Title: 1,000 Miles
Disclaimer: Don’t own anyone in this story. The characters all belong to smarter and richer persons then I. Please don’t sue, this is just for fun and no money is made from it. This is just a sad attempt to get back into writing.
Summary: Tequila might be bad for you but it does taste good and can lead to something interesting.
Once upon a time, in what seemed like a lifetime ago, someone had told him that he would have to go over a 1,000 miles before anyone did not recognize his face or family name. And so he had…or so he had thought. At this point he wasn’t too sure what his name was or how far he had traveled. The only thing he knew for certain was the taste of last night’s tequila still lingered in his mouth and that his head was pounding. Wincing, he threw the bedcovers off and sat up. Running a hand across his face, he stood up and made his way slowly to the shower. Dust motes danced merrily in the sunlight streaming through the gap of the closed curtains, a small patch of hideous hotel carpet was visible in the darkened room. He stumbled slightly over a discarded item of clothing and mumbled something incoherent as he closed the bathroom door. Flipping on the light, his right eye twitched violently in protest at the sudden brightness. He quickly closed his eyes and made a silent vow to never drink again…ever. He turned on the shower; adjusting the water until it was just the right temperature. Once satisfied with it, Bruce Wayne stepped under the shower head.
She thought she had felt the bed move…odd, it almost felt like someone getting out of bed. But that couldn’t be for she had come to the City of Sin by herself, needing to get away from her life, needing to live the whole “What Happens In Vegas, Stays In Vegas’ thing, even if it was only for a day or two. It was not like there was an apocalypse scheduled for this weekend (it was on the calendar for next Thursday though). She had an odd taste in her mouth, almost like…tequila? And she was pleasantly sore in places that she forgot could be sore. Sighing, she stretched her arms out, reaching as far as she could. Strange, the right side of the bed still felt warm from whoever had been lying there. After that thought had run through her mind like a herd of stampeding elephants, Willow Rosenberg’s eyes snapped open when she heard the shower start in the bathroom of wherever she was.
The hot shower had felt good and helped him to clear his mind. He could at least remember his name and where he was. After the death of Rachel and the whole fiasco with Harvey and that psychotic clown, the Joker, Bruce had to get out of town. He had just needed a break; between being a billionaire playboy by day and having his alter ego, Batman, currently heading Gotham’s most wanted list, Bruce had felt a little weekend break was needed, after all most of the criminal element was still locked up and awaiting trial. How he ended up in Las Vegas was beyond him, but he was sure that Alfred had something to do with it. If he had remembered correctly, Alfred had told him that, “Hell will bloody well freeze over twice before I let you go off by yourself again.”
Not that Bruce could blame the man that had practically raised him. The last time Bruce had taken off to parts unknown it was seven years before he returned, and he had returned with a crazy scheme involving a giant bat to clean up the streets of Gotham. Alfred was probably just worried about what brilliant plan he might return with this time if left unattended to his own devices.
A quick swipe with his towel cleaned the steamed over mirror enough that he could see the dark stubble that sprouted from his chin. Running a hand through his dark hair, a glint of gold caught his eye. Staring in disbelief at the ring on his finger, Bruce Wayne wondered who he had evidently gotten married to while in Vegas.
XOXOXOXO“Bad, bad Willow,”
the red head thought to herself. “Sure, go to Vegas, have fun, drink a few drinks, find someone to give you orgasms,”
she continued with her mental scolding as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. “An unknown someone to give you orga…”
she stopped as something on her finger tangled in her hair.
For the first time in her life the internal dialogue was quiet as she stared at the gold ring on her finger.
“Oh, Hell Goddess.”
Bruce could hear someone moving about in the next room, and by the sounds of it they too had a ring on their finger and were not very happy about it. Sighing, he knew he could not stay where he was at forever. He had to go out there and confront…meet the new Mrs. Wayne. And to get some clothing as he was presently only clad in a towel. ‘Oh, god’,
he thought to himself. ‘Alfred is going to have field day with this.’
Taking a deep breath, he paused for a moment, and opened the bathroom door. As the door swung open, a shaft of light fell across a red headed woman struggling to pull on her pants, which happened to be inside out and backwards. He smiled at the sight she presented to him as she hopped across the room trying to dress. She stopped when he cleared his throat and said, “Um, hello…”
She couldn’t find her bra but she did find her panties hang from a lamp across the room. Willow put her shirt on, without her damn missing bra, only buttoning up the middle buttons. ‘Oh, god. Oh, god,’
was the only thought going through her mind as she scrambled to find the rest of her missing clothing. She pulled her pants out from under the bed and tried to shove both legs in at the same time. ‘This can’t be happening. Gotta get out of here.’
Her panic level rose with each word that screamed through her mind. She hopped like a demented monkey across the room, trying to get her pants on, not even noticing they were inside out and backwards. ‘Why me? What in the Hellmouth have I done this time? For all I know I could be married to a vampire or some other nasty that likes to eat witches for breakfast…’
Willow heard the bathroom door open but continued to get dressed but for some reason her right leg would not slid into the pant leg. She stopped hopping when she heard a male voice behind her.