That Place Inside.

He hadn't yet figured out, if getting locked up in a room with Jim Gordon was the best or the worst course of action imaginable. There certainly were people he wouldn't want to be locked up in a room with, ever, not even in a hostage situation like this one. On the other hand, there were two disadvantages of the current predicament.

One, if he made a slightest attempt to get them out of here, Gordon would see through the disguise, and figure everything out (well, maybe not everything, but close enough). And two, his brain refused to concentrate on getting them out of here, and instead supplied a long list of things they could be doing to pass the time while locked in said room.

Bruce was on the verge of hitting his head against the first available flat surface to shake this thought out, when Gordon turned from the window he was investigating (locked and sealed, and bulletproof) to look at him suspiciously.

"Mr Wayne?" he asked, and it was gentler than usual, and almost... Almost like something he had heard before.

"There's really no way we're getting out of here, commissioner. The room has the best security. Trust me, I've had it designed this way. We might just as well trust your people deal with the assailants and get us out of here."

"I'm not going to sit idly and do nothing, Mr Wayne," Gordon said, his tone gruff again, and Bruce sighed, because this was not only the perfect opening, but it also was muttered in the tone of authority that never failed to work him up.

"Did I say anything about sitting idly, commissioner?" he drawled, overdone and playboyish. The best defense he had was the theatricality, he knew Gordon would never take him seriously.

"Be careful what you're proposing, Mr Wayne," Gordon offered pleasantly, and Bruce was caught with his jaw slack with shock. Gordon smirked, and turned back to the window, trying to pry it open with his badge. It didn't give an inch, of course.

He couldn't have meant he would take him up on this, now, could he?

"Jim," he said carefully. "Just leave the window."

Gordon spun, now looking at Bruce in some surprise, his open face reflecting the thought processes. Bruce wasn't quite sure what gave him away, the tone, the words, the casual use of the name, as if he had right to it, as if they trusted each other.

Bruce moved forward, three quick steps, before he could talk himself out of it, before Gordon worked it all out.

He had expected some kind of protest, or Gordon moving away, or, in the worst case, punching him. It could happen. What did happen, however, was Gordon's whole body relaxing into him, as if this had happened before, and in this moment, Bruce knew that Gordon did work it out, all of it, and possibly even what Bruce wasn't sure of yet himself.

Their lips met, and surprisingly, even though Bruce was the one to start it, it was Jim's tongue coaxing his lips open, mapping his mouth as if he was trying to learn them by heart.

"Jim," Bruce muttered, in the silence between breaths, and Jim nodded, their foreheads close together.

"Yes," was all he said, and even though Bruce hadn't asked, this was probably the answer to anything he might have asked for.

They shifted, and Bruce wasn't sure who moved first, but they were moving together, Jim walking backwards, or maybe Bruce pushing him gently, until his back was against the wall, his head to the side, exposing the line of his throat. It was a clear invitation, and Bruce obeyed, his mouth leaving a wet trail on Jim's skin.

Jim's hand tangled in Bruce's shirt, fingers working to slide off his tie. He muttered something, Bruce hadn't quite caught what, but the words weren't important now, what mattered was his tone, warm and almost content. It's been a long time since Bruce had heard pleasure in Jim's voice, maybe it was forever. And maybe he should have done this a lot sooner, given Jim at least that, at least give him everything he could, and hope that it would be enough.

"Don't," Jim said, fingers tightening on Bruce's shoulder. "Whatever you're thinking, just don't."

And it was hard to think at all when Jim moved to kiss him again, teeth grazing his lower lip. Bruce closed his eyes, concentrating on the hand now threading his hair, and the way Jim's mustache tickled his upper lip.

"Not thinking," he agreed, pulling away to take a breath, before moving into the kiss again, licking at the smile now present on Jim's lips.

Unfortunately, over the sound of his own heartbeat, he could hear a much less pleasant sounds, coming from outside the room.

"I think this might be the calvary," he offered casually, moving away, tilting his head as he listened to the gun shots.

Jim nodded. "Took them less time than I expected," he muttered, straightening his tie, and then absently reaching to do the same with Bruce's, and for heaven's sake, Bruce didn't find it attractive. No, he really didn't.

"Trained them well."

"A little too well, apparently," Jim smiled, shaking his head, and Bruce felt a small spark of pleasure at his reluctance.

The door was kicked open, the SWAT team spilling in, and Jim nodded at their leader. "Everything secured?"

The man nodded, and launched into a full report, at which Jim continued nodding, then smiled. "Seems like you have everything under control, Samuels. Keep me posted, I'll see you back at the station. Now I'll better escort Mr Wayne, I'm sure he had enough of excitement for the night."

Bruce almost laughed at that. No, not nearly enough, actually. But they'll get to that.