(DCU) Back To Scratch
Title: Back To Scratch
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Barbara/Selina
Rating: PG-13
Words: 550
Timeline: Pre-Killing Joke
Notes: For a prompt at comment-fic.
Summary: It was a different kind of pain that she was learning to associate with Catwoman alone.
The pain was good; the pain meant she was alive. Her calves were burning, chest tight as she panted for air, ears still ringing from the explosion of gunfire that had chased her from the docks. But she was alive.
Moving hurt in a hundred different ways, but Barbara forced herself to turn her head, feeling the gritty surface of the roof scraping over the back of her cowl, her hair catching and tugging at her scalp.
Catwoman had reached safety before her, somehow managing to make a mad scrabble for cover from the hail of bullets look effortless and graceful. Barbara watched as she sat up, spine arching as if waking from a comfortable nap rather than a race for her life. She ran the gloved knuckles of one hand along her thigh, the purple of her costume almost grey in what little of the weak streetlight reached the roof, but somehow the smear of blood still seemed startlingly, vividly red.
“You’re-”
“Just a graze,” Catwoman interrupted, a hint of annoyance in her voice which may have been directed at herself for being injured or at Barbara for noticing it. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”
Barbara swallowed down her own annoyance, pushing herself on to her elbows. She didn’t appear to be sporting any injuries of her own, other than what felt like the beginnings of some fairly spectacular bruising. No skirts for a few days.
She flexed and winced. Okay, maybe no skirts for a week.
“Still, you weren’t half bad,” Catwoman murmured, a smirk teasing her painted lips. “I’m almost impressed.”
Barbara tried to keep herself from scowling as she awkwardly sat, hands planted against the roof as she shifted her weight. “Gee, thanks for the compliment,” she muttered, voice bitingly sardonic.
Catwoman, of course, didn’t need to know that it was a compliment. That Barbara found herself watching the way the other woman moved with awe, fascinated by the way she appeared to dance through the shadows, the way the night seemed to open up lovingly before her.
“Now, now, no need to get catty.” Barbara could hear the silky laughter in Catwoman’s voice. “We make a good team.”
“We’re not a team,” Barbara responded automatically, voice flat. “You’re a criminal. I’m a crime fighter.”
“And yet, here you are,” Catwoman purred, and somehow she was much closer than Barbara had previously registered. “Spending your nights leaping rooftop to rooftop with a so-called criminal.”
“This was a one-off.”
Catwoman’s smile was sharp and knowing. “You’ve said that before.”
It was true, and Barbara swallowed thickly. She never sought Catwoman out, but this wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves circling the same prey. This wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves joining forces, working together.
This wasn’t even the first time Catwoman’s hand had slid up over Barbara’s thigh, claws scratching her lightly through the fabric. She shivered slightly at the sensation, eyes falling closed on the sight of Catwoman’s canines glinting in the darkness.
Hot breath ghosted over her lips, and then those teeth were nipping gently at Barbara’s bottom lip.
It wasn’t the first time Barbara had moaned into Catwoman’s mouth, and those claws were digging into her hip in response, but it was okay.
The pain meant she was alive.
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Barbara/Selina
Rating: PG-13
Words: 550
Timeline: Pre-Killing Joke
Notes: For a prompt at comment-fic.
Summary: It was a different kind of pain that she was learning to associate with Catwoman alone.
The pain was good; the pain meant she was alive. Her calves were burning, chest tight as she panted for air, ears still ringing from the explosion of gunfire that had chased her from the docks. But she was alive.
Moving hurt in a hundred different ways, but Barbara forced herself to turn her head, feeling the gritty surface of the roof scraping over the back of her cowl, her hair catching and tugging at her scalp.
Catwoman had reached safety before her, somehow managing to make a mad scrabble for cover from the hail of bullets look effortless and graceful. Barbara watched as she sat up, spine arching as if waking from a comfortable nap rather than a race for her life. She ran the gloved knuckles of one hand along her thigh, the purple of her costume almost grey in what little of the weak streetlight reached the roof, but somehow the smear of blood still seemed startlingly, vividly red.
“You’re-”
“Just a graze,” Catwoman interrupted, a hint of annoyance in her voice which may have been directed at herself for being injured or at Barbara for noticing it. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”
Barbara swallowed down her own annoyance, pushing herself on to her elbows. She didn’t appear to be sporting any injuries of her own, other than what felt like the beginnings of some fairly spectacular bruising. No skirts for a few days.
She flexed and winced. Okay, maybe no skirts for a week.
“Still, you weren’t half bad,” Catwoman murmured, a smirk teasing her painted lips. “I’m almost impressed.”
Barbara tried to keep herself from scowling as she awkwardly sat, hands planted against the roof as she shifted her weight. “Gee, thanks for the compliment,” she muttered, voice bitingly sardonic.
Catwoman, of course, didn’t need to know that it was a compliment. That Barbara found herself watching the way the other woman moved with awe, fascinated by the way she appeared to dance through the shadows, the way the night seemed to open up lovingly before her.
“Now, now, no need to get catty.” Barbara could hear the silky laughter in Catwoman’s voice. “We make a good team.”
“We’re not a team,” Barbara responded automatically, voice flat. “You’re a criminal. I’m a crime fighter.”
“And yet, here you are,” Catwoman purred, and somehow she was much closer than Barbara had previously registered. “Spending your nights leaping rooftop to rooftop with a so-called criminal.”
“This was a one-off.”
Catwoman’s smile was sharp and knowing. “You’ve said that before.”
It was true, and Barbara swallowed thickly. She never sought Catwoman out, but this wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves circling the same prey. This wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves joining forces, working together.
This wasn’t even the first time Catwoman’s hand had slid up over Barbara’s thigh, claws scratching her lightly through the fabric. She shivered slightly at the sensation, eyes falling closed on the sight of Catwoman’s canines glinting in the darkness.
Hot breath ghosted over her lips, and then those teeth were nipping gently at Barbara’s bottom lip.
It wasn’t the first time Barbara had moaned into Catwoman’s mouth, and those claws were digging into her hip in response, but it was okay.
The pain meant she was alive.