On the Road to Gotham

They did not have sex that first night, though not for lack of desire on Lex’s part. He’d wanted to take Whitney right there in the restaurant, on the table or in one of the closet sized rooms the Blooming provided for such liaisons, but somewhere between the analysis of the acid rain damaged corn Britain fed its cattle and turning him into a criminally insane woman’s plant, he’d realized something sex would endanger. He wanted Whitney Fordham. The evening slipped past him in a pleasant blur, and it wasn’t until he’d seen the detective home and was on his way back to the hotel that he realized he’d enjoyed himself. Recently, the only way he could have the pleasure of beauty and brains across the dinner table was if he dined with Bruce or Warren, two men equally as powerful as himself, and both in committed relationships. Whitney was an unexpected treasure and Lex was too shrewd a businessman not to take steps to acquire him.

Anything worth possessing took research and planning with an eye to the details. Over breakfast the next morning he jotted down a list and gave it to his assistant Margaret before he left for a meeting at Wayne Enterprises. By lunch he had Whitney’s service records, his transcripts from the police academy, a copy of his detective’s exam, and the duty roster for the SCU. Margaret had even gone so far as to upload the detective’s schedule to his PDA and cross highlighted the free time overlaps for the week he would be in Gotham. To the background noise of global defense satellite positioning Lex mapped out his attack.

First order of business was to re-establish contact, open a dialogue. “Detective Fordham.” Polite, firm, and with an undercurrent of annoyance. His blond sounded like every cop who’d ever had the misfortune of meeting the Luthor heir during his misspent youth. Lex grinned.

“Whitney, you sound like you’re in a good mood. Nothing I did, I hope.”

“Lex?” The tone warmed noticeably. “No, you were great! Ah, fuck, um, I mean, last night was great.”

“Thank you.” Hearing a throat clear behind him, the bald young man turned to see his friend and business partner standing a few feet away. “Oops. I’ve been caught playing hooky. Look, I’m still in town and you have yet to tell me how you landed in the SCU, so are you free tonight?”

There was a slight hesitation, too brief to imply reluctance, then, “Yeah. My shift’s over at six. But no limo, okay?”

“Agreed. I’ll see you at six.” Clicking off the phone he checked the PDA, confirming what Whitney had told him.

Bruce shook his head. “You stepped out of a meeting to make a date? She must be something.”

“He is,” Lex smirked. “You’ll like him. He works for a living.”

“Will wonders never cease. Lex Luthor’s pursuing a commoner.”

“It has been known to happen,” the younger man tartly replied.

***
Giving a low, sweet whistle, Whitney ran his hand over the hood of the plum colored jaguar, eyes bright with appreciation. “Nice, Lex. Not any more subtle, but nice. Didn’t know they came in this color.”

“Next time I promise I’ll borrow my intern’s Volvo,” Lex dryly replied, hitting a button to unlock the passenger side door. “Get in. As to the color, do you really think the salesman said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Luthor, this model doesn’t come in that color?’”

Whitney snorted, sliding into the bucket seat and slamming the door. “If he had, you should have hired him.” The remark earned him a chuckle and a quiet word of agreement as Lex pulled away from the curb. The detective was in jeans and a sports jacket today, a step down from yesterday’s suit. Though he preferred the accentuation of the well worn denim Lex still commented. “Yeah,” Whitney answered, elegant hands smoothing down his thighs, “part of our job is to try and find metahumans before they fall in with the wrong kinds of people. Most of these kids, they’re scared, and some criminals, like the Joker and the Penguin, they prey on them. If we can get to them before they do, we can save lives. When we go fishing in their haunts, we try to blend in.”

Merging onto the inner belt, Lex took a minute before he responded. “A noble effort, but what do you do with these children? No offense, but is the SCU equipped to train metahumans?”

“No, but groups like the JLA and the Xavier Institute are. We bring them in and find the best place for them.”

“Any luck so far?” Noting his exit, Lex cut across three lanes of traffic and turned on his blinker.

The lithe blond slouched deeper into his seat. “I’ve been doing this for three years and we’ve placed little over a hundred kids. Statistically, it’s a good track record, but realistically, that’s one in twenty-five in Gotham alone. Country wide, we suck.”

“For one unit comprised of what, thirty people? Whose main priority is to solve metahuman crimes, not weed out children from the masses? Don’t beat yourself too badly.” It wasn’t a pep talk; their track record was better than he’d expected. Stopping at a red light, he took the moment to glance over. “I take it today wasn’t a good day?”

“You could say that,” Whitney grimaced. “Me and my partner have been trying to find this girl, has some sort of electrical powers. The Joker has a ten thousand dollar reward on her head, so he must want her for something. A source said they saw her down by the docks, in Arcade Alley. Spent the whole day, or what felt like it, down there, and not one confirmed sighting.” He glanced up then and his smile made Lex’s pants tighten. “Didn’t think you were going to get dumped on, did you?”

Greatly daring, Lex took his hand off the gear shift to reach the short distance to the jeans clad knee. “The story of your day is far more fascinating than mine will be, I’m afraid. One meeting after another is boring to live through, let alone re-cap.”

“Yeah, I’d probably go bonkers if I had to sit around all day having people talk at me.” He shook his head, making a visible effort to dispel his mood. “So where are you taking me tonight?”

“Do you like Japanese?”

***
“I knew some guys who went to the police academy and I was ready to get out, so I figured, why not? I didn’t want to go back to Smallville and I wasn’t in the mindset anymore for college, so police it was. I’d intended to get a job in Metropolis, but an old Marine buddy of mine gave me a recommendation for the Gotham PD. I wanted to become a detective, passed the test, and was going to go Homicide, but Commissioner Gordon heard on the grapevine that I had prior experience with metahumans.” The younger man grinned. “Even in Gotham, Smallville has a reputation. SCU is comprised completely of volunteers, all hand picked by the commissioner himself. I wasn’t about to tell him ‘no’, so there I landed.”

What the self-effacing blond didn’t mention was that he’d taken the detective’s test years ahead of standard and passed on his first try, but Lex kept quiet, feeling inordinately proud of Whitney’s accomplishments and his refusal to boast. It had taken nearly the entire meal to drag the story out of the younger man and when he told it, he did so as succinctly as possible. Making detective grade at twenty-five was not unheard of, but according to Margaret’s research, it put Whitney in a less than one percent percentile.

Lex’s musing were cut short as someone stepped up to their table and gently coughed. The young billionaire jerked, belatedly realizing he was staring like a besotted idiot into Whitney’s eyes. With a heated blush staining his fair skin Lex looked up and felt his mortification deepen. Bruce cocked an eyebrow at his dirty look, but didn’t comment, choosing instead to turn his piercing blue eyes on Lex’s dinner companion.

“Lex, what a pleasure seeing you here. I don’t believe I’ve met your companion, however.”

Glowering at his oldest friend in promise of later retribution, Lex forced himself to cordiality. “Bruce, this is Detective Whitney Fordham of the SCU. Whitney, my business associate, Bruce Wayne.”

Whitney stood to shake the larger man’s hand, as confident and composed meeting the intimidating scion of Gotham as he was dining in the exclusive Japanese restaurant in jeans. “Nice to meet you, sir. Care to join us for drinks?”

“Certainly.” Bruce released Whitney’s hand slowly, assessing blue eyes quickly taking in the broad shoulders and whipcord lean frame. Lex wanted to kick him, displeased by the barely concealed admiration, and nearly did as Whitney gracefully returned to the floor cushions and Bruce settled too closely beside him. Over the years he’d gotten used to Bruce and Warren sizing up his numerous paramours, but this was different, Dick Grayson and Scott Summers different. Whitney should be off-limits, sacred.

Teeth showed when Lex smiled at his friend, his barely leashed temper earning him a knowing smirk. Was this for skipping out of the boardroom today or Bruce just being an ass on general principle? Whitney shot him a puzzled look over the rim of his tea cup, making him realize he had to relax. There was nothing wrong with Whitney and Mister-Holier-Than-the-Stick-Up-His-Ass was about to learn that.

“A detective? Lex’s tastes are finally starting to improve. Commissioner Gordon never has anything but praise for the SCU, but it must be difficult working under the microscope of the media.” Bruce’s drink was delivered and the man stopped to take an appreciative sip before dismissing the waiter.

Whitney smoothly used the lull, rising to his knees to refresh Lex’s and his own tea cup. “The pressure of the media is no greater than the politics. Like New York and Metropolis, Gotham is being used as an example of compressed human and metahuman interaction. We’re the only city with a crime unit dedicated to metahuman crime and we have the lowest percent now of metahuman crime. Unfortunately, we seem to be fuel for the Mutant Registration Act.”

Shrewd ice blue eyes studied the high school educated blond. “You disagree with the Act?”

“I have my doubts about anything with such a potential for misuse. I am sure there are people of every good intention backing the law, but it would only take the actions of an unscrupulous few to ruin the lives of thousands.” Whitney’s mouth quirked over the rim of his tea cup. “I especially find it disquieting that many of the same people who fight for their Constitutional right to buy semiautomatic weapons are the same ones lobbying the violation of their neighbors’ privacy.”

“Astutely spoken, detective.” To Lex, Bruce’s approval was apparent, but he still glowered at his friend. “I must say, Lex doesn’t usually date someone with such an educated opinion on anything outside of Paris.”

“I think much of the success of the SCU stems from the compassion of its detectives, Bruce. Of course, rumor has it that they have a tenuous working relationship with this city’s resident spandex mascot.” Lex’s smile was victorious as he glibly insulted Bruce’s alter ego. “Have you had a chance to work with Batman, Whitney?”

“Not one on one, no,” Whitney answered, completely unaware of the undercurrent of innuendo, “but from what I have seen and heard, he seems a real tight ass.”

Bruce’s stunned expression went far in restoring Lex’s enjoyment of the evening.

sSs

TBC.