The living room smells of fresh popcorn. It stands out not for its strength but for its rarity, pleasant and new like the night itself
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At precisely the time they'd agreed upon, dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and his black leather jacket, Bruce ring the doorball at the address Kate had given him.
The video store hadn't had all of the Zorro movies, but it had a few of the better ones, a number of variants on The Three Musketeers including some of the funnier ones, and it did have Desperado. He'd grabbed another couple 'righter of wrong' movies, mostly to make her smile.
That was why he'd come, after all. To spend time with her, let her know she was safe, and loved, without making a fuss over her. Fussing over Kate had the same effect as fussing over him. It made things more awkward, more tense, and ultimately would leave Kate feeling guilty that she couldn't accept the fussing greacefully.
Since he had no inclination toward that kind of comfort-giving by nature, movies and popcorn and pleasant company suited him well. And, when he let himself think about it, he knew the visit would probably do him as much good as Kate.
Kate jumps, spilling some popcorn on the carpet in the process, but her startled expression quickly fades into a bright smile. It's good to know that she's still capable of it.
Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she kneels to scoop up the fallen popcorn, then carefully sets the bowl on the coffee table, along with the remote. Then she hurries to the door, unlatching and opening it within a second, maybe two.
"Bruce." Her voice is soft, a greeting holding so much more than familiarity, than simple welcome.
He's here, for her, with her, and that doesn't astonish her as much as it might have but it still warms her chest almost fiercely. He looks good, especially in that leather coat, he's fine, or going to be fine. She's actually seeing someone she cares about again, real and close and safe.
It takes a hefty amount of will not to drag him inside and hug him until they ache from it.
When she opened the door, the expression she wore he'd never seen before: she looked so incredibly fragile beneath the brave, strong facade she showed the world. Potent with emotion, her soft greeting hit him somewhere between his heart and his gut. It took almost thirty seconds before he could gather his breath to simply say, "Katie."
He stepped inside, and after setting the videos down against the doorframe, opened his arms to her.
In the last two years, she's only heard Tara or Shane use that name. They've been the only ones she would stand to hear it from, and it every time it burns in her chest until it melts her heart.
To hear Bruce speak it...God, if she weren't already going to step into his arms and embrace him with all the strength she can muster, it would have made her.
"I'm so glad to see you," she whispers against his shoulder, and it's the easiest thing in the world to admit. She doesn't want to pull away, not yet, not even to close the door, so she doesn't.
She'd been so afraid she'd never hold someone she loved again, and she won't settle for only a few moments of it.
Eyebrows rise the slightest bit as she opens her own can without looking; quick jerk of thumb and forefinger, great way to get cut but she hasn't for years.
"Probably, yeah." She doesn't ask anything, but the look in her eyes is bemused and inquisitive.
Hold on to something light and let it lift you from the past. She never thought it would work, but right now it is. Probably, she thinks, because of who she's with.
It'd been years since he'd drunk anything out of a can, least of all beer. But the fingers didn't forget how to open one, at least his didn't. It popped open with a deft flick of his thumb, then tipped it to his mouth and took a long swallow.
Not the best beer, but also not the worst. It struck him in that moment that Kate probably had lived the life he'd been trying to imitate. And also that for all he knew her, he didn't really know much about her
( ... )
"Well, I can't resist that offer," she replies, grin widening. Something like mischief dances in her eyes, a flame that lights instead of burns.
"But we'd better sit down first." She gestures toward the couch, both explanation and invitations.
When she sits she does so gingerly, lowering herself slowly onto the soft dark cushions, barely wincing.
If she were with most anyone else, she wouldn't acknowledge her injuries at all. With Bruce, she doesn't feel the need to completely hide them.
She knows that the most comfortable position is with her back straight, her feet on the ground and her arms at her sides. That's how she ends up, turned slightly to face Bruce, one hand still clutching her beer.
Her smile is fainter but just as stubborn as the rest of her, aided by beautiful circumstance.
Brain overlaying past experience on present, Bruce had no trouble seeing the extent of her bruising from her experiences. His eyes narrowed, a brief frown flickering over his face the only sign of his determination to find who had done this to her and make them beg to be allowed to fix it.
As quickly as it had come, it faded again, with nothing more than the brush of his fingers against her wrist to acknowledge it. Anything more would make her uncomfortable; anything less would make him a heartless bastard and he wasn't the Goddamned Batman(TM no_pixie_shoes) yet.
"You could resist, because your will is strong. But since we both know that," his voice came warm gently chiding, "I fail to see the point in denying your curiosity."
"Not as strong as I'd like it to be, sometimes," she says quietly, gaze falling to his tender touch and clinging to it, using it to shove all the others away.
When her eyes meet his, echoes of nightmares mingle with the pleasure of the present, and she steadfastedly ignores the first. The relaxed cheer in her voice is strained, but not false.
"Okay--simple first. Why did you come to Tropolis? Everyone seems to have a reason." There's also rarely simple, but can often be stripped down to the basics. If Bruce decides to do so, she'll certainly understand.
Comments 22
The video store hadn't had all of the Zorro movies, but it had a few of the better ones, a number of variants on The Three Musketeers including some of the funnier ones, and it did have Desperado. He'd grabbed another couple 'righter of wrong' movies, mostly to make her smile.
That was why he'd come, after all. To spend time with her, let her know she was safe, and loved, without making a fuss over her. Fussing over Kate had the same effect as fussing over him. It made things more awkward, more tense, and ultimately would leave Kate feeling guilty that she couldn't accept the fussing greacefully.
Since he had no inclination toward that kind of comfort-giving by nature, movies and popcorn and pleasant company suited him well. And, when he let himself think about it, he knew the visit would probably do him as much good as Kate.
Reply
Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she kneels to scoop up the fallen popcorn, then carefully sets the bowl on the coffee table, along with the remote. Then she hurries to the door, unlatching and opening it within a second, maybe two.
"Bruce." Her voice is soft, a greeting holding so much more than familiarity, than simple welcome.
He's here, for her, with her, and that doesn't astonish her as much as it might have but it still warms her chest almost fiercely. He looks good, especially in that leather coat, he's fine, or going to be fine. She's actually seeing someone she cares about again, real and close and safe.
It takes a hefty amount of will not to drag him inside and hug him until they ache from it.
Reply
He stepped inside, and after setting the videos down against the doorframe, opened his arms to her.
Reply
To hear Bruce speak it...God, if she weren't already going to step into his arms and embrace him with all the strength she can muster, it would have made her.
"I'm so glad to see you," she whispers against his shoulder, and it's the easiest thing in the world to admit. She doesn't want to pull away, not yet, not even to close the door, so she doesn't.
She'd been so afraid she'd never hold someone she loved again, and she won't settle for only a few moments of it.
Reply
"Probably, yeah." She doesn't ask anything, but the look in her eyes is bemused and inquisitive.
Hold on to something light and let it lift you from the past. She never thought it would work, but right now it is. Probably, she thinks, because of who she's with.
It'd been years since he'd drunk anything out of a can, least of all beer. But the fingers didn't forget how to open one, at least his didn't. It popped open with a deft flick of his thumb, then tipped it to his mouth and took a long swallow.
Not the best beer, but also not the worst. It struck him in that moment that Kate probably had lived the life he'd been trying to imitate. And also that for all he knew her, he didn't really know much about her ( ... )
Reply
"But we'd better sit down first." She gestures toward the couch, both explanation and invitations.
When she sits she does so gingerly, lowering herself slowly onto the soft dark cushions, barely wincing.
If she were with most anyone else, she wouldn't acknowledge her injuries at all. With Bruce, she doesn't feel the need to completely hide them.
She knows that the most comfortable position is with her back straight, her feet on the ground and her arms at her sides. That's how she ends up, turned slightly to face Bruce, one hand still clutching her beer.
Her smile is fainter but just as stubborn as the rest of her, aided by beautiful circumstance.
Reply
As quickly as it had come, it faded again, with nothing more than the brush of his fingers against her wrist to acknowledge it. Anything more would make her uncomfortable; anything less would make him a heartless bastard and he wasn't the Goddamned Batman(TM no_pixie_shoes) yet.
"You could resist, because your will is strong. But since we both know that," his voice came warm gently chiding, "I fail to see the point in denying your curiosity."
Reply
When her eyes meet his, echoes of nightmares mingle with the pleasure of the present, and she steadfastedly ignores the first. The relaxed cheer in her voice is strained, but not false.
"Okay--simple first. Why did you come to Tropolis? Everyone seems to have a reason." There's also rarely simple, but can often be stripped down to the basics. If Bruce decides to do so, she'll certainly understand.
Reply
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