A/N: Hello everyone. This is my very first Gotham fanfiction. I have to say, I've always been a fan of Bruce and Selina and the show's take on them is pretty much any shipper's wet dream. They are so, so adorable. This is my take on their relationship dynamic. Of course, they are relatively young in the show so I've aged them up for my story. A time skip of sorts that I hope to see in Gotham too. (Yay for Season 3!) Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. If this gets sufficient reviews, I will consider publishing more! So please do leave a review and share it!

Further, I'm using and building on scenes that have happened in Gotham. I am making no such claim over the script obviously. I have only wanted to explore what sort of emotions the two cuties went through. All in all, I don't own Gotham; the premises and it's characters. This is a work from a loving fan.

It had taken him a considerable amount of time before Bruce had finally asked her. Sixteen years to be exact. It had been a cold, autumn evening and she had sneaked into his home as she usually would. Alfred had tactfully left a tray of hot cocoa and pastries for two, even before the girl- no, woman, had made her usual appearance through the window. Bruce had requested for wine; but the wise, Englishman had told him that he would not want to have anything less than a clear mind that night.

He was fidgety the entire day, nervously fumbling with the cool object in his pocket and wondering how she would react to it. He hadn't felt this nervous since the very first time she had come to his home.

Bruce stepped slowly down the hallway, his eyes taking in the form of the girl inspecting one of his mother's favoured artefacts. She appeared to be dressed in leather from head to toe - an odd sight for a sheltered boy such as himself, who had only seen girls dressed in pretty dresses or in prim, pressed preparatory-school uniforms.

"It's from the Chinese Ming dynasty."

Startled, the girl turned to him and just as he was about to continue, he found himself at a momentary loss for words.

"Five…five hundred years old."

She was definitely unlike the girls Bruce was used to. Her eyes were bright, alert and mystical. Greens, golds, just the slightest smudge of grey. Her hair was what Alfred would call, a bloody mess. But he found himself strangely drawn to the wild, bronze-blonde curls. It suited her. She appeared to be assessing him herself; though hers was a cool, collected once over. It was as if she had known him already. Her fingers toyed with the vase and if it had been anyone else, Bruce would have cautioned them to be careful with the priceless piece. But he seemed to know instinctively that the girl was hardly clumsy.

"You can get one just like it for five bucks from Chinatown."

She gave him an amused look and set it down. The manner she held herself – chin held high, eyes unyielding and shoulders wide. She was…lithe…uninhibited. He found himself gaping and closed his mouth, reaching out his hand primly, very much unlike a twelve-year-old.

"I'm Bruce Wayne."

She raised his brow at him but smiled nonetheless; clearly not used to the formality. She took his hand and gave a surprisingly firm shake. He noticed her hands were rough, dry and calloused. Their hands were about the same size, but in hers, there was definitely a quiet strength in them. He was intrigued.

"Selina Kyle."

He didn't realize it, but he had a light smile on his own face. A first since the night of his parents' murder.

"People call me Cat."

He could not help but think how fitting it was. He didn't need to ask why. He heard himself speak, and he wondered how his soft, awestruck voice sounded to her.

"Nice to meet you, Cat."

And for once, he had meant the formality in the sincerest sense.

Truly, he was out of his element, as he had not even felt her creeping up to him. For the past ten years since he had returned to Gotham as the cloaked crusader, he finally had an edge over her in terms of sensing. But at this very point of time, it was all up in the air. Even she, who hadn't expected to get this far without him giving a smart retort of how she was getting out of practice, was baffled. Once her lips were right over his ear, and right before the hairs on his neck stood on end, she wrapped her arms deftly around his chest, resting her cheek on his back.

"What's wrong?"

His heart nearly gave out but he sighed and relaxed as soon as he heard her soft voice. His voice had changed remarkably over the years, from one of a sweet, well-mannered little boy, to the awkward cracked chords of a depressed teen and finally, the deep baritone of a virile, adult man. On the other hand, hers had remained relatively the same - smooth, feminine and self-assured. There was the underlying hint of a seductively deep, velvety purr – but she usually reserved that for when they were chasing each other on the roofs – or tangled beneath the sheets.

"Nothing…just some conflicts at work."

He knew she would see right through him even before he had uttered those words, but he honestly did not know what to say to her. Alfred had simply told him to be himself. The old man had an amused glint in his eye. It was almost as if he wanted him to be this tense. Now he understood what he had meant when he had said "It's good to get shaken up once in a while, Master Wayne. Showing vulnerability is hardly a weakness in this instance."

He gently took her hands in his – now bearish and were more calloused and rough compared to her elegant, slender ones and warmed them in his palms, gently rubbing them before bringing them up to his lips. "Where's the gloves?"

"Right here."

He turned to her as she gestured to them, sticking out of the pocket out of her trademark leather jacket. She had ruined her old leather gloves helping him beat up a mob boss the other week. He knew Selina hated hand-outs, even if they were sincere gifts from him. It was probably out of habit, as she was hardly the homeless, street kid she was ages ago. She had her own apartment, a day job working in the orphanage and when her kleptomaniac tendencies got to her, an occasional museum tour. Mostly to get him to chase her and convince her into returning them. She never did intend to keep them. Well, most of the spoils at least.

So for that, he had taken her old, battered gloves and hid them in his illusive bat cave and replaced them with the new ones while she cleaned up in his shower. They were much more hardy, and were even punch-proof. He even custom-fit and improved the claw mechanics. He did hate seeing her knuckles get bloody and cut after a good spar. She had punched him lightly in the shoulder when she returned from her shower, but Bruce knew she had accepted it and he was glad.

He raised his brow, as if to silently ask why'd she would not wear them and especially in a cold night like today.

"You wouldn't be warming my hands like you are now."

He couldn't help but chuckle against her fingers and felt some of the tension ease away from his shoulders. He rested his hands on her hips, feeling the womanly curves beneath his fingers as he hoisted her up effortlessly to sit on his desk. His palms rested on her knees as he stood before her, leaning forward to kiss her. Her hands rested on his chest, sliding up to his broad shoulders while his slowly slid up to her thighs, before curving around her waist and tugging her closer to his body. He felt her body yield to his, curving perfectly with the hard lines of his form.

"There's other places that need warming." She breathed as they finally pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes half-lidded. Bruce rested his forehead against hers and grinned boyishly– a rare occurrence. Selina felt her heart stop beating for several moments. "Of course. But first…"

He abruptly pulled away from her, smirking as he heard an audible groan of complaint behind him. He headed towards the shelf where he kept a certain box. "There's something I need to show you."

He shifted aside a few old tomes and brought out a magnificent old chest. It was newly dusted, and Alfred had showed it to him only recently. He had only heard his mother speak of it once, and he had thought it was forever lost since he could not find it. But Alfred had been instructed to keep it away from Bruce till the time was right. The Englishman figured now was the time.

"It's the Wayne heirlooms."

Selina's brows disappeared up the curls of her hair. They were more relaxed, curls now. Falling in soft waves around her cheekbones and brushing her shoulders. While she looked more softly feminine, they did little to diminish her wild, cat-like look. The leather getup didn't help either. He set the chest next to her wordlessly, and opened it carefully.

"Bruce…should you really be showing this to a cat burglar?"

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her nose. "I'm not showing this to a cat burglar. I'm showing this to my most trusted ally."

Now it was her turned to be quietly stunned. Of course, they had sixteen years of a unique, but unbreakable bond between them. A strange position where they were on opposing ends, but at the same time, were more unified. His infinite trust for her never failed to rattle her. It brought her back to the time when he had first openly declared how much he trusted her.

Bruce pulled out a tie pin. It appeared to be made of platinum, engraved with clean lines that curved to form a dove. From years of stealing antiques and selling them off in the black market, Selina knew that it was not cheap. Bruce reached out and set the pin firmly on her palm.

"On my tenth birthday, my father showed this to me the first time. He told me that when I found a close friend – an ally, one that I knew I could trust my life with, I was to gift it to them. It's a tradition of the Wayne men."

Selina looked up to him questioningly, not quite understanding. "I…I see."

Bruce realized Selina might not be fully catching on. "For my dad, that person was Alfred. He held on to this for years. I wasn't even aware." He looked at her examining the pin carefully, as though she was afraid of breaking it. His heart swelled at that moment, wanting to tell her fully how much he cared for her. "Alfred was actually hinting to me that I might have found that person now. But it made me realize so much more." He whispered softly.

Bruce stared blankly down at the tie pin before looking up at Alfred. He knew his father trusted Alfred, but he hadn't imagined that they were even considered friends.

"I think it is only right that you carry on the tradition, Master Wayne."

"But...who should I give it to?"

Alfred raised his eyebrow. He knew the young man to be smart and quick-witted - he did raise him. But he hadn't expected that he would be this dense.

"I regret not nurturing the emotional side to you, Master Wayne. When you were younger and much more vulnerable, it seemed only right. But I have not thought how it would impact your adult life."

Bruce could only stare blankly up at the man. "What are you talking about Alfred?" His voice was soft. To him, Alfred was a surrogate father that he had needed. They had their own fair share of ups and downs, but not once did it come in their way of caring for one another.

"You're well past thirty, Master Bruce. If your dear mother were still here, she would lament about not having any grandchildren."

Alfred watched with sad amusement as the tips of Bruce's ears tinted pink.

"Alfred...You know it. We've had this conversation befo-"

"With all respect, Master Wayne. Pushing away the people you love, the woman you clearly love - Oh, don't act surprised Master Wayne. You've been besotted since the day you've met her. I think it's high time both of you hand down the torches and let the new generation handle the world's problems."

Bruce sighed and rubbed his face.

"I...I want to. But it won't be fair to her."

"Won't be fair to her? Master Wayne, neither of you are being fair to yourselves quite frankly."

Bruce's thumb edged over the pin. He imagined her by his side, as she always has been. She had been more loyal to him than even his old friends. When he had become a loner, she had became his best friend. His ally. His lover.

"You're right."

Selina stared blankly down at her hands for several moments before slowly looking up to him. "Bruce…I'm flattered, but what am I going to do with a tie pin? As much as I love dressing up I can't think of a time I'll be wearing a tuxedo." She laughed nervously, trying to lighten the atmosphere. She was actually as nervous as he was. They always were when they spoke intimately of their relationship. It was never said aloud, but it was something that was clear as day to them. Discussing it made them both uncomfortable. You can't put words to what they had.

"You probably won't…but it's the thought that counts."

He reached for the pin, and carefully slipped it onto the lapel of her leather jacket. Selina looked down at it, not quite believing what was happening. She knew Bruce was aching to tell her something, but this wasn't it. She touched his arm and then took his hand, threading her fingers with his. "Is there something you're not telling me? Are you in danger Bruce? Are you…are you going to leave again?"

The last he had acted this odd, was right before the day he had left Gotham to train. To this day, he still hasn't gone into specifics on what had occurred the five years he was gone to train with the League of Assassins, but Alfred himself seemed to be kept in the dark about his time there and Selina figured that he would come to tell her eventually.

Selina sighed as she slumped on the chair of the great oak table. It was cold, and the leather backing firm from not having its owner sit upon it for ages. She took off her goggles and set them carefully on the table, not wanting to disturb the positioning of the various paraphernalia. One in particular, she found herself looking into every single time she made her visits. It was a family portrait of the Wayne's. Bruce looked to be about ten and had the uninhibited smile that should be on a child's face.

She tensed when she sensed movement beyond the door, but relaxed as Alfred strolled in coolly.

"How long did you know?"

"Since the first visit, Miss."

She felt the corner of her mouth curl up and set the photograph down carefully, making sure it was at the exact angle she had found it in. When she lifted her head, she was met with his usual expressionless face, but sad grey eyes. She found herself disarmed. Alfred and her weren't exactly best buddies, but they did have one thing in common. Selina stood up and patted his back lightly as she walked past him. She spoke over her shoulder as she plucked her goggles from the table and disappeared into the curtains.

"I miss him too."

Alfred righted himself, as if realizing he was showing far too much emotion that permitted of a butler and busied himself with tiding up. He had meticulously ensured that not a single speck of dust landed on his Master's desk. After all, he could return at any moment. Or so he hoped.

She watched as his expression morph from tenseness, to confusion to amusement. He reached up and ruffled her hair playfully; homage to the times she would do that to him. "No, Selina. Well, not significantly more danger than I usually am in." He chuckled as she punched him lightly in the stomach, wincing a little when he felt a slight ache. As delicate as her fingers were, they were never to be underestimated.

"And…well, I do have plans to go to Switzerland." He watched with secret bemusement as her shoulders slumped a fraction. "Oh…so you are leaving again."

Usually, Selina would rather be caught dead before showing vulnerability. Even before him, she withheld some of her emotions. It was as if she was expecting him to break her heart one day – as he had, many times before. And he regretted every single time. But it had always bothered him that she still had a guard up against him.

"Selina…"

She felt her insides melt. He knew damn well what that did to her. He grabbed her wrists and anchored them by her thighs, when she attempted to leave. Overwhelming her easily with his strength, but careful not to handle her like he would a criminal. Not that she minded and she was, in certain precincts and under certain jurisdictions, a criminal herself.

"Hey…It's okay…"

He pressed a firm kiss to her cheek, not ignoring how misty her eyes were getting. "I'm not going anywhere. Not without you." He saw miserable confusion in her eyes and decided finally to put her (and mostly himself) out of misery. He released her wrists, trailing his hands to hold hers. He helped her get down from the table, and tugged her over to the leather-backed seat of his study and had her sit down.

"I want you to listen to what I have to say- "

"Yes."

"…What?"

"Yes. I'll marry you."

Now it was the Bruce's turn to be stunned. She fished out the ring, the very object he had been toying with before she had come from her pocket. "Come on Brucie, we've known each other for sixteen years and you think I can't pat-empty your pockets? I saw you fiddling with it from out the window and slipped it out when you got handsy." She had a wide grin on and her cheeks were still flushed and moist with tears. Happy tears. She handed the ring back to him with a wink.

"Now that you're not tense, I want a proper proposal."

Bruce shook his head and could only laugh. He knelt down on one knee before her, as many Waynes before him had at that very spot, including his father. He took both her hands and looked into her teary eyes.

The screech of a final "yes" and a loud thump was heard as the couple tumbled down to the floor and Alfred allowed himself a smile.