Choices, Choices
by elfin


The two sleek silver cars sit at angles to one another, silent, prone.  Beautiful.

Between them, two men stand face to face, both dressed to the nines in tailored tuxedos and bow-ties, perfectly groomed, not a hair or a whisker out of place, Wayne's cummerbund a shimmering gold, Stark's a metallic red.  Two billionaires, businessmen, super heroes.  Bickering like spoilt kids.

“I love this car."  Bruce watches, a tiny shiver slicing down his spine as Tony's fingers touch the flawless paintwork of his beloved Audi.  'Beloved Audi' - just how ridiculous does that sound?  "I built a garage away from my workshop specifically to prevent this car from sustaining any damage when I'm tinkering with the suit."

He drags his eyes upwards, pulls himself to stand ramrod straight, crosses his arms over his chest and regards the other man with a glimmer of a smile.  "You shouldn't keep your prized collection of sports cars anywhere near your workshop - it's not my problem if you're an idiot."

In contrast, opposite him, Tony's stance is open; arms at his side, palms up, almost a physical plea.  "It's not a prized collection; don't confuse my appreciation of automotive design with your anthropomorphisising anything with wheels.  And didn't I just say..."

"Why is where you keep your car," Bruce can't help but smile at those big, long words, "of any relevance to this conversation?"

"It's not a conversation, it's an argument.  And I'm trying to make the point that of all my cars, this is the one I love."

"Why?"

"Because... because I know eight other people with Lambos, not including you.  I know six with Ferraris, twenty with Porsches, twelve Lotus Elises and nine Astons.  I am the only man I know with this car.  That's why."

"There's a very good reason for that."

"Which would be?"

"Taste."  Unfolding his arms, Bruce takes a step forward and leans in, mouth close to Tony's ear.  "Mine's worth more than yours."

In turn, Tony takes three steps back, apparently needing space for his outrage.  "Price isn't the issue."

Bruce shakes his head.  "A lot more."

"Now you're bragging."  Tony takes a deep breath, looking hurt and faintly angry.  "I didn't come out here for a 'who's got the biggest bank account' fight."

Grinning, Bruce throws his head back.  "Hey, when they're as big as ours, what do a few figures matter either way?"  He meets Tony's melted toffee eyes and almost gives in.  But one glance at the most subtle car in his priceless collection firms up his determination while this argument is firming up something else.  "It's not wealth that's the issue, it's value and worth.  Mine is worth more, has a higher value, than yours."

"Horse shit."  The unexpected phrase makes him chuckle.

"Horse shit?"

"Monetary worth and personal value are two totally separate issues.  You could go out and buy another one of those tomorrow and not notice the difference.  I know this car, I have a relationship with this car."  Bruce allows his eyebrows to rise just to see the sigh on Tony's face.  He can't help but love the guy but honestly, sometimes, he drives him insane.  "You know what I mean."

"I wouldn't be surprised if I was supposed to interpret that literally."  Tony rolls his eyes and Bruce takes a stride forward, pushing one of his legs between the shorter man's, pressing against him, feeling the steel silk of his erection, the metal of his belt, the strange and strangely erotic press of the circle of the reactor in his chest.  He points to the vehicles, one at once.  "Audi R8 - $170000, Guarda Lamborghini Murcielago - $490000.  We're fucking on your car."