Whipping cream, sprinkle's and introspection.

Rating:K+

Pairing:Chloe/Bruce

Summary: Drabble, sequel to love hearts, heels and other protrusions. Bruce's instincts are always right, but she was a whole different matter entirely.

Thanks to all my reviewers on love hearts, heels and other protrusions, they encoraged me to write this, and for those who I couldn't reply to in person, thank you.

The first instinct that came to the forefront of his mind before he had even met Chloe Sullivan, was that she was trouble. With not just a capital T, oh no, she was trouble in block, bold, and brilliant letters. He had thought surviving from hand to mouth across the other side of the world was tough, until he met the league of shadows and their master. Then came the Joker, whose fashion sense was of the abstract variety, and whose sanity had, at an early age, quite obviously been left outside in the sun and had thence evaporated away. Next came the torture that was the loss of a woman, whom for him had at that time had been his definition of hope for a different life; a life lived less in the shadows and more in the sunlight.

Swiftly on impossible heels and with a decidedly more monotone choice of dress came the Catwoman; Selina Kyle. Someone who in the dark could be in kindness called a faded beauty, she was of a bygone age where there was honour on the playing field of criminality. For a time she had been a queen, and those beneath her loyal followers. Selina Kyle was a woman that you should never shake hands with, her talons should most definitely be put on the FBI's list of ten most wanted. It was upon the entrance of this particular pest, that she had shortly after arrived. That she was named Chloe Sullivan, freshly employed Gotham reporter, who came with just a few ulterior motives.

Obstinate, Bruce Wayne hated that.

Challenging, and not in the right way either!

Snarky, now most men like a bit of friction; but only in the correct situation.

Perky, pesky, prevaricating, bold, fearless, confrontational, caffeine addicted, workaholic, brave, beautiful, they're were millions of ways to describe her, but in her purest essence she couldn't be pinned down.

Oh, yeah... she was TROUBLE!

For him, however, she was his trouble and that was perfection, at least in his dictionary. It had taken him a short time to realise this fact, but much longer to admit it to anyone, least of all himself.

But...

It got worse...

Life as he knew it was over, well and truly.

No one knew him like her, no one saw him quite the same way as she did. He never allowed anyone to see him as she did, not even Alfred. The real truth was he had never been this way with anyone before, or since. Not that he was going to admit that to anyone but her. Even then he had only done it under very direct and decidedly undignified persuasion. It had left him at her mercy many times, this one being a case in point.

Now there were going to be more...

They were going to be crawling, crying, crapping and, oh yeah... smelling; and dear sweet heaven and all that was sacred... Batman and babies just did not mix.

Bruce Wayne, however, husband of Chloe Wayne...

Now that was a whole different matter entirely!

With a slight pursing of his lips, (it wouldn't do to show too much to those currently, and quite sensibly silently observing this present scene) Batman laid down his weapon and in a quick, and to his ears reassuringly commanding way, vacated room seventeen.

"Man, the bat, now he is soooooo whipped"

"With sprinkle's amigo, with chocolate multi--coloured sprinkle's!"