#some new things for my cat bec he really needed a new harness and i wanted to get him a food bowl that's elevated so he doesn't get sick...

[7-oh-ta1]

Enamel pin prices aren't even unreasonable but the bad news is Shipping Fees

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli

Warnings | Mentions of blood, Canon-typical violence

Rating | K+

Genre | Friendship, Family, Snark (Is that a genre...?)

Guest Stars | Harvey Bullock, Ornell Sackett (OC)

Word Count | 1.7K

Summary: Help comes from an unexpected source when a suspect is kicking the snot out of Jim. Cue Agents of Shield references, a large dose of Harvey!snark, and a lovely dollop of protective!Harvey.

The third punch sent Jim reeling, stars and colors bursting behind his eyes. This was not how he had seen his day going. Pushing off the brick alley wall, he turned back to his assailant just in time to catch a meaty fist square in the face.

Ow.

He staggered and dropped to his knees on the rough pavement, blood spurting from his nose. Then a heavy boot connected with his chest and suddenly his cheek was pressed into the asphalt.

He grunted. He could hear Harvey's I-told-you-sos already.

The boots stepped into his field of vision, and Jim struggled to his hands and knees just in time to catch the kick in his side rather than his face. Flat on his back now, Jim watched as the surrounding buildings swam against the gray clouds of Gotham.

He knew another blow was surely coming, and he knew he should probably do something to avoid it, but he couldn't find the energy to move. When several seconds passed without any sign of his attacker other than an intelligent, "huh?" and a loud clonk, he wondered if he had been forgotten. There was another clonk, followed by a thud, and then footsteps.

Great. Another thug who wanted a piece of the imprudent GCPD detective. He should definitely do something now. He groaned, and was about to try to roll to his feet when this new threat interrupted his view of the Gotham skyline.

"Hiya, Detective." Selina Kyle stood leaning over him, hands planted on her knees and an insufferably smug smile on her face.

Jim frowned. Was he hallucinating? He didn't think he had been hit that hard. "Selina? What are you doing here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks, Cat! That guy was really kicking the snot out of me."

"Yeah." He shifted successfully, if painfully, into a sitting position and smeared at the blood still pouring from his nose with the back of his thumb. "That, too I guess." His halfhearted attempt to stem the blood flow ceased abruptly when his eyes landed on the fallen form of his attacker, spread-eagled on the pavement, a sizable welt already forming on the side of his head. "Did you just—?"

Selina pulled a large glass bottle from her coat and flipped it in the air, catching it with cat-like grace. "Lucky for you, the local booze joints dump right outside my digs."

"Huh." Jim gave up on his nose and rubbed experimentally at his jaw, instead. Ow. "So what brings you to this part of the neighborhood?"

She shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms. "I could ask you the same question, Detective."

"I feel like we've had this conversation before." He struggled to his feet with a barely suppressed grunt and gestured at the prone form beside him. "Ornell Sackett."

Selina smirked. "Well, he certainly sacked you."

"Funny. He's a suspect in a murder investigation." He pulled his phone from his jacket and dialed 911. "This is Detective Gordon, badge number two-three-six-seven-four. I have a suspect unconscious at 24th and Finley, in the alley between Sergio's and…" he glanced at the sign hanging above the second establishment's back door, "Arnold's Florals. Gonna need a bus." Returning his phone to its pocket, he reached back for his handcuffs and set about restraining the man in question. The last thing he needed was for Sackett to wake up and come at them again. Then he called Harvey.

"Hey. I got him in custody, but he's gonna need to be checked out by a doc before we can bring him in. Yeah. Okay. See you in a few." Flipping the phone closed, he looked up, somewhat surprised to find Selina still present, sitting cross-legged atop a trash can. "You're still here."

"That's quite the observation, there, Gordon. I see why you made detective."

He sighed. "Usually, when our paths cross in the city, you take off at the first opportunity—probably with my watch or my wallet. Or leave me in a sewer."

"That was one time." He raises his eyebrows and she shrugs in acknowledgment, amending, "And it probably won't be the last."

"Exactly."

A siren wailed in the distance, growing nearer, and Selina swung her legs off the trash can. "Well, as fun as this has been, Detective, I'm afraid I can't hang around long enough to see the touching reunion between you and your pals at the GCPD."

"Selina, wait."

She did, head tilted, eyes hard.

"Stay a little longer. Harvey'll be here in a minute, and he'll have seen that Fitzsimmons' food truck is parked two blocks away, which means as soon as he's allowed to leave the scene, he's gonna be dragging me over there. Eat with us."

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll take my chances somewhere where there aren't a dozen cops waiting for an excuse to send me upstate."

"No one is going to send you upstate, Selina. Not on my watch."

"Sure. Whatever." She turned to go.

"Hey."

She paused with a dramatic sigh, back still towards him, her very posture oozing annoyance.

"Thank you."

She turned back just enough to meet his eyes, her own glinting with mischief as she gave him a two-fingered salute and darted away, disappearing into the maze of Gotham's underbelly.

Jim sighed, turning his attention to the ambulance that had pulled up at the entryway behind him.

A few minutes later, Jim watched, standing by with the two of the uniformed officers now on the scene, as the EMTs loaded the still-unconscious Sackett onto a gurney.

"I gotta admit, partner, I underestimated you."

Jim's eyes closed when he heard Harvey Bullock's voice behind him.

"I'm impressed! You takin' down a hard hitter like Sackett all by your lonesome. I gotta tell ya, I thought you were gonna get your—"

Jim reluctantly turned to face his partner.

"—butt kicked." Harvey's face went from amiable pride to shock to concern in record time, and he was he was at Jim's side in an instant, poking and prodding him to determine the extent of his injuries.

"Harvey—" Jim swatted at his partner's hands when he found a particularly sore spot. "Harvey. Stop it. Stop it, I'm—no, I'm fine. I'm okay."

Harvey eyed him suspiciously, but the fact that Jim was standing seemed to assuage his worry at least enough for him to stop his bearish pat-down. "You sure?"

"Yeah. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Well, that's good, cause it looks bad. Look at you—you got blood everywhere."

"It's just from my nose." Jim ran his blood-crusted hand under his nose again. It seemed to have stopped, mostly. Small mercies.

Ten minutes later, despite his protests, Jim was sitting on the ledge at the back of the ambulance as an EMT made sure he didn't have a concussion or fractured skull or anything. The bruising would be substantial, but the EMT pronounced him good to go and gave him a towel to clean up with.

Jim was in the middle of mopping the worst of the blood from his face when Harvey leaned against the ambulance beside him with a look that Jim knew only too well.

Jim sighed and accepted his fate. "Go ahead. Get it out of your system."

"I told you. I told you this was a stupid idea. Didn't I tell you this was a stupid idea?" He turned to a uniform passing by. "Didn't I tell him this was a stupid idea?" The officer shot him a quizzical look and kept walking. Jim offered her an apologetic smile as Harvey continued. "I definitely told you this was a stupid idea. But did you listen? Nope. Nobody listens to Bullock, do they?"

"Alright, alright. But you also told me this was a bum lead, and I found him, didn't I?"

"Yeah, sure, you found him all right. But got your butt handed to you—royally, I might add. I'm surprised you were able to see well enough to cuff him with that fat eye."

The EMTs rolled Sackett by, and Jim stood to let them load him up.

Harvey's eyes widened at the sight of the golf ball-sized lump on Sackett's temple. He whistled. "Dang, son, what'd you hit him with?"

"I didn't."

"What do you mean, you didn't? That thing's the size of a grapefruit!"

Jim expelled yet another sigh. It was going to come out sooner or later. "It wasn't me. Selina Kyle showed up with a bottle and...Well, you see."

"Selina Ky—hang on, let me get this straight. You're tellin' me a twelve-year-old kid with a beer bottle and a bad haircut took out a three hundred and fifty-pound murder suspect while you sat on your thumbs seein' stars?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. It was a champagne bottle. And you're hardly one to talk about bad haircuts. Or...any haircut, really."

"Hardy-har-har. Where'd that kid get a champagne bottle?"

"Some dumpster, I guess."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

Jim finished cleaning up his face while Harvey finished laughing.

When the guffaws had faded to the occasional chortle, Harvey slapped a hand on Jim's shoulder and began guiding him back to his car. "So, it's your lucky day."

Jim shot him an incredulous look. "Really? My lucky day, huh? How so?"

"How so? I'll tell you how so. You'll never guess who I saw parked a couple blocks down."

"Fitzsimmons."

Harvey didn't appear to have heard Jim. "Fitzsimmons! What do you say we get a bite to eat? I'd kill for a sandwich right now. Prosciutto and mozzarella—slap some buffalo on there, maybe a hint of pesto aioli, and…" Sliding into his seat, Harvey proceeded to make a series of sounds that Jim was embarrassed could come from a seasoned member of the GCPD.

No sooner had Jim eased gingerly into his own seat and Harvey finagled the key into the ignition than the back door opened and closed, someone plopping merrily into the seat behind them.

"Howdy, boys."

"Selina, what are you—"

"I said I didn't want to go upstate, Gordon. Never said I didn't want lunch."

A/N: So, this is super nerdy, but I didn't want the bottle to break when Selina conked the guy out, so I did a little research on the packaging of alcohol. Because the only time I have handled any was when I found a can of beer someone left on the beach and disposed of it. (It smelled terrible. 0/10. Do not recommend.) Annnyway. I found out that while most tall bottles, such as wine, are made of fairly fragile glass, champagne bottles are dense and heavy because of the amount of pressure the contents are under. So yah. If you ever need a large bottle to knock someone out with, champagne is the way to go, y'all. You're welcome.

Props to those who caught the shamless Agents of SHIELD reference, and double props to anyone who caught the more subtle Louis L'Amour reference.

Oh, hey! Lemme know what you thought of Harvey in this chapter! This fic definitely focuses on the grudging palship between Jim and Selina, but I'm excited about the opportunities for guest stars. :D Who would you like to see make an appearance in upcoming chapters?

Remember to follow my blog and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an issue! If you missed issue no. 1, I’ve got it linked below. :)

Thanks for reading, beautiful hooman. Get your sleep, take your vitamins, drink your water, eat somethin’ :) I love you! *hugs*

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghettie and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and?is_related_post=1