monitor TV, “Bruce Wayne wants to marry me! Therefore, I win. I don’t know what I win, but I win.”
Superman is flushing red, eyes wide and ignoring the way both Barry and Oliver were laughing at his expense.
He clears his throat, “I’m not sure this is appropriate. I mean, it’s just a joke from a billionaire in an interview.”
Wonder Woman chuckles softly, “You’re just upset he said he wants to make you cry,” she hums with a little smile, “Though I must admit, I’m a little sad he didn’t pick me for anything.”
“I mean, I feel like it’s not the worst thing in the world. He seems to be fairly shallow on his reasonings.”
“Shallow, sure, but I still one,” Green Lantern’s grin split his face in two, “I should reach out. Show him just how good my constructs really feel.”
Batman did not want to enter the meeting room with the rest of these people. He knew his interview would create a ruckus within the Watchtower, but it was a ruckus he wanted to laugh at from afar. Preferably, from his cave.
Yet, here he is, listening to how Hal Jordan would proposition him. Disgusting. Regardless, he has to face the drama he made (and ok. Maybe he’s lying to himself. He thrives on chaos, just like Brucie Wayne. Watching drama unfold is always his favorite way to pass the time, and maybe his incessant need for information isn’t just about being the smartest in the room).
Hal waves when Batman enters the room, “Hey Spooky! Did you see Bruce Wayne wants to kill you because you showed up late to rescuing him?”
Batman sighs, “Yes.”
Hal laughs, “But he wants to marry me!”
“For sex.”
“The reason doesn’t matter. I still win!” Hal sticks his tongue out at Batman.
Superman drops his head into his hands.
Barry hums, “Well, what about you? Who’d you fuck, marry, kill - but with celebrities. Superman, you’re first!”
Superman’s blush deepends, “No.”
“Come on! Don’t be a spoil sport.”
Sighing, Superman nods. There’s no escaping this, “I, fine. Fuck Bruce Wayne,” he ignores the hooting and hollering from the peanut gallery, “Kill Lex Luthor, and marry my wife. Who I am married happily to. And she does technically count because she’s an internationally recognized investigative reporter. ”
Oliver snorts, “Lame. My turn. Fuck Bruce,” because he knows, for a fact, Bruce is a good lay, “Marry Dinah Lance, obviously. Kill Slade Wilson. Obviously.”
Barry frowns, “Is Slade wealthy and famous enough to count as someone we can pick?”
Oliver shrugs, “I mean, if Lois Lane can count Slade Wilson can count. He is internationally recognized as an asshole,” he points to Wonder Woman, “Your turn.”
“Sleep with Bruce Wayne. Marry Princess Audrey, and kill Alex Luthor to aid Superman on his battle for justice.”
The other heroes stare at Diana before Barry chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t know you kept in contact with the princess.”
“Yes. She appreciates having an ally and friend. As do I.”
Hal snorts, “Cool, now it’s my turn! Fuck Bruce Wayne, marry Oliver Queen,” he ignores Green Arrow’s quiet ‘fuck off,’ “and kill Sinestro.”
Batman wonders if he should end this before everyone admits to wanting to fuck him. Or, perhaps, there is a more fun to be had.
Batman clears his throat, garnering the attention of everyone else in the room, “So you all would choose to fuck Bruce Wayne?”
Clark shrugs, “He does seem he’d be… good. At it.”
Nodding, Oliver smirks, “He sure as hell has enough practice.”
“And he would let me use my constructs. Automatically, that makes him two times hotter,” Hal’s eyes twinkle, clearly already imagining all the things he could do.
Batman nods, “Interesting.”
“Uh, why?”
Without a seconds hesitation, Batman pulls off his cowl, “I always knew I was hot, but I didn’t realize how easy it’d be to seduce the entire Justice League.”
There was a silence, then a thunder of noise.
Clark was spluttering, face red and eyes wide. He always thought of Bruce Wayne as a hall pass, something him and his wife talk about but know it would never come true. Brucie Wayne was far away from their reality, but now he’s not. He’s right here. He’s one of Superman’s closest friend and has heard about Superman’s idea of fucking him and -
Brucie Wayne is now in his reality, and he has no clue what to do. Does he tell Lois? He’d have to, right? Dammit, he has to. Oh she’s going to love this.
“You damn bitch!” Oliver’s voice rose above the rest, “How dare you?! I thought we were friends!”
“Friends is a bit of a stretch.”
“I’ll fucking kill you!” How dare he? How dare he?! Oliver is so pissed, even worse? Bruce clearly knew he was Green Arrow, yet still didn’t trust him!
Or maybe Bruce was punking him with all this? He always was a damn brat.
“Don’t take it personally, Queen,” Bruce leans back with that familiar smug Oliver Queen knows all too well, “I just wanted to see how long it’d take you to notice.”
“I hate you.”
The damned brat. Oliver couldn’t fight off the smile if he tried. He really does hate this man.
Bruce returns the smile.
“Um,” Hal raises his hand, “This weirdly makes everything hotter? Anyone else? Anyway, uh, still wanna test my constructs?”
Bruce stares. Hal meets his eye contact, fearlessly.
Bruce shrugs, “Why not?”
Bruce and Hal ignore Oliver’s spluttering, “How, what, why? No!”
Superman lets his head fall onto the table with a grunt, “Just don’t let it interfere with League business.”
“Don’t be so negative, you two. Our comrades deserve a little bit of joy! Have fun, you two!”
“Oh, right now? Ok!” Hal flies to Bruce, holding out a hand, “Ready to get your mind blown?”
“I’m ready for adequacy,” Bruce takes the Lantern’s hand, “Unless you can prove me wrong.”
“Challenge accepted.”