Glass Houses
I.
Bruce Wayne was watching television when Alfred came in with his breakfast. “Anything interesting, sir?” Alfred inquired, as he set down the tray with toast, orange juice, and coffee.
“Yeah,” Bruce said. “Did you hear about the whole ‘Iron Man’ thing out in California? It’s on the news now. They’re claiming the guy in the suit was a bodyguard of Tony Stark. He’s doing a press conference in a few minutes; I figured I would try to catch it.”
“Thinking of borrowing some of the technology?” Alfred asked.
Bruce shrugged. “That suit looked damn near indestructible. There’s a lot to be learned there.”
Alfred approved of anything that might result in his charge coming home with fewer bruises. “Have you ever met Mr. Stark, sir?”
“No,” Bruce said. “I don’t think my father approved of his father.”
Alfred nodded. “Will that be all, sir?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Bruce didn’t look up from his breakfast as Alfred left the room. He began to eat as Tony Stark appeared on screen. He looked slightly ill-at-ease and discomfited, which was unusual as far as Bruce could recall from previous events where he had caught a glimpse of the man.
“The truth is . . . I am Iron Man.”
Bruce choked on his toast.
II.
Not long after that, Bruce decided he was interested in meeting Tony Stark. The man made being a quote-unquote superhero look effortless. Alfred thought that maybe Bruce could take a few pages out of his book. Bruce put up with Alfred’s comments by ignoring them, as usual. He wanted something else – the arc reactor technology.
Fortunately, it was easy enough to secure an audience. Stark Industries was still reeling from the total turnaround in production. Anyone they could get interested was counted as a worthy ally. When that someone turned out to be the owners of one of the biggest conglomerate companies in the world, that worked out even better.
Bruce, then, was somewhat annoyed when Tony Stark didn’t actually attend the meeting. He had Lucius Fox and the rest of his board members all fly out to California, to make it easier on Stark, and then the man didn’t even show up. Fox saw him sulking about this and arched an eyebrow at the younger man, as if to say, ‘and how many board meetings have you missed in the last six months?’
Still, the technology was amazing. Wayne Enterprises built factories, hospitals, rail systems, airports. One arc reactor could power one of their facilities for decades, thus ending their dependence on any other source of fuel. Fox peppered the men with questions about what capacities had it been tested for. A power source for a large building? Yes, of course. Use underwater, or in situations where water could become a factor, like a treatment plant? Easily managed. For use in flight, to power a plane? Under testing.
Bruce thought of the Iron Man suit and chuckled to himself. Testing. He would just bet.
As they left, Fox asked him what he thought.
“Looks good to me,” Bruce said, “but you know I bow to your superior opinion. What do you think?”
Fox considered. “It’s good in theory. The technology is sound and could be a great help. The question is whether you want Wayne Enterprises associated with a company like Stark Industries. For a long time, they’ve worked against everything your father stood for.”
“They’re trying to turn over a new leaf,” Bruce said. “And what’s more, they’ll have trouble turning it all the way without allies. I think they deserve a little help for what they’re trying to do.”
Fox nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
A few moments later, as they walked down the hallway, they were approached by a tall, classy-looking blonde with high heels. “Mr. Wayne,” she said, in a brisk, non-intimidated manner that Bruce liked. “I’m Virginia Potts. Mr. Stark asked me to make sure that you were accommodated during your stay. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” Bruce said, but looked at the woman with keen interest. He had heard a great deal about her. “I’m just curious, though – how does one get a meeting with Mr. Stark himself?”
“In exactly the way you attempted to do so, Mr. Wayne,” Pepper said. “There’s merely about a fifty-fifty percent chance that he’ll show up to it. I’m afraid you were on the losing side today.”
Chance. Bruce thought of Harvey’s coin, and felt vaguely sick.
“I’d be interested in meeting him before I left,” Bruce said. He saw her skepticism, and decided to be honest. “Frankly, Miss Potts, for a long time, this company is one that we would never have considered a business deal with. Mr. Stark is the one responsible for the changes that have made it possible . . . and I’d like to be certain that those changes are genuine.”
“And this has nothing to do with more recent developments?” Pepper asked, scrutinizing him.
Bruce assumed she meant the fact that Tony Stark was Iron Man, and that despite his fortune, Bruce might just be interested because of that. He doubted it had escaped her notice that he was from Gotham, either, the one city that had at least some sort of parallel figure. “Miss Potts, I’m a businessman,” he said. “I promise you, that’s as far as my interest goes.”
Now she looked amused; Bruce wasn’t sure why. “Mr. Stark is attending a dinner tonight hosted by the president CalTech. They’re going to be using one of the arc reactors to power part of their campus. He will be attending this dinner,” she added firmly, which made Bruce wonder what the consequences might be if Stark tried to skip out. “I’m sure a man such as yourself can finagle an invitation. It’s at seven thirty.”
“Thank you, Miss Potts,” Bruce said.
III.
Bruce not only managed to finagle tickets to the dinner; he also got himself a date. These days, it seemed he couldn’t be seen in public without one. Fortunately, California was chock full of models and starlets, and nobody seemed to care who his date was as long as she was tall and had great legs.
Whatever Miss Potts had threatened Tony Stark with, it must have been potent. He not only attended the dinner, but he also arrived on time and fully presentable in a tuxedo.
Bruce watched him from across the room. He didn’t think he had ever seen a man so absolutely at ease with himself – except possibly the Joker, and that was a different story. Tony laughed, smiled at the ladies, spoke animatedly to the people at his table, and did everything with enough enthusiasm to make Bruce almost jealous. He was well aware that most people thought of him as a playboy with the brain of an oyster and the personality of a cardboard box. That didn’t bother him, because he carefully cultivated that image.
But for a few minutes, he couldn’t help but want to be like Tony. Comfortable with himself. The man had been imprisoned in the desert for three months, then almost accidentally became a superhero. Yet he seemed perfectly all right with all of it.
Maybe Alfred was right; maybe he could learn something here.
After the speeches were over and dinner was eaten, a live band struck up music, and Bruce took his date to the dance floor. He was thinking about the best way to approach Tony Stark in a casual sort of manner when someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around and found himself face-to-face with the man.
“Can I cut in?” Stark asked, smiling at his leggy model date and not even looking at Bruce.
“Uh – ” Bruce said, and then Stark was off dancing with his date before he’d had more of a chance to contemplate what had just happened. Bruce was relegated to the sidelines, looking for someone else to dance with. He saw Miss Potts in a gorgeous maroon dress and walked over. “May I have this dance?” he asked.
She arched her eyebrows at him, then smiled. “Certainly,” she said, and he guided her out to the floor. “I see Mr. Stark took the liberty of stealing your date.”
“Not quite how I envisioned meeting him,” Bruce said.
“What’s your impression of his ‘intentions’?” Pepper asked.
“I haven’t had much time to get an impression at all.”
She sighed. “I’ll introduce you.”
“I’d appreciate that, Miss Potts.”
“I told him that you were going to be here. That you were thinking about investing a generous sum of money – a huge sum of money, let’s be honest – into the arc reactor technology. What does he do? He steals your date.”
Bruce bit his lip to avoid smiling.
After the dance was over, Pepper beckoned to Tony Stark. He seemed to know better than to ignore her, so he walked over with Bruce’s date on his arm. “Mr. Stark,” Pepper said, “this is Mr. Wayne. Of Wayne Enterprises.”
“Right, right!” Tony said, shaking Bruce’s hand. “I’ve seen you in the newspapers. That thing where you stole the whole Russian ballet? Next time you’re going to do that, let me know so I can clear a week off my schedule.”
Bruce cleared his throat. “It was more of an impulse sort of thing,” he said. “But that isn’t really what I – ”
“Came here for. Right. Arc reactor technology.” Tony was suddenly serious. “Pepper told me. You were at the board meeting today. How’d it go?”
“Well, I like the look of the tech – ”
“Great. So glad we had this little talk.” Tony was staring at a woman across the room.
Bruce decided to push on, despite Tony’s obvious lack of interest. “But frankly, I’m uncomfortable with your company’s history.”
Now he had Tony’s full attention, and the moment that sharp gaze focused on him, for some reason he wished that he didn’t. Tony tilted his head to one side, swirled his drink, gave this statement due thought. “Huh,” he finally said.
Bruce said nothing.
“That’s fair,” Tony said. “Totally fair. I’m doing what I can about it.”
“By destroying your weapons wherever you can find them?”
Tony tilted his head again and looked at Bruce curiously. “You seem awfully interested in me, Mr. Wayne. Why is that?”
Their eyes met for a moment. Bruce thought he felt something freeze in his stomach. Stark knew. Knew who he was.
Someone across the room called Tony’s name.
“Oops, gotta go,” Tony said. “Enjoy the party. And next time you want a date, just tell Pepper that outright. This would go a lot better in a private setting. Thanks, Potts,” he added, and lightly slapped Bruce on the ass as he wandered back into the crowd.
Bruce felt a blush flame up in his cheeks, and with a lot of effort, managed to suppress it. Tony Stark didn’t know anything about him. Stark assumed he was an idiot playboy, just like everybody else.
“Oh . . . oh my God,” Pepper said. “I will kill him.”
Bruce felt he could second that motion.
IV.
Bruce wasn’t sure what was worse – that his dignity had been so completely, thoroughly maligned by Tony Stark, or that after so many years, he could tell when Alfred was trying not to laugh, and Alfred was definitely trying not to laugh now.
“It isn’t funny,” he said, glaring at Alfred.
“Of course not, sir,” Alfred said.
Bruce sighed and tried to clear his mind of all memories of the supremely aggravating Tony Stark. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We got the deal for the arc reactor technology, and that’s what I went there for. They’re going to give us three reactors – one for the hospital construction, one for the water and rail station, and then I haven’t decided what to do with the last one.”
“Keeping it for personal use, perhaps?”
“I don’t think I can get away with that,” Bruce said. “Taking some armored plates and an old car that no one knows existed is one thing. The bean-counters would notice if an entire arc reactor went missing. Plus there’s a strict agreement that we won’t dismantle it and copy the technology, so I can’t let Fox and the boys down at R and D take it apart and make me one, either. Which is disappointing.”
“I don’t suppose you asked him about what metal he used to make his indestructible battle suit?” Alfred asked hopefully.
“Even if he had taken the time to have a real conversation with me, I think that question would have been a little suspect, Alfred.”
“True.” They both glanced over as there was a buzz at the intercom. Alfred went over to answer it, while Bruce dropped to do some mind-clearing push-ups.
When Alfred came back, Bruce said, “You know, I think it’ll work out this way. Fox can talk to their guys, their board can talk to my board, get some new arc reactors when we need them, and then I’ll never have to see that arrogant philandering bastard again as long as I live. That sounds great.”
“Really, sir,” Alfred said, as noncommittal as ever.
“Yeah. Definitely. Why?”
“Because he’s at the door, sir.”
V.
It took Bruce a few moments to properly assimilate what Alfred had said. “Stark?” he asked, blinking. “Here?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve given the security the go-ahead to have him come up to the penthouse. He should be here in approximately forty-five seconds.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“I thought perhaps in a more private setting, you could ask about the metal alloy, sir.”
“God only knows what he’d want to do to me in a private setting,” Bruce growled.
Alfred didn’t smile. “If you’re afraid for your personal space, sir, I can – ”
“Go let him in, Alfred. Stall him while I clean some of this up.” Bruce gestured to the pile of blueprints that were lying around on the table and his bed.
“Very good, sir,” Alfred said, and left the upper floor of the penthouse. He arrived on the lower floor at approximately the same time as Tony Stark, who was chatting up the security guard in the elevator. “Mr. Stark, I presume,” Alfred said. “May I get you something to drink?”
“Oh, yeah, Scotch would be great,” Tony said.
“Mr. Wayne will be down in a few minutes,” Alfred said, pouring him the drink and not commenting on the fact that it was only eleven o’clock in the morning. Stark looked bright and supercharged; Alfred doubted that he had slept lately. He had the look of someone who was wired on coffee and probably something stronger.
“Sure, great,” Tony said, accepting the Scotch as he nosed around the penthouse. “This is a nice place. You should get an AI installed, though – they’re really much better than regular security guards. Cheaper, too.”
“I fear that I might be put out of a job with a good AI installed, sir.”
“Nah,” Tony said. “A good AI is no substitute for a good personal assistant. Trust me. I know. Hey, Bruce!”
Bruce looked somewhat pained as he made his way down the stairs and into the room. “Mr. Stark,” he said, falling back on formality in the hopes that Stark would do the same. “What brings you to Gotham?”
Tony knocked back his shot of Scotch. “It’s this business thing,” he said, and then waved that aside. “And since I’m going to be here for a few days, I thought, what better guy to show me around Gotham than you? I mean, at the very least, you could probably recommend a decent hotel. You seem to own all of them.”
“You came here for that?” Bruce asked. “Why didn’t you ask me while I was in California? That was only two days ago.”
“I didn’t know I’d be coming here then,” Tony said, with exaggerated patience. “But then Pepper told me that someone here had bought a bunch of arc reactors – ”
“Yes! Me!”
“ – oh, so, even better. We can do the business part and the partying at the same time. That’ll be really efficient.”
Bruce felt a migraine coming on.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to your business,” Alfred said. “Ring if you need me for anything, Master Wayne,” he added, and fled the room before he could start laughing. Bruce glared bloody murder at his back.
“So,” Tony said, going over to the window and looking out at the city, “where do you want to go for lunch?”
VI.
Alfred waited patiently while the phone rang on the other end. After a few moments, a pleasant voice picked up. “Pepper Potts.”
“Ah, Miss Potts,” he said genially, “I just thought I would give you a ring to let you know that Mr. Stark made it here quite safely, and everything seems to be going swimmingly.”
Pepper sighed in relief. “Thank God.”
VII.
In the end, the only thing that possibly saved Tony Stark from death via irate ninja that day was the car.
Bruce supposed that he could have gotten the Lamborghini fixed up after he had crashed it in an effort to save that weasel lawyer, but it had been easier, and more typical of an idiot playboy, to just buy a new car. So he had. An Audi this time, a bright red one. Tony got on his good side by letting out a low whistle as he approached it.
“What would I have to do to get you to let me drive?” he asked.
“Have you ever driven in Gotham before?” Bruce asked.
“No.”
“Then you’d have to take a different car. Get in.”
Tony seemed to think that this was reasonable. Once he was in the car, he inquired about the engine. Bruce let his guard down a little to answer the question, and by the time they reached the restaurant, he had relaxed. Tony wasn’t being a total asshole, and he was genuinely interested in the car.
“So if you don’t mind my asking, how’d you slip off Miss Potts’ leash?” Bruce asked, handing his keys to the valet.
“Oh, I promised to find someone who would take good care of me while I was in the city,” Tony said.
Bruce found this doubtful. “Does she even know you’re here?”
“Of course! Sure! Probably.”
Bruce wondered if headaches were permanent around Tony Stark. From the look on Pepper’s face during the dinner and dance, he could guess that they were. He pondered further approach for a few moments. He really was interested in the iron man technology, despite his repeated denials to Alfred, but wasn’t sure how to ask without getting Tony annoyed with him. If Tony ever got annoyed at anything.
“So, she just told you that some guy in Gotham had bought a bunch of the arc reactors,” Bruce said slowly, “and you just took off to come try to find him, without any idea of who it had been.”
Tony frowned. “You know, put like that, it sounds really stupid. Hey, are you okay with going out to lunch together? We could find some dates first. I’d be okay with that. I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation as the city’s biggest playboy. Who knows what people would think if they saw you at lunch with someone like me?”
“They’d assume we’re having a business meeting,” Bruce said, “because that’s the sort of restaurant I took us too. And I’ll thank you not to assume anything else.”
“Just checking. Your reputation seems important to you.”
Bruce grit his teeth, and against his better judgment, ordered a glass of wine with his lunch. After a series of questions from Tony that made Bruce increasingly more and more uncomfortable, he asked, “By the way, what’s your iron man suit really made out of? It isn’t iron, is it?”
“Nope,” Tony said, switching subjects without missing a beat, not looking uncomfortable in the slightest. “Gold titanium alloy. Keeps it from freezing when I fly.”
“The military seems pretty pissed off that you’re winging around in their no-fly zones, blowing people up.”
Tony let out a snort. “Yeah, well. What do they know? You’re going to trust the government for something like that? I thought we were in Gotham. Home of the world’s most misunderstood superhero.”
Automatically, Bruce deflected with one of his standard ‘the guy dresses up like a bat so he must be nuts’ comments.
“Oh, you don’t really believe that,” Tony said. “Any more than you’re really an idiot. Or that you really believe I came out here not knowing who I was coming to see. Oh, hey!” He flagged down a waiter. “More Scotch, please.”
“You’re an alcoholic,” Bruce said flatly.
“A fully functional one,” Tony said, sipping his Scotch and then licking his lips. “How would you deal with it?”
“With what?”
Tony shrugged. “Everything.”
“I meditate.”
“Noooo,” Tony said dryly. “You act like you’re the world’s biggest idiot, you date the hottest models, dancers, and starlets, without every sleeping with any of them – oh yeah, I asked, I know them all – and you fling your money around as though it doesn’t mean anything, yet your company is a superbly run tight ship. The incredibly dense people of Gotham haven’t yet realized the contradictions, but I have. You interest me, Mr. Wayne, and I don’t think you yet realize how dangerous that can be.”