#it clearly says batcat

[eterniqht]

the bat and the cat - inspired by catwoman #69 (2018) and the kiss by gustav klimt !

[gayfranzkafka]

btw Elliot Kalan--a man I literally only knew from his annoying 30 second ads for his podcast that I never wanted to listen to--took over writing the ongoing Harley Quinn series from Tini Howard, who had been writing one of my favorite runs of Harley's of all time. Imagine if one of YOUR favorite canonically bi female characters went from the hands of a bi woman writer who was doing a great job to being placed in the hands of a straight male podcaster you'd barely even heard of and also in the first issue of his comic she tells you she won't be able to see her girlfriend for an unknown amount of time for contrived plot reasons [one thousand skull emojis here]

[selinakylesupremacy]

Every single time Brutailas talk about Batcat and Selina:

Ok don't jump at me but from what I'm observing, BatCat is a relationship about lust and sex and Brutalia is a relationship about love and devotion.

[zahri-melitor]

CLEARLY YOU ARE ALL IN A CONSPIRACY TO MAKE ME READ BATMAN YEAR TWO.

I mean, it's looking like 'well that SURE was a comic', an opinion I have frequently about 1980s comics, so it should exactly hit that level of 'why am I reading this? No I will not put it down' I expect from such stories.

Also I am incredibly slow and I only JUST worked out that the "We met on the street" "We met on a boat" BatCat argument that King has running through the entirety of his Batman run is actually a Batman: Year One and I think a When in Rome reference (because he finally broke down and referenced the relevant panel and had Bruce say 'I wasn't Batman yet' about 'we met on the street'), so look, more evidence for why getting yourself around to reading B:YO has value; even beyond exactly how many times Dave Mazzucchelli art from it is explicitly referenced in other comics.

[bonerot19]

omg okay so I read the rest of the chapters.

first of all so excited to see what you’re gonna do with Sheila. I wonder if she’s connected to the electric grid attacks or not (I’m such a clown lol but she is the only suspect we have 😭)

The interactions between Damian and everyone are chef’s kiss. He’s difficult because he’s a kid but he’s not a kid and he deeply respects his father and Robin but at the same time he’s really angry at everything that brought him here. My little guy <3 he’s also effortlessly funny and I love him for that. Also love love love how much you write Bruce’s pov as hesitant bc all he sees is Talia’s child.

Roy :( I love me some Dick and Roy interactions (& Jason, ik people don’t like RHATO but I feel like a Jason-Roy friendship would be fun!). Donna masterminding them being w each other bc they both need it is also very funny and very on point. Fab five ilysmmmmm

Jason’s anger at Dani’s dad and how he went about it… I’m sure this will have no consequences ^_^ just so well written tho, Jason’s anger at Dani’s dad feels sm like his anger at what’s his name did you push did he fall guy from comics. Blind red rage. As opposed to UTRH Jason who’s definitely more calculating and cold in his fury.

I’m also so interested by that kid in the sewers? I think I might know who he is but I don’t want to embarrass myself so I won’t say anything 😭 bc he might just be some kid or an oc lolll

Steph and Jason’s friendship is so dear to me. The way you’re writing their anger and them fighting but they still quite clearly care deeply about each other, the Halloween party (w song), Steph trying to let Jason be his own person — it’s so good because it feels so real. Also you’re letting both characters breathe into being their own people. Really good stuff.

last but not least live love batcat! OH WAIT. is Selina behind the blackouts…

sorry for the small novel in your asks you don’t even have to answer it 🫡 just wanted to once again thank you for writing, really good job as usual 😊😊

hi hi hi hi I'm soooo glad you're liking it 🥰

Sheila (derogatory)

Damian!!! I love him. he is baby. (and Bruce, poor Bruce. he sees only Talia bc he's too afraid to look for himself)

Roy! love Roy, need to have him come back but haven't decided the reason yet 😂 (I lowkey want the fab five in Gotham for a chapter but idk what they'd be doing)

Jason's anger with Dani's dad is very righteous, to me. it's very much cathartic and kind of revenge, and all of this is being projected onto Romero. (similar to garzonas ((did he fall or was he pushed)) ((this jason might push him if that came up rn, honestly)))

(if you're thinking it's Duke, then you're right!)

next chapter is a good one for Steph and Jason getting back on the same page AND for wholesome Bruce and also batcat

I will take a small novel in my asks literally whenever. it brings me much joy and prosperity, actually.

[forevercloudnine]

Another day, another 24 hours spent thinking about the greatest series of panels that DC has ever published

[gilbirda]

Dance with me?

DPxBatman crossover. Jazz/Jason pairing. Background BatCat

Two strangers meet at a Wayne charity gala to raise funds for the Arkham Asylum Reform project. What they don't know is that they have much more in common than they think.

“That’s it? One dance? It doesn’t seem that difficult.” He glared at her. “Why, you don’t dance?”

“Not if I can help it.” He grumbled with distaste. 

“Why not? Not handsome enough to tempt you, Mr. Darcy?”

NOW WITH SEQUEL -> Can we keep her?

NOW WITH ART!!!!: - Art by @impyssadobsessions: The window jump scene + how Jazz looks after parkouring and kissing - Art by @goingtoast: The strangers at the food table + running barefoot holding hands like teenagers running away

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Jazz looks like this for the whole story (thank you @impyssadobsessions for letting me use the design!)

----

"’Come to the gala’, they said," Jazz grumbled under her breath, shoving another fancy canapé into her mouth, "’it'll be fun’, they said."

Fun, my ass, she thought. This was not fun, this was torture. Now she understood why Sam actively tried to avoid these things. Jazz was woman enough to accept the other girl was right and she had been a fool for thinking it couldn't be that bad.

Curse the Fenton bad luck. She jinxed herself when she said those exact words.

"Being legally alive is so not worth this." A voice grumbled beside her. She turned, finding a young man stuffing food into his mouth at the same pace as her.

She snorted. That's something that Danny would say. Maybe if he were here it would be a better experience, but she was requested to come alone.

Her reaction made the stranger turn and look at her, blinking as he noticed her presence for the first time. His eyes did a sweep of her in a not creepy way (thank the Ancients, if one more person did that tonight she was going to put the silverware to good use). The way he looked at her was analyzing, calculating. Cautious.

"You are not from here."

If he hadn't clearly discarded his tie already and hadn't talked with the mouth full of tiny food, she would have felt offended — one would interpret his comment as that she didn't belong around rich folks and high society. Which, she didn't, but it was still rude to say.

"I am not."

He chewed the food slowly and swallowed. "Should I know you?"

"I would remember if you did. I’m a therapist at Arkham." She extended her hand for a handshake, but the man only looked at her with an incredulous expression.

"You have to be mad to work there."

Jazz rolled her eyes and withdrew her hand. What a rude man. "And you are so unoriginal by telling me that."

This, for some reason, made him chuckle. He relaxed, as if she passed some kind of test. The stranger smiled and went back to consider what next pretentious tiny food he could stuff his face with.

Jazz took the chance to seize the man. Young, early to mid twenties, really fit, with broad shoulders. And tall. Even in her ridiculous five inch heels he was still maybe a head towering over her. Despite his size, he was dressed properly for the event, sans the tie (she didn’t blame him), and his hair was gelled back in a style she had seen at least five dudes have so far in the event, but his unruly curls were already sticking out of the gel.

What her eyes were stuck on, though, was the white stripe. It looked out of place. Not dyed, though — she knew what dyed white hair looked like. Of course he could have vitiligo manifested in a mismatched hair color, or a type of albinism or—

Calm down, Jazz. Not everything is about ghosts.

She left that life behind, kind of, when she moved to Gotham, chasing her dream to become the best at criminal behavior and rehabilitation into society. She was not a ghost hunter anymore. And white hair didn’t mean ‘ghost’.

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” she said, “it’s just…” She didn’t know what to say.

“Hm. It’s the white hair, right?” He shrugged, apparently deciding that he had scavenged enough food. He was tense about the hair thing, she noticed, but he hid it well. “People get caught up in that a lot since I came back.”

“Came back?”

A muscle in his jaw tensed. She knew she was about to be lied to, and she didn’t mind (it was, after all, none of her business); but she was amazed at how this man knew how to control his expressions so well.

“Yeah, I was involved in an accident overseas and I was presumed dead for a while.” The way he shrugged was completely different from how he did a minute ago. “These aristocracy-wannabe pricks get caught up on that a lot despite having been a long time ago.”

Presumed dead for a while.

Jazz could feel dormant instincts come back to the surface.

“I have noticed that you don’t like being here.” She changed the topic. Despite wanting to know everything about that little comment, she was aware that this was not a patient she could study and diagnose. Behave, Jasmine.

“Gee, what gave it away?” He deadpanned, turning to look at the people dressed to the nines mingling and talking and laughing. Jazz didn’t need to be a psychiatrist to know many of those were faked.

She turned to look as well. Of course she couldn’t find Marcel, her boss, who had insisted she came to the gala, in the sea of bodies.

“Then why come at all?”

“I was forced to.”

She hummed in solidarity, eyes still on the room. It was nice, this quiet company. “Are you going to hide at the food table the whole night, then?”

“Are you?” She turned, finding him looking at her already. “Or is that dress bait to snatch one of the rich pricks in the room?”

“Why would I be hiding if I wanted to “snatch one of the rich pricks” here?”

“They like the challenge, I guess,” he looked back at the people and the noise. “They don’t want girls who ‘make it easy’.”

“That’s… a very incel and misogynistic way of thinking.”

The stranger snorted and choked on a laugh. “Welcome to Gotham’s high society.” He made a wide gesture towards the room. “It’s disgusting, but it’s not like I can kill every dude that thinks that way.” He rolled his eyes before murmuring against the collar of his jacket: “Not for lack of trying.”

This made her chuckle. She wasn’t supposed to hear that. She guessed that prolonged ecto contamination was useful for something after all.

“So… Who are you hiding from? The person that forced you to come?” She knew it was wrong to poke a total stranger, but she was invested now.

The man scoffed. “My father. He thinks that what I need to ‘calm down’ is settle down with a good girl.” He twisted his mouth in distaste.

Ah. “And you don’t like women?” She ventured, ignoring the slight pinch in her chest. Not that she had a desire to be romantically involved with this man — or the time for romance, altogether.

“No, no, I like women alright, and even if I didn't that wouldn’t be the issue. It’s just — I’m not going to marry someone just because my father wants to.”

“So, any boyfriends yet, Jazzy-pants?”

“We are just worried, you are getting older and we don’t want you to be alone.”

She shook away the memories of her parents’ words from her last visit. She knew they came from a good place, but still, it was heartbreaking that they asked about that and not about her work at Arkham — she had busted her ass making the reform plans and contacting benefactors and striking deals to get what she wanted, but she was still “just a shrink” in her parents’ eyes. They were brilliant scientists, but their bias against the study of the mind was painful.

“Yeah,” she finally said, looking away from the beautiful people and how paired up most of them were. “I think I get you.”

He whistled. “That sounded charged. Wanna talk about it?” The stranger stopped a waiter passing by and took two champagne glasses, extending one for her.

To hell with everything. She took it.

“My parents believe that I’m wasting my life doing what I love — they were proud of me until they learned that I wanted to dedicate my life to criminal psychology and treatment.”

“They resent you or something?” An emotion glinted in his eyes when he took a sip of the bubbly drink.

“No. They are not against it. But they don’t ask about it either.”

He hummed, thinking. “And you dance around trivial topics until an argument breaks out?”

She lifted an eyebrow. He sounded like he talked from experience. “We don’t get into an argument, usually because they get distracted by their own work and talk about it instead.” She let the bitterness bleed into her voice, glad about the anonymity of talking to a stranger.

“Touchy subject, huh?”

“You have no idea, pal.”

They stayed in companionable silence, siping their drinks and getting lost in their memories. She sneaked a glance at the stranger, jumping when she caught him looking at her. Both turned to look at the room.

She could always blame the red on her cheeks on the alcohol.

“My father thinks I’m too violent.” He said, continuing the conversation with a soft voice. “After I came back from… abroad,” his mouth twisted, cementing her theory that he had, indeed, died and came back somehow, “he tried his best to deny I had changed, that my objectives and methods had changed.”

Obsessions, she realized. He came back with an obsession.

“And now?”

His eyes went back to her. If she were another person she would have dismissed the green shine in his blue eyes as a trick of the light. Instead, she smiled broadly at the familiarity.

“Now he should be glad we are on speaking terms.” He placed the empty champagne glass on the food table. “And he uses that opportunity to try and introduce me to some rich girl he swears is ‘super nice’ and could ‘tame me’.” He did the air quotes and everything.

“Seriously?” She giggled at the face he made.

“Well, he didn’t say it like that,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But the intention was implicit.”

“And she’s not that nice or something?”

“I don’t care how she is,” the stranger scoffed, “she could be a saint, for all I care. But that doesn’t change the fact that I hate the idea of starting a relationship with someone just because they could ‘calm me down’ or ‘fix me’.”

Jazz drowned down the rest of her drink and left the glass on the table in a movement to hide the expression on her face. She was sure her face was visibly red now, damn her pale skin.

She cleared her throat. “That’s… very wise of you.”

“I think it should be the bare minimum. I mean, it’s not rocket science,” he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. She was looking very politely at the way the fabric of the suit did little to hide his powerful biceps. “Hoping that someone will fix you when entering a relationship with them will only end in disaster.”

She didn’t know what was that made her heart beat faster; his words, or the way his frown and pout made him look more handsome instead of intimidating.

“That’s why you are hiding?”

“I’m hiding because I promised to dance with her in exchange of being left alone.”

“That’s it? One dance? It doesn’t seem that difficult.” He glared at her. “Why, you don’t dance?”

“Not if I can help it.” He grumbled with distaste.

“Why not? Not handsome enough to tempt you, Mr. Darcy?” The words were out before she could stop them. He was so grumpy it was a logical association.

This made him laugh. She liked how he laughed, with all his body and from deep in the chest. He uncrossed his arms.

“That was something I didn’t expect to hear today. Are you a fan of Austen?”

“I do enjoy her books. Pride and Prejudice holds a special place in my heart, though.”

His smile at her words did weird things to her heart. She was sure her cheeks were permanently red now, but she stopped caring about it.

“You have good taste.” He said, the smile turning into a smirk. He extended his hand for her to shake. His palms were warm and rough to the touch. “Also I think I haven’t introduced myself, I’m—”

“JASON!” A voice cut through their bubble.

Both turned, finding a young man, maybe a bit older than her stranger, angrily stomping his way towards them. There was a certain resemblance, blue eyes and black hair, and Jazz wondered if they were siblings.

“Uh, gotta bounce.” The stranger (Jason?) smiled wider, shook her hand once, and hastily ran away from the food table.

Jazz stood there shocked into silence, watching the other man chase after him, his face flushed and his perfectly styled hair completely ruined.

***

Jason had finally found a good place to hide by the time Bruce had to go give a speech or some shit, he didn’t care that much about the goal of the charity gala to be perfectly honest. It was never about the good causes and Bruce used these to keep up the appearances, so it was frivolous in every way.

The good thing is that since everyone had to stop chasing after him for the speech, they’ll need to start all over again with the search, giving him enough time to find another good hiding spot. Although he lamented the loss of the food table.

And the company.

He didn’t get her name, but the chick was nice to talk to. It was cool to not be judged because of his humble origins, pitied for his little accident abroad, or seen as prey to climb the social ladder in Gotham. Women always tried first with his brothers, but resorted to him when they got rebuffed, and it was annoying as hell to say the least.

Whatever. He would probably never see her again — she was so out of place that he knew she wasn’t usually invited to galas like these. Maybe she was part of the charity people? He could get the guest list and try investigate his way into finding out her name—

He was being ridiculous. He could just ask her name. He just needed to brave his way into the ballroom and search for her, while evading Bruce and the others trying to make him dance with some random rich girl he had no interest in meeting. Easy.

Jason grumbled his way back to the room the gala was held in, sneaking into shadowy corners and keeping one eye open for nosy siblings.

“— and lastly, I would like everyone to give a big applause to the powerhouse behind the project. Without her, this couldn’t be happening today; this gala, this new future, this next step for Gotham.” Jason turned to watch Bruce smiling at the public, one hand gesturing towards someone he couldn’t quite see with people in the way. “A big thank you from the bottom of my heart, Jasmine Fenton.”

The crowd applauded politely, as usual, people whispering among themselves about the new person. If he focused, he knew he would hear a wide range of nasty rumors and slander about her, but Jason wasn’t capable of hearing them.

Because the person that walked up to the podium with a nervous smile and familiar red cheeks, was his stranger from the food table.

Jasmine? Yes, that was her name.

She seemed terrified but hid it well, her steps making the skirt of her deep green dress flow like water, showing the side slits that teased the smooth skin of her legs. The lights on the stand reflected against her clothes and jewelry, the soft shimmer of the green fabric making her look like she was wearing tiny stars, the armband on her left arm and the golden necklace catching his eye as she gingerly put one hand on the podium, probably to ground herself.

Jason gave up hiding and stayed for her speech.

“Um,” she winced at the feedback of the microphone. A woman next to Jason giggled mockingly. “Thank you for this big opportunity, Mr. Wayne.” She nodded at Bruce. “We, and I mean the whole staff at Arkham Asylum, believe there is a real chance at new life, at a new future, for our patients. Even for those that tend to cause trouble, there is a way. With the Reform Project, we hope to break the stigma and transform Arkham into a place of hope.” She smiled nervously. Someone coughed a laugh in the public. “Once again thank you for the support and have a nice rest of the evening.”

There was some more dispassionate clapping. Fucking rich bastards.

He kept his eye on her as she all but ran down the stand and away from the eyes of the people that clearly didn’t believe in her vision but thought it would be good for their image to throw money at it. Well, fuck that.

He ran after her, struggling to keep up despite remembering she had some heels that looked uncomfortable to run with. He thought he heard Dick scream his name for a bit, but after he shut the ballroom door and started checking all the balconies in that floor, he had forgotten about his original objective of hiding from his siblings and Bruce.

He found her in balcony number four. Crying.

“Hey.” He said.

She jumped, quickly trying to wipe the tears gathered in her eyes. “Hello, stranger.” She tried to smile. “Hiding from your father again?”

Jason shook his head and caught the hand that was rubbing her eye. “You are going to mess with your makeup.”

“Oh shit, I forgot I was wearing any. Is it bad?”

He walked closer, grabbing her chin with the excuse of examining her makeup from all the angles. She was prettier up close, and he noticed the gold and green earrings framing her face, very visible since her hair was up in an elaborate bun. He knew how to braid hair and he knew that the braids going down the side of her head and around the bun weren’t that easy to pull off and look professional.

She had dedicated time to look good. She had worn makeup, which was something she didn’t usually do. For this gala. For the ungrateful bastards that laughed at her.

“You look fine.” He finally said, letting her go. “Nice speech, though. Didn’t know the Arkham Reform thing was yours.”

She looked like he had punched her in the gut, but tried to hide it quickly.

“You can laugh if you want. I know it is ridiculous.”

“I’m not laughing. If it were for me I’d burn down the place, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s stupid to believe in making it better.”

She giggled. Ah. That was better.

“Burn it down? Well, thank you for wanting to make me jobless.”

“I mean, I won’t do it now that I know you work there. Not that I have the means to commit arson or anything.” He wiggled his eyebrows, making it obvious that he could indeed commit arson. She found this funny.

“Oh, believe me, I would help you burn the whole thing down. Some days it’s the only thing I can think about.” Her smile was mischievous.

“I’ll call you if I ever decide to do it.”

She squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. He had forgotten about that, but now he didn’t want to let go.

“Thank you.” She said, voice soft. Somewhere, someone opened a door and the music from the gala leaked into their little moment at the balcony. “I needed the distraction.”

“You didn’t look so hot for a second there.”

“It’s the anxiety,” she nodded, “I hate speaking in front of a crowd.”

He made a face, squeezing her hand in solidarity. “That sucks.”

“It does. It’s the crowds, though — I usually can deal with people alright, I’m actually interested in therapy — but since I presented my proposal for the Reform my boss decided that I had to take care of everything, and I mean everything. Funding, support, convincing the patients to collaborate. Everything.”

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

“Marcel only took interest in me after I managed to get Bruce Wayne’s support. When he got onboard, he made it sound like it had been his idea all along! Can you imagine the nerve of this bitch?” She huffed. “Actually I was surprised that Mr. Wayne called me to talk back there, I assumed he bought the bullshit that I was an assistant that my boss had been feeding him.”

Huh. Of course Bruce would know what was going on, he wasn’t stupid to believe that the current Asylum director was suddenly really into reforming the place. It had to be someone from outside Gotham the one that seriously embarked into fixing the Asylum.

Also, quick question, what kind of life this cinnamon roll had to look at Arkham and go “this is the place I’m going to pour my body and soul into”?

He asked her that exactly. She laughed so hard that more tears started falling from her eyes, the hand that was free now placed on his shoulder for balance as she wobbled on her heels.

When she stopped laughing, she smiled up at him, her mascara running a little from the crying. He wiped it with his thumb, letting his hand stay cupping her face once he was done.

“Heh.” She calmed down, still giggling a little. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

He couldn’t help it. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, enjoying when she giggled against him.

“What was that for, stranger?” She tried to keep a calm demeanor, but her cheeks were fierce red, betraying her emotions.

He licked his lips. Her lipstick was cherry flavored.

“Wouldn’t you want to kiss a pretty girl illuminated under such beautiful moonlight?”

“Very poetic, mister.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you wax the same poetry to every girl you kiss?”

“Why would I?”

“To drive them away, maybe.”

“I thought poetry was the food of love.” He saw the moment she caught on his words, because she smirked.

“Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination, I’m convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.”

He was delighted when she followed his lead. “So what do you recommend to encourage affection?”

She took the hand on her face and guided it towards her waist. “Dancing.” She whispered, letting the soft music coming from the gala weave with her words. “Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.”

Both snickered at the absurdity of the moment, but started swinging to the music nonetheless. Every time their eyes crossed paths, they started laughing again. It was simple, it was calm, and most importantly, Bruce wouldn’t find them. He felt like he could relax for the first time since the whole gala started.

It was when the song was ending, that Jasmine placed her head on his chest and sighed. He was positive she could hear his heart beating faster, but neither commented on it.

“So you are the Jason Todd?” She asked softly. He hummed in response, but didn‘t know where she was going with this. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you really died, didn’t you?”

He tensed, all relaxation gone from his body. She let him step back away from her, smiling softly when his eyes assessed her like she was a threat.

“I don’t know what you are—”

“My brother died too.” She looked down at their still joined hands. He couldn’t let her go, despite everything. “He came back different. I also— I mean. I am…”

She lifted her head, looking at him with Lazarus Pit green eyes.

He frowned. “Who are you and who sent you.” He wasn’t asking.

Jasmine tilted her head. “My name is Jasmine Fenton. My parents, Madeline and Jackson Fenton, have dedicated their whole lives to the study of the afterlife. My brother and I simply paid the price.”

His heart beat fast, but for a completely different reason than before. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I feel like you also paid a price, and I wanted to let you know that I know.”

He looked down at the hand gripping hers. He angled his fingers so he could place them over her pulse. Although slower than normal, it was steady. She was telling the truth.

“Why?”

She blushed and looked away. “I like… I enjoyed spending time with you. I hope I didn’t read you wrong, but I think you enjoyed it too. I didn’t want to start anything on a lie.”

That was… noble. And sensible. If she ended up telling him later, or worse, if he found out on his own, he would have been devastated.

“I have no idea of the circumstances around your death, and I won’t ask. I hope you do the same about my brother.”

He watched as she slowly closed in on herself, the smiles and radiance he had seen before freezing into a contained steel. This girl had seen serious stuff, probably had done some herself.

“You didn’t die? Just curious.” Jason kept his voice soft and light. If she wanted to deflect the question, he would accept it.

“Something else happened to me.” She shook her head. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

One day.

“That means you want to stick around?”

She saw his question as what it was and accepted the olive branch. “Why? You don’t want to keep dancing?”

“Actually—”

His stomach growled. Damn stupid little food at the stupid fancy gala. Stupid siblings making him run around and get hungry so quickly.

“— maybe we could ditch this whole thing and go get dinner?”

Jasmine seemed delighted. “Ancients, yes. I was about to resort to cannibalism.”

As if on cue, her stomach growled as well. He snorted and both started to laugh again, all tension forgotten.

“How can we get out of here without stumbling into the people looking for us?”

He hummed. “I know a way. Follow me.”

Both ran back into the manor, hand in hand, giggling and sneaking around like teenagers, Jasmine ditching the heels somewhere along the way.

Once they got to Bruce’s studio, Jason ignored the grandfather clock that was the secret entrance to the Cave and beelined to the balcony attached to the room. From there it was easy to jump to a nearby tree and climb down to freedom.

Ah, but—

“Can you do it with that thing on?”

Jasmine’s eyes analyzed the route, catching on his plan. At his question, she smirked and gathered her skirt with the hand that didn’t hold her heels. She lifted the skirt up and up, and Jason was about to look away when he saw why exactly she was doing this: she wore shorts under the dress.

Jason felt his heart skip a bit in his chest.

“Let’s go.”

He did the jump flawlessly, like it hadn’t passed any time since he was a kid and snuck out of the mansion thinking that Bruce or Alfred wouldn’t notice. Of course they did, and they always found him.

He heard the first heel land beside him, and turned in time to catch the other shoe when she threw it in his general direction.

She gathered her skirts better, tied it on her side and jumped to the tree branch, swinging her body to stand on it with a practiced move, making him wonder again what kind of life she had led. Then, she gracefully jumped to the lower branch and from there jumped to the ground, bending her knees perfectly to cushion the impact.

He watched her as she brushed her hands over her dress and her jewelry, checking that everything was still in place. Her hair, sadly, had started to fall off its neat bun.

She clicked her tongue, a bit annoyed, but lifted a hand to free her red locks from the bun, sighing once they started to flow back down her naked back.

He helped her pick out the pins and hair ties that had held the whole thing in place, running his fingers through the silky texture and the braids, enjoying how easily it flowed in his hands.

Jason noticed she was shivering a bit.

“Cold?”

“A bit.” She pushed her now free hair behind her ears. “I guess the backless dress was a bad idea in the middle of November.”

He shed his suit jacket before he chickened out and helped her put it on.

“Thanks.” Jasmine said as she folded the long sleeves so her hands were free. She looked up, giving him a confused smile when he didn’t say anything in response.

He couldn’t. Her dress kept sparkling under the moonlight despite being a bit stained and hastily tied around her hips; she was barefoot, her complicated hairdo ruined and tangled under his jacket that was too big on her slim body; and her makeup smudged from crying before in their little moment at the balcony.

She was the most beautiful thing he had seen.

He lunged, one hand already buried in her hair and the other on her waist, his lips on hers so he could taste the cherry lipstick once again. She made a sound in surprise, and he almost withdrew completely, if she didn’t lift her hands and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer.

She let him push her until her back was against the tree trunk, and he was glad that he gave her the jacket or she would have been uncomfortable.

When they parted, both refused to let go. Their eyes met briefly, hers were green and glowing and he was sure that his were the same. He felt accelerated, his mind scrambled and all over the place, but he felt in control. He felt—

Jasmine’s hand went to his hair, grabbing his curls and pulling his mouth against hers once again, moaning a little as if she wasn’t aware that she did it at all, her teeth softly biting his lower lip and asking permission to deepen the kiss.

Once he opened his mouth for her she had a field day with him, her tongue finding his quickly, another moan getting lost in their kiss. She was ravenous but gentle, letting him chances to stop her anytime he felt like she did something he didn’t want. He felt so wanted just from this kiss alone, and Jason wondered what else she could make him feel.

Her stomach grumbled, asking for attention.

Their chuckles started in the kiss but continued after they parted, her head falling to his chest as she tried to muffle her laugh.

“So…”

“Dinner?” He kissed the top of her head, still giggling.

“Please.”

“Let’s go, my bike is hidden somewhere close.”

She looked at him. “Bike?”

“Are you scared of motorcycles?” He lifted an eyebrow.

Jasmine shook her head. “I had a boyfriend that had a motorcycle and it was like his whole personality. My brother hated him with passion. He will chew my ear off if he learns about this.”

“Oh? We are already talking about exes?”

She blushed, leaning down to pick up her fallen shoe from the ground. “Why, wanna be my boyfriend or something?”

It was his time to blush. “Uh…”

“It’s okay,” she grabbed his hand, “we can talk about it over dinner and reach an agreement, Jason.”

“Call me Jay. And I would like to discuss your terms and conditions, Jasmine.”

She stood on the tip of her toes and yet he had to lean down for her to kiss him softly on the lips. There was still a bit of the cherry lipstick taste on them.

“Call me Jazz, then.”

***

“Aren’t you gonna stop him?”

“Hm,” Bruce said, glancing down at the pair clearly running away from the gala.

He had texted the others a while ago that he had found Jason, but opted for not explaining exactly where he was or what he was doing. There was something in the way he looked at the redhead girl, Jasmine, that made him want to cover for his second eldest.

“You are such a softie, Brucie boy.” Selina softly slapped his shoulder. “And a romantic.”

“I haven’t heard him laugh in ages, Selina.”

Her smile was sad as she held his face between her hands. His eyes went back to his son leaning down to kiss one of Arkham’s most promising psychiatrists. He had mixed feelings about the blooming relationship, but he didn’t want to risk losing Jason again after finally getting him to join family stuff again.

“Is this a good idea?” He finally looked into his girlfriend’s eyes.

“Did you see how she jumped from the tree? She could be a great thief if she wanted.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“What I meant to say is she fits this family perfectly. Vigilantes and cat burglars included. Yeah, I think it’ll be fine.” She softly placed her lips on Bruce's, distracting him from looking from their vantage point at the pair getting on the bike and riding away. “In fact, she already stole the poor boy’s heart, so I’d say she’s on her way to a plentiful career as my successor.”

This made him chuckle.

“Don’t tempt fate, woman.”

“I mean, I can train her. Hmm, I think I like the idea.” She kissed him again. “Another cat and a bat chasing each other over the rooftops of Gotham. So romantic.” She whispered against his lips.

“I think your idea of romance is kind of skewered.” He said, amused.

“But I managed to snatch you, so it worked.”

Both giggled softly, letting the floating music and the moonlight accompany them as they contemplated the changes that would come to the family after tonight.

Bruce could already feel the incoming headache just thinking about it.

---

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[clawsnoir]

battinson did not stare longingly into his rearview mirror as selina drove away at the end of the movie for all these people to somehow come out of it asking for another love interest as if the man isn't already in love

come off anon and be my friend because I wholeheartedly agree.

it means something, that the film ends on that note of yearning from bruce after their separation. if the rest of the film didn't manage to convince viewers that matt reeves is deeply invested in bruce and selina's relationship, that single frame should be more than enough to prove that their connection is at the heart of the unfolding story he wants to tell.

honestly, even the way their 'meet-cute' in the iceberg lounge is framed, the way the world completely stopped for bruce the moment they meet because he was so captivated by her...the way selina unflinchingly returns his gaze and sizes him up - and very clearly likes what she sees.

it's all right there. and I'm not even saying that there can't or won't be romantic tension with other characters (I do think we'll see selina exploring other romantic options in her solo) but it's also obvious to me that batcat is the endgame here.

[readsandbreeds]

A Tipping of the Scales

ao3 link ao3 profile ship: batcat (reeves verse) warnings: none, smut 18+ word count: 10.2k

Selina Kyle didn’t believe in fairytales. Fables? Sure. Cautionary tales and Bible stories were more up her alley. After all, she had walked into her former kingdom, the prodigal daughter returning to slay Goliath and steal his crown. But the Bat had stopped her, stolen her vengeance, just like he had stolen himself away from her. 

Bludhaven was far more boring than she had expected. Despite housing the summer homes of the rich hedge fund types that she intended to knock down a peg, there were only so many jewels she could steal and resell. It didn’t bring her nearly the same amount of satisfaction as the Bat chasing her. Cat and mouse was the name of her game, or in this case, the cat and the bat. 

She often daydreamed about that night in Mitchell’s house, him holding her against the wall, his hand slapped over her mouth. The smothering of his arms was satisfying, and although she hated to admit it, those thoughts eventually raced into her head as she slept. 

That’s what had her returning to Gotham, and while she hated herself for being attention seeking, she couldn’t help herself. Something from the streets of Gotham would feel better than the empty loneliness she felt upstate. Even the strays she had found couldn’t fill the danger shaped hole in her heart. 

Her first break in was a testament to her roots. Lowering herself precariously through a skylight on her trusty rope, she landed almost soundlessly on her feet into the home of one Harvey Dent. While he took over Coulson’s role as DA, Selina was more than sure he was just as corrupt as his predecessor. A few stolen items would be the perfect welcome to his new position. 

It started with paintings. Forgeries of Rembrandts that were so close in detail that even curators couldn’t tell the difference. Somehow Dent never noticed, or maybe he didn’t even bother to check. She did replace the paintings, she wasn’t completely heartless. But… they were a tad explicit to say the least. Nudes of renaissance women were now completely scattered across the DA’s house. Maybe his coworkers would recognize him as a man with good taste. Or at least think he had a humorous interior designer. 

This was her third time hitting Dent’s house. He was new in town so to speak, so his security protocols were nowhere near as intense as someone like Bruce Wayne. Sometimes easy options are the best way to get back into an old trade, and if she had to fish for minnows, she was more than willing to do so.

But the Bat caught up, something that both scared and thrilled Selina. Yes, he played into her hand, but she doubted he would chase after her so soon. Maybe it said something about both of them. Her desperation for him to arrive, his desperation for her to slip up. 

“I didn’t think you’d stoop this low,” he said, revealing himself from the shadows of Dent’s dining room. 

“Had to tell you I was back in town somehow,” Selina replied coolly. “Besides, a stolen inheritance only lasts for so long.” 

“Then work with me again,” he replied. To anyone else’s ear he would’ve seemed nonchalant, but Selina had learned to read every little inflection of his voice and every single twitch on his masked face. 

It was the same voice he used when he told her not to throw her life away. Those few sentences were the most vulnerable she had seen him and the most vulnerable she had allowed him to see. 

This was his way of reminding her that she didn’t have to pay, no matter how she decided to do it. 

“Now why would you want me to do a thing like that? Did you miss me Vengeance?” Selina tried to say coyly. The waver in her voice gave her away. He remained silent for a few moments, long enough that Selina felt the need to fill the silence. 

“Yes,” he said. His heart was clearly pounding out of his chest. There was a crack as he said the word, both in his voice and in Selina’s heart. She felt herself step forward towards him, the Warhol she had intended to snatch ignored behind her.

“Yeah?” she whispered. Vengeance gave a nod so slight and short that she almost missed it. 

“Okay,” Selina nodded, swallowing her pride and every little word she wanted to say to him. This was not the reaction she had expected. She had expected anger, a reenactment of that first night at Mitchell’s house, maybe ending with her bent over Dent’s desk.

She didn’t expect a confession between the two of them that only needed one word. Selina is snapped out of her thoughts as the Bat begins talking again. 

“As in actually working together,” he said. “That means stopping… this.” 

“A girl needs to make a living somehow,” Selina shrugged. 

“Then I’ll pay you,” he said as though it barely meant anything. 

“You really are a rich boy,” Selina scoffed, her eyes returning to the painting. 

“I’m being serious, Selina,” he replied. “I’ll make you a real suit too.” 

“Are you too scared to be associated with a cat burglar? You want a thief to play buddy-buddy with Gordon?”

“He saw you save my life and me save yours,” the Bat states. “If he doesn’t trust you, then he doesn’t get to trust me.”

“Wow, determined to lose one of your only friends if it means spending time with me, huh?” A smirk grows across Selina’s face.

“If that’s what it comes down to, I’d rather say I was trading one out for another.” 

Selina refuses to acknowledge the blush that begins to spread across her face by staring at the Warhol, pretending to be intrigued. 

“Can I take this one still? As a last hurrah?” The Bat simply shook his head.

“It’s not like you would listen to me, Selina. I know my place,” he said while walking towards her. A black leather glove tilts her chin up to look at him. “Do you know yours?”

Selina miraculously avoids leaning into the Bat’s touch. She thanks whatever God above is stopping her from doing so. She could get used to his hand on her cheek, used to someone pretending to care.

“I don’t go so easily,” she says instead. 

“I wouldn’t expect any less of you,” Selina thinks that he gives her a hint of a smile. How is it possible that something so small could be so beautiful? 

“You should leave,” Selina nods towards the skylight. “Before you’re accused of any implications.” 

“You’re too smart to leave a trail behind,” he scoffs. 

“And you’d ruin my life,” God, Selina thinks. As if he hasn’t already. He shakes his head. 

“You don’t deserve that,” his hand trails down her shoulder, eventually gripping her own. “Especially after everything you’ve worked for.” 

Her heart is in her throat, she’s mirroring the panic he felt the moment he landed besides her. She’s always seen him as nervous, as hidden. It’s unfair that she’s carrying those same traits because of him.

“Meet me at the signal, next time it’s on,” his voice is a whisper. It’s her final out, his final plea. She caves and gives him a nod. One motion, one silent agreement. Two people, one silent confession.

He goes right away, leaving her with her tools and the soon to be stolen Warhol. She sighs while she readjusts her gloves, carefully sliding the painting off of its place on top of the mantle. She puts a painting of a woman fingering herself in its place. 

Just another day, but her final job. Her life was about to get much more interesting. To be fair, it was her own damn fault. Maybe she should’ve stayed in Bludhaven. Even cats have to be careful about what they wish for. 

*

The signal is on the next night. Selina doesn’t know what she expected, he was spoken for, that was why he had stayed. Gotham needed its knight, and it looked like she was about to be his sidepiece. 

She didn’t bother taking the elevator up to the signal, climbing the pulleys and scaling the building was much more fun. Gordon was already there, but the Bat was late. Typical. 

“Well,” Selina sighed upon seeing Gordon next to the signal. She couldn’t think of anything to say to him. They had interacted only a handful of times, all of which were at a major low point of her life. 

“You’re back in town,” Gordon nodded. “He didn’t tell me.”

“He only found out recently, even though all of the pieces were there,” Selina shakes her head. “He’s not nearly as smart as he pretends to be.”

She couldn’t tell if she said that to make her feel better about herself or if she truly believed it. The truth was that the Bat could have found her at any point. Hell, he could’ve been tracking her while she was upstate. He probably was. 

“How… are you?” Gordon was clearly just as uncomfortable as she was. Thank God that was when the Bat decided to arrive. 

His presence was not comforting, but it certainly made the tension in the air less thick. He nods at Gordon, who simply looks between the Bat and the Cat with a wary eye.

“What am I supposed to call you?” Gordon asks. 

“... Cat,” she says, trying to stifle a laugh. 

“Right,” Gordon turns his attention back to the Bat. “There’s been a series of robberies from Harvey Dent’s penthouse, would you happen to know anything about that?”

Bat’s eyes flicker towards Selina. 

“The situation has already been dealt with,” he replies, voice steady yet full of gravel. “The thief has been apprehended, but the paintings will likely not be returned.” 

“Let me guess, they’ve already been sold,” Gordon sighs. Selina has never had the urge to laugh this severely in her whole life. She notices Batman swallow. He clearly finds humor in this exchange as well. 

“I would assume so.”

“And the thief?” Gordon says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Even some criminals are too slippery for my hands,” Batman replies. “But I swear that the issue is resolved.”

“But what if-”

“I made a deal,” he said, cutting Gordon off. “The thief is a source of intel now. They have very quick hands.” 

Gordon looks over at Selina, whose face is red as a tomato at this point. He nods.

“I see,” he turns back to the Bat. “And would this thief happen to be a cat burglar of some kind?”

“I think that’s an accurate description, yes.” 

Gordon’s sigh somehow becomes deeper. It isn’t out of frustration, more a sense of disappointment. Selina was clearly important to the Batman, and shutting her out would mean losing him as a resource. 

“I have to tell the department and the DA something,” Gordon rubs his hands together. “Otherwise they’ll go sniffing around like hounds.”

Selina resisted the urge to make a comment about cops and bitches. Instead she offered a half assed solution. 

“Well, I won’t pull any profitable pranks for the time being,” Selina began. “So you don’t need to worry about me. Maybe mention something about an art burglar in some city nearby. Throw them off their trail. There are other art thieves, I’m willing to expose a few of them.”

“Who knew that cats could become rats,” Gordon muttered. The joke didn’t seem to be out of malice, but Selina’s skin began to crawl. 

“I prefer to catch them,” she said defiantly. “If I reveal someone, it’s a bitch that deserves it,” Selina stares pointedly at the Bat. “Are we done here?” Vengeance looks at Gordon in response. 

“Yes,” Gordon nods, sighing at the two vigilantes in front of him. “I’ll see you next time the signal is lit. Get some rest.”

“Gotham never sleeps,” the Bat replies.

“Rich kid and you had an emo phase,” Selina grumbles. “Actually you’re still in your emo phase.” Ever perceptive, she notices a half smile on Gordon’s face as he takes the elevator down. 

“Is it alright if I take your measurements?” the Bat asks quietly.

“I’m sorry?” This question hits Selina from left field, stunning her out of the witty quips she had been planning. 

“For the suit,” he clarifies. Right, the suit. The special matching suit. The suit that he would make for her. His suit for her. And he would have to touch-

“Yeah,” her response thankfully stops her from overthinking too much. “That’s totally fine.”

The Bat had a goddamned measuring tape on his utility belt for some reason. God knows if he’s diligent enough to measure foot prints at crime scenes, trying to match shoe sizes with criminals. Selina wouldn’t put it past him. 

“I need you to raise your arms,” his voice is too soft. Why is it so soft? Selina obeys his request so that her head will hopefully stop racing. Unfortunately, her heart begins to instead. 

The tape goes around her throat, his lithe fingers carefully marking off the number of centimeters that would be required for the turtleneck hem that she'd grown to prefer. He’s careful every step of the way, from arm measurements to the tightness of her waist and hips. Selina prays for the first time in years that the Bat can’t magically sense her pulse as his hands gently touch her chest. It’s supposed to be a very clinical procedure, simply a girl and her caped seamstress. Yet every brush of his gloves against her body makes a part of her tense. 

He shouldn’t have this effect on her. It’s not as though he’s special in any way. The Bat is a man that hides behind a mask and beats up thugs in tight fitting kevlar. Just because he wants Selina to help him with work does not mean he wants her in any other way. He saved her so she wouldn’t sin. He saved her from herself. That was all. 

But it’s clear to Selina that touching her is having an effect on him as well. The Bat always tries his damndest to seem stoic, untouchable, unmovable, but Selina is more than sure that underneath his mask is a scared man. He was scared on that catwalk, enough to shoot his leg full of adrenaline to save her. He was scared that she’d say no as he found her in Dent’s dining room. And he was scared now, that she would leave, that this was too far. 

“Are you almost done?” Selina asks sweetly, trying to not let her voice warble. It’s the same voice she uses on the strays she finds in street alleys, coaxing them towards her gently. Little does she know that she pulled this stray in a long time ago.  

The Batman nods, putting the tape back into some unseeable part of the belt. Despite being around him for so long, Selina still couldn’t wrap her head around his equipment or how he got the funding for it. Maybe the rich kid theory wasn’t so far off. 

“Any requests?” he asks.

“About the suit?” Batman nods. “Then no,” Selina replies. “What do I call you?”

“Excuse me?” Despite not being able to see them, Selina knows that his eyebrows are knitted together. 

“I can’t call you Bat all the time. Or Batsy, or Vengeance. The nicknames clearly annoy you, and while annoying you is one of my favorite pastimes, I’d like a piece of you that’s exclusively mine,” she finishes.

Selina lets her nails trail up the Bat’s chest, running her hands slowly across his shoulders. She’s reaching up to him, like a sinner up to heaven. He’s so tall, she wonders how it would feel to cower under him. 

“I-”

“It doesn’t have to be too much,” she says, her voice once again turning to honey. “I understand the secrets. I kept mine from you, and yours certainly have more weight.”

“Secrets always matter,” he whispers. “No matter the size. No matter who they protect.” 

Did he mean her or him? Did he mean Gordon? Did he have anyone else to protect at all? She doubted it. Cracks of loneliness broke out of him every time she was near. He needed a way to get it all out. Not only was he clearly touch starved, he needed some form of love to fill in the gaps. 

“I’ll call you whatever you want,” Selina smiles. “It can be as ridiculous as you like. Honey-bunches of oats, sweetie pie, pumpkin, twat waffle, banana-”

“B,” he finally cuts her off before she can say something even more dumb. “You can call me B.”

“Not V for Vengeance? B for Batman,” she teases.

“No, B for me,” he says. It’s one less secret for him, and one more for her. She nods. 

“I’ll see you at the next light, B,” she whispers. He disappears into the shadows. 

*

Selina turns over a single initial in her head. B is what she has been allowed to call him. B is her name for him. It’s also clearly the start of his first name. Not B for the Bat, B for him. 

Her thoughts are disrupted by a knock at her door. She rushes to answer it, but is tentative as she peers through the peephole. A man walks away with a parcel in front of her door. She quickly opens it, trying to get a better look at the man.

“Hey!” she calls, stopping him in his tracks. She picks up the parcel, looking at a sticky note on the front. The man doesn’t make any moves to run away. He simply stares as she reads the note. 

“Let me know if it fits, B.”

“You know him?” Selina stares at the man. She gets a closer look at him. Salt and pepper hair and a clearly pressed suit. This was not her Bat. 

“Yes,” his British accent startles her. 

“How so?” she asks right away. Everyday her theories about the Batman were becoming more plausible, yet they were always an inch or two off. 

“I’m an associate of your partner, Miss Kyle,” the man says. He seems to be very straight forward, not hiding behind words like the Bat often does. 

“So he talks about me,” Selina says, inspecting the box. “I’m flattered.” 

“Well, he does not get out much. I would be remiss not to notice a new person in his life.”

“What do I call you?” Selina asks, trying to ignore that she must bring some sort of comfort to the Bat. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you around much more.” 

“Alfred,” the man says with a curt nod. “I look forward to working with you Miss Selina.” 

“Likewise,” she replies. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure,” Alfred says. He walks down the shabby hallway, his oxfords the only nice thing to be seen in her apartment complex. 

Selina walks back into the apartment, opening her new package with care. Even the box seems special, not a reused Amazon parcel. It feels like she’s opening a gift from Tiffany’s as she pulls at the rope like twine holding the carefully wrapped box together. 

The suit is much more lightweight than she expected. The Bat must pay more attention to the way she works than she thought. The suit is paneled with kevlar in the most vulnerable and damageable places. It reminds her of the shoulder and knee pads she would wear as a child while roller skating. Of course the suit is heavier, but it’s breathable. She’d be able to move in it swiftly and wouldn’t have to adapt her style of attack. The Bat’s fighting strategy fit the bulkiness of his suit. Strong and armored to match the hard hitting punches he pulled. 

It fit perfectly, hugging her body skin tight. She didn’t ask for this specific fit. Perhaps the Bat was being self indulgent. Selina shook her head, he was just being practical. Something that hung off her even slightly would be uncomfortable, clinging to her skin with sweat like a wedgie. 

The material was so soft that part of her wanted to fall asleep in it, but she knew if she didn’t return the suit back into its box, it would be covered in cat hair in no time. Selina put away her suit, placing it with care at the top of her closet before going to feed her harem of cats. They were constantly needy, but she didn’t mind. She needed them just as much as they needed her. She wondered if the Bat was the same way. 

*

Another day and she was back at the signal, sitting cross legged on the concrete floor as she and Gordon waited for the Bat to arrive. 

“Is he always this late?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Gordon says. “I don’t mind, he’s likely in the middle of a street fight.” 

“I wonder if the Bat was this tardy at prep school,” Selina says off handedly as she inspects her nails. 

“What makes him so sure that he’s rich?” 

“When you don’t grow up well off, you tend to notice the little details. Besides, his budget seems insane,” Selina says all of this as though it’s incredibly obvious. “Also I think I met his butler the other day.” Gordon nods throughout her explanation. 

“I can see that. Any ideas as to who he would be?” Selina simply shakes her head. 

This is a lie. Every night she tries to pair the letter B. She thinks of bright blue eyes emphasized by black makeup. His jawline is sharp and his body is likely littered with scars. Selina isn’t sure whether or not he’s lean yet built underneath his armor or simply awkwardly bulky. It’s frustrating to her in a way. She can’t picture him clearly when she. . . 

The sound of the elevator snaps her out of her thoughts. 

“I got your message,” Gordon says. 

“You get actual messages from him?” Selina replies, mildly incredulous. “He just shows up at my house unannounced.” The Bat ignores her.

“Have you heard anything else about the gas?” he asks. Gordon nods. 

“There’s been a few incidents on the Eastside of town. The standard green type poison.”

“Care to fill me in?” Selina looks between the two of them.

“Mysterious gaseous poison is showing up around town, usually around poorer neighborhoods,” the Batman explains.

“Do you think the targeting is intentional?” Gordon asks. Some detective he was. 

“It wouldn’t make sense after the Riddler’s message. If it was a follower of his, the chemical weapons would likely target the upper class.”

“Do you know the effects?” Selina didn’t live on the Eastside of town, but she could already tell that she would be sent there as an on the ground scout. 

“It’s been different for the victims so far,” Gordon says. “All have been sent to Gotham General Hospital and are being monitored 24/7. The most common symptom is disfigurement, which makes sense. That being said, many of the victims are gaining… for a lack of better words, powers.”

“What, like superheroes?” Selina lets out a singular short laugh. “What lame fanboy is behind this shit?”

“I reckon it’s a scientist,” Gordon replies. “The goal is clearly experimentation. Maybe making some sort of army to infiltrate Gotham’s streets.”

Selina watches the Bat close his eyes for a moment, too fleeting for Gordon to notice. He had inspired the Riddler. He had inspired thugs. Maybe he was still Vengeance. Maybe he was too late to become Hope. 

“The chemical composition is particularly advanced,” the Bat says before he can overthink. “I’ve been trying to analyze samples at home, but I’ll need more. Since different types of gasses have different effects on victims, I should try to breakdown every type.”

“GCPD forensics is also on the case,” Gordon replies. “I’ll try to snag different samples of the variants for you.”

“I’m assuming you want me on the ground?” Selina says with a raised brow. Gordon nods, but the Bat’s jaw tenses. 

“I’ll take care of it,” she confirms before heading to drop down from the pulley. The Bat snatches her hand as she turns.

“Can I have a word with you?” he asks softly. Selina nods. 

“I’ll see the two of you later,” Gordon says, looking between the pair. The Bat does not release his grip on Selina until he hears the elevator begin to creak downstairs. 

“I don’t want you gathering samples,” he says immediately. 

“I’m sorry what?” 

“You’ll be put in danger.” Selina looks around in confusion, half of her wanting to scream ‘what’ and the other half wanting to scream ‘the fuck’. 

“B, you’re the one who asked me to be your partner.”

“Yes-”

“You literally attract danger B,” Selina says. “If you didn’t want me in danger, you wouldn’t have asked me to be here.”

“That’s different,” he insists. 

“How?” Selina almost yells. Her voice grows louder by the sentence. “You asked me to be a part of this team, that means contributing. You want me to be your bait every single time? Put me in the club to drag out the goons under Oz? What do you want from me B?”

“I want you safe-”

“Then why did you ask for me back?” Selina cuts him off. “The other day you asked me if I knew my place. I do, and that’s here.” She walks closer to him, trying to sooth herself and hide the rage that had bubbled up moments ago. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers back. “I promise I want you here, I do, I just-”

“Just what?” There is no malice in her interruption this time. If only people could see how truly expressive the Bat was. Everytime he and Selina meet, she notices the cracks within him growing and growing. 

“I almost lost you during the flood,” his voice still low. That softness is back, the kind that contradicts his entire appearance. “I almost lost so many people, and that is a sort of fear that I cannot let constrict myself while I protect this city.”

“B,” Selina walks closer, the two of them almost chest to chest. “Whether you like it or not, you are danger, and the people around you know that. They would willingly risk everything to be by your side.”

“Why do you think I keep my circle so small?” She can’t tell if this is a joke or a sad confession.

“Either way,” Selina says, shaking herself from her thoughts. “I’m honored to be a part of it. And I want to be. I want to be here.”

He knows this, no matter how much she doubts herself. Selina is a stubborn woman, and like a cat, she does not come quickly. He had given her several outs, but the Bat always had a way of talking himself down. 

“Okay,” he whispers. Selina is satisfied with his answer for the time being. She resists the urge to touch his face. To test him in the same way he had tested her at their reunion. Would he lean into her touch? Would he fail the task that she had succeeded?

She gives in, her gloves in her back pocket long ago. Her skin is on his, and despite the December chill, his face is warm. His scruff pricks at her fingers and Selina knows that her thoughts will be full of this interaction for the next few weeks. The Bat swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden touch. She can tell that he’s starved of this. If his inner circle is as small as he suggests, there’s likely no one else tending to his physical needs.

“I-” he begins, voice half choked from such a simple touch. He clears his throat, hoping to get rid of the noise. “Alfred wanted me to give you something.”

His comment doesn’t deter Selina. Instead she trails her hand down from his jawline to his chest, resting her hand over the sharp emblem plastered across it. 

“And what would that be?” The Bat produces an envelope for her from God knows where. 

“I don’t know what it says,” he promises. Alfred has insisted that he not read it. Somehow, his self control won.

“I’ll open it later,” Selina stares at the stationary. “You can always reach me.”

“I know,” he nods. She feels dumb for stating the obvious. They both knew that she still had the contacts. The moment is over, they both should leave. Neither of them moves to do so. 

“I’ll be safe,” She only says it to reassure him. It doesn’t work. 

“You’re too curious for your own good.” Selina lets a puff of air come out of her nose. 

“Well you know what they say…” She trails off. 

“I don’t want you to kill the Cat.”

“You do know the rest of the saying? Right?” It’s a genuine question on her part. 

“Of course.”

“Then you know that I’ll put myself in harm's way despite your warning,” Selina says. “I’ll keep putting myself in danger.”

They both know what she means. There’s far too many of these between them. These unspoken promises. But there’s a sense of relief in knowing that she will stay. That she won’t run off to Bludhaven again. Selina hopes that she won’t break that promise, but fleeing is unfortunately in her nature. She flees now, nodding and trying desperately to ruin the moment. To ignore the feeling blossoming in her cheeks, her heart, her stomach. 

The two of them don’t say a verbal goodbye, simply scaling down the building. It’s better practice than taking the elevator. It’s much more practical. 

She opens the envelope when she gets home. Selina isn’t quite sure what she expected. Envelopes remind her of long meandering letters and missed bills. There’s only a small note inside with a phone number scrawled across it in perfectly neat cursive. 

“For emergencies, Alfred.”

“Thanks Alfred,” she whispers to herself. She’s sure that the Bat would disapprove if he knew she had this information. Not because he’s worried about risking his identity, but because it was one more tug into his world. Into danger. 

Selina promised herself she would only use the number in emergencies, just like Alfred had asked. She only wondered how much trouble the two of them would get into

*

The next time she sees him is two days later. Gordon has her number now. Not only is it a way to keep her in the loop, but it also seems like a way to keep her on a leash. 

They start planning simple patrols on the Eastside of town. The Bat has designed a mask to go with Selina’s suit that should filter any toxic gas she comes in contact with. He fusses over her suit, worried about how breathable the fabric is. Something about gasses seeping through the material and touching her skin. 

She doesn’t let him alter it, embarking on the mission with only the face mask as her newest wardrobe addition. It goes off without a hitch. She manages to capture several of the toxins successfully. Gordon takes any duplicates with him to the forensics lab for study, while the Bat takes his own samples home to analyze himself. Selina thinks he’s anal retentive, but understands his suspicions. Corruption does not go so easily. 

The third mission, he insists on going on the ground with her. It’s clearly a protective part of him. Despite their conversation, her words have not comforted him completely. It’s disappointing to Selina, perhaps she misread the level of trust in their relationship. Would there ever be a day where he could open himself up to her completely? 

The two of them stake out on different parts of the Eastside. Selina stays north while the Bat remains south. Selina tries to rationalize why he was doing physical work with her instead of analyzing her movements behind a computer screen. 

Part of her understands, he hasn’t done any ground work since Gordon, him, and Selina had started looking into this case. He was probably itching for a fight and in a sense, redemption. Being on the street means protecting the victims of Gotham’s brutality. It means gaining the faith of the city’s population. The flood was just the first step. Every day she sees the guilt behind his eyes, the thought that he has yet to do enough. As often as she calls him Vengeance, she knows that he is trying to distance himself from the moniker. Calling him Hope feels too personal, no matter how much she wants to know more about the man behind the mask. 

He is distant. He is the watchful eye at the side of rooms, calculating every single move, hearing every single whisper. Selina prefers to be in on the action, collecting the information first hand. She supposed that was why he eventually caved in to her pleas of doing groundwork. To be fair, he had given her that position first, long ago when she put on her earpiece at the Iceberg Lounge for the first time. 

Coms are set as they prowl the town, his voice in her ear and hers in his. Selina had always thought of the Bat’s voice as gravel. Hard yet small rocks that could cause you to slip, crafty enough to stick in your skin for days on end. She now realizes he is sand. Some call it coarse and rough, once again clinging on in the most irritating of ways, making its mark on those who dare touch it. But Selina has always loved escaping to the beach. Keeping the sand between her toes, soft like a blanket despite the heat of the sun.

Cats did like to sunbathe. 

“See anything on your end?” his voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Nothing of note. The blocks seem fairly clear at the moment, nothing rising up from the sewers just yet.” 

Victims had described the way that the gas had surrounded them, coming from potholes and sewer grates as they walked to corner side bodegas. The Bat had theorized about the creator of this weapon before. Experimenting on members of Gotham’s higher society would cause too much attention. However, the chemist's attempts had been successful so far, with almost every victim gaining some sort of ability after their attack. The disfigurement was the one constant among the patients.

“I think I’ll move back to your side of town,” Selina says. “He’s been striking over here most often. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to test a different sample size.”

The Bat makes an affirmative noise in response, giving Selina the go ahead to jump on her motorcycle and speed across the Eastside of Gotham. All was well, the engine of her motorcycle the only noise comforting her as she rode. 

Suddenly there was a yelp. The Batman does not yelp, he barely even winces through pain unless he is knocked down flat on his back. 

“Baby?” Selina says. She is not panicking, there is no need to panic, she’s simply  overthinking.

“Selina,” he almost whimpers. The reassuring lies she had told herself immediately disappear. She can panic now.

“I’m coming baby,” she says, voice steady. “I’m coming, tell me where you are. I need to know where you are.”

The Bat lists off street names, teeth obviously grit together. Selina weaves through cars, her speedometer rising and rising and rising. She literally dumps her bike when she sees him lying down in an alley. A green liquid seeps through the mesh parts of his suit and realizes the horrible smell that’s wafting over her is the scent of burning skin. 

“B,” she practically screams as she runs towards him. “Oh my god. Okay, this is gonna be okay baby, you’re gonna be okay.” She still can’t tell if she’s telling herself this or him. 

She realizes what she must do. Her fingers swiftly dial the phone number Alfred gave her. 

“Miss Selina,” Alfred says after the first ring. “Is everything alright?”

“There’s been an incident with the chemicals. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know where to go-”

“Are you safe?” His voice is surprisingly level. 

“It’s not me, it’s him,” she tries not to cry. 

“Who, who are you talking, t-to-” her Bats manages to spit out. 

“He took the car, correct?” Alfred’s voice still sounds calm, but there’s a hidden fear behind his sterile words. 

“Did you take the car?” she asks him. He only nods in response, the movement jagged and sharp. She doesn’t bother asking him if he can move. 

Selina drags him towards the Batmobile, his arm draped over her shoulder as he limps along to help her carry his weight. She finds his keys on his belt before hauling him into the passenger seat and putting it down in a lying position. Selina straps him down in every possible area. By this time, the poison is no longer visible, likely soaking into his bloodstream from some unhealed open wound on his body. 

“Where do I go?” Selina chokes out to Alfred. He’s silent. He has a choice to make. 

“Turn on the car, plug your number into the touch screen,” he orders. She obeys at once. “I’ll send you directions. I’m sure you know how to drive a manual car?” Selina nods before she remembers that Alfred can’t see her.

“Yes.”

“Good. The mechanics of the vehicle are simple despite its appearance,” the directions suddenly appear on the screen. Alfred’s voice suddenly runs through the speakers once she starts driving. 

“Alfred,” Bats’ voice growing raspier by the minute. The poison must have some control over his airways as well. “Don’t let her see, don’t let-”

His eyes begin to close and Selina silently prays that he’s merely passing out. With the amount of times she’s prayed to God recently, she might have to take up mass again. 

The map leads her down into a subway system and she speeds despite the bumpiness of the tracks. She’s driving too fast to notice the name Wayne Enterprises plastered across the walls. Alfred is waiting for as she pulls in. The only sounds keeping her focused is the stall of the mobile’s engine and the screeching of bats. 

Alfred rushes over to the passenger side, unbuckling the Bat. Selina moves towards him, holding his feet as Alfred carries his head. He’s placed on top of a table and Alfred begins to dismantle the kevlar suit of armor that hides him from Selina. 

“How can I help?” Selina forces herself to ask. Focusing on the task at hand may help her forget the severe extent her emotions are having on her. 

“There’s charcoal water in the fridge. We’ll need to force feed it to him. If not, an IV. Hopefully it will bind it to the poison and stop further absorption into his blood,” Alfred says as he takes off the shoulder pads. “There should be a ventilator in the closet door by the elevator.” 

Selina does as he says, pushing the ventilator on rolling wheels towards the table before dashing to a mini fridge close by. When she arrives, the Bat is completely shirtless. Her eyes widened for a split moment as she took him in. He is lean like he had suspected, but defined and bulky around the muscles that he most often uses while fighting. She shakes her head before setting the water on the table next to Alfred, who has begun to run blood tests.  He stops once a needle is placed into the Bat’s vein. 

He stares at Selina. He looks as though he is about to cave in. 

“I need to run upstairs,” he says, looking between the body on the table and Selina. “I…”

“I won’t look at him,” Selina swallows. No matter how curious she has become, she knows that curiosity would kill her. And her curiosity could also kill him. “I promise.” 

“That is the issue Miss Kyle,” Alfred says. “I need you to check for head wounds.” Selina tries and fails to stop her mouth from gaping.

“I, I-” Selina begins to stutter. She berates herself. This was not the time to be at a loss for words and she quickly attempted to pull herself together. “Why can’t you do that?”

“Either way you will see his face, Miss Kyle,” Alfred says. “This is a two person job and our maid Dory is squeamish around blood.” 

“I can’t break his trust like that,” she says, tears beginning to prick at the corners of her eyes. “I can’t take a secret with that much weight. He isn’t ready-”

“We have no choice,” Alfred says firmly. “I will gather supplies upstairs while you check. I know you are far too intelligent to run off with this information.” Alfred begins to head towards the elevator before stopping in his tracks. His eyes soften as he turns around to look at her. “I also know you care far too much about him to tip the scales in your favor.”

Selina nods and waits for Alfred to go upstairs before turning back to face her Bat. Her B.

“Please forgive me,” she whispers. “I understand if you never can. You have given me bits at a time and now I have to take this, for your sake.” 

She slowly removes his cowl, much like a child refusing to rip off a bandaid. Selina doesn’t dare look into his eyes once it is removed, making herself move around parts of his hair to look for blood. There seems to be none as she maneuvers his head in her hands. After five minutes of avoidance she forces herself to finally look at his face. 

Selina gets to swim in those blue eyes up close. His makeup is smeared down the sides of his cheeks, raccoonish in a way that would be adorable if not for the circumstances the two of them were in. His hair is flopping down into his face now, covering his eyebrows. The Bat does not move at all as she investigates him. His skin is still soft despite the familiar stubble. 

There’s a flicker of recognition as she stares and stares and stares. Whatever could the letter B mean? He has a maid, he has a butler, and he clearly has connections. The rich part of her theory is correct. 

It hits her all at once. A man that she had once despised pops into her mind. This is Bruce Wayne. 

This is where the money goes. After the flood, the Wayne Foundation began to rebuild, donating millions of dollars to the rebuilding of Gotham. Wayne made frequent public appearances, moving onto the front lines to pull civilians out of the wreckage. His waders and mask made him fairly unrecognizable, but the media soon caught wind. It was clear that his actions weren’t meant as a publicity stunt. He gave no comment of his on the ground work when pestered by multiple journalists at press conferences. These small acts of kindness were what turned the tide on Selina’s opinion of Bruce Wayne. She had not been completely won over, but his dedication certainly made her heart crumble.

It seems that the Batman was not just a nocturnal animal, but rather a lonely child trying to fix his family’s broken legacy. The Bat began it all and the flood began to finish it. 

“Bruce,” she tries the name on her tongue. Despite her attempts to deny it, she had always found the man quite handsome. 

“Bruce,” Alfred whispers from behind her. She turns to face him, heart in her throat. 

“I…” Selina doesn’t know what to say. 

“Any head injuries?” Alfred may be asking out of concern for his adopted son, but also to distract Selina from the thoughts racing in her head. 

“No,” she says. 

“Well,” Alfred replies before changing into a new set of gloves. “Help me stitch him up.”

*

Bruce wakes up with a gasp and the weight of the world on his chest. Needles are pressed into both of his arms and he can feel cool sweat dripping down his forehead despite feeling overheated. 

He does not care about his condition, he only cares about-

“Selina,” Bruce yells, whipping his head around the room. Alfred, who had been sitting beside him, wakes up with a start. His hands instantly push Bruce back down on the table.

“She’s safe,” he says. “She’s upstairs. I told her to go to sleep.”

“She knows, doesn’t she?” Alfred nods. “How could you?” Bruce’s voice cracks. “Do you understand what you have done? The kind of people that she hates? I am dead to her now. I am nothing to her because that is what I have always been.”

“If you are nothing then why did I have to drag her upstairs?” Alfred asks. “Why did I have to force her away from your bedside so she could finally rest? Bruce, that woman has been beside you since she dragged you from that alleyway thirty six hours ago.”

Bruce swallows, looking down at the burn marks scattered across his chest. 

“Drink,” Alfred hands him a bottle of water. Despite wanting to spite the man, thirst takes over. 

“Were you able to take any of the poison?” Asking about the case will distract him from Selina. 

“I was able to separate some from your bloodstream. I wasn’t able to get much, but I sent a vial over to your friend at the GCPD and put the other in your lab.” 

“Thank you.” Bruce says. He genuinely means it, but his voice is still flat. Selina won’t be able to leave his mind for quite some time. 

“I’ll leave you alone for now,” Alfred says. “You should get some more rest before we move you upstairs to your room.”

Bruce stares at the wires and tubes extending from his body. He knows he has no choice but to comply. 

“Bruce,” his head snaps up to look at Alfred. “She cares about you.”

“She cares about the Bat,” Bruce says definitively. 

“No,” Alfred shakes his head. “Miss Kyle did not stop once she saw your face Bruce. She did not stop once. That worry she had when she took you home remained level the whole time. I dare say it increased once she saw the complete state you were in.”

Bruce tries to find comfort in Alfred’s words, but once again fails. Alfred leaves before Bruce can get another word out. He remains anxious until sleep overtakes him half an hour later. 

*

He sleeps in his room now. Alfred checks his vitals every day and brings him breakfast in bed. Selina has not visited despite living in the tower for several days. Part of Bruce wants to leap out of bed and confront her in his guest room, but cats spook easily, and miraculously he has yet to scare her off. He’d like to keep it that way. 

There’s an old episode of Buffy playing on the TV in his room. He’s too lazy to change the channel. Thankfully Alfred no longer forces him to have the IVs in at all times, giving him the chance to toss around in his sleep like he usually does. He tends to curl into a ball or sleep on his front, murmuring about case information as he barely gets rest. 

It’s while he turns over to the side that he hears a knock at his bedroom door. 

“What, Alfred?” Bruce grumbles.

“Not Alfred,” Selina replies, taking it as her cue to enter the room. Bruce’s head shoots up instantly, staring wide eyed at his partner standing in his room as though this was something that happened regularly. He might be clothed, but without the mask on he felt naked in front of her.

“Selina,” he whispers.

“B,” she whispers back, walking towards him. She carefully sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. There are words coming up her throat and she’s terrified they will come spilling out without rehearsal. 

“Why didn’t you leave?” Bruce’s voice cracks. Her eyes soften, just another tear for her to patch up. 

“You’re someone I care about,” Selina says, her hand reaching for Bruce’s. Her fingers carefully wrap around his. “I took something from you without your say. Secrets shouldn’t be stripped away like that.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Bruce replies. If this was the only reason she was here, he’d prefer for her to leave.

“I’m here because you are a solace,” she admits. “You are a rope to cling onto while we race through the streets and I cannot let you go.”

“You can’t let him go,” Bruce says. Selina shakes her head, a breathy sad laugh leaving her. 

“No,” she replies. “I can’t leave you. Not the Bat, not Bruce, I can’t leave you.” 

Her hand moves from his back to his cheek. She’ll never get tired of touching him, never get tired of his reactions to the feeling. He gives instead of holding out like the two of them have done before, leaning into her palm. He has some control, as he tells himself not to nuzzle into it. 

She rubs her thumb gently over his lip before pulling herself completely onto his bed, legs folded over each other. Bruce lays back down from his upright position, head on the pillow as she plays with his hair. It’s tender, it’s sweet. The sound of the television makes the whole exchange feel domestic and Selina can’t help but to place a kiss on Bruce’s forehead. He audibly sighs at the feeling of her lips touching his brow. It makes her laugh just a little. 

“You truly are touch starved, aren’t you?” Bruce scowls at her words. “I’m just teasing you. Besides, I can change that.”

A sweet sigh leaves Bruce’s mouth at Selina’s words. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you baby?” Bruce can only nod. “Let me know if I hurt you, or if it’s too much.”

He once again nods, too nervous to say anything. Selina pulls the covers off of Bruce gently before straddling his waist. She’s still cradling his head in her hands like a delicate piece of china. It’s then that she decides to kiss him. A small press of her lips against his, her hands moving down his chest as she leans into him. Bruce is quick to reciprocate, wrapping an arm around her waist, trying to find a way to deepen it. Selina laughs against his lips. A part of it is out of joy that she’s with him, the other at his endearing eagerness. 

“Slow down cowboy,” she mumbles, her smile still pressed against his.

“I’m trying, I swear,” he presses a kiss against her jawline to emphasize his point. The soft presses travel down her neck, nothing open mouthed, no teeth in sight. He’s simply applying pressure to one of the most modest yet sensitive parts of her, and it seems like he can’t get enough. 

“You can give me more,” Selina softly sighs. “I can handle it.” Bruce blushes.

“I’m not entirely sure I know how,” he mumbles into her skin. God was his inexperience cute. 

“Let me show you,” Selina all but purrs, pushing Bruce gently against the headboard and pulling his shirt off. Bruce freezes slightly once the shirt is off, but doesn’t make any effort to stop her. Selina herself decides to stop moving her wandering hands.

She stares across his chest. A treasure map of bruises, scars, stitches and the recent burns. She understands now why he stopped. Bruce looks down at her to see not disgust, but pleading eyes. 

“You’re not hideously scarred,” she whispers. Her fingers trail across a prominent scar just under his collarbone. She kisses it gently before moving onto one mark after another, almost as if her love could heal every single one. Bruce runs a hand over her short hair as she travels across his skin, trying not to tear up at her actions. 

“I want to take care of you,” he says, hands moving down her waist. “Let me take care of you. You’ve taken care of me.”

Just like she did, Bruce carefully removes her top. He seems to be a student who responds quickly by watching and learning. She guides his hands up and down her chest, moving one of his hands to unclasp her bra. It takes him a few tries but soon enough it’s off and discarded, leaving her torso completely exposed to him. 

He stares. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Selina remains a patient teacher, moving to lay on her back so he can kiss down her chest just like she did to him. His tongue swirls a nipple, experimenting gently. Blue eyes watch her every move, searching for every little twitch and whine. His hands grip her closer, a desperate plea to make sure she doesn’t squirm away. He can’t have her escape now. 

They move down to the waistband of her leggings, teasing and snapping as he places kisses along her stomach now. Selina moves her legs wider in anticipation, not truly expecting him to make a move, but preparing in case he gathered the courage to pull her bottoms off. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You can do whatever you’d like.”

“Do you promise to teach me?” Selina melts. 

“Whatever you want baby,” she rises back up to give him a soft kiss. “I’ll help you with whatever you want.”

That’s all Bruce needs to desperately pull off her leggings and panties. He spreads her legs, hands gripping her thighs tightly, already leaving red marks against her. He falters a bit, clearly realizing the situation he’s in.

“You don’t have t-”

“I want to,” Bruce nods enthusiastically. “I want to taste all of you.” Those words should not leave a shiver running down Selina’s spine, but they get to her nevertheless. 

Bruce situates himself back between her legs, pressing a kiss against the curls guarding her. He licks once, ever so slowly up against her cunt and feels Selina’s thighs begin to clench around his head. He takes this as a good sign, moving to do the action once again. This time Bruce stops at the little pearl at the top of Selina’s pussy. He was a smart man, he knew basic female anatomy, so Bruce decided that his best course of action was to suck. His tongue swirled around Selina’s clit, gathering the taste of girl onto his lips, leaving Selina to moan and beg and put her hands in his hair. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” Selina whimpered. “That’s it baby, such a good boy.”

Bruce tries to ignore the way her praise goes straight to his cock. He distracts himself by tracing little figure eights on her hips, spelling her name out with his fingers. He kisses her hip bone, nipping at the fat of her thigh before tugging with his teeth. His tongue immediately soothes the red spot that follows.

“Fingers?” He whispers against her skin.

“Please,” she gasps out. “Fuck, please B.” Even as she lays in her bed Selina uses his name. Not the name he was given at birth, not the name that Gotham had given him, Selina uses his name. 

He fulfills her wish, his index finger breaching her and slowly moving in and out. He begins to explore, ever perceptive, ever the experimenter. Small crooks of his finger have her gasping and moaning the most. Her breathing halts when he touches a particular spot and that’s when he decides to abuse it. Adding a second finger into her, he pries her way open. The way she clenches around his fingers is delicious, but the taste of her is so much better. 

Bruce decides to dive back in, her clit on his tongue as his lithe fingers continue to play with her.

“Jesus Christ baby,” Selina groans. “Gonna cum if you keep touching me like that.”

“Isn’t that the goal?” Bruce replies, face slick with her. Selina nods vigorously.

“Yes, yes please, ye-” Bruce laps at her before she can continue to beg. She sounds like the crescendo in a symphony, rising higher and higher and higher before one final crest. Her breathing is a whole rest. Her sigh, the end.

“Are you sure you haven’t done that before?” Selina asks with a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t feed my ego like that,” Bruce says, chin still glistening. Selina kisses him then, the taste of her shared on their tongues as she grinds on his lap. She can feel his cock salivatingly hard through his boxers. 

“It’s unfair that I’m completely bare for you and I don’t get to see…” She plays with his waistband just as he had played with hers. Bruce gulps, simply out of nerves and the pleasure of being teased. “We don’t have to go further-”

“I need you to go further,” Bruce whispers. Selina obliges, taking his cock out with a gentle pull and tugging him up and down slowly. She doesn’t bother looking, she’d prefer to see this sight. Bruce Wayne in front of her with his eyes closed, head only supported by the headboard behind him. The first moan he unleashes at her first touch could easily be her favorite sound. She needs to ride him.

“Where do you want me baby?” She asks sweetly. She knows exactly where she wants to be. 

“Wanna feel, w-wanna-” It’s Bruce’s turn to stutter now. A time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. 

“Feel what angel?” Selina coos. “You can’t get it unless you tell me.”

“In you,” Bruce manages to sigh out. “Wanna be in you.”

“But where in me?” Selina asks coyly. She’s playing with her food just for the fun of it. “Come on baby, tell me.”

“Wanna feel your pussy,” Bruce whimpers, truly and beautifully whimpers. Selina has no choice but to say yes. 

“Of course baby,” Selina says, moving to put him inside of her. “How could I ever deny you?”

It’s then that she decides to finally look at his length, and God was it just the way she liked it. A little bit thick, a few extra inches, and enough for her to take everyday without being in pain. 

She sits herself down slowly, enjoying every single bit of the stretch. The noise Bruce makes when she gently puts the tip of his cock in is unhinged. Part growl, part gasp, Bruce swears that he is in heaven. Selina is the closest he would ever reach to it, and that was more than enough for him.

“You want me to move B?” Selina asks when she’s fully seated down. Bruce can only nod, too scared at what noise might come out of his mouth. She doesn’t tease him this time, merely beginning the slow bounce up and down as she rests her hands on his shoulders. 

Bruce reaches out to pull her flush against his chest, a hand on her back as he begins to thrust up into her, matching her rhythm. Selina sighs into his shoulders, clutching and desperately grabbing at his back. Despite her resolve, she claws at him. Long red marks traveling across his shoulder blades and spine. The pain seems to only encourage Bruce. It’s a sign that she’s more than enjoying herself. 

“Don’t know if I can-”

“It’s okay baby,” Selina coos. “You can cum in me.”

“Should’ve asked if-” Bruce gets out. “If safe, if-”

“I’m safe Bruce, I promise,” Selina presses a kiss to his shoulder. He was far more considerate than any man had been to her before when it came to protection. “You can cum in me, I want you to. Can you do that for me B?”

And Bruce could never deny her, just as he could never deny him. He finishes inside her with a sob, feeling slightly embarrassed at how soon the pleasure was over. Selina strokes his hair as he comes down, making no attempt to get off of him.

“You okay baby?” Selina caresses his face. It’s become one of her favorite things to do. Bruce is unable to speak, he only nods. “Do you wanna sleep?”

“Yeah,” his voice comes out hoarse. 

“Okay babe, let’s get you cleaned up,” Selina goes to move off before she’s tugged back against Bruce’s chest.

“No,” he grumbles. “Just stay.” He pulls the sheets up over them, maneuvering the two of them on their sides. Bruce’s cock remains in Selina as she wraps her legs around her waist. She’s too pleasure drunk to disagree, and if she felt this fuzzy, she could only imagine the high Bruce was going through. 

“Okay baby,” Selina pressed a kiss to Bruce’s head. “Sleep now.”

“Sleep now,” he mumbled. 

Selina remembered tragedy. She remembered her mother and Annika and the flood. She remembered the Waynes dead in the street and their son watching them carried in caskets down Main. 

She remembers that it brought the two of them together. That the scales would not have been balanced if not for their secrets. 

Selina Kyle may not believe in fairy tales, but maybe she could finally believe in the kindness of familiar yet distant strangers. 

She could finally rest. 

[yoshimickster]

FINALLY a version of Batman where him saying he should focus on his career instead of love is shown as a BAD thing. 

Ironically though, I like that they made Selina WANT to be alone, in the comics it always feels she’s making just as many excuses as Bruce not to be together , whereas in Harley Quinn though she’s clearly happy with solitude. 

Whether she changes her mind or not, I’m kinda more interested in Harley Quinn’s BatCat than the comic’s version! Primarily since they...actually talk in PERSON and not over the phone, while Selina’s creepy and debatable Ghostmaker knock off new love interest Valmont walks around half naked. 

[maidenvault]

I love (LOVE) your interpretation and analysis of the Batman/Catwoman dynamic. Could you talk more about the significance of him almost murdering that goon for her, like do we think he would’ve had that same response if it had been, say, Gordon in the same position and do you think Batman’s anxiety over Selena’s safety will come into play again?

Gosh thank you, anon. <3

So it's hard to fully grasp what's going on with Bruce in that scene and how much he's in his right mind because it's never explained what that green stuff is that he injects himself with. It's a nitpick lots of people have about the movie that this feels like a moment of payoff for something that wasn't actually set up (there was apparently an even longer original cut, so possibly this was set up in a cut scene). Is it a venom-like chemical that comes up because we may get Bane in a sequel? We don’t know.

And that's too bad, because the fact that we only see it used in a moment of extreme desperation at the end suggests that this adrenaline-like stuff is something he carries for use only as an absolute last resort because it has some risk, and that should be explained! The rage he goes into pummeling that guy I'm sure was partly fueled by seeing him hurt Selina, who has been through so much at the hands of piece-of-shit men now (her mother was murdered, her friend was murdered, her own father just tried to do the same to her...Maybe it's just me that experienced it this way but even without this scene actually portraying sexual assault, it made it feel especially sinister that we mostly don't see what this man's doing to her while Bruce tries to get up, because for a few seconds you can imagine anything). But he definitely also seems to have his inhibitions affected as well. So my only disappointment with it is this scene would be even more impactful if we knew already that it's potentially dangerous for himself and/or others to use this drug but he chooses to do it to save her.

Of course this scene has more on its mind than just further cementing their relationship. This is a really angry Batman. When he beats up that street gang there’s a shocking brutality to it, even if he’s using that anger in a controlled way. Obviously it’s meaningful that it's the person he comes so close to killing when he loses control who echoes the "I am vengeance" line and makes him have his horrible epiphany about his methods. To think that someone who would have killed Selina was in some indirect way radicalized and made so dangerous because of his own influence on Gotham.

After he came so close to crossing the line this time and had this realization afterwards, Bruce flying off the handle like this over Selina isn't something I really expect to see again. But I definitely think we could see him pushed to his limits or compromised because of how he cares about her again. It's often a defining part of batcat that she’s a huge weakness for him and constantly threatens to be the exception to all his rules. She's on the wrong side of the law and he's too emotionally involved. What makes it so delicious is that he's such a ridiculously self-disciplined person and it clearly takes nothing short of completely irrational, mind-melting passion to make him bend even a little bit, and well. YEAH. Battinson is definitely already really intense and not normal about her, lol, I think he would do basically anything for her. Especially because he has very few people who are important to him - he respects Gordon a lot, but I don't think he cares about him like that yet. It seems to take so much for him to even talk about what it meant to him to almost lose Alfred, he is so terrified of losing people if he loves them.

[zahri-melitor]

Thinking about Black Canary and Tom King again, and while this might just be cope on my part: I can only think of one major incident of his comics not being what the pitch sounded like.

Now I think some of his pitches are absolutely not my thing or indeed make me mad. But the only real fake out I think he's had is the BatCat Wedding, and that looks very much like editorial dictate rather than King's actual choice (particularly given he proceeded to write an entire Black Label maxi about them being together forever and his contribution to the Catwoman 80th anniversary issue was "how Bruce and Selina have Helena". The man is a shipper).

Like: Trinity being Not My Thing was immediately obvious from the very first solicits onwards. "We're having a Jenny Sparks title!" had me cautiously interested but only if it were set in the 20th century; the initial solicit made it clear it was set in the 21st century and Tom King Processing His Feelings About The American War Machine.

Danger Street (which I have not read yet) is pitched specifically as "only based on the first issue specials" even though certain characters in there definitely had far longer histories than just being a first issue special (Warlord! Metamorpho! Creeper!)

Grayson is clear from the pitch itself "Dick Grayson operates as a super spy out of St Hadrian's" what elements of it were going to work for some people and not work for others.

Mister Miracle is very clearly, you know, a book about Scott and Barda and the trauma of war (and it's probably one of King's best versions of that story).

Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow was pitched as a journey of growth to find herself and...that's what we got.

King's Batman pitch was very clearly "BatCat" and "let's do Bane as the Big Bad again" and what do you know, that's what we got.

His Wonder Woman run was very clear from the outset that he wanted to play with 'the US and military turn against the Amazons'. Whether you wanted an Amazons Attack rerun or not, it was obvious from the start.

So while I am still super cautious about Black Canary: what he's told us about the pitch so far is in the wheelhouse of what I want from a title about Dinah. The stories he seems to want to base it out of are stories that I like.

If those are stories you don't like, that's fine. But even though I am not allowed to get my hopes up as it's a Black Canary solo, I'm feeling less worried about say a 2007 bait and switch happening on me.

[bigskydreaming]

In DC news, I see the Batman/Catwoman special is finally coming out, and the previews talk about Bruce and Selina’s intertwined childhoods.

Maybe its because I’ve never been a huge Bruce shipper in general, I like Brutalia in older stories like Birth of the Demon, I’ve liked Brulina in other stories, or Batcat I guess is the official name for them since Brulina sounds like a French dessert you set on fire or something idk, look clearly I have evidence for my claims of never being a huge Bruce shipper, I don’t even know his SHIP NAMES OKAY.

But point being, I honestly don’t know where I stand on the idea of Bruce and Selina’s childhoods having intertwined or having encountered each other as kids. Like correct me if I’m wrong but I assume its born of their character interactions in the Gotham show, I don’t think it was ever a thing writers played with before that, so maybe the fact that I never really got into Gotham either is why it doesn’t exactly snag me and feels a little too.....contrived for me? But on the other hand, I don’t like, HATE it by any means, and look at me, I’m like the original Dick/Boone shipper, I can’t say SHIT about contrived childhood interactions leading to eventual shippenings. I freely acknowledge this.

So idk. Thoughts? Yes to child Bruce and Selina having had playdates pre adult Batcat having date dates or no its too cutesy, they should just not?

SWAY ME, anons. I am tired of straddling this fence like some kind of STRADDLER, I want to be SWAYED.

[its-all-ineffable]

Inspired by a post from @lesbians-love-samwilson on the racism (and biphobia that she briefly touched on) towards Selina Kyle in The Batman 2022 fandom. Adding on to her post was insensitive, and I can't talk much about the racism as I'm not a black woman, so I deeply apologise for that. Here was what I'd put, mainly on the biphobia I've seen as I'm able to comment on that being a bi woman. Please go read @lesbians-love-samwilson's original post, it's very good and much needed.

Honestly, this horrifies me. Especially as a bisexual white woman. I LOVE Batcat in this movie, and I assumed that most fans also loved them.

But apparently, no. They do this. They try and pull them apart and diminish Selina. And most of the fans doing this? WHITE WOMEN. It actually makes me ashamed to be part of this fandom and be a white woman, when I see things like this.

Selina is a complex and interesting character, and is KEY to Bruce's character development in this movie. They are also clearly madly in love with one another. If you don't ship them, then okay. But so many people say that they "have no chemistry" and that Selina's "just a lesbian" etc. Stop using bullshit excuses (that are also clearly racist) to justify that fact that you, as OP says, can't empathize with a black woman and don't see how your white boy fave can possibly love a complex black female character.

Also, dismissing Selina's bisexuality, or using it to justify her not being with Bruce/never having liked him and being with only another woman is straight out biphobia. Us bisexuals are STILL BISEXUAL even if we are in a relationship with someone who's not the same gender as us. And two bisexuals in a m/f relationship is still a QUEER relationship. Even if Bruce isn't bi (he is in my hc), Selina is still bisexual even if they are together. Being in a m/f relationship doesn't cancel out her bisexuality.

The amount of racism and biphobia surrounding Selina and the Batcat relationship in this fandom is actually sickening and I agree with EVERYTHING OP said.

If you can't fathom why Bruce is interested in her and keep clinging to your shitty racist excuses, I'm sorry, but why the fuck do you like this movie, and why are you in its fandom?!

[forevercloudnine]

I know basically every Riddler fan unequivocally hates Prelude to the Wedding: Batgirl vs. Riddler, but I originally read it in a vacuum straight off of “War of Jokes and Riddles” after avoiding all modern Riddler content for years, and I thought it was both a) the most novel approach to Riddler having a “romantic interest” since Joker’s Asylum in 2010, and b) ridiculously loaded with (probably?) unintentional subtext. So here’s why I think it’s interesting, which for me is basically equivalent to being “good.”

The Wedding Thing

So, the inciting incident that leads Edward to seek out Barbara is the discovery that Batman is marrying Catwoman. The idea that Batman could not only fall in love with a criminal but decide to start a life with them makes him reconsider what he thought was possible, and wonder if he could potentially achieve something similar.

Arguably, that much would be a natural reaction to any supervillain finding out that Catwoman is marrying a superhero (“You can do that????”), but what’s decidedly less rational is Edward’s subsequent conclusion that if X = BatCat wedding, Y = Batgirl is his soulmate.

What makes this especially disturbing is that Edward and Barbara have clearly never interacted before; it’s stated multiple times in the comic. So Riddler basically just saw the bat symbol on the chest of an adult woman and assumed that they were kismet (I wonder if he just lucked out in not choosing Kate, or if he’d heard through the grapevine that she doesn’t swing that way). 

This is pretty fucked up. It’s also inherently self-defeating, which interestingly enough, seems intentional on Edward’s part. In their final confrontation, he notes that despite having led her on a wedding-themed riddle quest across Gotham (having her rescue a florist, a DJ, and a priest), he’s not delusional enough to think that they would ever actually get married. In his own words, he’s no Catwoman; this New 52/Rebirth version of Edward has killed too many people to believe that he could ever end up with a superhero.

(This is offtopic, and forgive me for momentarily pretending that comics have internal continuity, but this bit did remind me of how in Batman Annual #4, Edward gets angry at Bruce Wayne for getting amnesia and thus being able to escape his brokenness enough to get married and have a “happy ending.”)

Batgirl vs. Riddler ends with Edward saying that Batman marrying Catwoman has forever changed his perspective, and his confrontation with Batgirl was him trying to grapple with a question that has been eluding him ever since— “what if?” Readers might point out that if he was wondering “what if” he wasn’t a serial killer and could have normal relationships, then putting a bunch of people in death traps for a superhero to save was a really stupid way to solve that mystery for himself. Which... yes. Yes it is.

This comic is kind of the opposite of Joker’s Asylum, where Edward is trying to solve the riddle of how to “win” a woman... and then discards her as soon as he succeeds, because she was just a puzzle to be solved. Here, Edward seems to be trying to solve himself, and is using his “love interest” as a tool to do so. He might even be hoping that Batgirl will solve the puzzle for him, though obviously his ego would prevent him from actually saying that. The pageantry of leaving clues for wedding themed crimes is pretty clearly just an excuse to guarantee an audience for when he talks about himself. And he does A LOT of that.

The Monologuing

Nearly the entirety of this comic is just Batgirl listening to audio tapes that Edward left for her, in which he goes into uncomfortable detail about his personal life that Barbara clearly doesn’t want to hear. She learns his favorite music, that he considers himself a former “mild-mannered software engineer” (a career that doesn’t fit with any of the other canon information we have about his past, but... whatever), and that he is under the impression that he’s Batman’s archenemy (keep pushing that narrative, Eddie). She also learns about his “history with females” (his words).

He describes how in his previous romantic experiences with women, he was attracted to them “for a time, in a way,” but that after his initial curiosity had passed there was “no real feeling” to the encounters. He tells Barbara that Joker’s anger and distress over Batman marrying Catwoman caused him to reconsider why his relationships with women were always so passionless... and hilariously concludes that he must be a “sapiophile,” and he’s just never been with any women who were smart enough for him.

My Inevitable Riddlebat Conclusion

So to summarize: Edward heard that Batman was marrying a supervillain, was shocked by the fact that this was a possibility and started obsessing over it for himself, re-evaluated all his previous relationships with women and realized that he had never been fully interested in them, and decided that his real soulmate was a person wearing a bat costume. It really reads like Edward was halfway to realizing he was in love with Batman, then reversed gears and decided to project his sexuality crisis onto a woman he’s never met instead.

Through this lens, it’s pretty notable that Edward isn’t really doing anything to seduce Batgirl at all. He’s just doing the same riddle-crime routine he always does with Batman. Beat for beat, Batgirl vs. Riddler is actually incredibly similar in structure to “Alone,” one of my favorite Rebirth Riddler comics: the main difference is that the panels of Batman solving Edward’s riddle hunt is offset by Edward talking to his psychiatrist, not monologuing into a tape recorder. Again, not to imply that there is any internal continuity in comics, but that story also features Edward hoping someone else will “solve” him— Edward himself is confused and torn over why he continuously leads Batman directly to him in their games, and gets angry and disappointed when his psychiatrist misunderstands his motivations rather than figuring him out.

Unlike “Alone,” all Edward’s dialogue in Batgirl vs. Riddler is recorded ahead of his crime spree. When Edward on the tape recorder tells Batgirl that he anticipates that he might fall in love with her if she successfully solves all his riddles, it’s framing the entire escapade as an experiment for himself. Barbara’s feelings don’t even matter, since Edward is assuming from the get-go that she would never be interested in a mass murderer. He’s basically testing whether he would fall in love with a woman who checks off all the same boxes that Batman does, right down to solving his ridiculous riddle crimes while wearing bat ears. 

Regardless of Riddler’s feelings towards Batman, he obviously spends this story testing a hypothetical of what actual love would be like for him, even though he believes that it’s not something he can actually have. Barbara, despite having never met the man, is the unfortunate target of this self-exploration. Interestingly, she does come to some understanding: after kicking Edward off of a building, she decides to bite the bullet and call Nightwing, realizing that dwelling over the “what ifs” of their relationship was much more miserable than facing potential disappointment by being honest about what she wants.

[fyeahbatcat]

With all the headaches DC has to offer us with BatCat, my question is: beyond DC Publishing and beyond the writers, how do you see the future of Bruce and Selina? If they can't get married, do you think they can at least live together as a simple uncommitted couple who love each other? Thank you so much 😊

I will just say for the record: I do not, nor have I ever, believed that marriage is the endgame for Bruce and Selina. Would that be nice? Would I like to see it? Hell yeah! I think there’s a lot of new, untold storytelling opportunity there. But that was never my expectation or standard. I also don't think just because two people aren't married that that means they aren't committed to each other.

I think, except for AUs/multiverse/etc. and a very brief time back in the 80s Bruce and Selina have never gotten to be in an actual relationship. “Hey Britt, but what about [That thing we don’t talk about anymore by that person we no longer acknowledge]?” Without getting too much into it; I no longer feel that that time *counts*.

They’ve definitely dated in a kind of non-committal way but they’ve never been together in a way that I think reflects their feelings for each other.  Hush was a really pivotal changing point in the way their relationship was portrayed. The post Hush era made very clear just how strong Bruce and Selina’s feelings and love for each other was and it was canonical. They were vulnerable with each other, they supported each other when they were at their lowest, and they professed their love for each. All of that was consistent for the remainder of the Pre-Flashpoint era, and yet they weren’t in any sort of official relationship.

All I’ve ever wanted is to see what it would be like if they decided to really act on those feelings and really commit to being with each other in relationship and trying to make it work. I’m not asking for rainbows and butterflies all the time, conflict is good for stories, I just want to see what it would be like if they really got together and decided to put effort into making it work and then sustain that for at least a while. I don’t think that’s asking for too much, but clearly DC Comics disagrees. All of the ingredients of a real and loving relationship have been there for a very, very long time; it’s just needs to be put together.