"Did Alfred send you down here?" Bruce asks, his eyes still glued to the task at hand.

"Yes, he thought my secretarial experience might be helpful." I remark.

But the joke on my prior assumptions isn't appreciated by him. He merely grunts; I'm not sure if out of annoyance or pain. From the amount of blood trickling down his side I would guess the latter. His otherwise pristine, rippled chest also sports some deep bruises and faded scratches. This new cut is positioned across his ribcage at a very awkward angle, testing his normally savvy first aid skills.

Remembering Alfred's advice, I slowly move forward as to not startle him.

"Selina, I don't need any help." He claims.

He's always been a very do-it-yourself kind of guy; hence his night job.

"Bruce, I've opened my share of these on you. How about I close one of them up for a change?" I offer humorously. "Plus, I had to do work on myself when I was…well, you know."

My words seem to have little influence on him as he stubbornly continues. To be honest, he's making a mess. I can tell he's pricked his fingers a time or two as I can see the evidence of some faint crimson highlights in his otherwise brown hair. One of his more attractive quirks is to run his fingers through his hair when he's stressed, or in pain, I suppose. I am almost positive he's going to need to replace this chair. The red liquid coming from him has my dream rolling in my mind like an old film reel, and it takes a great deal of resistance to keep myself from licking my lips. Instead, I reach out my hand and place it on top of the one at work.

"Bruce, please let me help you." I whisper.

For the first time he looks up at me and I can see his eyes sigh before he actually does. He drops his arms by his side as I catch the needle between two expert fingertips. And that's when I realize only the battle has been won.

"Do you happen to have another chair down here? Because working at this slant won't be very effective."

"I can lean this one back some. Or you could just let me finish if this is too much for you." He taunts, tilting his seat a few inches.

"Oh, I think I can mange." I declare before making a bold yet necessary move.

I settle myself down on his lap, my left knee slightly between his as I steady myself with a free hand on his shoulder. His skin feels surprisingly slick, moisture coating him as if he had just finished a hot bath. Speaking of hot, the once coolness of the cave is suddenly starting to warm up, especially in my cheeks.

Taking a quick glance for a sign of emotion on his face, I find he doesn't seem bothered at all. I shouldn't be surprised considering I was always more comfortable expressing intimacy in overtly sexual ways. It was a rare occasion when I'd tone down my rating to PG with a hug or small kiss. While it held its advantages it also made public displays of affection nearly nonexistent. Something about hugging in general made my skin crawl, let alone doing it in front of faceless bystanders. Because of this our physical interactions usually boiled down to one thing…well, in different variations. However, currently I couldn't feel any calmer. I breathe out some formerly concerning tension as I allow myself to brace more of my weight against him.

"Are you waiting for a formal invitation?"

"No." I say, returning to reality. "But did I mention I haven't done this in a while?"

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'd brace myself if I were you." I suggest, positioning the needle closer to him.

He looks around as I notice just how ill-equipped his chair is. There are no arm rests and nothing anywhere close to clamp on to. But, not wanting any more blood to be shed, I abruptly start. As I do so my hand seems to find a rhythm of its own. The first stitch I accomplish is beautiful, straight, and tight. It's amazing how many things truly are like riding a bike. I haven't even picked up a needle in over a year, let alone sewn any flesh back together. This is much easier than I remember.

"Selina." He groans, quickly seizing my arm.

Paying closer attention, I see I've overdone it a little with a few…extra stitches. Apparently some of his good skin didn't quite remain untouched by my attempted medical procedure. Although, I have to admit I did a fine job…until I got to the end. And with the end comes my next step in the process as I tie off the thread. Assuming he doesn't have a spare pair of scissors lying around, I choose to gently nip the end with my teeth as I free the needle.

"All done." I state calmly.

"Thank you." He sighs, removing his death grip from my limp.

I twinge, the lack of pressure permitting the pain I'd been ignoring to sear into my nerves. That's going to leave a mark.

XXXXX

"So, what do you want to watch?" I ask, flipping through channels.

"Nothing involving crocodiles."

I smirk, his request completely reasonable considering the night he's had. After a shower and change back into his clothes from earlier in the day, he retold the ordeal. He and Robin, it's so cute he refers him as Robin when he's in costume, heard a disturbance at a small time bank in downtown Gotham. It only took some minor detective work to spot the culprit's presence. But, that didn't exactly prepare them for when Killer Croc decided to make Bruce his new toy antelope. Only after some serious team work were they able to escape as Killer Croc managed to do so as well.

"Go back to that last one." Bruce says to my right.

His arm is leisurely draped over the back of the small, two person couch. Its green fabric seems very in season and also happens to match the color of my sweater. The rest of the room isn't quite as decorated. We're now in Bruce's old playroom which has been moderately updated as a television room. His old toys are poking from their chest and the books his mother use to read to him still lay stacked on an old rocking chair by the window. I'm very grateful to be without Dick and Sherry who haven't been spotted since he and the boy wonder returned, though I have a pretty good idea of what they're doing.

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas?" I ask, following his suggestion. "How appropriate."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know…I kind of feel like a Grinch myself." I confess.

"Why, have you been dressing as Santa lately and wearing green fur?"

"No. But I didn't get you anything for Christmas." I sigh.

"Yes you did. You're here."

His tenderness gives me an unfamiliar warmth through my body. A feeling that is only heightened when he drops his arm to my shoulder and softly kisses my cheek. His lips linger against my skin, my heart feeling as if it really is growing.

Merry Christmas. Review if you must ;)