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The alley behind the Iceberg Lounge had seen worse nights. Drug deals gone wrong. Penguin's goons squabbling over tips. That one time Jason Todd threw a guy through a dumpster.
But nothing, nothing had prepared it for this.
"Stay out of this, Princess." Talia al Ghul circled left, knife glinting under the single flickering streetlight. Her League training honed every movement into something lethal and beautiful. "This is between me and the cat."
Selina Kyle rolled her shoulders, claws extended with a soft shink. "Oh, I'm sorry, were we having a conversation? I thought you were just monologuing. You do love the sound of your own voice, don't you, Talia?"
Talia smiled. It was not a nice smile.
Selina grinned. It was not a nice grin either.
They lunged.
---
Twenty minutes earlier...
Bruce had been having a perfectly acceptable evening. A low-level smuggling ring, easily dismantled. No Joker gas. No world-ending prophecies. He was even home by midnight, which meant Alfred might only give him one disappointed look instead of two.
Then Oracle's voice cut through the Batcomputer's calm hum.
"B, you're gonna want to see this."
Barbara threw a dozen camera feeds onto the main screen. Bruce's blood pressure climbed with each one.
Feed 1: Talia al Ghul, in evening wear that cost more than most cars, slapping a champagne glass out of Selina Kyle's hand at some charity gala neither of them had been invited to.
Feed 2: Selina laughing, then dragging Talia outside by her very expensive sash.
Feed 3 (street-level CCTV): The sash now being used as a makeshift garrote. Bruce couldn't tell who was winning.
"I'm on my way," he said, already reaching for the cowl.
"Bruce." Barbara's voice held the particular patience of someone who had seen him make the same mistake forty-seven times. "Look at Feed 7."
He looked.
Wonder Woman was there. Diana, in civilian clothes, trying—trying to pull the two women apart. She had one hand on Talia's wrist and one on Selina's shoulder, which meant she was currently being kicked by three feet and clawed by two more.
"I am trying to help you!" Diana's voice carried even through the crappy microphone. "This is undignified!"
"Stay out of it, Princess!" Talia snarled—and somehow landed a kick on Diana's shin that actually made her stumble.
Diana's eyes flashed.
The lasso did not come out. Yet.
Bruce was three blocks out when the situation deteriorated.
"Batman, we have a new player." Tim's voice, tense in that way that meant he was either very focused or trying not to laugh. "Black Canary just arrived."
Bruce saw it happen in real-time via the growing cluster of news helicopters that someone (Lois Lane, probably) had definitely called.
Dinah Lance—also in civilian clothes, because apparently tonight was casual chaos night, had clearly been in the neighborhood. She took one look at the scene (Diana now actively holding Talia in a headlock while Selina tried to climb Diana's back like a very angry cat), sighed the sigh of someone who dealt with Oliver Queen on a daily basis, and waded in.
"Ladies. Ladies." Dinah grabbed Selina's ankle. "This is ridiculous. Bruce isn't worth—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Talia hissed, twisting in Diana's grip.
"He isn't," Dinah said flatly. "I've known him for years. Trust me."
Selina paused her assault on Diana's spine just long enough to glare at Dinah. "That's my emotionally constipated disaster to criticize, thanks."
"This is my beloved and father of my son we're discussing," Talia snapped.
"Beloved?" Selina laughed. "Oh, that's rich. You mean the son you hid away? The one you keep lying to?"
"He has forgiven me!"
"He has not!"
Diana tried to step between them. "Perhaps we could discuss this over tea—"
Talia headbutted her.
Diana blinked. Then, very calmly: "That was a mistake."
Feed 8 showed Zatanna Zatara materializing out of thin air, top hat askew, wand already raised.
"I got a text from Dinah that said, and I quote, 'Catfight. Bring popcorn. Or magic.'" Zatanna surveyed the scene—Diana now wrestling Talia properly, Dinah trying to drag Selina backward, Selina's claws embedded in a lamppost for leverage, and sighed. "What did Bruce do this time?"
"Exist!" all four women shouted simultaneously.
"Fair." Zatanna raised her wand. "Ecaperp—"
"Don't you dare magic them apart," came a new voice. Female. Journalistic.
Lois Lane emerged from behind a dumpster with a professional-grade camera and the expression of a woman who had just found God and God was a Pulitzer.
"Lois," Zatanna said, "this is a private—"
"This is news," Lois corrected, circling the fight like a shark. "Diana of Themyscira in a physical altercation with two of Gotham's most notorious women? Black Canary getting involved? Zatanna Zatara on crowd control? This is going to sell so many papers."
"There is no crowd," Dinah pointed out.
"There will be," Lois said grimly. "I already called Clark."
"You what?"
"I told him to bring Jimmy."
Behind the police barricades that had spontaneously materialized (courtesy of a very tired Commissioner Gordon, who had seen Bruce's face and just known), Silver St. Cloud sat on a fire escape with a cup of coffee and the expression of someone who had made excellent life choices.
"This is the most entertaining thing I've witnessed since I broke off our engagement," she said to no one in particular. Bruce's headshot was on her phone screen. She'd added a little devil horn doodle over the cowl. "And I mean that as a compliment to me, not you."
She took a sip. Watched Talia try to bite Diana's arm. Watched Selina use the distraction to climb a dumpster and leap onto Talia's back.
"Should I help?" Silver mused. "No. No, I don't think I will."
Bruce arrived four minutes later.
He took in the scene with the same tactical assessment he'd use for a hostage situation: choke points, combatants, potential exits, Lois Lane's camera, Green Arrow's signature on a nearby rooftop, and—wait.
Green Arrow.
Oliver Queen sat cross-legged on the edge of the building directly above the fight, legs dangling, a bag of street-vendor peanuts in his lap. He was wearing his full archer gear but had his bow laid across his knees, clearly not planning to use it.
He was also grinning.
Bruce landed beside him. Said nothing. Just stared.
"Hey, B," Oliver said cheerfully. "Great night for it, huh?"
"I am going to kill you."
"Promises, promises." Oliver held out the peanut bag. "Want some? They're salty. Like your exes. Exes. Plural. Present company included but also excluded because—"
Bruce made a sound low in his throat. It might have been a growl. It might have been a sob. It might have been both.
Down below, Diana finally got Talia in the lasso. Which would have solved things, except Talia immediately used the moment of capture to headbutt Selina, who fell backward into Dinah, who stumbled into Zatanna, who accidentally incanted "Sregnarts otni em egnahc" instead of "Ecarp" and turned the nearest trash can into a very confused orange tree.
Lois Lane's camera flash went off seventeen times in rapid succession.
And Bruce Wayne, the Batman, the Dark Knight, the Terror of Gotham's Criminal Underbelly—pressed his palm to his cowled face and did not move for a very long time.
Oliver's arm slid around his shoulders. Warm. Solid. There.
"I've got you," Oliver murmured, low enough that only Bruce could hear. "I've got you, you beautiful disaster."
Bruce did not lean into the touch. He absolutely did not. Anyone who said otherwise was lying.
(He leaned into the touch.)
"This is your fault," Bruce muttered.
"How do you figure?"
"You introduced Dinah to Selina at that charity thing last year."
"Dinah and Selina are friends, Bruce. I didn't know Talia would show up."
"You invited me."
"Okay, first of all, I invite you everywhere. You never come. Second of all, you not coming is why Talia showed up. She was looking for you. Selina was looking for you. Diana was just there for the shrimp."
Bruce's jaw tightened. "I am not responsible for their—"
"Yes, you are." Oliver's voice softened. "But not in the way you think. You're not responsible for their choices. But you are the reason they care. That's not a curse, Bruce. That's just... having a life."
Below, Selina and Talia had somehow stopped fighting and were now both yelling at Diana, who was yelling back in Ancient Greek, while Dinah tried to mediate and Zatanna tried to turn the orange tree back into a trash can and Lois Lane filmed everything with the unhinged joy of a woman who had already written her headline.
"BATMAN'S LOVE LIFE EXPLODES: EXES AND ALLIES BRAWL IN GOTHAM ALLEY"
(She'd had it drafted since the sash came off.)
Bruce watched the chaos. Watched his history, his mistakes, his choices, his people, tumble around in a glittering, violent, absurd pile.
Then he turned his head just enough to see Oliver's profile. The stupid goatee. The stupid grin. The stupid way his arm felt like it belonged exactly where it was.
"I hate tonight," Bruce said.
"No, you don't," Oliver said.
Bruce was quiet for a long moment.
"...No," he admitted. "I don't."
Oliver's grin softened into something real. Something just for them.
"I know," he said. "Come on. Let's go break it up before Lois starts charging for interviews."
Bruce straightened. Rolled his shoulders. Became Batman again.
But he didn't step away from Oliver's arm.
Not until they had to move.
---
Two Days Later...
The Daily Planet — EXCLUSIVE
LOIS LANE: INSIDE THE GOTHAM RUMBLE THAT BROKE THE INTERNET
"I have covered wars, alien invasions, and one memorable incident involving a de-aging ray and the entire Justice League. I have never—NEVER—seen anything like what happened in that alley. When I asked Wonder Woman for comment, she said—and I quote—'Bruce Wayne owes me a new pair of sandals.' When I asked Black Canary, she laughed for forty-five seconds and hung up. When I asked Zatanna, she turned my recorder into a rabbit. (She turned it back. Mostly.)
Talia al Ghul and Selina Kyle did not respond to requests for comment, though a League of Assassins spokesperson (yes, they have one now; apparently this was the PR push they needed) said the matter was 'being handled internally.'
As for Batman—
No comment. But I saw him holding hands with someone on a rooftop afterward. The someone was wearing green.
I'm not saying anything.
I'm just saying."
In the Batcave, Alfred Pennyworth pinned a printed copy of the article to the corkboard labeled "Master Bruce's Poor Life Decisions."
It went right next to the one from 2019: "BATMAN CAUGHT IN LOVE TRIANGLE—WITH HIMSELF?"
Alfred sighed.
Then he poured himself a very large glass of wine.
---