If there was one thing Jess didn't have, it was time. It passed her by without a second glint and it was no one's fault but her own. Sure, work was her main priority, however, she needed to learn how to balance her personal life as well. So, when the man who asked her out on a date, not to mention stood her up, asked her to accompany him to a Christmas ball, she said why not.
Jim had forced her to take a few days after Joker requested to speak with her. The case alone was pulling a lot out of her. She had Adonis and her team working on it like hounds out of hell, despite their constant reassurance they can do it without her hovering already. She spun her blue Kryptonite ring around her finger as she stared at herself in the mirror. Red was always her favorite color, it brought out the creamy complexion of her skin tone.
On the other end of her phone, she heard the constant scolding of Barbara. "What makes you say yes to a guy who stood you up on a date?" She huffed, evidence of annoyance slapping Jess in the face.
"I know, Barb, but what do I have to lose?" Jess asked while checking to see which red lipstick she wanted to use on her pouty lips.
"Uh? Your dignity."
Jess rolled her eyes for the thousandth time. She could feel her soul slowly being sucked through the phone and into Barb's hands. "Listen, I'm not going to sleep with the guy." Which was true, Jess had no urge to sleep with this man. She just wanted to dress up and get her mind off work. "If it weren't for you telling your father that I should take a break from work, this whole night wouldn't be happening." She argued, emphasizing certain words to get her point across.
The redhead huffed in amusement. "I will not be chastised for making sure your mental health is adequate."
"Oh please, you know where my mental health is." Jess grumbled. "And it's far from adequate."
"My point exactly."
Jess slid on the dark red lipstick across her lips with a chuckle. "Okay, I have to go." She fixed up whatever imperfections came with half-hazardly applying her lipstick. With Barbara's grunt as a goodbye, Jess hung up the phone. She pushed her heavy hair off her shoulder with an already tired yawn. In a flash. She was on the dance floor of the beautifully decorated Gotham's notorious plastic surgeon, Thomas Elliot.
He made just enough money to be accepted into high society, but way below Wayne Enterprise status. With his tuffs of curly red hair and dull blue eyes, his semi-cocky nature was beginning to turn her off. Then, she found herself alone, at the bar, to see him talking with women of high status. She felt herself roll her eyes at the huge turn-off she was feeling.
Was she going to let that ruin her night? Absolutely not. Did she look like she belonged? Nope. And people were noticing; mostly the high elite ladies born with a silver spoon in their mouths. They took jabs at her dress, her makeup, hair, anything that could be used in a negative light was brought out. To get away from the side eyes and smirks, she disappeared to the balcony with an angry sigh. "Rich ladies and their fucking fragile egos." She cursed while digging in her purse to find her cigarettes. A nasty habit she picked up from Jim.
With a look at the Gotham skyline, she leaned her hands on the snowy stone ledge in defeat. Their words stung deeper than she thought. So, what if she didn't have the most expensive dress or jewelry? She felt confident enough to show her legs in that sexy red dress of hers. Maybe she should have avoided this whole situation and said yes to that guy at the coffee shop.
"Isn't a little too cold for a beautiful woman like you to be out here all alone?" A voice startled her out of her thoughts. She spun around to be met with a tall, handsome, man. His striking blue eyes were the first thing she noticed. Not his sly smile or his toned jaw but his soul capturing cobalt irises. From the commercial of him on tv, she recognized him to be Bruce Wayne, Gotham City's finest, and richest, playboy.
He was holding two steaming cups of whatever beverage was inside. "Hi." She greeted, almost bluntly, before turning to look at the skyline again.
"Hm." He hummed. "Having a good night, huh?"
"If you count being ditched by your date, again, and dissected by every single woman in here for her appearance, then yes, I'm having a wonderful time." She grumbled with a shake of her head.
Bruce stood beside her respectfully. "Are you cold?" He asked, placing the cups down and placing his jacket over her shoulders. It was heavy on her shoulders, just like her hair, and made of the softest material.
Jess couldn't help but laugh at his move. "A gentleman, thank you." She grabbed the beverage Bruce brought out for her and smelled what it could be. "What's this?"
"Eggnog."
Jessica grabbed the cup from his hand. "Yeah, don't drink this." She chuckled, placing their cups a few inches to the side of her. "What brings you out here in the cold, sir?"
Bruce leaned on the balcony right next to her. "I heard what some of those women were saying, I wanted to make sure you were okay." He turned his gaze to her. "You seemed upset." When Jess didn't answer, he felt himself looking back at the party. "I guess it's your charming personality." Bruce joked with a smile.
"I guess so." She giggled with a roll of her eyes. To get him back, Jess looked at Bruce with a half-smile. "I never got to know your name." She leaned on the balcony as well. "I say that makes you a scoundrel." She tilted her head to the side in thought. "Well, you did offer me your jacket, so I say that makes you 40 percent scoundrel."
"A scoundrel, you say?" He chuckled. "What are you, an old pirate?"
"Keep playing with me and I'll hike it up to 45 percent." She teased.
A soft laugh escaped his pretty pink lips. "Okay, okay." He held his hand out for her to shake. "Bruce Wayne."
She grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly. "Jessica Kent." Their fingertips lingered on the back of each other's hands for a moment. "Wayne?" She sounded like she was doubting his name.
Bruce leaned over with a smirk. "Questioning my last name?"
"I'm questioning why Bruce Wayne is talking to me." She replied with the same smirk resting on her face.
"And I'm questioning your choice in men." Bruce joked. Jess couldn't help but give the ugliest laugh at his joke, snorting like a pig. She covered her mouth, her smile still etched on her face. Bruce looked at her in amusement.
"I'm sorry." She apologized; it came out muffled under her hands. "I'm sorry, I promise I don't laugh like that all the time."
"Don't apologize," He smiled, not the slightest look of disgust on his face. "It was cute," Bruce removed her hands from her red painted lips with ease. "You don't have to hide that smile from me."
Jess straightened out her back with a clear throat. "I see what you're doing."
Sudden confusion filtered over his face. "Doing what?" He questioned. "I'm not sure I quite understand."
"You're Gotham City's notorious Playboy." She crossed her arms.
"Oh." Was all that left Bruce's mouth. He looked away for a second before another smirk slowly grew upon his face. "Thinking about me like that already, huh?"
Jess gagged at the way he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "You're disgusting." The way they conversed with one another; it was like they were old friends. It was quite odd to Jess. She's never connected with a guy on an immediate level like the way she is now. It was like talking to her childhood friend, Pete, back in Smallville.
"Jessica!" The two jumped in surprise at the way Jess's name was suddenly called. She took a step back from Bruce and turned towards her date. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He turned to a friend he was with. "Isn't she the prettiest little thing?" He smirked, completely ignoring Bruce's presence. With a smirk, he winked at Jess before sticking his hand out. "Before we leave, I would love another dance. You just look so stunning than how you normally do, I can't resist."
Bruce curled his fists at Thomas's words. "She promised me a dance already." Bruce cut in. "Sorry to be a disappointment."
Thomas turned his sights to Bruce. "Oh, Bruce!" His whole personality suddenly changed to a kiss ass. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." He recoiled his hand when he realized that he wasn't going to get a handshake. He didn't even get the chance to pull Jess into his side, by her lower back, since she moved away from his wandering fingers.
"I'm having too much fun." Jess shrugged with a pearly white smile. "Mr. Wayne is keeping great company."
"Who's going to take you home, beautiful?" Thomas asked with the same fake smile she was giving him.
"I'll call a cab." Anger flew through the very being of Thomas's body before giving a curt nod of his head. He said his goodbyes and left the party through the elevator with his friend. Jess rubbed her forehead with an exasperated sigh. "Jesus Christ, I can't catch a break." She turned to learn her forearms on the edge of the balcony with a soft sigh. "But this is Gotham, when has it ever been a fair place?" She turned her head to look at the skyline again. She looked back at him with her exhausted blue eyes.
Bruce could only give her a reassuring smile. "Gotham City may be a dark and grueling place, but when you look underneath all that; you can find the most beautiful of things." He fixed the jacket on her shoulders to cover more skin.
"Like what?" Jess asked with a tilt of her head.
"For starters," He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "You."
Jess felt herself give a small huff to hide her flustered face. "That was a smooth one." They both chuckled into the music-filled air before a thought struck Jess. "Fine, I have a bet for you."
"A bet?" Bruce crossed his arms like her. He still had his composed rich boy charm and mixed it with her casual personality. It was fun to Jess, more fun than she's had with wishy-washy Thomas Elliot on the dance floor. "I'm listening."
"If you can say something that will impress me, I'll let you sleep with me." It was a bold move on her part. She hasn't had sex in a long time, an unfavorable streak she's kept up, and was ready to chuck it out the window for a steamy night with Bruce Wayne. She supposed it was the serotonin in the air from the holidays.
The look on Bruce's face showed he was ready to win his bet. "And if you win?"
"I'll figure something out." She shrugged while pulling her lip in between her teeth in excitement. "Now, to say, I don't let other guys do what I offered to you." She looked away dramatically. "But since your scoundrel score dropped down to 30%, I say it's only fair."
Bruce gave a seductive smile. "I like how my score keeps dropping." He adjusted the coat over her shoulders once more, this time, the feel of his fingers brushing against the soft hairs on the back of her neck. "Can I have a dance?" He asked while holding his hand out for her to take. Jess placed her hand into his large one. He pulled her in by her waist, his hand, respectfully, on the middle of her back and the other held together when he pulled her in. She was surprised to feel such calloused hands for a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth. From the way he felt underneath his white button-up, she concluded he worked out religiously. Her mother could have come up with that marvelous deduction just by looking at this man's jawline.
Marc Ato's White Christmas played through the speakers of the hall since the orchestra was taking a very well-deserved break. The cold air drifted over the duo to join in on their dance which made Jess shiver. Bruce only spun her around to block the wind's grabby hands. While swaying, Bruce hummed to himself. "Let me guess," He leaned back against the railing of the balcony. "You're a book worm?"
"I used to be." She pushed her bangs away from her mascara-tinted lashes. It was the third time that night those little strands stuck to her lashes like a fly to a spider's web. "Now, the only thing I find myself doing at night is watching a movie before I fall asleep."
"Where do you work?" He asked.
Jess averted her gaze. "If I tell you, you might run away." She chuckled to herself. "It usually does with other guys."
"It means they can't handle a real woman." He looked her in the eyes. "You should be kissed and by someone who knows how."
Jess swallowed thickly at the intensity of his stare. She opened her lips to say something when it suddenly got caught in her throat. She had to use her diaphragm to push it all out. "Margaret Mitchell," She gave a small smile. "Gone with the Wind."
"Now, where is my scoundrel percentage?" He joked.
She gave a breathy laugh. "I'd give it a solid 20%" She ran her hand over his shoulder before wincing. The blister that formed on the back of her heel had finally popped at the worst moment possible. "Damn…" She leaned down to take off her heel. "Shoes."
"Ouch." Bruce said, holding her to make sure she didn't topple over and fall to the floor. "Let's get you out of those shoes." He led her back inside, the warmth of the heater rubbing at the skin of her shoulders. He sat her down in an armchair before taking her heels off. "I hope you don't mind wearing shoes twice your size." He chuckled while taking off his black glossy Corthay loafers. They looked like they cost as much as her parents' mortgage. "They aren't as comfortable, but I would hope they feel better on your feet."
Seeing him place his expensive shoes on her was beginning to make her palms sweat. If she tripped, scuffed, hell, even stepped on gum, she wouldn't be able to pay him back; even with the Detective salary she's on. She'd be in debt for the rest of her life. "I can't wear these." She tried to pull her foot out of his grasp just as he was going to slip her toes inside the soft fabric.
"Why not?" He asked with a tilt of his head.
"I might scrape them up." She rubbed the back of her neck. "And given that you're Bruce Wayne, I'll have to pay you back."
Bruce let out a lighthearted chortle at the way her face flustered. "Ms. Kent, I don't expect anything from you. If you scrape up these shoes, I have three more pairs just like it." He skimmed his fingers along the side of her ankle. "Even if you decided to change your mind about our bet, I would respect it." He slipped her foot inside his shoe, doing the same to the other with more tender movements.
Jess wanted to laugh to herself. There was no way he wasn't going to be getting his shoes back at her apartment and not land right into her bedroom. Instead of saying what she wanted to say, she kicked her horny side to the far reaches of her mind until she was ready to face her again. "Thank you." Bruce winked at her, standing to his full size, a giant in her opinion, and grabbed her shoes by the heels in one hand then yanked her up from the chair with the other.
Bruce led her out of the ballroom with his hand in hers. There was a moment that Jess forgot this man was Bruce Wayne. He seemed so natural with the way he was with her. Could he do this with other women? Possibly. Did she want to spoil her night with that thought constantly nagging at her brain? No, she didn't.
It wasn't until they walked down the steps of the building to get to his car, did the constant sounds of the shuttering of cameras and the flashing of bright lights blind her. "Jesus." Jess muttered under her breath while shielding her eyes with her hand. Bruce pulled her into his side, blocking her from the paparazzi's greedy cameras. For a second, the two shared a smile at the way their night was turning. It seems that was the perfect chance for a young man to wrap his hand around Jess's forearm to drag her out from Bruce's side.
Quickly, she cocked her arm back, giving a swift punch in the face, spun his arm around his back, and slammed him onto the pavement floor. The crowd gasped, halting the horde of camera flashes for a second. "You're done." Jess growled.
"Jesus, lady, I just wanted a picture!" He wheezed from underneath her.
She turned to look at Bruce. "You asked what I do for a living." She gave a sheepish side smile. "This is it."
"Alright! Break it up!" A voice shouted, tearing through the sea of paparazzi. Most of the crowd ran away upon seeing the officer but the others stood at a distance to capture any moment that concurred. If it wasn't for Bruce glaring at all of them, they wouldn't have left in the first place. "Kent?"
"Benny!" Jess smiled at her co-worker. "How's patrol?"
He snorted. "If it means saving your ass, then it's going great." Benny gave her a wink before Bruce helped her up. Benny looked her over a few times with his eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell?"
"What?" She asked with the same look.
"Why do you look so good?"
Jess rolled her eyes while pushing the photographer towards him. "Can't a girl go out to look nice?"
"Well, yeah." Benny shrugged. "But it's you."
"Just," Jess shook her hand in pain. "Take him to the station."
"For what!" The photographer gasped.
"Assault." Bruce jumped in with a deep glare. The photographer shrunk at the way he looked at him.
Benny gave a low whistle. "Oh, man." He chuckled. "And she punched you in the face?" He forced him towards his cruiser. "I ended up in the hospital with a fractured nose from Jess 'the hardass' Kent." Jess shook her head with a deep sigh. Never a moment's peace in Gotham City.
"Now I know what you mean by you can't catch a break." Bruce jumped in after watching the cop car drive off.
"I'm so sorry." Jess said while spinning around to meet Bruce's gaze.
"Sorry?" He gave her a puzzled look. "I'm the one who should be apologizing." He cupped his hands around her hand. "Come on, I'll take you home."
Jess shuffled around in her bag to pull out the key to the entrance of her apartment. Her hand felt like it was on fire every time she moved it, and since she couldn't take off her Kryptonite ring to allow it to heal itself, she was stuck with the pain until he left. "Welcome to my apartment." She smiled once she opened the door and turned on the lights in her hallway. Bruce took notice of her carefully placed decorations that were adorned with specs of silver and green. Her apartment had a cabin-esk feel to it, making the fireplace tv stand fit in perfectly.
Bruce held the door open for her to walk through before closing it. "Come on, let's clean up that hand of yours."
"You don't have to do that." Jess gasped once she felt him hoist her up onto the counter of her kitchen. His giant shoes clattered to the floor upon gravity using its skillful fingers to pull them off her feet. Not before yanking the forming blood clot that attached itself to the fibers of Bruce's shoe. The kitchen they were in was small and had entrances on either side. One led to the dining room and the other led to her bedroom hallway.
"But I want to." He chuckled while opening her fridge to pull out a package of frozen spinach. "Here." He placed it on her knuckles gently. "Assuming from the punch you landed on that guy's face, you've kept this in your fridge for just this reason, huh?"
Jess looked away with a huff. "Think what you want." She lifted the spinach with a sigh. "It'll bruise, nothing serious."
"Didn't take you to be a cop." He shrugged. "I thought you were a doctor." He looked up at her with those blue eyes that have been driving her crazy the moment they landed on her. "What made you want to be a cop?"
Jess scratched the back of her head with her good hand. "Well, I've always had a thing for justice." She looked back down at her iced hand. "Not to mention puzzles. So, I worked my ass off to become a Homicide detective. I had transferred here from Metropolis a year ago." She jerked her head over to the cabinet behind Bruce. "First aid kit is in that cabinet."
He smirked at her, tearing himself away from trapping her in his arms to open the light brown cabinet to grab her vintage-looking kit. He sat it down next to her to grab some bandages and alcohol clean pads. "Give me your leg." To be a tease, Jess shot her leg out to press her foot against his chest.
"Like that?" She asked with an innocent tilt of her head.
Bruce grinned at her before twisting it to the side. It was starting to get infected just from the look of it. He clicked his tongue while grabbing an alcohol pad. "This is going to hurt."
"I'm a big tuff girl." She joked. "I can tie my own shoes and every… ow, ow, ow!" She grabbed the counter as Bruce swiped the burning pad of hell across her cut. He blew on the wound to calm down the raging sensors on overload at the personal attack bestowed upon them. He tossed the pad onto its ripped open package, slathered on Neosporin, and placed a colorful band-aide intricately on it. "I think you'll survive." He placed either hand on the counter, trapping her against the wall and his broad chest. He fiddled with the marble countertop making Jess go crazy inside her head. That damned counter was being fondled more than she was. "It was a difficult procedure, but I'm 95% positive you'll come out with a little scar."
Jess scoffed with a pout. "Don't tease me."
"I thought you said you were a big girl?" He pouted just like her, his finger sliding underneath her chin to level his lips with her own. "Come on, who's a big girl?"
"Keep teasing me and I'll show you how much of a big girl I am." She smirked; eyes half-lidded. "So, what's going on." She kept her senses stuck on his. "What do you want to call this in case someone comes snooping around?"
"It could just be our little secret." He answered huskily.
There was a pregnant pause. "A whatchamacallit." They said in unison.
Bruce let a small huff in amusement leave his nose. "Yeah… a whatchamacallit."
Jess was high off his smell, a mix of bourbon and cedarwood, that was driving her silly. It pulled her in deep into his embrace as her brain began to wonder when she would reach his plump, pink, lips. In return, Bruce was feeling the same way. The way her skin basked in the smell of jasmine and honey with just the teeniest hint of vanilla. He wanted to bury his nose right into the strongest spot it was secreting from and run his mouth all over it.
The sexual tension in the air was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Bruce's voice, however, was that said metaphorical knife. "I hope you use those handcuffs."
"I'll do whatever you want as long as you kiss me." She whispered, lips brushing against his before he pressed them against her red-stained ones furiously. A euphoria of fireworks exploded within the pit of her stomach as his hands slipped from the marble countertop to slide against the sides of her satin dress, latching onto the zipper of her dress and, amid his passion, broke off the little zipper once he tugged it down to her lower back.
Not to ruin the moment, he let it fall to the countertop, letting it clink against the marble, and grab at the skin he was now exposed to.
In turn, Barbara's voice was scratching at the back of her head. No one nightstands. But what was life if she didn't live in the fast line at times? The angel on her shoulder was telling her not to do it while the demon was saying FUCK HIM in all caps. It wasn't marriage or jumping into a relationship. It was a simple night of feral passion between two respectful adults.
A whatchamacallit.