(no subject)
bat-related flashfic. not DK related. more 90s cartoon actually :) go fig. if you're familiar at all with my char Contessa then this may interest you, otherwise I imagine it will feel very Mary Sue to you.
Tessa stood beside the bed, breathing slowly, watching him sleep. She had seen him in repose, she had seen him inactive, but she had never seen him relaxed.
Mostly relaxed. He twitched in his sleep. The skin over his back twitched and bunched, shivered and crawled as his muscles moved unconsciously. She wanted to pull the sheet up over him-her own skin was pimpled from the central air conditioning-but refrained recognizing it as an excuse to touch him. Watching him sleep was rare gift enough.
So she matched her breathing to his, slowed her frenetic heart and stifled the need to fidget.
She was so still, so intent, that she should have been ready. But, of course, that was why she wasn’t.
“Tessa?”
She looked up into blue eyes, bluer even than Newman’s own, that weren’t quite awake but were clearing quickly. She gave him a small close-lipped smile. “Observant as always.”
He shifted and she winced.
He uncurled himself, simultaneously pulling her off his legs and up from the bed. “Are you alright?” Sleep made his voice midnight deep in spite of the low afternoon sun.
“I’ll probably have a bruise on my back, but I bruise easily, so who will notice,” she said as she moved back from the bed to allow him to sit up.
He started to say something then seemed to change his mind. “What are you doing up here?” came out instead, his voice slowly climbing out of the night.
“Alfred sent me. He thought you’d be up by now. He said, ‘Lunch, or breakfast for him, is ready. Or it will be by the time he makes it down here’ end-quote.”
He smiled. “And you’ve been waiting for me to wake up all this time?”
“Oh. Not at all. I walked in, you were doing, what I thought, were pre-waking fidgets and then you attacked me.”
His smile became a thin line of chagrin as he looked away from her, across the bed where the outline of her body was still visible, making her regret her choice of words. “I-”
“-was having a bad dream. Clearly I don’t interpret body language very well.” She gave him the soft close-lipped smile again.
Again he looked like he was going to same something, but changed his mind.
“Don’t worry about it. Since I now know a little something of aikido…” She raised an eyebrow and he grinned. “…I am now concerned for whomever might encounter me in bed.”
“Then my job is done.”
She snorted. “Indeed. Now, as for you, sir-”
He groaned.
“I believe Alfred was expecting you downstairs some time ago. And I am off.”
He glanced around. “What time is it?”
“Time for me to go to my next job.”
“Tessa.”
“About three. Have a good da-afternoon, Bruce.”
He gave her a noncommittal grunt. If those bruises were as painful as they looked, she could quite agree.
He called out for her just as she’d turned the corner beyond his sitting room. She ducked back into the room, moving until she could see into the bedroom. He was still sitting on the bed. “How did Alfred get you to come up here anyway? I thought you swore never to go above the first floor.”
“Lemon white chocolate chip macadamia cookies.”
“What?”
“Lemon white chocolate chip macadamia cookies,” she repeated, louder.
“Cookies? Are you really that easily tempted?”
No. “Of the ones Alfred makes they’re my favorite.”
She thought she heard him mutter “Women” as she went to the door.
Tessa stood beside the bed, breathing slowly, watching him sleep. She had seen him in repose, she had seen him inactive, but she had never seen him relaxed.
Mostly relaxed. He twitched in his sleep. The skin over his back twitched and bunched, shivered and crawled as his muscles moved unconsciously. She wanted to pull the sheet up over him-her own skin was pimpled from the central air conditioning-but refrained recognizing it as an excuse to touch him. Watching him sleep was rare gift enough.
So she matched her breathing to his, slowed her frenetic heart and stifled the need to fidget.
She was so still, so intent, that she should have been ready. But, of course, that was why she wasn’t.
“Tessa?”
She looked up into blue eyes, bluer even than Newman’s own, that weren’t quite awake but were clearing quickly. She gave him a small close-lipped smile. “Observant as always.”
He shifted and she winced.
He uncurled himself, simultaneously pulling her off his legs and up from the bed. “Are you alright?” Sleep made his voice midnight deep in spite of the low afternoon sun.
“I’ll probably have a bruise on my back, but I bruise easily, so who will notice,” she said as she moved back from the bed to allow him to sit up.
He started to say something then seemed to change his mind. “What are you doing up here?” came out instead, his voice slowly climbing out of the night.
“Alfred sent me. He thought you’d be up by now. He said, ‘Lunch, or breakfast for him, is ready. Or it will be by the time he makes it down here’ end-quote.”
He smiled. “And you’ve been waiting for me to wake up all this time?”
“Oh. Not at all. I walked in, you were doing, what I thought, were pre-waking fidgets and then you attacked me.”
His smile became a thin line of chagrin as he looked away from her, across the bed where the outline of her body was still visible, making her regret her choice of words. “I-”
“-was having a bad dream. Clearly I don’t interpret body language very well.” She gave him the soft close-lipped smile again.
Again he looked like he was going to same something, but changed his mind.
“Don’t worry about it. Since I now know a little something of aikido…” She raised an eyebrow and he grinned. “…I am now concerned for whomever might encounter me in bed.”
“Then my job is done.”
She snorted. “Indeed. Now, as for you, sir-”
He groaned.
“I believe Alfred was expecting you downstairs some time ago. And I am off.”
He glanced around. “What time is it?”
“Time for me to go to my next job.”
“Tessa.”
“About three. Have a good da-afternoon, Bruce.”
He gave her a noncommittal grunt. If those bruises were as painful as they looked, she could quite agree.
He called out for her just as she’d turned the corner beyond his sitting room. She ducked back into the room, moving until she could see into the bedroom. He was still sitting on the bed. “How did Alfred get you to come up here anyway? I thought you swore never to go above the first floor.”
“Lemon white chocolate chip macadamia cookies.”
“What?”
“Lemon white chocolate chip macadamia cookies,” she repeated, louder.
“Cookies? Are you really that easily tempted?”
No. “Of the ones Alfred makes they’re my favorite.”
She thought she heard him mutter “Women” as she went to the door.