Archive of Our Own

They have acquired a set of routines.

Most nights he ends up punching assholes. More often than not she helps him—and she enjoys a good fight (and punching assholes). It’s not like she thinks of herself as Gotham’s new vigilante, and she’s definitely no one’s sidekick. But it’s getting somewhere, and she doesn’t give it much thought.

Other times she takes care of her own business, which is usually trying to make ends meet to pay rent and food. Not very fashionable, but there’s no way she’s ever going to ask for money. He knows that, and respects it.

Once in a while, when things are especially harsh, she may return to old habits. Except now she only steals from corrupt jerks and the mob—which, actually, feels nice. Being on the better side. Not the good side, since that’s too black and white for her. Grey? That’s where she moves comfortably. Most of that money doesn’t stay in her pockets, though. The East End knows suffering too well, and she tries to put the dirty money to good use. However she can, whenever she can.

A few times, they have a rough fight and end up in the Batcave so that Alfred can patch them up. They’re almost funny, those times. It’s the closest thing she’s had to a family in a very long time. One crazy, twisted family. But one she treasures.

Then, some nights he ends up bleeding on her carpet. Those times she doesn’t like as much.

“Care to explain why you look like a truck crushed you?” she mutters angrily, sewing the cut across his side. Bruce winces, groaning. “I thought you wore armor to avoid these.”

“Old suit. Tiffany’s repairing mine,” he manages to say, grinding his teeth. “It was Lucius’ prototype. Never got to use it.”

She would have laughed, had she not been too worried of screwing up the stitches. “Well, now we know why you shouldn’t have. It’s shit.”

Selina finishes patching him up: there are more bruises on his chest and back, and lots of bandages around his abdomen. Not a pretty sight, she thinks with a sigh.

“Why did you go out unprepared, then?”

He’s lying on the bed, propped on his elbows, panting and hurt. “Had to.”

“Of course,” she growls, sitting beside him. “You could’ve called me.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at her. That damned look.

“I didn’t want to bother you, with the new job and…” He stops mid sentence when she puts a finger over his lips.

“Spare me the concerned boyfriend babbling,” she says smiling, but assertively. “Next time you have to go out in that excuse of a suit, you call me first.”

Something sparks in Bruce’s blue eyes, and a cocky smirk comes to his mouth. “So you’re calling me boyfriend now? Good to know.”

He chuckles, even when she elbows him near a especially dark bruise.

“Shut up, bats.”

It’s past midnight by the time she’s finished cleaning up the mess, blood spatter included. Bruce is barely awake on her bed, painkillers starting to do their work. She showers diligently, scrubbing the dirt and dry blood off her hands. His blood.

Maybe she’s just exhausted after working late and coming home to find a beaten up bat on her balcony, but there’s something twisting inside her and it makes her sick. Once she’s done, she puts on some clean underwear and an old shirt and returns to the bedroom.

Turns all lights off, except the one on her bedside table. Picks up the book lying there. With the familiar breathing beside her, it’s that kind of night.

“Are… “ Bruce’s drugged voice mumbles, making her look away from the pages, “Are you doing well at work?” He writhes a bit, trying to get as comfortable as he can while his whole body hurts like a giant, beating wound.

Selina shrugs, grinning. “You know, it’s not very exciting. I don’t have to deal with the rich, stick-up-their-asses clientele, so that’s good.”

“Being a famous jewelry shop, thought you might have seen some action already,” he manages to say, drifting between falling asleep and being awake.

“That means I’m nailing my job as the security expert.”

She would have never thought life would lead her this way, but in retrospect it made sense: if you want to avoid theft in your establishment, hire yourself a thief.

And she’s still the best damn thief.

Her employers don’t know that, of course. Selina Kyle is a clean name in front of the legal system. She simply impressed them with her skills.

“Never doubted it,” he mutters, the hint of a proud smile on the corner on his lips as he finally falls asleep.

It leaves her feeling foolish. Loved. Happy.

Almost disgusted at her own sentimentality, she puts the book back on the nightstand and closes her eyes.

It’s all in a kind of slow motion.

Heart pounding, gasping, crisp air. Darkness around her and thousands of lights in the horizon. She blinks, clearing her vision. No noise, just a ringing inside her ears.

He is wearing the cowl. Edge of a rooftop. Then he is falling over it, no grapple gun in his hand. She blinks again slowly, her eyelids heavy.

Tries to move, but her arms and legs do not respond. Tries to yell, and nothing comes out of her throat. Suddenly, he’s no longer there. Gotham takes him with its dark claws.

The scene replays again and again. Every time, she goes through the same process—attempts to yell, move, grab his hand. Nothing works and it keeps happening.

Once, twice, thrice. Many times, over and over. His death is an endless loop and she can’t stop it.

Then it fades, and she can feel the sudden cold, freezing every bone and muscle in her body. Freeze’s chamber lies in the middle of a pool of darkness. Her limbs move, rushing towards the cracked glass.

A head clashes against it, and she finds Bruce’s dead eyes looking past her.

When she opens her mouth, a cry pierces through her chest and ears.

She wakes up breathless to a sweaty shirt and a worried Bruce glancing down at her. Her heart is still hammering against her ribcage, and it takes more than a few seconds to realise it was all a bad dream. A nightmare.

Bruce places a hand on her arm.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he squeezes reassuringly. “It’s okay.”

Selina blinks several times, still panting. She takes a lungful of air and nods. His stare is fixed on her, watching carefully how she starts to relax.

“Guess you had a bad dream.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You really put those detective skills to good use.”

“You yelled out loud. It really scared me,” he continues, mildly amused. “It probably scared some of your neighbours.”

“Was it that loud?” Selina groans, frowning. He nods.

If she ever felt truly ashamed, this was it.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks again, and there’s honesty in his concern. As always. And, as always, she finds it so strange and warming—to have someone care for you in that way. To care for someone like that.

“Yes, it was nothing. Sorry,” she deflects, trying to play it down while getting up from the bed.

“Don’t be,” He grabs her by the forearm. Then his hand cups her face, staring down at her tenderly. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

Selina hesitates. It was just a dream, she thinks. The fact that it has affected her this much, enough to raise his alarms, irks her. But something stirs inside her, and she knows where it comes from. The reason behind it. Finding the right words is a different story.

She lets out a muffled groan, then sighs, covering his hand. “I saw you. Dying. Several times. And then you were in Freeze’s chamber and…” Her voice breaks.

Shutting her eyes close, she bites her lower lip. She was not ready, no—and she hates herself for it. It was just a damn dream, not even real. When there’s a snarky quip on the tip of her tongue ready, so she can pretend this is not important, Bruce pulls her in closer.

Tucking her head under his chin, he embraces Selina in a tight hug. At first there’s shock, then she thinks about how many times a little Bruce might have woken up in the middle of the night like her. Reliving actual deaths. The thought doesn’t make her feel any better.

“I’m here, okay?” he whispers to her ear, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. Just like that first time. “I’m here.”

It sounds so nice, too good to be real. But then the images of the dream crawl back into her mind once more, and she thinks about it.

One day, he won’t be there. She should accept the fact that, maybe one day, she would live in a world without him. That he would be gone and she would have to move on, like she had done so many times in the past, with different people.

And then it hits her, now, with his arms around her waist and shoulders, the scent of his sweat and blood, his breath against the top of her head.

Selina wouldn’t simply miss him. It would tear her apart, and this is completely new.

Except, deep down, she has probably known for a long time. Maybe even since she watched him almost die in that ice chamber. Having such a fear is a waste of time, especially given their hidden careers. Danger almost finds them every night—or they go after it.

It keeps getting more and more complicated. That exasperates and frightens her, but this is what it must feel like, right?

She wouldn’t know, because this is the first time Selina Kyle has ever loved anyone like this.

A week later, a different routine takes place.

This time they are in the Batcave, mostly uninjured. Selina has gotten herself a nice, deep cut along her shoulder, though, and Bruce doesn’t wait for Alfred to arrive. Removing his cowl, he goes directly to treat the wound. It’s quite impressive how he manages to be careful while still wearing armored gloves, and somehow Selina finds it endearing. She could’ve mended the injury herself, but she lets him take care of her.

“Repeat after me, Selina,” he smirks, applying the the gauze to the cut. She winces at the contact. “I am not invincible and painkillers do not solve the problem.”

She snorts. “Ha, ha, now you think you’re funny?”

“Well, some of your sense of humour might have rubbed on me,” he half chuckles, dressing the wound.

No one should look happy in their situation, but he is now. She can see it in his eyes. In moments like these, a strange form of domesticity that involves a cold underground cavern filled with bats, suits and vigilante justice. And the funniest thing is that she enjoys this as well. They are definitely crazy. Unfeeling monsters hiding in the basement, as she aptly put it a long time ago.

Selina had never had a home, but this feels like one. He is her home, now.

She’s so enthralled in her own musings, gazing at him while he finished the bandage, that she doesn’t notice the words coming out of her mouth.

“I think I might love you.”

She hasn’t just blurted that, has she?

Bruce looks up from the wound to her face, gazing directly into her eyes. Silent, unreadable.

Shit, she thinks. Grimacing inwardly, her whole body freezes.

She gulps. There is a reason she has never been too forthcoming about her thoughts and feelings, with anyone—because when you say it, it becomes more real than ever. You can’t take it back. You can’t avoid getting hurt if the feeling is not mutual—and getting hurt is something she has always been scared of. Something she has wanted to avoid at any cost.

Except she has got careless these past years.

A shiver runs through her spine while he simply stares at her. The need to vanish and bury herself into the ground grows stronger. Then, she sees it, up the corners of his lips.

An open, loving smile.

“I know that I love you, Selina,” he states, almost matter-of-factly, in that curious mix of confidence and awkwardness he distilled.

He cups her face, caressing her cheek. Selina only manages to let out a gasped chuckle, and there’s relief in her voice. No more knots gnawing at her throat.

“What a pair we are.” Selina returns the smile, leaning forwards, their foreheads meeting in the middle.

His thumb traces her jaw, his lips kiss her temple gently. “Right, you and me.”

“Bat and Cat,” she hisses playfully in his ear, her arms draping over his broad shoulders. Their bodies as close as they can get with him still in full armor.

“Making... sparks?” he laughs halfway through it.

Selina pulls away a little, staring at him judgingly with one eyebrow quirked up. If this is the sense of humor he is acquiring, then he should be ashamed, she thinks amusedly.

“You’re terrible.”

Even so, she loves it, just as she loves him.