*Gasp* Look, I'm alive! I won't waste time here-basically it's been school, school, school, and that leaves little time for writing. I offer sincere apologies to anyone who was hoping for an update to one of my other Avengers or Batman fics; instead you get a crossover because this is basically all the inspiration I've had for the past three months. Plus it's about time I crossed my two favorite fic!fandoms together. Not likely to be continued, but maybe. Who knows.

Takes place some time after TDK and Iron Man 2, but before TDKR and the Avengers. Friendship between Billionaire PlayBros but as always, no slash.

Tony leaned down against the back of his seat, scotch in hand as he took in the news reels playing on the jet's in-flight screen. The headlines screamed of Batman, just like they had every morning, noon, and night for the past two months.

"The Search For The Mass-Murderer Continues. Commissioner James Gordon to offer a new statement, coming up in ten."

The genius playboy's eyes drifted to his companion, taking in the way that Bruce Wayne watched the screen with well practiced indifference. The two had never really spoken about the Batman, aside from a few off-hand and somewhat mocking comments on Bruce's part. With abnormal tact Tony had always chosen to let it pass, knowing as well as anyone that all men had their secrets and figuring that Bruce would own up when the time was right. Considering recent events however, Tony decided that the time for tact was over.

Focused on the television the Malibu playboy snorted as a blurred image of Gotham's resident Bat flashed across. "Could the guy seriously not come up with something better than a giant flying rodent?" he criticized, glancing at the other man to catch his reaction.

Lips tugging upwards at the corners the Prince of Gotham could only shake his head. "Says the man who flies around in a tin suit of yellow and red."

"Actually it's a gold-titanium alloy," came the uncaring correction. The other man shrugged.

"Is there a difference?"

Tony shot Bruce a look of blank disapproval, knowing full well that Wayne knew the difference.

"You're right," the other man continued more seriously, motioning to the screen and ignoring Tony. "He clearly has issues."

A hum of possible agreement was the only reply that Tony ventured to give. Watching the screen as the face of a handsome blonde man with a dimpled chin appeared, the two men listened as once again the Batman was denounced as the killer of Gotham's White Knight. Tony shifted in his seat and let his eyes flicker to Bruce again. "Do you think he really did it?"

Bruce shrugged, keeping up his facade of indifference. "They say he did."

"I don't buy it," Tony remarked skeptically, shaking his head with a grimace. "I mean, the guy spends all this time looking after his city without killing a single person - not even the ones who deserve it, and then he suddenly up and murders, what, five people?" The older of the two men shook his head. "Nah, just doesn't seem believable."

"The rest of the world certainly seems to believe it," Wayne replied, putting on a show of returned skepticism as he observed his companion. Tony countered the observation with a look that was disconcerting in it's sheer knowingness.

"The rest of the world are idiots," was his dismissive reply, followed up by a shrug.

On the television a blurred video of the Tumbler began to play, images from years ago, back when the Batman had first appeared. The night of Bruce's birthday, in fact, just hours before the entire city had nearly been destroyed by an attack via the water supply. The news anchors picked up the story with some nonsense about how even from his earliest debut Batman had been a menace, tearing through Gotham in his tank-like vehicle as the noble police force put up a daring pursuit.

"I have to admit the tank is nice," Tony went on, sipping at his scotch. His eyes moved to watch the other playboy closely as he continued. "The voice though, really? Makes me want to send the guy some tea and honey or something." Come on, Wayne, take the bait.

Rather than take the hint however Bruce chuckled like he was supposed to, keeping up the playboy game in spite of the deadpan and obvious looks that he was receiving. "It's rather ridiculous," he agreed calmly, frustratingly indifferent.

Bored of being vagueTony stared directly at the other man, playfully goading. "You wouldn't happen to know his PO box number, would you, Bruce?"

And there it was. There was no denying the blunt challenge in Tony's tone, the obvious 'Give it up, we both know I'm right'. There was a long moment of silence during which they stared at each other, one knowingly, the other searchingly. Finally, finally, Bruce signed, sounding more resigned than anything as he let his head drop back against the headrest.

"How long have you known, Stark?"

Tony's face split into a small but genuine smile that held only the faintest glimmer of triumph. "A while," he admitted.

Bruce nodded, accepting the confession with silence. The two men stared at each other, one waiting and the other searching, assessing the situation with an air of gravity and keen observation that he usually hid so well. The silence reigned on until Bruce finally stirred and sat back again, hands coming together around his knee as he sighed and raised his brows in question. "Are you planning on keeping this to yourself, or should I be preparing to leave the country again?"

With a smirk that was somehow both smug and sincere Tony shook his head. Reaching out to pour himself another scotch he winked. "Relax, Wayne. Your secret's safe with me," he said. Then he bobbed his head uncertainly. "Probably, anyway. I mean sometimes I get drunk and I say things..." he trailed off, grinning playfully as Bruce stared back, clearly unamused. "But yeah, you're probably fine. I'll try to keep it to myself."

Bruce remained stiff and silent for a long time before finally easing up and allowing his shoulders to relax. Tony could see that the Gotham playboy was still uncertain but there was a hint of reluctant trust in his eyes as well. The engineer wasn't sure how much of it was because Wayne actually believed Tony would keep the secret and how much of it was because he literally had no other choice.

The news continued to drone on, a report concerning the Batman being linked to a string of armed robberies now coming up. It was followed by a supposedly random citizen coming forth to share a tale of how he'd seen the Bat attacking innocent people as they headed home at night. With each new moment the attacks grew worse and Tony could see that, while Bruce held himself together well, the accusations and hatred stung.

"You want to tell me what actually happened?"

"No."

The news closed out with a final rerun of a speech given in front of the press by Gotham's Police Commissioner. James Gordon firmly and without any heart at all informed the people of Gotham that everything was still being done to track down the Batman.

"They're really going to come after you," Tony said thoughtfully, with a certain hint of

disdain directed at the people on the screen, the people of a city who were obviously all blind.

Bruce's only reaction was to nod, calm and collected. In truth the hunting had already begun, raging to a start during the months it took for the Dark Knight to heal from his many wounds and keeping on now with no less ferocity than it had opened with. "I know."

With a shake of his head Tony pointed at the screen, motioning vaguely with his half-filled glass of scotch. "It's going to get messy."

Again, "I know."

Tony sat his drink aside and shifted in his seat. "Well look, if you ever need any help-"

Bruce's eyebrows shot up in in both surprise and instant, firm dismissal. "I doubt it would look good for the Iron Man to aid a wanted criminal," he pointed out.

"Wouldn't be the first bad decision I've made," was the dismissive response. "Seriously, Wayne, if you need anything you have my number." Tony was oddly and unusually earnest and sincere in the offer, and he could practically see the instant denial on Bruce's tongue die before it had been spoken.

"If I need you I'll call." It wasn't exactly a promise, and both men knew that it would take something very serious for Bruce to actually do so, but Tony accepted it without further pressing the issue.

"Good," he replied simply, leaning back in his seat and taking up his scotch again. The television moved on to less painful things and the conversation went with it, soon dwindling down to nothing. After the silence had reigned for a while Tony shifted again and looked at his companion with a mischievously critical gleam in his eyes. "A bat though, really? You couldn't come up with something better? I mean what do you call your tank, the bat-mobile?"

Bruce snorted in only partially amused laughter and shook his head. "Shut up, Stark."

Tony picked on him about it for the whole rest of the flight.

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