Chapter Text
Effortlessly balancing a tray of empty champagne flutes, Selina Kyle, hip checks the swing doors leading to the Gotham Royal’s massive industrial kitchen and sets down her tray.
She's about to grab a fresh one and head back onto the floor when she spots two of the older servers Cleo and Margie gathered around the counter.
Unable to help her curiosity, she moves closer and glimpses Billie, one of the youngest servers on their catering crew, sitting perched on the counter, icing her hand.
She's only known the girl for a couple hours, but the kid's barely eighteen, and Selina can't help the surge of protectiveness that wells up inside her. She abandons her tray and makes her way over.
"What's going on, Sweetie?"
Margie and Cleo move aside, and the pair of them shoot Selina a couple of sad, world-weary looks.
Billie's shoulders drooped, her eyes skittering away, "Some rich asshole grabbed my ass." The girl pulls away the ice pack and flexes her fingers experimentally, "So, I decked him."
Selina feels a rush of pride in her, followed by a cool wash of bitterness. This is the kid's first real job, and she made it all of forty minutes before being assaulted.
What the hell was wrong with people? She knew it happened every minute. Hell, it happened to her when she was even younger. But this wasn't the Iceberg Lounge. It was the swankiest Hotel in the Heights.
It shouldn't happen anywhere, but it definitely shouldn’t be happening here. And to add insult to injury, the kid was probably gonna lose her first job over this.
Selina's suddenly hyper-aware of the military-grade bone-mic in her ear and the itch of the high-tech contact lens in her eye.
Internally, she debates telling Vengeance to turn off his feed for a while so she can pay Mr. Hands a visit. But then, a dangerous grin spreads across her face when she realizes that wouldn't be necessary. Nothing she does to Mr. Hands would be anything he would disapprove of.
Selina bites her lip for a few seconds, then plants her hand on her hip.
She juts her thumb toward the swing door, "Could you point him out for me?"
Margie recognizes the murderous glint in her eyes and shakes her head, "Don’t you worry, honey, Mr. Wayne took care of it."
Selina blinks slowly and repeats, "Mr. Wayne?"
Billie flushes red, "Yeah," she breathes out, "I don't know how he got there so fast. The guy tried to slap me after I laid him out. But Mr. Wayne had him kissing the wall inside of two seconds. Then he duck-walked him to the elevator and told security to hold him till the cops get here. He told me I should press charges but that it was my choice," she looks down, sporting a dreamy little smile, looking every bit like a schoolgirl with a crush. Then after a half-second of hesitation, she tacks on, "He's got very nice eyes."
"Honey," Margie chuckles, "That man's got nice--everything."
Cleo hums in approval, "Mm-Hmm, tall, dark, handsome, and a gentleman? Yes, please."
And just like that last bit of tension melts from Billie's shoulders as she chuckles with her friends.
"Just keep that little crush of yours to yourself," Selina hops up on the counter beside her and gently nudges her shoulder. “Wayne wouldn't be the first guy to play the hero with ulterior motives."
"Oh, please," Margie dismissed with a wave of her hand, "That man's a total pussycat."
Cleo grinned conspiratorially, "It's true. You shoulda seen him when he brought Billie in here. He went and got her an icepack himself and then called her dad for her. All the girls were making eyes at him and flirting. 'Mr. Wayne this and Mr. Wayne that.' The poor boy was blushing and stumbled out of here asking us to stay with her till her ride comes."
Margie snickers, "Guy, can stare down a gun, but not a woman. Hm, I love that in a man."
"Hey, leave him alone," Billie says, swatting her foot at Margie, "He's shy."
Selina purses her lips, "I hear that he's really smart. Maybe he's trying to avoid a lawsuit." The argument feels weak on her tongue even as she says it. Bruce Wayne could be sued, lose several times over, and still not miss the money.
"I don’t believe it," Billie says dismissively, "He’s got kind eyes."
Selina sighs and slides down off the counter, "Well, I should probably go see if Kind Eyes and his guests could use a few refills." She pauses to pat the girl on her shoulder, "Sorry for what happened to you. Wayne's right about one thing, though. You should press charges."
The girl nods her head solemnly, her voice growing small again, "I know," she whispers.
As Selina makes her way back into the crowded ballroom and begins making her rounds, she scans the room for him.
It wasn’t like she didn’t know he was going to be here; it had been splashed all over the tabloids for weeks. How the prince of Gotham was taking a break from rolling up his sleeves in the streets, to throw the first big Gala since the state of emergency had been lifted.
It’s just that, this is his party and she’s yet to lay eyes on the man himself.
She finally finds him on the mezzanine standing across from the mayor and commissioner.
Selina makes her way to the stairs. It isn’t her sector, but Billie and all the images and articles floating around about him this last year have made her curious.
Vengeance had asked her to be his eyes and ears tonight. She was certain he wouldn’t mind if she took a little detour, just to satisfy her curiosity. He had been surprisingly quiet in her ear tonight, anyway.
The ballroom is bustling with a thousand conversations, the clinking of silverware and peals of laughter. Soft jazz swirls through the air, muddling the sound further.
As she makes her way to the mezzanine, she’s relieved to find a slightly quieter scene. She sets her eyes on Wayne and tries to casually make her way toward his party. She pauses here and there to offer thirsty patrons a fresh glass of champaign.
She bites her lip as her gaze rakes over him. He’s taller in person. Even with the way he’s hunching his shoulders with one hand shoved in his pocket she can tell. His half-empty champagne flute dangles loosely in his grasp as he nods along politely to whatever the mayor is saying. He even graces her with a flicker of a smile, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes.
Even with his clearly disinterested expression he looks better in that tuxedo than any man had right to, his broad shoulders and tall form filling it out in all the right ways.
His hair is cut dramatically shorter than the last time she saw him in the tabloids too. Without his long bangs to hide behind, his handsome face is left on full display. It’s a good look.Even if the man seems less than comfortable with being so exposed.
She really has to hand it to him, despite the less than charitable things she’s had to say about him. Wayne really has made a lot of changes in the last year and a half since the bombings. The most dramatic of which was that he had left his ivory tower and stuck it out in the streets with the downtrodden.
It didn’t seem to be just a photo-op either. The guy was down there in the thick of it day after day, while the company he hadn’t paid any attention to in decades, mobilized to lead the relief effort.
In those early days Gotham had still been reeling and full of fear. The relief effort was floundering, with too few volunteers. While Gotham’s underbelly did everything in its power to take advantage of the chaos. But that all changed when a man pulled a gun on Bruce Wayne and a handful of volunteers.
A blurry cellphone video had caught the whole thing. Some thug had sprung out at them from an ally, while the crew of volunteers was clearing a street so an aid truck could pass.
The volunteers scattered taking cover behind the truck, but Wayne didn’t move. The man jammed the gun right in his face. But Wayne just stared him down until the gunman’s hand wavered slightly at the steely eye contact. Then he brushed past him and continued clearing the street.
As he picked up a mud-slicked half broken police barricade and pitched it to the side, the gunman trailed after him, yelling and wildly posturing. But Wayne ignored him in favour of kicking a shopping cart out of the way and shoving a concaved mailbox aside.
He turned back to the truck and signaled for it to keep coming forward. Slowly the truck creeped forward, and the volunteers followed along, shielded behind its iron sides. Eventually the thug lost his nerve and scurried off into the shadows.
The video broke the internet. Pictures of him started flooding social media with hashtags like #InBruceWeTrust, #NoFear and #OurStreets trending worldwide.
After that, volunteers started showing up in droves. Busses full of aid workers arrived from Blüdhaven and Metropolis and from as far away as Star City. But more than that it was the people of Gotham, still dirty and bloodied and shellshocked that returned to the streets and took up the call to take back their city.
For years before that only a handful of images of the reclusive young billionaire existed in the public domain.
But since the October Crisis last year images of him have started to flood the internet. Bruce Wayne rain-soaked and tossing sandbags. Bruce Wayne in mud caked jeans, wearing a backwards ballcap and shoveling debris. Bruce Wayne in a rescue boat, stretching up to help survivors climb down from a window. And her personal favourite. Bruce Wayne wading through waist deep water with a mangy alley-cat tucked in his arms.
Selina had skimmed the headlines from the relative safety of Bludhaven. At first it had just been about making sure that Vengeance was still alive and kicking. She tried to hold herself back, trying not to invest herself too much in a city that there was no hope in saving.
But then she’d seen the video. And the way the people of Gotham had risen up in response to it. And well, she’s always been a sucker for strays, and all of Gotham city had been like a half drown, hungry kitten scratching at her door.
So, she’d done her civic duty. In her own way. She paid a few visits to the Gotham elite that had opted to ride out the storm in Bludhaven and had taken the liberty of helping them make a few donations to the Gotham Relief Fund.
Every time she anonymously hit the donate button it felt cathartic. She was hooked and couldn’t get enough. She pulled more jobs and watched the news, searching for the little sparks of hope, a sign that anything was getting better.
It wasn’t enough. So, she started coming up for the weekends, helping with the relief effort. Clearing debris, serving meals, handing out blankets and going out in the boats to search for survivors.
She makes attempts at little rendezvouses with Vengeance, every time she back in the city. Each time she’s seen him since the attacks he’s looked utterly exhausted. His suit marred and dirty, scuffed by knife marks and grazed by bullets. But his eyes are clearer than she’s ever seen them. There’s a sureness of purpose in him that hadn’t been there before. And she can’t help finding it devastatingly attractive.
It’s never all business between them. It couldn’t be, they are far too drawn to each other. Sometimes there was only a longing glance or a stray touch between them. Other times it was flirty banter and a few stolen kisses. And then there were the times where they just collided, pressing each other into the shadows and pawing at each other like reckless teenagers.
But tonight, unfortunately it was mostly business. Vengeance was concerned about the mayor’s safety after a series of threats were made against her. But so far not a single face she had come across had been flagged by her eyepiece.
Selina grins inwardly as she finally approaches her target. She quickly swings her attention to the mayor, to keep her fascination with him from appearing too obvious.
“Madam Mayor?” she says softly extending her tray, “Would you care for another?”
Bella Reál downs the rest of her drink and sets the glass on her tray, “You have no idea.” She says with a wink as she takes another. “C’mon, Bruce, you have to at least pretend like you’re having a good time.”
Wayne shrugs and hoists his glass in a half-hearted salute, “I am.”
The mayor lets out a long-suffering sigh. “If you call this,” she says gesturing to all of him, “--acting, then clearly the drama teacher at that fancy prep school of yours really failed you.”
Bruce Wayne shoots the mayor a little smirk and the way it changes his face sends a pleasant ripple down Selina’s spine. She quickly schools her features and extends her tray to Commissioner Gordon a move which forces her inadvertently to step closer to Wayne.
His eyes shoot to her, and his smirk quickly disappears. For a few seconds she gets an unobstructed view of his impossibly blue eyes. And she has to agree with Billie they are very, very nice. His eyes flick away as he takes a sip of his drink and then he ducks his head, his eyes looking anywhere but directly at her. Selina smiles to herself, charmed by his shyness.
A hand brazenly slithers along her lower back and Selina jumps startled as it settles on her hip and squeezes. Thrown off balance she stumbles into the person behind her. Their body presses along her back as they lean in to mutter wetly in her ear, “Hey, baby, I’ll have another.”
Selina draws back her foot preparing to strike him. Before she can make a move, Bruce Wayne materializes in front of her. Standing so close that she can feel the heat radiating off him.
He stares hard over her shoulder at the man groping her. Reaching out he takes hold of her elbow, underneath her tray, and holds her steady. While his other hand flies forward, jabbing the man behind her in the chest with enough concentrated force to break the man’s hold on her and make him stagger backward. Selina isn’t sure how Wayne manages to do it without spilling a single one of the drinks on her tray, but he does.
His jaw ticks and his blue eyes look absolutely murderous as he says, “I think you’ve had enough, senator,” his eyes shoot to the Commissioner, “Jim,” he says with a jut of his chin.
Commissioner Gordon sighs and says in his gravelly voice, “C’mon, Senator Barnes. Let’s you and I take a walk.”
The gruff old policeman leads the drunken lecher away by the scruff of his jacket.
Wayne’s warm hand is still cradling her elbow and he’s standing far too close for a few seconds longer than necessary when his attention finally comes back to her. When he realizes that he’s still touching her, he drops his hand so quickly that glasses on her tray jingle as he jostles her arm.
He takes a hearty step back and accesses her, but he manages to meet her eyes, “Are you alright?”
There is something in the way he looks at her that completely draws her in. She nods unable to speak too caught up in the startling power of his undivided focus. “That never should have happened to you,” he says ducking his head and looking deeply ashamed. “Please accept my apologies and take the rest of the night off. You’ll be fully compensated I assure you.”
He looks so distressed by the injustice of it all that it’s all that its rather endearing.
“It’s okay, Honey,” the endearment just sort of slips out. “Trust me I’ve had worse.”
Wayne’s shoulders droop and he refuses to meet her eyes and she realizes that she’s only made him feel worse. “It’s important to me that my employees feel safe.”
Selina’s resolve slips and she finds herself telling him the truth. She spared the details about the fact that she technically wasn’t his employee only posing as one. But If this is how he responded to the mistreatment of his staff then she felt incredibly safe with him.
Of course she could’ve taken that old man apart and was seconds from doing so, before Wayne has stepped in. But he didn’t need to know that.
Some of the tension melts out of his shoulders and his eyes find hers again, if only for a few seconds, “Good.”
It’s just then that the pair of them realize that the mayor has been watching this awkward exchange the whole time. Wayne flounders for a few seconds. Raising his hand to rake through his hair, only to abort the gesture and flex his fingers instead.
Blowing out a breath he sputters instead, “Would you both please excuse me I have to…” and then just abruptly walks off.
Bella Reál shakes her head after him. “Don’t mind him dear. He’s just…”
“Shy?” Selina offers.
“Nah, that boy is just straight up awkward,” she says a wave of her hand. “But he’s one of the good ones. This city wouldn’t be getting back on its feet if it weren’t for him.”
Selina can’t really argue with that. That’s when something green flashes in the corner of her eyes. She squints as a face-ID suddenly appears over the mayor’s shoulder. It’s a man called Michael Rathborn with several priors for robbery and assault. She grasps the mayor’s arm and begins to tug her behind her.
“Uh, ma’am,” she says as the woman begins to struggle. “I don’t think you’re safe here,” she says as she beings ushering her along.
“What are you--”
The lights in the chandelier above them begin to surge and flicker then the whole room begins to shake beneath their feet, as an explosion rumbles through the building.