Prompt: IDEK, I just really want Bane headbooping with a kitten when he thinks no-one's watching. I mean, if he'll rescue a child in prison...it's not that OOC, is it?
Write me something short and ridiculously fluffy, someone? :)

AN: IDEK, just the thought of Bane and fluffy kittens make me grin so hard my face hurts. Mini fill.

Also, as an aside – this is the place where I'll be posting all of the mini fills I've made for the TDKR meme. Long fills will be made as their own fics. It's just easier to keep the mini fills here rather than posting dozens of 500 worded stories.

Boop

God only knows how the scraggly, disgusting thing had even got into the sewers. His men would willing shoot rats, and had shooed away a shaggy dog a few weeks ago. Still, somehow this little...thing. Had managed to sneak it's way deep into the centre of their organization.

He only notices it when it mews, weakly, from it's place in a cardboard box. He turns blue-green eyes to the box, watching a white tipped paw poke out a hole in the side, tiny claws scrambling for his papers. Carefully, he folds the blue prints he had been looking at and flicks his finger against the tear. Razor sharp kitten claws instantly stick into his finger, and he chortles as he shakes the paw off, absently wiping away the small splotches of blood.

Without thought, he reaches into the box and captures the cat by the scruff of its – her, he notices – neck, hefting her up. He stands, taking in the way all four paws and a tail curl upwards as the kitten hangs suspended from his hand. "Do you know what this is?" He asks his men, eyebrows having crawled halfway up his forehead.

Barsad, the bastard, smirks to himself. "I believe it is a cat, Bane." He somehow manages to make his voice sound unsure, although his eyes are full of laughter.

Bane narrows his eyes. "A cat it may be, but it is an infiltrator. This cat has somehow managed to sneak past all of you and into the heart of this world." He shakes the kitten, lightly, not wanting to hurt it. "Clearly, something must be done about this."

"I can take care of it." Barsad offers, still internally laughing.

Bane knows what take care of it means and glances down at shaggy brown and white fur. "No. I will 'take care of it'. See that this never happens again." He picks a man at random, nods, and walks away, too distracted by the ball of fluff to listen to the sound of screams from behind him. The creature fits perfectly in his palm when he puts her there, but her fur is greasy.

He washes the cat, ignoring it's hissing and growling as his fingers scrub shampoo – he's stolen it from Barsad's bag, having no use for shampoo himself – and rinses her off. With his door closed, he releases the beast, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes as she scrambles under his desk, shaking and leaving wet streaks across his floor.

He quickly forgets her as he, too, takes place at the desk, unfolding another blue print schematic. He sets to work, ignoring the paw batting at his shoe laces, the little teeth tugging at his pant leg.

It isn't until she hops up onto the desk, bottom planted firmly over an image of Wayne Tower, that he spares her another glance. "Can I help you?" He asks, head bowing and tilting, watching her as though he expects her to respond.

The pad of her paw is soft as it swats his face, claws sheathed. It brushes the strip of revealed skin on his cheek. As he leans away the claws come out, biting gently into his skin. Not hard enough to break flesh, but enough to let him know that they're there. He stills, amused, and then blinks in surprise when her little nose brushes at a tube on his mask.

Her whiskers twitch and she lets loose a rumbling purr as her lips are pulled back by her stroking motion, gums and teeth rubbing along his face. He ducks his head, dislodging her little face, not wanting to get cat slime all over the mask. It's hard enough to keep clean as is.

Her eyes meet his, glowing orange in the muted light of his desk lamp, and she purrs louder. Casting a glance over his shoulder to ensure his door is still firmly closed, Bane bends his head further. She meets him halfway, their forehead bumping, and her claws flex happily against his cheek.

Deciding that work can wait – the wheels are already turning, he's only studying the blue prints out of boredom at this point – he scoops the kitten up and takes her to his bed, settling heavily onto the mattress as petite paws merrily knead the black shirt covering his chest.