Author's Note: Some characters may be a little OOC, such as the slight mention of Lucius. So...sorry Lucius! And any others who may not be exactly as they should be. As always, any mention of the Catitat belongs to chris dee!
..ooOoo..
"Someday I wish upon a star
To wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney tops
That's where
You'll find me" Israel Kamakawiwo'ole "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"
Bruce collapsed into the Rolls Royce, feeling more exhausted than a night out as Batman.
"Hard day, Master Bruce?" Alfred toned cheekily and Bruce sent him a dry, unamused look. In fact, much like the ones Lucius had kept shooting his way through the entire meeting (through which he had slept) and after as Bruce unabashedly shook hands with random CEOs.
He was Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, no one could question Gotham's prince; if he wanted to fall asleep during an important meeting with supposedly very important people, he damn well could.
"Lunch please Alfred," Bruce droned aloud, head falling back to rest on the leather seat.
He was tired and no longer even faintly amused with how Lucius was trying to usurp him and take Wayne Enterprises out from under his feet. Conniving, silver haired little bastard.
"DiMaggio's sir?" Alfred asked, already making a swift right turn on Main to reach the elegant Italian restaurant.
Not even bothering to answer Bruce dozed.
"Master Bruce," Alfred said suddenly, and the billionaire jerked awake.
"Hm, yes? What is it-" he mumbled tiredly.
"We're here sir," Alfred droned, giving his young employer a slightly worried glance in the rearview mirror before exiting the car.
"Thank you, Alfred. Can I get you anything?" Bruce asked futilely once his door was open, courtesy of Alfred.
"No sir, Master Bruce. Thank you," the butler replied smoothly and shut the door behind him; already moving back to the driver's seat.
"See you in thirty?" Bruce called and Alfred nodded before slipping into the black Rolls.
Bruce pushed his way through the ornate, golden doors and into the richly decorated restaurant. The maitre d' snapped to attention and immediately jumped on the chance to serve Gotham's most eligible bachelor.
"Good afternoon Mister Wayne, how many will be joining us today?" the fat Italian man asked.
"Just me," Bruce said with a dashing smile, putting his hands in his pockets.
"Oh good choice then sir. Get away from all the ladies, eh?" the man chortled, slicking back his well oiled hair and giving an extra twist to his mustache before he snatched a menu. "Can I interest you in a private booth? A nice corner one perhaps?"
"A table will be fine, thank you Mario," Bruce laughed graciously.
The fat man bent in an awkward bow, "Anything for you Mister Wayne," he brown nosed and then skipped to a table.
Eyes followed Bruce as he was escorted, whispers tingled at his ears and he took his seat with an easy grace of one who had been doing this all his life.
"Wine, sir? Gelato?" the maitre d' asked smoothly.
"Water is fine," Bruce assured then added, "With lemon. Please."
"Right away sir," Mario practically purred and rushed away.
Bruce plucked the cloth napkin from the table and smoothed it into his lap. Picking up the menu he barely registered the clink of his glass being set down on the glass tabletop.
"Thank you Mario," he answered a little bit delayed.
"Of course sir," the man answered, not the least bit offended and left.
Bruce stared at the menu, but his eyelids kept falling and he struggled to keep the words from blurring.
"Mister Wayne?" a voice asked from somewhere and sleepily Bruce lowered the menu, looking about.
"Hm?" he asked tiredly.
"A lovely lady has just come in and asked if she could join your table," the maitre d' chortled with an envious grin.
Bruce straightened his jacket and sat higher in his seat, time to let the playboy play. Grinning dashingly up at the maitre de Bruce pushed the chair away from the table as he stood, "Why of course Mario, let's not keep the lovely lady waiting!"
Then the fat man was scurrying off, barely containing his glee. Bruce Wayne and his new paramour at HIS restaurant.
Bruce shifted from foot to foot in his shiny black Italian loafers, waiting. Soon Mario was skipping back, a petite woman on his arm dressed in a cream skirt suit, a silken black camisole peeking from beneath the jacket. Her small, creamy gloved hand was dwarfed by the owner's large forearm as he led her proudly to the star table.
Eyes followed her, much as they had Bruce and small gasps were heard as the figure was recognized by few.
A whimsical cream summer hat was titled sideways on her head, rich, glossy, ebony curls tumbling from beneath its shade. Insanely high and spiked stilettos (damn sexy, although inefficient in Bruce's opinion) donned her dainty feet.
Just by the sway of her hips Bruce knew the hidden face beneath the elegant hat and he felt a grin stretch across his face, one he had no control over. Mario stopped at the table, directly in front of Bruce.
"Mister Wayne, I humbly present Miss Selina Kyle," the owner grinned widely.
"Ah thank you Mario. Can I have another water please? Perhaps a Pinot Noir for Miss Kyle?" Bruce inquired, remembering her favorite wine suddenly.
As her head titled up Bruce was rewarded with a flash of emerald eyes framed by lush lashes and sensible black liner that never ceased to send a warm jolt of lightening to his groin.
"No wine, thank you Mario," she spoke in rich, chocolaty tones.
"Right away madam," the fat man wheezed in excitement and then hurried away.
Bruce grinned almost lecherously at his old flame, "Why Selina Kyle, imagine seeing you here." he teased lowly and bent to lay a firm kiss upon her hand.
Selina's lips pursed in a smile and her eyes flashed again with humor, but as she turned to take her seat Bruce was taken aback by the heavily concealed circles under her eyes. If only he could look that good with concealer on his face, Bruce mused silently.
He was quiet, watching her situate herself until Mario had delivered her water and left with dramatic promises to return for their orders. They hadn't seen each other in a long time outside of the masks…otherwise it was the same old song and dance behind masks, capes and claws.
"Rough night," he sympathized lowly and reached to gently brush the rim of her hat.
Selina instinctively reached up to gently touch her temple, where an ugly purple bruise was hidden beneath her lifesaver of a hat. The damn contusion had reached almost to her cheek and curling her hair was such a bitch.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked demurely and reached into her black handbag to grab her compact. Bruce watched as she flipped it open with familiar ease and titled her head just so to the left and right to admire her reflection.
It made his heart ache in remembrance; now she would be licking her lips and checking those too. Bingo.
"Nah, I just have a knack for noticing when you want something hidden."
With a snap of her compact she quirked her lips at him, "Oh really?" she inquired.
One side of his lips curling in amusement he nodded wryly, "Oh yes," he said matter-of-factly. "Normally when you want everyone to see you within a five mile radius you tilt your hat so that it almost completely covers your eye; a severe angle. This time though, this time you have it in an almost…lady like position," he ended sounding scandalized.
Selina laughed throatily, and it sent his muscles tightening in need.
"Am I so easy to read?" she laughed lightly, then putting her elbow on the table and leaning forward her eyes narrowed and she eyed him cattily.
She tapped a gloved fingertip to her scarlet lips and Bruce watched the action, mesmerized.
"Well you're not all secrets yourself, Bruce," she said with a clever glint in her eyes.
"Oh yeah? Try me," he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. This would be good.
"You only come to DiMaggio's after you've had a particularly bad day at the office, probably being scolded by Lucius," she trailed off eyeing him with a purse of her lips. "Probably for sleeping during an important meeting," she proclaimed.
Bruce nearly blushed and fought the impulse down, but his discipline could only do so much, "Hm, maybe," he conceded; a little.
"Or," she continued on, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs, one dainty foot brushing up his pant leg teasingly. It was only his Batman reflexes and discipline that kept him from jumping sky high at the feeling.
"Or, you feel as if you need to make a statement; so you come here where Mario grovels at your feet like a pathetic pet," Selina ended with a grin.
Bruce grinned stupidly back; he always felt most comfortable with Selina, his most fascinating socialite acquaintance in the history of Playboy Bruce Wayne. But she knew him so well, it was almost frightening, or it should have been. Instead he was at utter ease with Selina knowing him so well, like the back of her own hand. It almost comforted him to know that she still knew him so well, outside the cowl and cape as well as in it.
"So," Selina began, quirking a perfect eyebrow "nursing any broken bones today, Brucie?"
He immediately stiffened, now uncomfortable with the fact that she brought up their other lives, but he willed himself to relax. This was Selina and the one thing that had always kept them apart; because they were obviously so damn good for each other that it made his bones hurt, was that he couldn't set aside the mantle of Batman and pass it on to Dick, who, truth be told, was fully capable and had been for awhile.
Sheepishly he moved his right hand onto the table, in the shadow of a small vase between them, "Nothing broken, just a couple of swollen fingers," he admitted.
Selina's eyes dropped down to study his purple knuckles, twice the size of their normal states. She sighed defeatedly, emerald eyes flickering with pain at his pain as she reached out and stroked his middle knuckle with her gloved thumb.
"May I take your orders?" Mario interrupted, suddenly at their side.
Both jerked back as if stung, and their hands shot beneath the table, Mario grinned behind his large mustache: ah, young love.
"What can I get for you Madam?" the maitre d' asked slyly.
"Nothing, thank you Mario." Selina answered in dulcet tones and Mario gasped in scandalized shock.
Bruce raised a slim black eyebrow, but spoke out of the corner of his mouth, "House salad with the ziti, please. I do love your specialty dish, Mario." Bruce flattered, trying to give them private time without the overzealous waiter.
"Ah yes!" Mario's face lit up after its dismay from Selina's comment, "Be right back, sir!"
The fat man scurried away and Bruce turned his blue eyes back to his company with a frown.
"You, not eating?" he asked, small laughter in his voice.
The midnight haired woman shrugged lithe shoulders underneath the cream jacket and Bruce's eyes were involuntarily drawn to her D-cup sized cleavage pressing against the lace lined black camisole.
"Not hungry," she softly sang.
They sat in silence for a few moments, both comfortable and uncomfortable. They had known each other long enough to know that silences came and went, but something felt…off.
"Bruce," Selina began, looking down into her lap and her ebony brows were drawn together in concentration, "I have something to tell you, that I wanted to tell you last-"
"The house salad sir!" a young waiter announced, nearly stumbling up to the table in his anxiousness.
Both socialites looked at the young man expectantly to leave and embarrassedly he set the plate on the table and then backed away. Bruce once again turned his eyes toward the beautiful woman across from him, who was looking quite frustrated.
"Go on," he urged.
Selina sighed loudly, and then opened her scarlet mouth just as their table was swarmed by people.
"Mister Wayne are you and Selina Kyle, Catwoman, back together?"
"What of her relationship with Batman? Is it finally over?"
"Is Barbara Gordon still upset over the break-up?"
The vultures swarmed about them, all questioning and loud trying to one-up each other. Small recording devices were shoved in between the couple and Selina jerked away from one that came awfully close to clipping her in the face as in his haste, the reporter forgot his manners.
"Miss Kyle have you gotten any new pieces to your "collection" lately?" one reporter asked snidely.
"I hear the Catitat is doing very well, how are you funding your foundation? Is Mister Wayne donating?" another asked with a perverse grin.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Bruce called order to the court with a debonair smile, "Miss Kyle and I have known each other a long time, we're old friends."
"But you were also once lovers, were you not Mister Wayne?"
"You were Gotham's star couple!" a reporter squawked aloud in indignation.
"Selina Kyle was about to be the princess of Gotham for awhile there!"
Selina felt her heart tremble in sadness, as she looked down beneath the protective shade of her hat.
Yes, she had been that, almost, and so much more. She would be right now if he hadn't decided he could only spend his days with her, but never the nights. He had lorded her villain title over her when she objected and always she had assured him that as soon as he relinquished the mantle, she would too. Catwoman only ever appeared for one purpose, for one man.
"Also," Bruce interrupted the fray, "Barbara and I have never been anything but friends,"
Inwardly he was wincing, knowing he would get an earful later from the redhead. Selina paled under her cover, ah yes, the little thing he had rebounded on her with; the reason for their longest separation to date.
"Miss Kyle's foundation and exhibit Catitat is a noble cause; one I would gladly donate to any day." Bruce boasted, ever the hero.
Selina wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin and after making sure her hat was on her head securely, demurely slipped away from the table as Bruce flashed his dazzling smile at each reporter.
She knew that he couldn't stand them, but he played his part so well it never ceased to hurt her just a little. As she slipped away unnoticed towards the front door she passed by Mario who looked shocked at seeing her go and then outraged when he saw his patron being swarmed by gnats.
"Get out of my restaurant!" the fat man cried vehemently, "OUT!"
Selina nearly fled out of the gold doors and when Gotham's cool breeze whispered across her face she deflated in relief. Fluffing up her curls she began to make her way home, maybe she would stop by the Catitat, she hadn't seen her lovelies in such a long time…
As she passed, slowly losing herself in her thoughts, she passed by the gleaming black Rolls Royce and recognized it as one of Bruce's play toys.
And there, sure enough, was ever studious Alfred.
Selina smiled softly and wiggled her fingers at the old man in greeting. The man looked startled when he caught her eye, but smiled warmly back and waved his hand. As she continued to walk past she heard the door open behind her.
"Miss Kyle, do you need a ride? It would be an honor, Ma'am."
A forceful gust of wind ripped through Main Street and Selina placed a hand on the top of her hat, keeping her cover from blowing away as her curled locks fluttered about her face.
Men stopped mouths dry on the street as the wind flirted with her skirt and Selina grinned Cheshire-like, oh yes, not wearing a slip underneath never ceased to get the dogs salivating; she hoped her garters showed, or dressing up would have been for nothing. She may be feeling off, but damnit she was still Selina Kyle and she would be damned if she still couldn't turn heads in her present state.
"No thank you Alfred, you're so kind! Take care of yourself, okay?" she requested fondly, "And take care of the playboy, will you?"
Selina air kissed the old man and then turned to make her way to the Catitat; she had no secrets from Alfred and positively adored the man. Whoever could put up with Bruce and his split personalities 24/7 earned her respect and then some. Also the man had seen her stark naked on more than one occasion by accident in the Wayne Manor, so really, no secrets.
Also, she had a strong feeling that Alfred was pleased with the match she made for Bruce, and for that Selina would always be the most grateful; that he had thought she might be worthy to bear the title of the next Mrs. Wayne. Selina lost herself in the click of her heels on the pavement, no longer caring about the appreciative looks men shot at her.
That Bat family…
She had known Dick since he was so young, back in his Robin days. They got along fabulously; they made quite a team teasing Bruce and pointing out his carefully hidden flaws and weaknesses, ah but they loved him for it. Many a time she'd had to go to Blüdhaven to give the now Big Bird a talking to when he and his adopted father had been in a particularly long-run spat.
Didn't he, with his occupation, realize how precious each moment was?
Didn't he realize that time was so fleeting and lives were so easily lost?
Bruce almost didn't seem complete unless he had the handsome acrobat at his side; they would always be the 'Dynamic Duo' to Selina. But, Selina admitted to herself, at one point Bruce had gone too far…
Slowly she was also becoming fond of Tim Drake, little pip that he was, so much like his predecessor, but yet so different. Where Dick had always thirsted to step outside of Batman's shadow, Tim reveled in it. Proud to just be a part of the Bat family.
Selina grudgingly admitted to herself that if she had been given that honor, she would feel the same. Sighing, she decided she was tired of walking and hailed a cab.
"The Catitat, please," Selina Kyle droned as she slid into the cool leather seats and recognition flickered across the driver's face as he gazed at her in his mirror.
"Right away Ma'am," the driver obliged.
Yes ma'am, Mrs. Wayne.
..ooOoo..
It was only after Mario had chased away all of the reporters that Bruce realized with a start that Selina had vanished.
"Wonder when that happened?" he asked aloud and with the intent of cornering her during one of their midnight rendezvous; shrugged and then began to wolf down his meal.
That woman, always trying to one up him in her mystery. Silly cat, he was Batman, he was mystery.
..ooOoo..
Selina entered her house, smiling fondly at the fur that lined her cream suit, all different shades from the lovelies she had just visited.
The panthers, tigers, and her sole leopard. The cuddly ocelots, lionesses and lion. They tolerated her presence and even rubbed against her once or twice and each time it sent pleasant, comforting waves down her spine. She loved them, so so much.
Pulling off the gloves she had put on solely for the cab ride home she tapped a finger to her answering machine, feeling her felines wind themselves around her ankles lovingly.
"Selina! Where are you? You need to be home, what did I tell you this morning-" Selina rolled her green eyes and drowned out Leslie's nagging.
She'd gotten a thorough scolding by the old doctor this morning, for sleeping when she had a concussion; a serious one at that. I barely slept at all, Selina wanted to confess, but wisely kept her mouth shut.
"In your condition," Leslie Thompkins prattled on and Selina sighed, pressing the delete button. Three other messages of the same nagging, and then one art dealer saying he had gotten a new piece that he wanted her to inspect under tight supervision, just to make sure he hadn't gotten ripped off. Then there was a teeny-bopper sounding girl who asked if she would be able to make it to a rally next week Wednesday to raise funds for cats in the humane societies, to be put into no kill shelters.
Selina jotted down the last two numbers left on a small pad of paper and then promptly deleted all of the messages.
A knock at her door sounded and Selina cocked her eyebrow tiredly. Opening the door she sighed loudly and rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Pamela," she groaned in greeting.
"Selina," Mother Nature incarnate greeted coldly. Oo, Mr. Freeze cold, yowzah. If it got any colder maybe her own tits would fall off; damn heavy things, Meow.
Stooping to a very unlady-like position Selina leaned against her door and worked at the stiletto straps around her ankles.
"Mhm? How can I help you, Pam?" Selina asked boredly.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Poision Ivy asked, her poison green lips a displeased smudge on her light green face.
Rolling in the grass again, Selina thought idly, finally able to kick off one heel, then moved to work on the other.
"Nope. Don't really feel like company right now, Pam." Selina answered truthfully and unabashedly.
Pam's green eyes narrowed angrily, and her mouth pursed, leaving lines like a smoker.
"I wanted to talk about last night." Pamela Isley growled.
"Oh really? What about it? I didn't run into you there, so nothing to talk about, really. What a nice chat Pam, we should do it again sometime, but alas, not now. Toodle-oo, hon!" Selina sing songed.
Pam reached out with a long fingered hand and pressed against the door to keep it from closing in her face. Her evil looking red hair (meaning so obviously fake and from a bottle) gleamed in the brightly lit hall. The woman had naturally orange hair, which in itself was Ew, but then she had to go and make it worse. She looked like freaking Christmas tree, goddamnit.
Sighing in defeat Selina kicked off the last heel and leaned against the door lazily, crossing her arms.
"So how is our dear little Harley?" she asked, not caring, at all.
"You broke her jaw with that kick of yours," Pamela growled, hackles rising.
Oooh, angry kitty, Selina thought, barely suppressing a smile.
"Oh yeah, that. Well she pointed a gun at me, or at least in my general direction," Catwoman stated semi-seriously. Lie-lie-lie.
"You know that Jack does enough damage to her, Selina," Poision Ivy snapped, green eyes alight with fire, "You don't have to make it worse."
And at that Selina did feel a little guilt, but just a schnizbit; she sighed again, and raised apologetic eyes from the cool, glossy black tile up to Pamela's much shorter face.
"I'm sorry," she said honestly and Poision Ivy deflated.
"She'll be okay of course," the redhead, cough fake, cough, went on, "Because she's Harley and she has a pair of steel, unlike that pig she saddles up with."
Admit it Pam, Selina sing songed in her head, You're totally bi and you just simply adore the little blonde fool.
"I'll send flowers," Selina offered, wondering if that comment would get her a kick.
"Well you don't have to really," Pam brightened with a smile, "I already filled her room with all kinds of lovely flora to cheer her right up in that gloom and doom infirmary at Arkham! White hibiscus is nearly unheard of, but I can grow them!" Pam declared, beaming with pride for obviously growing Harley's favorite flower.
White white white…hmm, "Could I send her a bouquet of lilies?" Catwoman asked aloud.
Ivy's eyes glinted happily, "Oh yes those would be nice, but roses are so much more…thoughtful."
Bitch, Selina hissed inwardly, of course roses; God knows that the Gotham florists didn't make you pay for them like they were a damn blackmarket organ.
"Well, anything I can do, so roses it is!" Selina declared with a generous, fake smile.
Pamela responded with a brilliant smile of her own and the woman beamed at each other uneasily for moments, then Pam's smile fell.
"Listen Cats, you may not wanna' hear this, but you don't look so good, girl," Mother Nature confessed worriedly.
Selina raised a hand unconsciously to her temple, goddamnit, just had to take off her hat. Pam followed her motion and eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Did Harley-" she started.
"No," Selina sighed.
"Batm-"
"No, it was Jack."
Pamela's face contorted in great dislike, perhaps even hate and Selina felt a little touched at the gesture.
"Bastard," Pamela spat, "He's such a woman beater,"
Selina nodded gloomily; okay so maybe kicking Harley halfway down the block hadn't been such a good idea…
"I didn't mean to really hurt her," Selina confessed suddenly.
Pam looked down at the floor and rubbed a green calf with a bare foot EW that was soled out in large ivy leaves, "I know," Pamela confessed in turn, "I know she can be annoying as hell, and it's hard not to hit her, but the asshole's just been a little rough on her lately."
Selina's eyes hardened, "Next time I see him I'll be sure to give him a hard kick to the balls," the Catwoman declared.
Pam smiled impishly, "Good, you do that and we'll be even."
The women smiled genuinely at each other; women rogues of Gotham always had each other's back, once they were done cat-fighting among themselves that is.
"Well, see ya around Selina," Pam ta ta'd and blew a nonlethal kiss at her fellow rogue, "And take care of yourself will you? You look like shit, and there are only so many of us girls to go around."
"I'll do that," Selina said with a ruthful smile and waved the botanist off. Closing the door after Pam disappeared into the elevator with a face of disgust at all the metal, Selina locked the door and trudged over to her bed.
God she was tired.
Collapsing on it and nearly missed sliding down off the circular edge onto the floor, Selina sighed tiredly.
"Just a short cat nap," she confided in the cats, and was fast asleep.
..ooOoo..
Author's Note: Please review! I love them! They make me starry eyed and hopeful!
