Chapter Text
It was regrettable that, whenever a he chose to step away for a breath of fresh air and a break from the crowd of a gala like this one, others never failed to interpret such a move as an opportunity to catch a moment alone with Gotham's most desirable billionaire. As such it was not a surprise but merely an inconvenience when a pair of dress shoes clicked unevenly on the tile of the terrace, Bruce's refuge of choice from this typically tedious event.
Bruce's gaze remained firmly latched on the sprawling garden that lay several stories below, hoping to convey his reluctance to engage with the visitor. Perhaps if he acted distantly enough, they would be discouraged. It was a pity that solitary brooding was exclusively a hallmark of the Batman, while Bruce Wayne was burdened with the responsibility of upholding his personable reputation.
"So, star-crossed lovers, eh?" The man said conversely, as if recalling some prior conversation of which Bruce had no recollection. In fact, the voice was entirely unfamiliar; slightly raspy, but low and gentle, lacking the beseeching quality that was rife in the voices of the many solicitors and suitors who regularly bombarded him. Instead, the inquiry was presented harmlessly and knowingly, perhaps as if the speaker felt he already knew the answer. What that answer was, however, Bruce had no clue.
"You've got a balcony and everything," the visitor chuckled. "Bit cliche, isn't it, Romeo?"
Bruce turned to face the stranger - though as he did, he almost wished he hadn't, because any chance of getting his moment of privacy was dashed. The man he now faced was nothing short of a mystery, one that Bruce would surely be compelled to unravel.
Instead the usual suit and tie, he was dressed in a a formal military uniform. Air Force, if Bruce was not mistaken, but with medals and insignias that he didn't recognize in the dim lighting. He leaned lightly on a sleek black cane, antique by the looks of it, and accounting for the uneven gait. Furthermore, Bruce suspected the man was armed: a handgun in a shoulder holster, perhaps explained by the man's apparent military background, but still enough reason for Bruce to raise his guard.
This effort was counteracted, however, by the disarming nature of the man's appearance. He was beautiful, inarguably so. His wide, warm smile was effortless, sparkling with easygoing humor. His hair, backlit by the yellow light of the crystal chandeliers, seemed to glow gold like a windswept halo. His eyes were the bluest that Bruce had ever seen, their intense gaze focused intently on Bruce himself, nearly making his knees buckle in a way that few could. The man's face was marred by a sizable scar that started below his right eye and cut down to his jaw, but to Bruce, the streak of lighter flesh didn't detract from the mysterious man's appearance, but made him look more natural, human. Most intriguing of all, Bruce couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was familiar, that he'd seem this man before.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," Bruce finally managed to reply. Familiar or not, he would surely remember any recent conversation that the man might be referring to.
The man stepped forward to rest against the railing next to Bruce, and leaned close to respond in a lowered voice.
"I'm talking about Ms. Kyle," he said, pointedly flicking his bright eyes towards the rest of the gala, in Selina's general direction. Bruce didn't turn to look but he knew that the woman in question would be chatting up potential donors – or victims – in that stylishly sleek jumpsuit she'd fallen in love with and with a champagne flute balanced precariously between her gloved fingers. Instead, he shifted to face the stranger head-on, suddenly serious. Even his love-struck mind hadn't missed that red flag.
"Star-crossed?" He inquired. Even if this man had somehow caught on to his attraction to Ms. Kyle, he couldn't know about either of their alter egos. If he did, he could be considerably dangerous.
The man didn't seem ignorant to the gravity of the situation. His dark eyebrows drew together in concern.
"I don't mean any harm to you," he reassured Bruce empathetically. "I promise I'm no threat to your private affairs. Your relationship though... it's my job to know that sort of thing."
Bruce knew better than to take such promises at face value, but he had to admit it seemed like the man was being honest, if cryptic.
"Who are you?" Bruce asked.
"You might know me as Aphrodite," the stranger offered.
That was certainly not an answer that Bruce was expecting.
"Aphrodite. Like in the Greek myths?” It could be an alias, or maybe… If he'd heard this on any other day, he wouldn't have even entertained the possibility, but mere weeks after allying with Diana, the Amazon warrior? The daughter of Zeus himself who was somewhere in this very mansion, eating hors d'oeuvres and discussing museum exhibits with an Ancient Greek blade strapped to her leg?
"Much like that, yeah."
"If I recall my mythology correctly, Aphrodite was a goddess. Yet you're a man?" The man, Aphrodite, laughed.
"Yeah. Don't I look like one?" He offered Bruce an assuring smile. "Those old myths are pretty outdated. But it's a common mistake." He paused to dig around in one of his pockets. He retrieved something small and presented it to Bruce. He recognized it immediately: a bullet, blossomed on one end from impact and colored a uniquely vibrant gold throughout. When he touched it, it glowed.
"I know if I was in your position, I'd want proof. This is the one that hit you when you fell for Selina. Feel familiar?" It did. With the bullet in his palm, he felt a combination of heat and trepidation that he knew quite well stirring in his chest. "We don't use arrows anymore, as you can see. Much too archaic, never mind that I don't know how to shoot a bow, and we don't have Eros around to do it for me anymore."
"This from the gun in your holster, then?" God of love or no, Bruce would rest easier once the firearm had been addressed. The god didnt seem surprised at Bruce's question, and drew the weapon casually, disregarding any partygoers who might catch a glimpse.
It was a silver handgun, another antique, it seemed, but well worn. Bruce was always tense around guns but in the god's hand, it looked natural, a perfect fit in his grip, like an extension of his body. He held it loosely, his hand dangling over the railing so that the barrel pointed somewhere into the gardens. Bruce wondered if the topiaries and the marble statues would come to life if he started firing into the shadows.
"Just love bullets now, Bruce. It's been a century since this gun has been a threat to anyone's life. Well, unless you feel threatened by love, in which case you’re certainly not alone."
"If you ask me, it's a little disconcerting that people fall in love through such violent means," Bruce said. He hoped that the god wouldn't take offense to the unsolicited opinion - the Greek gods were known for their tempers, and in his silk suit Bruce was hardly prepared to defend himself. Luckily, the god merely tucked the weapon back under his jacket and leaned farther over the railing. The last sliver of the setting sun was reflected in his eyes as he responded.
"The line between love and war is a thin one, I've found. Lots of overlap. Luckily my wife and I seem to have both pretty well covered between the two of us."
"Your wife?"
The dreamy smile on the god's face was unmistakable. Bruce thought there was something poetic about a god of love who had fallen so deeply in love himself.
"The goddess of war. You said you were familiar with the old myths? Well she and I are no longer living in sin, so to speak." Bruce did in fact recall that Aphrodite and Ares, the god of war who was apparently now a goddess, were a couple in the myths. He also remembered that Aphrodite was married to Hephaestus, god of blacksmiths, at the time, but it seemed inappropriate to ask what had happened to him.
"You know, you never did mention how the god of love ended up crashing a Wayne Foundation fundraising gala," he said instead.
"Actually, she was the one who mentioned you and Selina to me. My wife did, that is. I don't usually do house calls, of course, but after all that commotion in Metropolis, you know, I wanted to meet you myself."
'All that commotion' seemed to Bruce like quite the understatement, but it was somewhat gratifying to know that his battle with Superman had draw attention from the goddess of war.
"And I didn't actually crash your party," the god continued. "I have an invitation, as a plus one at least. I never really introduced myself." He stuck out a hand for Bruce to shake. "Aphrodite's a mouthful, I prefer to go by Steve Trevor.”