Work Text:
Too Fragile a Sport
Bruce found Selina out on her favorite balcony. She was sitting on the balustrade, her legs dangling; resting and waiting as if she had just climbed up. Bruce leaned over the rail with his forearms resting beside Selina.
“Come to lecture me?”
“Would it do any good?”
Selina turned and raised an eyebrow at Bruce, who merely took the look in a passing glance. His face became stern as the silence passed between them. Selina turned her eyes to the horizon and the glow of the dawn.
“About time you gave up,” she huffed mainly to herself.
It was Bruce’s turn to raise his brow. “Never. I came to ask a question.”
Selina pulled her legs up and stood on the railing as Bruce took in her inquisitive head tilt.
“What do you get out of it?”
Looking down, Selina began to walk away from Bruce on the railing surrounding the balcony and when she reached the far corner, she turned towards him with a cheshire smile.
“Fun.”
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t it enough?”
“Not enough benefit for a cat burglar like you,” he stated as she neared.
“Cat burglars like me?” Bruce’s cheek burned from the acid in Selina’s tone. “There is no one else like me,” she replied as her heel grazed Bruce’s forearms to emphasize her words. She crossed over his arms without a care to where her steps fell in relation to his taking up of her space.
Reaching the end of her circuit, Selina shrugged her shoulders and over them she threw out, “Times like this one? The fun is the benefit.”
“Recklessness in the idea of life being too fragile?”
“Exactly.” Selina hopped down and stalked her way to Bruce’s side.
“Life is short, and we’ve played long enough,” Selina leaned in and whispered breathily into his ear, “don’t you think?”
“Don’t do that.” Bruce flinched away from her–it was uncharacteristic for The Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy extraordinaire and especially for The Batman. But for Bruce, or even just Bat, around Selina, Catwoman the Master Thief, it was rather normal.
“Why not?” Selina smoothed her hands down Bruce’s arms, surprising him in her simple act of reaching for his hand.
Again, in an uncharacteristic act, he allowed his body to respond without thinking. He entwined his fingers with hers and raised their hands between them. They both stared at the simple intimacy and the vulnerability it meant for each of them.
She easily ignored and broke his bravado but not who he made himself to be. She made him more human without patronizing the symbol.
He believed in her skill and abilities and how they could be used to what she knows is right; he believed in her as a person without defining her. He made her more aware of what she had rights to as opposed to what she could offer.
Selina began to lean forward, catching their hands between their two bodies before Bruce used their connection to push her way.
Selina actually stumbled back a step or two in surprise; a sign of the intensity she had felt in that simple and delicate moment. It was an action without grace, so rare for Selina–for Catwoman.
Undeterred, Selina begins again, “We’ve done this for too long. How many Bast forsaken years have we-”
“Eight.”
“Exactly!” Selina raises her hand in frustration of the time, of the fact that he knows how many years, and of the fact that he either cannot understand (which she completely doubts) or that he refuses to admit any understanding at all (which she completely believes). As her hands fall, a question occurs: “You do find me attractive, don’t you?” Her blurted question is punctuated with the sudden fall of her hands.
Bruce stands in a quiet stillness belying the shock he feels at her question. He was never good at hiding his attraction to her. She knew it; hell, even Robin figured it out after a couple of run-ins with the Cat. In the past few years he basically gave up trying and just refused to openly acknowledge it. Especially in times like now, where she has to be playing some kind of new game to taunt him. Bruce’s hands tightened into fists. Now she was treating him like he was an idiot. No, no more. Bruce and Bat were done with their feelings being a favorite well-beaten toy of Catwoman’s.
Bruce’s anger at her, and of this whole situation created by her, brings forth shadows that prevent him from seeing the earnest embarrassment in Selina’s eyes.
“Do you want an honest answer to that question?” There is no humor in his voice.
Selina’s eyes widen at the thought of having misread every-little-thing this whole time. She looks down as if searching beneath the floor for answers: No. He is physically attracted to her; he does little to hide it anymore. Her unfocused gaze turns from the floor and zeros in on Bruce. Her breathing quickens ever so subtly but she feels the anxiety there as she fears the open door of her thoughts: physically attracted but not attracted as a whole–physical acceptance of what is offered but nothing beyond. . . Not her .
Sweet Bast! She’s made a fool of herself completely. All those times where she offered herself and although he physically wanted, he turned her down; but she kept pursuing thinking it was masochistic martyrdom but no, he really didn’t want her. Were all those things she felt a lie to herself?
With a purse of her lips, she closes her eyes and turns as if to leave through the balcony door as she gives a simple, “No.”
“Seriously, you started this. Do you want an honest answer to the question?”
The hard edge of Bruce’s voice made Selina stop abruptly; she was torn between turning away from his challenge and emotional preservation, or acceptance and the pain that would surely follow.
With her shoulders straight and her head held high, she looked back, “You have my answer.”
It wasn’t enough; like hell was Bruce going to allow her to play with him anymore. No matter how he felt about her, wanted her–all of her, master thief and all–the time had come to end it. It was time to end her fun and his masochistic pain.
“Do you really believe I could have any kind of serious feelings for you?”
Selina turned gracefully, yet she was also troubled. She had accepted his challenge, but perhaps there could be damage control: A way to save face from the vulnerability of exposing how she felt about him; a way to salvage pride and make it all go away.
“I’ve never suggested you have. . .” Selina sucked in her cheeks, her eyes sweeping the horizon and finding it lacking for a different word, “. . .serious. . . feelings, Bruce.”
Bruce scoffed; of course Selina–Catwoman– would answer that way. Offer a moment of trust and vulnerability only to be swatted away in the same breath.
“So what? We sleep together once then what? Fuck buddies? A claw mark on your whip, the fucking of Bruce Wayne?” He racked his eyes over her with a leer, “You might be a little fun,” he sneered, “but you’re not the first to get that notch.” Bruce gave a dry laugh. “You say you’re a thief and call me a crimefighter. . .”
Selina raised her eyebrow as she briefly considered interjecting ‘vigilante’ before deciding a voice crack would ruin the fun teasing of such a correction.
Bruce’s eyes became cold-steel to match his voice, “. . .maybe you just want to claim to have The Bat? Saying it is unbelievable!”
Selina stood still. Never let The Bat know you’re surprised or shocked. Always make anyone think you’ve considered and planned the whole thing. Her eyes refused to be shuttered despite her will, so her features hardened with a fierceness only given by protective but wounded pride.
“Come on,” a rare smirk crossed Bruce’s face as he graveled, “I can’t even imagine what a–what an actual relationship with you would be like. . .”
He didn’t care about Selina’s reaction; instead Bruce began to pace–an agitation within demanding physical manifestation. He had imagined a serious relationship with her, on cold nights in want of company. It wasn’t just any company, but Selina Kyle’s company, Catwoman’s company: an agile fighter with grace and dexterity, intelligent and talented in what she chose to do. How could he not have imagined more? But this was something she never needed to know, not like she wanted to know.
Selina’s face continued to mimic stone but the façade began to crumble with a small tremble of her chin and a clench of the jaw as she clamped down with her teeth.
“Yes,” he turned to her, “yes, you have proven yourself to be trustworthy as a professional, and I have a strange pride in that.” Bruce paced again, his pride in her amplifying his agitation with scorn.
“But on a personal level–” he looked at the hard profile of Selina’s face and crossed his arms behind his back, “--on a personal level, Selina, give me a break!” Bruce enunciated every hard sound of the phrase with the unimpressed judgment of a vigilante.
Selina forced herself to stay; she was no emotional masochist, just a stubborn cat who refused to back down from a dare. To keep her tears at bay, she closed her eyes as her body mirrored Bruce’s stoic pose.
Both of them were surprised as Selina continued to stay. Bruce's words had been calculations of harshness, of taking a stand to no longer be the play-toy of this cat. Still, he couldn’t help but observe her grace in movement. A grace she used to hide the clenched jaw and closed eyes as she took the brunt of his words.
“At best you are an emotional wreck.” Bruce straightened under the glistening green eyes that were suddenly staring at him with a raised brow. “You’re right, I’m no better.”
Selina crossed her arms around her middle, waiting. Bruce gave a small huff.
“I’ve got issues; I work to make sure others don’t feel the pain I know, the pain I feel. I’ve questioned whether I could ever open myself to someone, to someone who could bleed me and break me like no opponent can.”
Blue eyes closed the distance between bodies as she swallowed his words like a bitter comfort.
“I’m finally at a place where I am even considering such an idea–to actually let somebody be that close to me.” Those blue eyes bored into her, “Not in a million years–millions of millions of years–did I ever possibly consider that person being you.”
Selina could feel the push of Bruce’s blue steel gaze piercing into her, her muscles tightening to keep from crying out in pain. She will not leave, but she will not take anymore head on. She turns away from him, her body moving fluidly only due to years of training; her eyes closed as she begs her tears to remain shards of glass behind her lids.
“We are completely opposite and wrong for each other. Even the Joker wouldn’t find it funny!” Bruce threw out dryly. “But the worst part,” he took steps forward as if to reach for Selina, “the worst part is that you know this! You know!” Bruce nearly spat from the acid taste of the words in his mouth. “This whole overly flirty thing that you do, the sudden seductress you become around me is just your way of provoking the man and the bat. It is nothing more than you laughing at my expense.”
Selina turned her head slightly as if to look over her shoulder, instead she waited, urging him in her own way to say his piece. She felt how he needed to say it; how he needed to assert himself and in a way it was showing her just how he saw her.
“I do not appreciate you playing with me. I do not like it. I’m so sorry you’re bored and needing thrills of a different flavor, but do not insult both of us by pretending you are wanting anything more.” Bruce stood, waiting, his shoulders back and muscles tense, expecting retribution for taking a stand against Catwoman’s little game. His eyes opened wide as he finally took in her glossy eyes as Selina wrapped her arms tighter around herself for comfort. Compelled, Bruce moved forward only to stop himself with a huff.
“No. Don’t act like you are hurt.”
Turning her body away, Selina chokes back a sob and forces a smile for no one to see. “Of course not. You’ve got it all figured out, world’s greatest detective.”
Bruce waited for the sarcastic little salute to follow that phrase from her but it didn’t come. Instead, she moved forward and stopped before the balustrade. Her shoulders gave small tremors as Bruce recognized the sound of small gulps of air. His long strides placed him beside Selina before she could wipe the tears away. His body faced her side, and in an uncommon act, she turned away from the closeness of him.
“Selina,” Bruce whispered as he cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch caused her body to stiffen but she did not move from beneath the weight of his hand.
“I just need a minute, and then I’ll be gone.” Selina staunched her tears with the back of her wrist.
Bruce could only stare in silence before his eyes began to dart back and forth as if rewinding and rewatching this whole encounter.
“Selina. . . look at me.”
It was only a minute, but the tension made time into a humid stand-still.
With a final swipe at her cheeks, Selina turned back toward the railing but looked at Bruce. Her eyes met his for a brief second, a look of defiance and of meeting his challenge flickering in her green before she turned away, giving him nothing but her profile.
Bruce felt the want to flinch but training had taken the need. He recognized the pain that colored her defiance. His words–what he thought were needed lies–had hit; he just didn’t calculate the correct mark.
Selina reached for the railing, her muscles ready for the familiar leap as she could travel to and from what had been her favorite balcony in her sleep.
Bruce reached for her hand quickly and her shoulders straightened, she raised her chin and Bruce saw the Cat’s pride. Still, he grabbed at one of her wrists and pulled her towards him, catching her other wrist as she swiped at his face. Their eyes locked and Bruce felt a pain as Selina closed her eyes and turned her head away. He let go, not caring if he felt a sting on his cheek, perhaps he even would welcome it. Gently, he cups her face with a hand and urges her to look at him. She followed, if a little reluctantly, and gained the reward of Bruce’s attentive blue eyes.
An attentiveness that watches and measures her reaction as he glances between her eyes and lips. His thumb caresses the corner of her mouth as he waits: waiting for her to leave, to feel the sting of her flesh hitting his, waiting for that release of the smallest breath that she will accept this–accept him–and when Selina gives it, Bruce plunges forward to kiss her.
Fingertips press into his skin but there is no sting of nails in flesh; instead, fingers rake down his cheek and settle warmly at the back of his neck. The kiss is soft and questioning and Selina responds with a shyness which speaks more sincerity than her words could give. Bruce slows his kiss and pulls away, taking in the wondered-bliss on Selina’s face.
This is it. This was not her taking–of stealing–when there were moments of opportunity. There was the scent of him, a tentativeness in the question of his kiss, a shared moment of bewildered vulnerability. . . Although all this pulled at her, the strength behind it all was the simple touch of his lips and of his giving. This is what she has been wanting but after all the words said, it did not gratify. Not really. Bruce’s words echoed in her mind; the pain of words she could swat away, even words that hit their mark could be dealt with; what could not be put aside were the realizations about how he saw her. The act may be what she wanted, but the impetus was questionable and with that question came no satisfaction.
He says nothing as she cups his hand at her cheek, pressing into his palm before opening her eyes. Bruce witnesses the small fear flit through her eyes and realizes what she is about to do.
Selina starts to pull away but Bruce uses his free hand to grasp hers. She pulls no further but looks at him questioningly.
She feels as though her heartbeat flutters as Bruce entwines his fingers with hers, mirroring the vulnerability from before, his fingers weaving an apology in hers, before whispering, “You better not be messing with–”
“Never.” Selina gives a loving cat-like grin before adding, “I do want to ask a question.” She had many questions, truth be told; but now it was not the time to overthink more than she already had.
Bruce steps closer to her, raising an eyebrow.
“Why now? What do you get out of it?
“That’s two.”
Selina narrows her eyes at him playfully as she steps closer into his space and looks up at him patiently.
“Life is too fragile,” he meets her eyes and holds her at the waist as he rumbles, “and you.”
Selina’s arms snake up his and cross his shoulders until she finally begins to pull him down to meet her.
“Good answer,” becomes lost as the two meet again. The warmth of the burning ember of want and giving satisfying the two in the light of the new day.