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1.
It’s nearly three in the morning, and despite hours of trying, Bruce cannot succumb to sleep. His tired limbs welcomed the reprieve, even on a too-firm motel mattress, but neither the sporadic humming of cars passing by on the highway nor the hypnotic revolutions of their room’s ceiling fan proved capable of tempting him into unconsciousness.
The fact that his traveling companion was similarly awake was also a factor.
They are both nocturnal creatures. It can’t be helped.
“You are a very loud thinker,” Selina says, head facing upward, same as his. They both lay flat on their backs, so close that the sleeve of his t-shirt brushes against her bare shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”
Where would he even begin? He thought of everything, and nothing all at once. Of Gotham’s recovery, of Batman’s legacy, of the endless possibilities in a now uncharted future—
“You know, tiny piece of copper,” she teases when he takes too long to respond. “Accepted form of currency amongst us common folk…“
He turns to look at her then, brow raised and mouth parted in amusement.
“Right now I’m wondering what you did with my bike.”
“You’d have to ask the Commissioner. I left it with him in the tunnel, after your light show.” Oh, is that all it was?
“And here I thought you liked holding onto my things.”
“Only when they’re taken. No fun in it otherwise.”
Their banter flows just as easily as it always has, but there’s something like affection in it now. In the dark, Bruce can make out the upturn of her lips and the taut apples of her cheeks. Her smile is genuine if still a little guarded. He imagines his is too.
Quiet settles back over them, and as much as he wants to hold on to the comforting calm, he needs to know:
“Why did you come back?”
Bruce almost regrets the question by the way Selina’s body stiffens. To her credit, she manages to keep the smile for a few seconds, before a pensive look takes its place.
There’s a long pause. Bruce watches with rapt attention. “Because I knew I’d regret it if I hadn’t,” is all she decides to say, but the lump in her throat is evidence enough that she feels more.
Selina never struck him as someone who had many regrets. Of all the miserable people in Gotham, it was clear she refused to be one of them. It was that brazenness that had revitalized Bruce, out of his self-imposed solitude and back into the world. That she valued his well-being as much as her own spoke volumes, even if she couldn’t.
She had every reason to ride off and leave everything behind. But she had stayed. Saved his life, even. And was choosing to stay with him now.
It felt nice to be chosen.
“Well I’m glad you did.”
“I owed you.”
“You didn’t,” he assures her, hoping she’ll believe he means it. “You still don’t.”
“Even so,” she says, craning her neck and finally facing him. “I wasn’t about to let you ruin my fresh start over a pesky guilty conscience.”
Her playfulness has returned, and he marvels at how adept she is at balancing sincerity with wit.
Bruce Wayne has never met anyone like Selina Kyle.
“You need to rest,” she states as she fluffs her pillow, willing it into something resembling luxury. “And don’t worry. If anything goes bump in the night, I’ll protect you.” Selina says the last part with that breathy affect of hers, but Bruce has seen her in action enough to know she isn’t kidding.
He’s not worried about anyone looking for him, but he likes knowing she’s there beside him nonetheless.
2.
They breathe in unison, panting and sweating until they both collapse onto the bed. It’s the shortest they’ve lasted, but damn if wasn’t good.
It’s taken five dates for Bruce to let his guard down enough to order a couple rounds after their dinner, and that’s really all it had taken — two shots of vodka and half a tumbler of whiskey — for the famed former playboy to start slurring his words and blink a little too slowly.
It turns out that years of controlled diets and dutifully enforced sobriety have made Bruce Wayne a light weight. It’s one of Selina’s favorite discoveries about him.
They had managed to make the short walk back to his apartment with most of their dignity intact. Selina, while very capable of holding her liquor, found his lack of coordination and easy grin too infectious not to mirror. They had divested themselves of their clothing between bouts of laughter and clumsy hands.
It was the youngest Bruce had ever looked, and the lightest he’d ever seemed.
Time and adrenaline have returned his faculties to him, she can tell. There’s the slightest restraint in his movements, and his features, while relaxed in the afterglow of their session, lack the pure boyish charm she’s witnessed peak through on occasion.
It’s progress, though. Selina gets to see more and more of the real Bruce Wayne with every passing day they spend together. The fact that she knows him so well is a point of pride and disbelief. It’s the longest she’s ever been with the same person, and the most she’s ever cared for one.
“That was…” he starts to say, as he throws his arm over his forehead. “Was it… did you…”
“Does it look like I didn’t?” Selina makes a show of stretching lazily next to him and bites her lip for good measure. Turns out even Batman needs encouragement, and she’s glad to give it to him after a performance like that. “If that ever happens, believe me, you’d know.”
Selina has faked a lot of things in her life — pleasure, interest, innocence — but with Bruce, in this second chance she’s been gifted, she hasn't. And she won't.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she adds, realizing what she’s said a little too late. Being with him makes her too honest sometimes.
Maybe he’s getting to see more and more of the real Selina Kyle as well.
The mattress dips as she gets up, feeling less bold than a minute ago. Bruce gently takes her wrist, smoothes his fingers across the back of her hand.
“Let’s make it official then.”
There’s a beat, then two, until his actual meaning registers. Only he could make putting a label on their relationship sound like a marriage proposal. He should be so lucky.
“Are you asking me to go steady, Mr. Wayne?”
He looks away, bashful, but the side of his mouth quirks up. “As you can see, I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”
She gets it. She’s never wanted to get it right this badly before either.
Selina settles into the sheets again. “Well, we already have the matching outfits.”
When he laughs, there’s a glimpse of that boyish charm. She’s too far gone to turn back now.
3.
“Did that really happen?” she asks, her question muffled against the fabric of his shirt.
“Mhmm,” he replies, leisurely massaging her scalp. “That one was true.”
This game of true-or-false has been going on for the past two days. Selina’s taken to asking him the validity of rumors and headlines about the tragic backstory and wild coming-of-age of Gotham’s prince. Bruce doesn’t mind. Actually appreciates she’s asking with legitimate interest, unlike the intrusive reporters and hollering paparazzi he’s used to dealing with.
And he gets it. It’s only natural she wants to learn more about the man she’s marrying.
“That poor Lamborghini.”
He chuckles at the memory. Reliving his myriad experiences has never felt more liberating.
A light breeze billows the white curtains that hang against their bedroom window. Selina’s leg is draped across him, the smooth skin of her calf a pleasant contrast against the hair on his thigh.
Selina ghosts over a jagged scar on his bicep. She knows its origin, like she does for all of them. He’s never shied away from explaining his physical wounds.
Bruce moves his hand under her top, tracing circles along her spine. Absent-mindedly, he lingers on a thin, raised line near her shoulder blade. He knows how she got it. The physical stuff is easier for her to talk about, too.
“What, don’t tell me you didn’t have a rebellious teen phase.”
“Not one that involved wrecking luxury sports cars,” she says, mid-yawn. “At least, ones that were mine.”
Tales from his privileged upbringing rarely ever garner pity from her. She has admitted to him, however, that she sympathizes with a life spent under such intense scrutiny. She knows what it’s like to live in fear of constant surveillance. It makes people do all kinds of desperate things.
Selina accepts everything about him. She doesn’t need facts about his past to see who he truly is, nor he with her. Still, he’s curious.
“What were you like, then?”
She groans at the thought, nuzzling into the cotton of his tee to delay her answer. “You don’t wanna know.”
“I do.”
She doesn’t tense up the way she would’ve in the days following their departure from Gotham, or even months into dating. But that topic will never be a simple one.
“Can’t look up anything about you, though,” he jokes. “It’s like ’Selina Kyle’ has been wiped from the internet. It’s the damnedest thing.”
“Weird,” she drawls out.
He hugs her closer to him. Kisses the crown of her head. “You don’t have to tell me. But, I’d like to know.” Whenever you’re ready.
There's a minute of silence, before she whispers: “Alright.”
She tells him about the time she hot-wired a Mercedes from a douchebag ex-boyfriend. About her earliest run-ins with the police. About how her teenage years weren’t all that fun, but she found it where she could.
She tells him how she never could’ve imagined she’d be where she is now. That she’d be this happy.
He knows the feeling.