Until Lambs Become Lions

Chapter Eight

Authors Notes: So, no one kill me, but this was sitting in my document holder and I forgot about it. ^-^;

Evy was not having a good day; actually she wasn't sure that summed it up enough. That morning she had gotten a run in her last pair of hose and while buying a new pair broke the heel off of one of her shoes, her hair was a mess, she had jabbed her eye with mascara, spilled burning hot tea on her skirt and on top of that she had to attend a meeting with Blake, Commissioner Gordon, Father Reilly and Calder. She grumbled as she tried to put on the new hose while her shoe was being repaired by superglue which she hoped to God would hold.

Without a single word she charged into the meeting room and sat down beside Cal. Blake stared at the disheveled woman and felt a pang of sympathy. Her hair was half out of her chignon, and she still had a black smear beneath one red, puffy eye. Commissioner Gordon pushed his file away from him. "Dr. Carter, would you be interested in rescheduling this meeting?" The utter look of pleading, with grey eyes nearly brimming with tears answered his question. "How's Friday the 31st at nine o'clock suit everyone?" There were murmured agreements. The commissioner, Father Reilly, Calder and Blake rose and were on the way out the door. With an inward sigh of relief Evy rose, took a step and fell to the side with squeak as her heel broke once more. Ass met floor in a quick jolt that left her breathless.

She leaned against the wall with a defeated sigh as tears began to roll. When it rain, it poured she decided. Blake glanced over his shoulder and saw her. Despite her words the previous night he still went back, and offered his hand. "Come on," he said gently. "Let's get you home."

"I don't need your help," she muttered stubbornly as she kicked off the high heels and noted with a growl that her new hose was ripped.

"Stop being so fucking pigheaded." Blake ordered and hauled her to her feet. He scooped up her shoes and took her by the hand. He waited for the argument as they went to his car, but there was none. "Get in." Like a puppy who had been thoroughly scolded she sat in the passenger seat and kept her head hung low. Blake navigated his way through traffic and as soon as he was on the open road sped up. "Rough day?" He asked. She snorted in response and let her forehead rest on the passenger side window, her eyes staring at the clouds that matched in color. "I'm sorry about last night," she whispered miserably. "I just don't want you or Batman to think I'm a weak damsel in distress, I mean…" she raked a hand through her curls. "I'm a damsel, I'm in distress, but I can handle it."

"Evy," Blake hesitated as he sought for the right words. "I doubt Batman thinks that way. And I know I don't. I've seen you fight."

"You've seen me throw a punch," she corrected. Blake said nothing in response. "Either way it doesn't matter."

"If it helps the carriage house is almost ready?"

"Ready?"

"I have some friends working on it so it looks more like the apartment…colors, your furniture that kinda thing."

She stared at him for a very long time before turning her gaze to the road. "How the hell are you still single?" She asked and immediately clapped a hand over her mouth as he let out a bark of a laugh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…well, come off like that."

"It's fine," he assured her, his fingers tapped the steering wheel in thought before shrugging. "Most women don't want to date cops, and I'm—a peculiar breed."

"Preaching to the choir," Evy nodded in understanding. "Fuck women." She stated with a grin. Blake laughed and parked the car.

"C'mon." He got out of the car and swiftly moved over and opened her door. She stared at him. "I'm old fashioned."

God help me. Evy thought with a quick jitter of excitement. She took his hand and allowed herself to be led to his side of the mansion. She walked beside him, much shorter without her heels, he noted as he had them in his hand. She furrowed her brows and frowned as he pulled her into the bathroom and began to run hot water in the tub. His brown eyes landed on the bottle of bubbles near the sink and had to give Bruce credit for catering to the female kind. He sniffed it and approved of the lavender before dumping half the bottle in. "I don't have a rubber ducky otherwise I'd put him in," Blake said as he pulled out fresh fluffy yellow towels.

"What are you doing?" She asked quietly as his hands unbuttoned her suit jacket and slid it from her shoulders. He smiled, blithely. His hands went to the lopsided chignon and took the rest of the pins out, ran his fingers through the curls. She closed her eyes with a soft sigh. His fingers went to the buttons of her silk purple blouse. Her eyes opened and she stared solemnly into brown eyes. She stood stiffly as she allowed him to unbutton her last line of defense. The shirt slid down to the floor and he stood, letting his gaze wander. He noted that her bra had matched the color of her shirt, and it delighted him, and thrilled him to know what was beneath the skirt. His hands undid the clip then zipper and watched the skirt puddle on the floor. "No matching panties?" He asked amused that he had been proven wrong.

Evy blushed, cheeks to neck and neck to breasts. "I couldn't find a pair that matched this morning." He smiled, slowly. His large, warm hands rolled her hose down, slowly, tauntingly. When that was said and done he cupped her hips and pulled her toward him. Her head tipped back, her mind foggy with the scent of lavender in the air and his cologne. His lips brushed hers softly, enticingly. And just when she considered it to be getting good he lifted her into his arms, and dropped her unceremoniously into the tub. She bobbed there, drenched. "You're an asshole."

"You looked tense, baths help." Blake gathered her clothes and gave her a little salute before departing. Outside the closed door he heaved a sigh and rubbed a hand over the bulge in his jeans. Messing with Evy's mind had messed with his, but he had her where he wanted her. John Blake had a plan, oh yes, and it involved some heavy teasing on both Batman's part and his own. If he worked it right she would be going stir-crazy by the time Halloween rolled around. One week, he dropped her clothes in the hamper, one week to drive a prim and proper social work into a sexual tension unknown to man. He grinned at the idea. Blake wasn't usually a sadist, but the woman did say she didn't need anyone. He would make sure she needed him.