Reader: Catwoman!Reader
Warnings: a little bit of fighting, minor injuries
Word count: 2 716
Carefully you slid open the window to the building. Pretty stupid to house such a major company in a house with slid-able windows and not locking them from inside. But then again you were ten stories up, and most thieves did not go through the trouble of climbing up to the tenth floor to break in, at least not when there was no fire escape or anything else to climb up on. Lucky that you did not need anything but the wall and a few slim window stills. When you had opened the window far enough, you slipped into the room, your feet landing graciously and without a sound on the floor of the office.
The black fabric of your suit was tight around your chest, which annoyed you a little, but at the same time it protected you; the fabric was of a special quality, no blade was able to penetrate it, all while taking none of your suppleness.
For a few seconds you stopped in your tracks, listening to your surroundings, but everything was quiet, not even the humming of a printer or computer was audible. With quick steps you approached the desk in the office. The pharma company you were breaking into was planning on bringing a new medicament onto the market, one that showed severe side effects. About a quarter of the subjects, on which the meds had been tested, had completely lost their mind, and within a few days had behaved no more civilized than the dogs on the streets. Of course, a company of this size had managed to destroy all the evidence, and since they cared about nothing but their own profits, they had started production anyway.
A few days ago the elderly mother of one of the test subjects had told you about all this while both of you were waiting in a wash saloon your load to finish. And after some intense research, you decided that tonight was the night you needed to take action.
You walked over to the heavy oak desk in the center of the room, and knelt down in front of the drawers, all of which were locked. Blowing the air out of your nose, you grabbed for the tiny tools you had kept hidden under your suit, and went on to pick the locks, one after another.
The first drawer only contained pens, staplers, and a hipflask. The second drawer was already a little more interesting, containing papers and files, and after you had quickly flipped through them, you realized that they all were of no value to you. But the last drawer, the one in the bottom that had taken you three times as long to pick as the others, this one finally contained what you had been looking for. At first glance it seemed to be almost empty, only containing a box with pins, and some eau de toilette, but you had a feeling that something was off about this drawer, so you searched around a bit, and soon found the mechanism that allowed you to take out the fake floor, which you had suspected to be hidden there. And finally you held the file in your hands that documented all the subjects and their horrible side effects; side effects that had left over a hundred families with to primal instincts reduced family members.
You quickly flipped through the file to make sure it really was what you were looking for. There were pictures, names, dates, statistics; you even found the son of the lady who had talked to you.
Giving a quiet sigh of relief, you closed the file and pushed it into a hidden pocket on your back, allowing the advanced technology of your suit to close the sides of the pocket so the file was safe. Then you placed the fake floor of the drawer back inside, arranged the box with the pins and the bottle with the eau de toilette the same way you had found it, and locked all the drawers again, hoping to keep your theft unnoticed for as long as possible.
Out of the window, closing it, and up the wall towards the roof you went. The night was cool, and the moon was shining brightly. You stood at the edge of the roof for a while, admiring the city beneath your feet. Flickering lights danced in the streets, and most windows were dark, only a few were lit up with the late night lives of their apartment's inhabitants.
You were about to turn around, when the portentous rustling of huge wings over your head made you skip around all the more quickly. It was not the first time you had heard these wings, and it almost never ended well for you.
"Catwoman," the distorted voice behind the mask spoke to you. He had landed a few meters away from you, folding his wings onto his back, the black, bat-like mask staring at you emotionless.
"Batman," you replied, trying to sound bored instead of nervous.
"I think you have something that doesn't belong to you," he spoke.
Damn, he was good. Probably he had been watching you the whole time. If he would not always be such a prick trying to sabotage your work, you could almost fancy him. He seemed to have the heart in the right place, as you had concluded from the encounters you have had so far. And that thought was none you liked to think, considering he was basically your rival, but most nights his mysterious demeanor chased your from waking into your dreams, and in those he was by far not as hostile as in real life.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
You strode over to him, elegantly placing one foot in front of the other, quiet like a cat. You were aware of his lingering stare, even though you could not see his eyes. But you also knew that he would not be fooled by the simple sway of your hips; he was still high alert, and he stiffened in his armor when you ran your fingers over his arm.
"The files," he hissed.
"What files?"
"These."
With one swift motion he grabbed you by the arm and turned you so your back was facing him, poking your back with a finger of the other hand.
"Let go," you demanded, staying as calm as possible.
You could not afford to lose these files, you needed to get them to the prosecuting attorney's office as soon as possible.
"Give them to me, and you can leave," he answered, his voice directly next to your ear making you flinch.
"You don't know what's on the line!"
That you were pleading, you were well aware. But he really did not know; he knew nothing.
"I don't have to, give them to me."
With one swift motion you turned around, ignoring the stinging pain in your twisted arm, and pushed yourself off the ground so hard that you managed to kick Batman in the chest. He tumbled and let go of you, allowing you to quickly run towards the connecting rooves. Sadly Batman was not surprised for long; instead he came after you, pushing you over in your sprint, making you tumble to the floor. As fast as you could, you turned onto your back, and jumped up again, ready to fight, but you could not spot him anywhere.
For a second you stood, wondering if he was really gone, when suddenly a heavy hit to your back sent you to the floor again. You wanted to get up, but he was already holding you to the floor.
"You should've given 'em to me when I asked nicely," he hummed into your ear, and a second later the familiar sound of the opening of the flaps on your back sounded through the air.
"No, no, you can't do that, you don't understand!"
You tried screaming and wiggling, but Batman held you down, taking the files out of the pocket.
"No, give them back, asshole, give them back now!"
"You really have to learn to understand the difference between what's yours and what's other people's stuff," he hissed, his distorted voice flickering slightly.
"It's not like I steal for fun!"
As soon as his weight was off your back, you jumped up, ready to fight, but you only saw his figure jumping off the roof and disappearing in the night, and with him your only chance to stop the company to produce these meds.
Defeated you stood on the roof, watching the night city, that now had nothing magical anymore, only defeat and disappointment wafted through the streets.
~*~
Back home you pulled off your suit, taking a closer look at the damage Batman had done. The flaps of your back pocket had been torn open forcefully; it would take you a while to repair this properly, so you gently removed the useless fabric, not wanting it to get into your way while not being fixed. The damage that had been done to your body was not as severe as the last times. Your arm still stung a little, making you believe you might have strained the muscles in your shoulder while wiggling out of Batman's grip. There were a few bruises forming on your body, a big one on your back, but nothing that would not heal in time.
If you were completely honest with yourself, you felt miserable and sorry for yourself. You had lost the chance to save lives, and Batman had, once again, defeated you.
The bathroom mirror was fogged up after you had taken a long bath. Through the fog you starred at your reflection, the image of your rival's mask flashing before your eyes again and again. You wondered what he looked like. Was he pretty? What color were his eyes? Maybe he had a gigantic scar across his face, one that made him look like a monster. Was his hair long, or rather short? Were his lips pink and kissable?
You tore away from your thoughts, ignoring the pull in your stomach. Trying not to touch your newly formed bruises too much, you slipped on a bathrobe, and waddled into the kitchen, getting yourself a cup of hot chocolate, before you fell down onto the sofa in the living room. Yeah, maybe you were Catwoman at night, but at day you were just another citizen of Gotham City who wanted to be left alone.
The tv flickered colorful images into your direction, but you barely payed attention to what the news were saying. Your thoughts still wandered back to Batman and the man behind the mask. Had he taken a look at the files? Had he wondered why you were so desperate for them? You slipped in and out of sleep, and only when the day was over and the sun began to set again, you got torn out of your dreamless state by police sirens that chased down the street. The tv was still running, the red banner in the bottom of the screen announcing that there were breaking news.
For a moment you stared at the screen, unbelievingly reading the lines, before turning up the sound to listen to the news agent, who read with a serious voice that this morning the prosecuting attorney's office had received an anonymous tip about the involvement of a pharma company in the cover up of severe side effects concerning their meds. Since then the police had started an official investigation and arrested all the people they suspected of involvement in that case.
You sunk back into the cushions of your sofa. So Batman had taken a look into the files and handed them in. He was fighting crime after all. How foolish of you to think he would just put it back mindlessly.
The sky was growing dark outside when you finally moved. You were still aching from the fight last night, so you decided to keep the suit packed away, and instead moved to sit on the roof top, just wearing your everyday clothes.
Once again the moon was bright enough to shine onto the roof tops around you, allowing you to watch the skyline.
The familiar rustling of wings surprised and unsettled you, when Batman landed behind you.
"How did you find me," you asked, jumping up from your spot by the edge of the roof.
"Good evening to you to, (y/n)," he answered, sounding slightly amused, "bold of you to assume I don't look up the mysterious people I meet at night."
You furrowed your brows. "Stalker."
A chuckle escaped from under the mask, a chuckle that startled you.
"If you want to call it that, feel free to do so," he laughed.
For a while you were standing there, not sure what to say.
"Anyway, since I know your face now, I think it's only fair to reveal mine as well," Batman suddenly spoke back up. With a swift movement he pulled off the black helmet. Black hair fell down the sides of a soft face, warm hazel eyes looked at you shyly; an expression you would have hardly expected Batman to wear. The black curls almost reached down to his chin, and if you had wondered if he was pretty, you had never imagined him to look this breathtakingly beautiful. "I'm Gerard."
"Thanks," you mumbled, "I mean- thanks for trusting me with your identity."
Gerard sent you a glance from the corner of his eyes.
"And here I was, thinking you meant the whole pharma company thing."
You turned to look at him, raising your eyebrows.
"Well, I don't think I've to thank you for that one. It was the right thing to do."
"So you're saying," Gerard took a step closer to you, "that it was basically expected from me to hand the files in, so you don't need to thank me?"
"I'm saying that you are lucky that you handed them in, otherwise I would've kicked your ass by now."
Gerard chuckled quietly, a sound that made an unexpected spark of warmth spread through your body.
"You're pretty sassy, you know that right?"
Once again you raised your eyebrows at him. "I suppose so, got a problem?"
Gerard shook his head at you, his lips pulled into a sly smile, while he took another step towards you.
"Not really. I actually like it."
"Oh, you like it now," you mocked playfully, "Next Gotham City's Batman is gonna suggest to work together, aren't you?"
Gerard shrugged, leaning towards you. He had long invaded your personal space, and you found yourself not minding it in the slightest.
"Well, actually..." he grinned, "actually I was suggest to kiss first-"
Your heart jumped at his words and your eyes involuntarily fluttered to his lips for a split second.
"-and then I was gonna propose working together, but whatever."
He lifted his gloved hand up to your cheek, and ran his fingers gently over your skin, making you shudder at the touch; a comfortable, nice kind of shudder.
"Let's do the kissing first," you decided.
Before you even had a chance to do anything else, Gerard had already closed the small gap between the two of you, and slammed his lips against yours, in a kiss that was filled to the brim with all the excitement and tension that flooded his body every time as soon as he merely thought of you. You did not hesitate to kiss back, pulling the now unmasked hero closer to your body. His armor was hard and cold to your touch, the shield that protected his chest almost resembling metal. His soft skin, the silky curls at the sides of his face, and his warm, sweet lips stood in a strange contrast to that. He radiated warmth where his body was not shielded by his suit, and his breath against your skin reminded you just of how alive both of you were right now, here, on top of this roof, standing above the city.
When you pulled away, your cheeks had taken a cute, pink blush, and Gerard too was slightly flustered.
"'bout the working together thing," you asked, your forehead leaning against Gerard's while both of you shared a breath, "when do we start?"