red-dye-number-five prompted: Alright, as promised, your first prompt for the fluff war from me is going to be Bruce and Selina spending quality time together away from the bat and cat. It's up to you what happens and how many other Wayne/Kyle-family members are included. Have fun Rena!
You fiend. You went straight for my romantic weakness. I wanted to do domestic fluff with Helena and others involved, but I got bit by another bug. I might still write domestic fluff with BatCat soon enough, though *cough*
Batman and related properties © DC Comics
story © RenaRoo
Something Old, Something New
The ring glitters, which is just how Selina prefers for her possessions to look when caught in sunlight. This one, however, is most likely her favorite. It is, after all, the one that changed everything.
And has become indirectly responsible for her new favorite form of entertainment.
"'According to our sources, the reception of Gotham's elite former playboy and his longtime associate and now officially revealed lover, served over two hundred international guests, had four layered wedding cakes, and was pronounced by the diocese of Gotham himself,'" she reads, crossing her legs and playfully biting at her nail. She lowers the paper enough to gaze out to the pool where Bruce swam to the edge and raised himself out of the water with a gush of water. "Makes me wonder why I didn't go to that wedding."
He frowns, reaching for his towel only to have it thrown at his head. He catches it without hesitation and proceeded to dry himself off.
"You should stop reading that garbage," he suggests in his very Bruce way of making simple suggestions marching orders.
She'd train that out of him yet.
"You're not looking this from the angle of just how much fun it is," she says with a toothy grin. "It's exciting."
"It's demeaning," he counters, apparently deciding he is dry enough to sit by her legs despite his shoulders and shorts still dripping. "One more day and we're back on the plane to Gotham."
Rolling up the newspaper, Selina smacks him over the head with it as hard as she can, earning a rare, genuine laugh from him. "You could pretend to enjoy this honeymoon - of two days - more than not at all, Bruce. I'd rather our first fight as Mr. and Mrs. be over something more substantial. Like me allowing the children to booby trap your den."
He holds up his hands to keep her from hitting him again. "I merely meant you could add to your collection of hard-hitting tabloids," he says. "You do realize that this… union-"
"Marriage, Bruce," she says flatly.
"-is merely the iceberg of what they're going to be saying about Mrs. Bruce Wayne from now on, yes?" he asks, face serious. "This… it's an unfortunate association when you're with me."
Despite his lackluster efforts, Selina smacks Bruce again with her newspaper roll and sits up, leaning her arms against her knees. "Oh, would you stop trying to talk me out of this? You're stuck with me now, buddy," she reminds him with a flash of her ring. "And I'm still working on whether this doubtfulness of yours is charming me or offending me. So back off the line while you can."
He merely stares at her for a few moments and Selina's not exactly sure how to take it before he leans forward, closing the gap between them.
Bruce's kisses are always fitting in a way that other men never could be for her. Selina melds with him, feels him hold her shoulders and gently stroke them with her thumb. He tastes salty.
"I don't want to offend you," he says as they part. It's a soft voice.
Uncrossing her legs and rolling her eyes, Selina shifts off of her chair and motions at it for Bruce who is about to get up and apparently follow her. "No! Stop, you're doing it again," she points out.
When he blinks in honest confusion, Selina sighs playfully.
"Lay down, on your chest. You're getting yourself strung out and worked up far too much again, and I'm not putting up with you going stir crazy on the only vacation I'll ever have with you."
"We will vacation -"
"Without our work suits," she looks at him pointedly before clapping her hands. "Come on! On your chest. Just do what I say."
He rolls his eyes in return but does just as he's told, laying his head to the side. "I don't 'work myself up,' Selina," he vainly attempts to argue just as she straddles his lower back and begins to run her fingers over his slick skin. "I'm actually quite collected."
"You're collected the way a general is before battle," she responds, dragging her nails over his skin in gentle scrapes before kneading the tight muscle. "Oh, Bruce. With your activity level I have no idea how you haven't worked in regular massage therapy."
"It's not necessary," he says, but he's grunting as she works with his right shoulder. It makes his argument come out weaker, if that is even possible. "Ah. You've done this before."
"Mmhmm," she responds, continuing to stroke his knotted muscles. Her hands work over the pits and craters that make up Bruce's scarred skin, tracing the groves reverently with her nails. Her eyes document each mark. Some are only visible upon reddening, having stretched and healed. Others are shockingly fresh.
It takes some work, but her husband's muscles begin to relax and he has even closed his eyes. "Oh, Bruce," she sighs, pausing the strokes. "Is there an inch of you without scar tissue?"
"Of course," he says, opening his eyes partially. "Or did you mean a consecutive inch of skin?"
She curls her fingers around his shoulders to rub them and lays against his back to get right next to his face. "You're being a smart aleck. I need some time to figure out how much I appreciate this development."
He opens his eyes entirely, deep blue irises looking at her longingly. "Selina, it's not that I'm proud of these marks. They're all memories of mistakes to one degree or another. But, at least with them, I can be certain I'll remember not to repeat them."
"If you say so," she says with a sigh, temporarily giving up her attempts at therapy to instead card her fingers through his short hair, running nails gently against his scalp. "For the rest of the world, they have to come up with some reasons that make sense for themselves."
"Oh? And what is your explanation?" he asks with a curious arch to his brow.
Selina smiles, presses her lips against his shoulder. "I think they're my roadmap. Trying to figure out the great and powerful mind of Bruce Wayne by looking at the past that apparently left quite a mark."
Bruce shifts, grabbing her wrist and, without warning, pulling her over as he turns. Somehow, they manage to tangle their legs, Bruce now on his back and Selina on his chest, slightly closer to the edge of the folding chair.
"Bruce-" she begins to hiss before he brings one of his fingers up and presses it to her lips.
"It's not only my past," he says with striking honesty. "My past… it dictates much of what I do. Probably far too much. But it's not my everything. Not anymore. Something new is on the horizon, and I have been chasing it and making more and more of it for a long time now."
Selina smiles slyly, uses her freehand to draw the hand on her lips down to her heart. "Would this something new happen to be the result of a long game of cat and mouse?"
"Yes," Bruce says, shifting enough to lift his head and shoulders up from the chair. "It's our future, Selina. I'm… doing things for our future now. I'm trying. But I won't promise to forget the past. I can't promise to change everything, but I will change. For you. For my family."
Reaching forward, Selina cups his chin in her hands, she says, "Bruce, as long as you remember to come home with me at the end of the night, there's nothing to change. I love you."
Bruce holds her against him, looks at her earnestly, and whispers, "I love you, too."