Jack practically leapt to his feet. “Yeah, and do you want to know who has the best secret headquarters? Not UNIT. Not the JLA…not even the freakin’ Batman. And do you want to know why?”
Batman X-over; thanks to krypto for betaness
Title: Boys Toys
Rating: PG (little language-y)
Characters/Crossover: TW: Jack, Ianto, Owen, Gwen, Tosh; Batman: Bruce, Dick, Tim.
Spoilers: Series One TW, Batman comics
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.
Archive: Feel free, just drop me a line so I know (my ego is like that)
Beta: Beta’d by Brendan Storm
Summary: Gotham kids got pwned.
Bruce stopped about half way down the cave steps, not really sure what to do. Well, he knew what he should do–he should give both of his charges hell. He’d told them about instant messaging on his machine. His monitor was not for chatting with girls of questionable cuteness levels in seventy-two-point font the minute they thought he’d left the manor. Or listening to music, or watching videos, or any of the fifty thousand other nefarious things they insisted upon doing to his machine.
Dick was in his uniform, mask in hand. He seemed to be polishing one of the lenses while looking over the back of the tall chair, and Timothy’s head at the messaging window. “Tell him how fast the Batmobile goes.”
Tim pecked away for a moment, and there was a pause, then they both groaned in disappointment. “Zero to sixty in WHAT? And it’s an SUV? And they have track lighting?”
Despite better judgment, and should break up the festivities, Bruce remained where he was; he was a tad bothered by the thought of something outclassing his vehicle.
Biting the side of his cheek, Dick looked every bit the young imp he’d been at the start of his career in crime fighting. He’d learned a long time ago that with Dick, that sort of mischievous look was a dangerous thing. “We’ve got a secret underground base,” the twenty-something wonder pointed out casually.
“They have central air and heating in their underground base,” Tim returned a moment later.
Dick leaned over the top of the chair, all of his discipline suddenly put into winning this technological posturing match. Thinking about it for a moment, he slapped the younger man’s arm. “We’ve got a giant stuffed dinosaur.”
There was a pause while Tim typed this new bit of bragging rights in. A moment later they both moaned, the younger man slamming his gloved hand down on the tabletop. “A living pterodactyl? In their underground secret base? That is SO not fair.”
Spinning around in the chair, Tim pointed a finger at the screen. “That’s it! I’m so done with this! I’m moving to Wales.”
“Because they have better stuff?” Dick asked, equally deflated. “How can they have better stuff? Bruce is freakin’ BATMAN. He has all the cool stuff because he’s BATMAN. They haveta be making it up.”
Tim shook his head. “I don’t care about the stuff. I want a real dinosaur!”
Bruce transverse the remaining few steps, eyeing both of them critically. They watched him as he crossed the cave floor, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say both of them were blushing, just a bit. “What did I say about my computer?” Before either could repeat, verbatim, his ruling on the use of his computer, he arched an eyebrow. “You don’t want a pterodactyl anyway. You think we have problems with the bat droppings? Multiply that by a thousand and throw in bits of sheep wool and bones.” Both of them made a face, and he was satisfied for the moment. “And no more pissing matches with Torchwood.”
Sitting back in his borrowed swivel chair, Jack grinned in deep satisfaction. He gave the cluttered workstation’s owner an enthusiastic high five. “Silence!” Jack declared. “At last!”
Gwen stood up from her workstation, shuffling some papers. “Everything ok over there, boys?” Tucking her long dark locks behind her ears, she waited for an explanation from her overzealous teammates.
About twenty feet away, Toshiko Sato turned in her chair, glancing over the heavy rim of her glasses at Owen and Jack, then over to the former PC. “Don’t mind them. They enjoy fighting with teenagers on the Interpol messaging system over who has the coolest toys.”
Giving Owen his chair back, Jack practically leapt to his feet. “Yeah, and do you want to know who has the best secret headquarters? Not UNIT. Not the JLA…not even the freakin’ Batman. And do you want to know why?”
“Why would that be, sir?” Ianto asked drolly, as he straightened his silk purple tie. Tugging on his immaculate suit jacket, he paused outside of Jack’s office, on the footbridge, curious to hear the answer.
Flashing his movie star perfect smile, Jack pointed at the ceiling forcefully. “Because I let you keep the freakin’ dinosaur that produces its weight in crap every single day and rains down upon us random sheep parts at random-er intervals. But I let you people keep the dinosaur. Which also makes me…the best boss. Those poor, sad little kids don’t even get to drive daddy’s car.”
Tosh didn’t even turn around from her computer; she simply went back to her facts and figures. “I don’t get to drive the car,” she pointed out quietly.
Jack shook his hands above his head, ignoring the dig about the driving arrangements. “You don’t get it, do you? We have a freakin’ dinosaur.”
Looking from Owen (who was grinning like he’d just eaten the canary) back to her boss, Gwen decided they were both nuts, and sat back down. “Right.”
Reclaiming his chair, Owen pulled up to the monitor, preparing the close the window. “Oh shit.” He grabbed Jack’s arm, turning him around to see the message that just popped up. “How can he know where the Hub is?”
Jack sighed, head hitting his chest. “He’s Batman.”
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