Harder than he thought, putting in another appearance in Gotham. Was one thing helping Dick out, a whole other thing playing Batman solo. Hadn't wanted to, didn't think Bruce would ask. And Bruce hadn't, but Dick had.

"Clark, could you just swing by a couple of times while we're gone? Keep the local thugs on their toes? Don't want the criminal element to get too… complacent. Me and Bruce got a job to do overseas."

So he had, last night and this one. Lois was on assignment in Ceylon, anyway. And Metropolis was quiet, so… might as well make himself useful for an hour or two.

The cowl was a hassle, though. In fact, all of this Bat gear was a pain. Especially on a hot night, like tonight. How Bruce put up with it all these years was—did he have a summer suit? Because, Jeez, you really had to like leather. And body armor, a lot. To wear this thing.

Being Kryptonian didn't stop you from sweating, and he was already too warm when he made it to the fire raging at 42nd and Finger.

A quick scan showed three people in Acme Supplies, where the fire was worst. Two night watchmen and a pizza delivery guy. He deposited the last man on the sidewalk just as the first fire truck arrived on the scene.

Flames licked at the walls of the next building, Schwartz's Diamonds. Just one person in that two-storey—a woman. He punched a hole through from the back of the warehouse to get close, but whoever she was, she was moving fast. He didn't see her until she was on him.

Just a "Hello, Tiger," as she pounced, and her whole, squirming body was thrown against his. She landed in his arms, wrapped around him, leather catsuit and body heat, arms around his neck, thighs around his hips, her body pushing and writhing against his and for the first time tonight he's actually glad he's in the batsuit, because—well, no wonder Bruce wears a heftier codpiece than Superman.

Catwoman ground against him, pelvis to pelvis and he could… he could smell her, sweat and… other scents and it—God, he missed Lois.

Lips on his, harsh and hot and without even thinking, he opened his mouth to let her tongue push inside, demanding. As soon as he did, she yanked away to give a sudden, savage little bite to the side of his jaw, so hard and unexpected that he almost yelped.

Her breath was a hiss in his ear. A disappointed hiss.

"You're not him."

"No ma'am."

She laughed, halfway between a purr and a growl, settling her hips even snugger around his… lower regions as she pulled back to see his face, hands on his biceps.

"Who are you then, Big Boy?"

"I'm, um—" He cleared his throat. "A friend."

"I see." She looked over her shoulder at his hands, where Batman's right and left gauntlet gripped a plump, muscular, perfectly rounded rear end.

One of them, completely of its own accord, had been squeezing. He… made it stop doing that.

Her teeth flashed in a sharp smile. "So… friend? You gonna put me down anytime soon?"