My second non-Warcraft story, and a bit more wholesome than usual. Not sure how I feel about this one tbh. Tried for a different style but I hope you all can enjoy my interpretation of these characters. At the very least I hope it's better than Selina's current catastrophe of a run :^)
For reference, I imagine both Bruce and Selina in this as a sort of cross between their BTAS and Arkham series renditions.
***
A full moon idled in the black sky above Gotham, partially obscured by a thin curtain of clouds that drifted lazily across their heavenly canvas. Its pale light pierced through the city's twisted shadows, revealing a tableau of Gotham City's unruly nightlife, bustling and bursting at the seams of the city's greystone walls. Thousands of acres of stone and concrete breathed with the life of its inhabitants, tall, towering, shining with lights of varihued neon and orange incandescence above shops, around walls, and within homes. Below, the streets glimmered with headlights, twinkling like an urban sea of stars, and a fine dusting of snow painted the city arctic white.
The date was December 3rd, and it was late. A quarter past three to be precise. He had been camped out since the top of the hour, binoculars in hand as he watched over Selina's apartment from a nearby rooftop. It was more of a customary precaution built up through hundreds of hours of stake outs rather than a necessary one, although there
was
the awkward possibility that she had company, in which case he would have to come back in the morning. The thought made his jaw set, but she appeared to be alone albeit for a number of cats sharing the flat with her. In this manner she was like him, a loner that socialized largely out of necessity rather than the simple joy of keeping company and holding conversation. He did it primarily to maintain his public image, she did it for information. Information that sometimes helped him, and at other times led to him chasing her across rooftops.
Selina walked out of view towards an area that he knew was the kitchen, her slippered feet gliding across the hardwood floor of her luxury apartment. Cats tailed her like a procession, hopeful and no doubt mewling hungrily. She was too good to them; he had told her so in the past--delicately of course, for felines were her domain--but she refused to listen. Catwoman would not be told how to take care of her cats, not even by him.
Bruce pocketed his binoculars, lips twitching in what may have been the slightest of smiles. He had surveyed her long enough, and besides, it had begun to snow again.
He stood up, reached for a tool on his belt, and then jumped.
***
Flames of orange and yellow undulated within a faux fireplace beneath a glaring TV set upon the wall. It reflected black and white images of a movie she had forgotten from a time she wasn't born, and a number of cats, furry and sleek, dozed around the harmless fire like newborn kittens. The air smelled of balsam and cedar wafting from two burning candles, one in the kitchen, and the other upon a table between the sofa and fireplace. Dim lights, soft and soothing, illuminated the chilly apartment in a cozy glow that almost made Selina wish she had hot chocolate instead of ice cream.
"No. This isn't for you, Hecate."
Selina shooed the dark furred cat away with a smile and then sat down upon the sofa, cuddling into a blanket and cradling a bowl of mint chip ice cream in her lap. It was Saturday. A day like any other--barring the stunt she had pulled earlier, though that had technically been on Friday--and now it was time to unwind while she still could. Jabbing at a creamy mound of mint and chocolate with her spoon, she raised it to her lips.
A sharp click sounded to the far right. Her hand froze and then half a moment later she was up, the bowl of ice and cream deposited upon a three-legged table at the side of the couch.
Normally, she would have reached for her whip, or at least for the door if confronted with enough guns, but the shadowed figure outside her window raised no call for alarm. At least, not the usual kind. The motion-activated lights she had installed on the balcony woke up, buzzing and flickering as if straining, and then revealed her impromptu guest. Tall, brooding, imposing like a force of nature.
He stepped inside and she smiled like the cat that got the canary, head raised, arms crossed and weight shifting to one eye-catching hip.
Selina was small, pale and poised, with piercing green eyes, sleek black hair that was short by women's standards, and a graceful elegance that betokened her alter ego more than any catsuit ever could. She was dressed for home comfort in a long grey cardigan that nearly touched the ground, knitted and with cuffed sleeves. Open at the chest, it exposed a modest yet tantalizing cropped bralette of the same color with a deep, plunging neckline. Equally grey joggers, loose and comfortable, kept her slender legs hidden from Bruce's searching gaze. In comparison to her usual feline uniforms of leather and latex her current attire was conservative, but appealing all the same. It hinted at what lay beneath: sultry curves that the man before her was intimately familiar with.
The two observed each other for a handful of seconds that seemed to stretch into an eternity, her smile remaining all the while. Though she could not properly see his face, Selina was well aware of what kind of effect she had on both men and women. It was something she used to her advantage, extracting information with a loosened zipper, batting of lashes or a honeyed word dripping with a delightful promise that she had no intention of fulfilling.
She had learned early on that the Batman was little different, and though he did try to resist her charms, that had, ironically, only served to further increase her interest in him.
No one
resisted her, but this man did--this contradiction of a Caped Crusader fighting for justice and order who nevertheless allowed her to escape his long arm of the law with nothing more than a harsh scolding--and so for the first time she flirted not for information that could lead to a successful heist or to get out of a parking ticket, but for
him.
Truthfully, she had had little interest in anything but cats, jewels, or, more keenly, the pure Thrill of running roofs and swindling purses. She was young, talented and free; men didn't interest her, women just barely more than that. Like her stolen diamonds, pendants and artifacts, Batman had been just another heist--her biggest yet, but a heist nonetheless.
This viewpoint of hers hadn't taken long to change, however. A few stolen kisses and a steamy night atop a roof later, and their relationship had become something that could no longer be ignored or dismissed as a frivolity. There was a new Thrill now, wrestling with and seeking to overpower the other more criminal Thrill it shared her with.
Selina sniffed and then broke the silence between them, her voice confident with a natural sultriness that needed no practice.
"Well, if it isn't my Dark Knight in bulletproof armor." Self-consciously, she adjusted her hair and stepped towards him. "Hello, Bat."
"Selina."
Oh boy. She knew that tone of voice. It was similar to the tone he used when addressing criminals he was seeking to pry information out of. It lacked some of the bite though. That made her feel good, proud even. She was
Selina Kyle
after all, not some ordinary criminal, or the Joker, or the Penguin, or some other psychopath.
Still...
She pursed her lips and turned around.
"What a pleasant surprise," she continued, fetching her bowl of ice cream off the table.
"Is it?"
"Of course. You know how much I enjoy your company, Bruce." Turning back towards him, she flashed him a genuine smile and devoured a spoonful of ice cream, dabbing at her lips with a finger to ensure they were clean in case she had to use them. Hopefully she would.
"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" he asked. Skeptical. Accusatory.
She quirked an eyebrow at him and shook her head as she spoke: "Avoiding you? Bruce Wayne, just because I leave town for a week--technically less, mind you--does not mean that I am avoiding you."
She took another spoonful of ice cream, another dab at her lips.
"Hell, you can at least try to call me. You never even respond to my texts," she continued, taking a step towards him.
"All you do is send me pictures of cats, Selina." His tone had softened some, and she took this as a win.
"So? Does that mean you want more selfies then?" She grinned and placed her hand upon his arm, finger-walking it up to his bicep. "With or without my costume on?"
"Cat..."
"All right, I'll stop teasing you."
For a minute or two, anyway.
