Disclaimer: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Supermen were created equal. Except for Superboy-Prime. He's a dick. I'm not writing him in here, although it's not like I own any of these characters anyway.

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Partners

Chapter 2

When she woke, Selina smelled frying bacon. She smirked in amusement. As much as he wanted to pretend his nightmares didn't exist, (She never pressed him on it. Just because you take in a stray, doesn't mean you're the answer to all his problems,) his peculiar sense of honor wouldn't let him not try to pay her back in some way. At least she'd been able to steer him into less risky ways then picking pockets in Midtown and offering her the contents. Not quite dead-fish-on-the-doorstep bad, but Catwoman's apprentice couldn't be out there committing mundane robbery like that. It was gauche.

When she'd pulled him off of the streets, he'd been hesitant about cooking. That was putting it mildly. He was almost afraid to try to use a toaster, let alone actually cook something. She shook her head at the memory. "This takes minimal intelligence and manual dexterity, two traits you have in spades. You picked up the principles of picking locks in an hour," she had said, "how can you possibly imagine that an omelet is beyond you?" He tried to grin his way out of it, but she put her paw down. She was not going to be a maternal figure, and she was not going to cook for him, barring those occasions when she felt like it, and he couldn't keep in shape forever eating pop-tarts and cold cereal, so if he wanted to stay with Catwoman, he was going to learn to cook.

It sounded silly, in retrospect, but Selina had suspected that as fast as he learned, he'd have to be forced to learn when he didn't want to. She really was doing him a favor. With his looks, he was apt to find some girl who wouldn't see anything wrong with doing the cooking, which meant it was either settle down young or eat 'bachelor food' until he did. Not that he was Cordon Bleu material or anything, but he could make breakfast, as he was doing now.

She supposed she'd better get up before he tried to bring it to her in bed. There was just something...wrong about him doing that. It seemed to her a vaguely dog-like act of servility, and for all that she knew that wasn't what was motivating him, she still didn't like it. After showering and dressing in a t-shirt and shorts, she made her way out to the kitchen where he'd fixed her bacon, eggs, english muffins and coffee. "Morning Tiger," she said, hoping he'd eventually either take to the nickname or get fed up and pick something else.

"Technically speaking, it's afternoon," he said, fixing up his own plate as usual, right down to ketchup on the scrambled eggs, which she could never understand.

"Because we know just how much respect I have for all those little rules," she said with a smile, as she placed a forkful of egg in her mouth.

"Speaking of broken rules," he asked, "how much you figure those diamonds will fence for?"

"Hard to say," she answered. "I could get the usual rates from my Miami connection, but given how slim pickings have been in Gotham, I might consider staying local this time, of course that's got its own problems."

"Like what?" he asked. For all that she'd essentially had to blackmail him into learning to cook, it sure didn't take any effort to teach him new things about the job.

"Well, there's basically two players when it comes to fencing in Gotham, unless you want the small-timers who work with guys ripping off Radio Shacks that won't give us half of what we get from an established fence. First, there's the mafia. That's a problem because they've just had a power struggle, and the family that came out on top, I'm not on good terms with."

"And even if I went in, they don't know me, so they wouldn't give me anything close to their worth, assuming they didn't just try to bump me off and take the stuff."

"Right. The other is Cobblepot."

"The Penguin?"

"The same. He's been trying to get out of the themed crime business and try for some more stable businesses."

"You mean he's tired of getting kicked around by the Bat and arrested."

"Yes, but it's not polite to make fun of our less-fortunate colleagues."

"Hey, you were the one calling him 'Cobbleputz' after he messed up your job with those canary diamonds."

"And I've moved on, Dickey-boy. You should too. Anyway, he's got two points in his favor, he's new, which means he's got to be hungry for business, and he's easily intimidated. The downside is that I have to be in his presence," she said, making a face. Flirtation, she could handle, but around her, it was difficult to keep Penguin focused. "That'll be where you come in..."

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That night...

The short squat man stood up from the desk and greeted them effusively, "Come in, come in! Always such a pleasure to see my favorite felonious feline femme," and he promptly took her hand, kissing the back of it, (or, more accurately, the leather glove covering the back of her hand), at which point he noticed the young man beside her who was glaring at him hatefully, his fists clenched. "Uh..." he said, not sure what to make of this, "It's not like you to travel in packs, is it?"

"Easy now," she said to Dick, lightly placing a hand on his arm, "play nice. Penguin, this is Tiger. Call him an...apprentice."

Dick still glared at Penguin, but made a show of offering his hand. "Pleased to meet you." Penguin somewhat hesitantly accepted the hand, and then let out a squawk as Dick squeezed the hand nearly hard enough to crack bone.

Penguin forced a smile and said, "Charming young fellow," glancing nervously at him, "Perhaps he'd like to chat with Rocco over there while we talk business?" pointing to the large henchman who was standing guard over them.

"Of course," Catwoman purred. She glanced briefly at Dick and said, "If you would." Dick promptly walked over towards the large man, ignoring him entirely and glaring at Penguin from across the room.

Penguin straightened his tie and said, "I wonder if you've given any thought to my proposal for a partnership?"

"Which proposal was that?" she said, "The date you asked me out on or when you said 'Let's split the diamonds and kill the Bat' right before you tripped the alarm in Empress Jewelers vault?"

"Well, either, to be frank."

"I really would rather get to the business at hand, Oswald."

"But if you take a look at what could be done..." he continued, undaunted. Catwoman sighed. It seemed that phase two would be necessary after all. Behind her back, she made a subtle signal with her claws she'd told him to look for.

"Stop staring at her!" Dick yelled angrily, causing Penguin to stop in mid sentence.

"What?" he asked, then he noticed that the young man was speaking to Rocco, not him. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I wasn't-" Rocco began, only to be yelled at again.

"The hell you weren't. I'm only going to tell you this once. Stop. Staring. At. Her."

"Look, kid," the large henchman said angrily, clenching a fist and waving it threateningly in Dick's face, "I dunno what your problem is, but you'd better-" And that was as far as he got before Dick drove his fist into Rocco's midsection, doubling him over. Dick leaped upwards and drove the instep of his foot into his face, knocking the man out cold, blood trickling from a nose that looked broken.

Selina smiled at Penguin and said, "He's a little overprotective. Now, about the diamonds..."

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Cash in hand, Dick and Selina go out and celebrate their victory in

Chapter 3