Work Text:
They were right about absence making the heart grow fonder. Bruce has only been on his Wayne Foundation excursion to Sweden for two days, and already Selina’s nights have become tasteless. It’s no fun stealing from the rich when there’s no leather-clad grump to punish her for it later. Not even a shiny new (mostly legally acquired) diamond or the affection of her cats fills the void. This is why Dr. Frankenfurter had to build that sexy hunk in the gold shorts. She’s going mad.
Selina is now on her third episode of Celebrity Trivia, because this is what she’s been driven to, apparently: Hollywood garbage. Brucie Wayne guest-starred on this one, at least, which makes it far more entertaining. Especially when he has to purposely get the hard ones wrong.
Selina checks the time. Accounting for the time-zone difference, Bruce should be in his morning meeting by now. She sends a text anyway: pls tell me channing tatum is actually that charming in person.
Bruce responds seconds later, which means he is definitely in the middle of his meeting. I told you not to watch that episode. Then: Actually, can you call me so I have an excuse to step out before I fall asleep at the conference table?
Selina calls. “If you were friendlier with Channing, you could have scored a role in Magic Mike and added another digit to your billion-dollar net worth.”
“A tragic missed opportunity,” Bruce replies, a smile in his voice. “How was your day?”
“Hmm. Uneventful.” She’d had the sense to swipe Bruce’s platinum card the day before he left, so most of the afternoon was spent acquiring a whole new wardrobe for herself and a fleet of Cabbage Patch dolls. Then she had some fun when nighttime hit.
“Uneventful? That’s concerning.”
“Nothing you need to worry about until you get back. You know how I get when I’m bored.” Selina smiles up at the wall-to-wall segment of Lex Luthor’s face she broke off from the Lex Luthor For President (Again) billboard on Saint’s Street. Now that was a challenge to smuggle into the apartment. She has yet to decide what to do with it. “My fingers get sticky. How are those merger meetings?”
“Dull.”
“Aw, that’s a shame. If only I was there to spice things up for you.”
She can practically hear the thud of Bruce’s heart coming to a halt. His voice goes low on his next words, and he throws in that gravelly tone he knows drives her crazy. “And how would you do that?”
“That depends. Are you wearing those lacy black panties I packed in your—”
A thump at the window across the living room has Selina jumping to her feet like a gunshot. The neighborhood strays come to scratch at her window begging for food right around this time every night, but that thump was far too big to be a cat. She snatches up the knife she keeps taped to the underside of the coffee table.
“Selina?” Bruce’s voice calls through the receiver.
A green, gloved hand starts to slide the window up. “Sorry for the rude entry,” Damian says, poking his masked face through, “but if I had to hear any further details about my father’s underwear, I was going to throw up all over your fire escape.”
Selina sighs and tosses aside the knife. She brings the phone back to her ear. “Go back to your meeting, babe. I’ll call you later.”
“Did I hear Dam—”
She drops the phone onto the couch and hurries over to help the kid inside. She’s seen him in worse shape before, but the blood dripping down his temple and the way he’s clutching his left arm close to his chest suggests this isn’t a social visit. “I almost put a knife through your leg, kid. You could’ve called ahead.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“You watched me program it into your phone.”
Damian wipes blood from his mask lens with a groan. “Deleted it.”
Once he’s got both feet on Selina’s freshly vacuumed carpet and is standing under his own power in the low light of her apartment, she can more clearly see the bruises on his face and the pain in his posture. She yanks down his hood. “I thought you weren’t supposed to patrol on your own when your dad’s out of town.”
Damian scoffs. “Why do you think I came here instead of going home? I don’t need the lecture from Alfred.”
“But you’ll take one from me instead?”
“I was hoping to skip one altogether, but if I’m not welcome here, I can always leave and take care of this myself.”
Selina rolls her eyes. She fetches a napkin from her leftover takeout on the coffee table and holds pressure on the cut on Damian’s forehead. “I don’t think so, kitten.” She gestures to his arm. “How bad is it?”
“Small ulna fracture and a dislocated shoulder, but I popped that back in on the way here.” Damian winces. “A splint and a sling, and I will be out of your hair.”
Tiny cat paws start to scratch at the window they just closed. Right on schedule. Selina instructs Damian to hold the napkin with his uninjured hand. “Stay here.” She goes to her bedroom and returns with an old pair of sweatpants and one of Bruce’s shirts. “The shirt’ll be huge on you, but the pants should fit. I’m not letting you get dirt and blood all over my couch. Go get cleaned up, then I’ll take a look at you.”
Damian looks upon the t-shirt with disgust. “I don’t want to know why you have this.”
“Just be grateful it’s clean.”
“Ew.” Damian hurries off to shower before Selina can disclose more information he doesn’t need to know.
While he’s taken care of for the time being, Selina gets to work gathering her first-aid supplies and fetching the beggars their tuna. When Damian eventually returns, freshly showered and dressed in his borrowed clothes, it’s easy to see the swollenness of his arm around the break and the way he favors his relocated shower. His head wound has stopped bleeding for the most part. The bruises on his face look ten times worse without all the dirt and grime left from patrol.
Selina pats the couch cushion beside her in invitation. Damian obediently sits and lets her examine his arm. She feels around the break as gingerly as she knows how, making sure nothing is out of place. She’s no doctor, but she’s had her fair share of fractures before and agrees that it’s minor.
“Tell me you won the fight, at least.”
Damian clicks his tongue, insulted. “Of course I did.”
“Attaboy.” She ignores his wince as she tests his range of motion. “Still stupid of you. Was no one else free tonight? You just had to go out and get into trouble by yourself?”
“I’ve been handling myself my entire life. I don’t need to be babysat.”
“Sure, but all of the best fighters know not to get into a fight without someone watching your back. It’s your dad’s whole MO.”
Selina wraps and stabilizes his arm, then checks out his shoulder for swelling. She gets him set up in a sling and instructs him to hold an ice pack on the worst of it while she cleans up the cut on his head.
“Everyone else was busy,” Damian says, scowling at the sensation of antiseptic dribbling down his forehead.
“What am I, chopped liver? I had nothing going on tonight.” At Damian’s telling silence, Selina rolls her eyes. “Next time you want to go out and no one’s available, call me and I’ll take you. Just keep my number in your phone this time, you little shit.” She smooths down the final bandage. “There. Have Alfred check it over again when you get home. Lie and tell him you tripped over a crack in the sidewalk if you have to.”
Another round of scratching erupts at the window. Selina closes up her first-aid kit with a sigh. “Those greedy bastards are gonna be a hundred pounds by the time winter rolls around.” Still, she obediently retrieves her cat treats from the pantry and brings the bag to Damian. “Do me a favor and appease the masses for me? Don’t let Cockroach intimidate you. He looks scary, but he lost that ear to a squirrel. He’s a coward deep down.”
“Cockroach?”
“Big calico. The gray tuxedos are Kevin One and Kevin Two. I don’t know which is which.”
While the one-armed wonder goes off to feed the rascals, Selina cleans up her coffee table and sends a text over to Alfred. She’ll gladly be a safe haven if that’s what the kid needs, but she’s not about to risk Alfred’s wrath by harboring his youngest without his knowledge. She’ll wait to fill Bruce in on the situation after his meeting.
Selina’s own cats start to appear one by one from their hiding places in the apartment, drawn in by the commotion. They paw at Damian’s feet and beg for treats. The poor kid has to juggle tossing treats onto the fire escape and petting the newcomers all with one hand, but he manages just fine. A kid after Selina’s own heart.
Eventually the strays scamper away, full and content, and Selina’s brood disperses for their mid-evening naps. Isis sticks around and follows Damian to the couch. She hops up onto his lap and curls up there, purring peacefully like the entitled creature she is.
Selina picks up the remote. “Just so we’re clear, you know I have to tell your dad, right?”
“You don’t have to do anything. You’re not my mother.”
It doesn’t hurt, but it does leave a mark. “Yeah, well, I’m not about to get put in the doghouse for hiding the fact that you disobeyed direct orders and put yourself in danger. I already texted Alf that you’re staying with me tonight.”
Damian’s face takes on that pug-like quality that reminds her of Bruce when he’s hangry. “I never said I was staying.”
She shrugs and settles into her corner of the couch, pulling her feet up. “You’re already here. You might as well spend the night. I’ve got eggs and frozen waffles for breakfast.” At Damian’s clear reluctance, she throws in, “Do you think this is the first time I’ve hosted a Robin or Batgirl here? Sometimes I come home and Cass has already eaten all of my leftovers. It’s really no big deal.”
Damian doesn’t verbalize a yes, but the way his shoulders slacken and he starts petting Isis says Selina has won the battle. She presses play on the Celebrity Trivia episode she left off on.
Damian wrinkles his nose at the sight of his himbo father on the screen. “Eugh. He’s worse than a Kardashian.”
Selina smirks. “At least he’s got a much, much hotter—”
“I beg of you to not finish that sentence.”
“I was going to say face.”