[for Selina]

[daretodo]

I’m still riding the adrenaline rush from a training session with Cap as I make my way back home. My t-shirt’s bunched into a ball in my hand, and I tip my face up to meet the sun through the trees. I wouldn’t say no to some rain to cool off, but the sky above me is clear.

Figures. When you want it to rain, there’s not a drop to be found.

I stop on the spot, taking in a deep breath — smelling the flowers, so to speak. When I look back ahead and see who’s coming down the boardwalk, my stomach flips, then drops out. There’s no room for a hasty exit, so I stand my ground, holding my empty hand palm out in a mocking gesture of surrender.

“I swear I’m not following you,” I tell one Selina Kyle. “It’s a free boardwalk.”

Comments

[daretodo]

I nod. A very small part of me is hoping she'll decline, but the truth is, no matter how bad things get, I don't know how not to help people.

Even people who've done little but insult me since we've met.

"And bandages. A whole first aid kit, actually. I'm kind of a klutz."

[purrloined]

"I seem to remember you falling down a mountain or something to that effect." She stifles a sigh and looks at him again.

"What's closer, your place or the compound?"

[daretodo]

I could lie and say it's the Compound. It's at the tip of my tongue, but the truth worms its way out of me. I blew my big lie quota earlier.

"We're literally five minutes from my place," I say, kicking myself a little. We're miles from the Compound. "I can just grab the stuff and come back, if you want."

[purrloined]

"It would make more sense than inviting me over to case the joint," Selina points out, absently crossing her arms under her chest and cocking her hip to one side.

He wanted her to stay away from the nice part of town and he knows at least something of how accomplished she is as a thief- not that she'd imagine he has anything she's interested in acquiring.

[daretodo]

"...I'll be right back."

I take off at a jog in the wrong direction until I'm out of sight, and double-back up in the trees where I'm less likely to be spotted or followed. I've taken this same route so many times in the middle of the night that I could probably do it blindfolded.

When I get home, I top up Martha's water bowl, then grab the red first aid kit out of the bathroom. After strapping it around my waist, I lock up the front door and take the same circuitous path back to where I left the resident cat burglar. A quick glance at my watch tells me the whole trip took just a little over ten minutes.

"I come bearing gifts," I say, pulling out the small tube of neosporin. "Lemme see?"

[purrloined]

The scrape has puffed up enough to be categorized as a weal, if a small one. Selina looks up from the boulder she was reclined on, in the shade, and stands easily to saunter back up onto the boardwalk.

"I was starting to worry you'd injured yourself."

[daretodo]

"Maybe tomorrow," I reply, gesturing for her to sit back down since it'll probably be more comfortable for her.

"I'm not a doctor, but I know what I'm doing. You okay if I..." I lift my hand, but don't touch her just yet.

[purrloined]

"I've patched myself up before," she says, not sharply, but succinctly.

Because it's true.

She holds her hand out for the kit.

"I can do it."

Even though the scratches are in awkward places for her to reach. She can manage. She's managed considerably worse without aid.

[daretodo]

I know exactly what's in the kit, so if she tries anything funny, at least I'll know who stole it. I frown, hesitant, but hand the kit over with a reluctant sigh.

"I'm sure you can," I tell her. "I'm just saying you don't have to. But fine. Whatever." I lean back, resting my weight on my palms. I'll deal with my own scrapes once she's done.

[purrloined]

"Thank you," she replies because he's done her a favor and she may not care about expending a lot of effort on niceties, but she's not intrinsically rude.

She lets her fingertips trace up her shoulder lightly, patting out the line of the raised scrape and then reaches into the kit. She squeezes the neosporin onto her pinky fingertip, swipes it over the scrape, then thumbs a long gauze strip with light adhesive edges over it. She does it with the practiced ease of someone who has spend a lot of time doing something.

There's another over the ridge of her collarbone, much smaller, and it's the same quick gestures- the swipe of the antibacterial, the tapping on and soothing over of another small bandaid.

"Is there one here?" she asks him, turning her head away and pulling her hair over her opposite shoulder. She felt one of the talons scrape the back of her neck, low, over the first knob of her spine, but she can't be sure of it without a mirror.

[daretodo]

I'm only half-paying attention to what she's doing when she asks me a question. I sit up, looking over as she exposes the long, pale column of her neck. It's a good neck, and with her turned her away from me, well...

I look. My hand instinctively comes up to touch the scrape, but I catch myself before I make contact, my hand hovering an inch or so above her skin. I push down the sudden, stupid urge to brush my mouth over the point where her neck meets her shoulder, fighting a blush I'm glad she can't see. I try to even out my breaths.

"Ah- Yeah, you--" I say, stumbling a little over my words. "Yeah. There is."

[purrloined]

Of course there is. She whips her hair with one hand, the one with no neosporin on it, up into a messy half ponytail at the side of her neck opposite the scratch. She reaches back to gently feel for the scrape and has a moment's search before letting out the quietest exasperated breath. She arches her spine and reaches back, one arm bent over her head and back, the other inverted and bent up between her shoulder blades. It's a pretty basic yoga pose, and she can tie herself into knots if she has to. She shouldn't, for this.

"Should I even bother?" she asks.

It may seem petty, but the more scars she avoid accumulating, the happier she'll be. She has her share. She doesn't want new ones. They're unavoidable sometimes, but she'd rather this not be one of them. Getting clawed by a parrot wasn't one par with the rest of her scar stories in terms of being impressive.

[daretodo]

I glance away, quickly, like I've never seen a pretty girl doing yoga before.

(No, not a pretty girl. A very dangerous lady who hasn't gone out of her way to be particularly nice. to you. Remember that, Parker, before you get any more bad ideas.)

"It'd just take me a second," I blurt out, barely refraining from slapping myself in the forehead. Idiot.

[purrloined]

She drops her arms in front of her and keeps her head tilted the way it has been, considering for a silent moment if she wants to let him.

"All right," she says, and slips her hand over the back of her neck to curl her fingers in her hair and make sure it's out of the way.

[daretodo]

I'm not expecting her to take me up on the offer, so when she does, I freeze. Letting out a slow, shaky breath, I remind myself -- a couple of times -- that we've danced. There was a lot more contact going on then.

"Right."

There was also a lot more clothing. She had her dress. I had a shirt. We were appropriately attired for two near-strangers. This, though, this is a little different. I think of anything else than what I'm about to do as I take the neosporin and get to work, quickly and efficiently. I tell myself I imagine the little shiver that goes down my spine when I first touch her bare skin, pulling back the moment I'm done applying the bandage.

Bad. Idea.

"There. Done."

[purrloined]

"Thank you," she says again, and lets her hair down. She turns on the rock, a simple, graceful pivot that leaves her cross legged and looking him over.

"How about you?"

[daretodo]

"I'm fine."

It's a reflex at this point, telling people I'm fine. Maybe we have something in common there, but I don't dwell on it for long. I just take up the tube of neosporin and start dabbing it over my own scrapes. I don't really care about adding more scars to my collection, but the tube's already out. Might as well use it.

"Klutz, remember? I've got practice."

[purrloined]

"If you're sure," she says, letting the offer stand. She doesn't necessarily foster feelings of obligation to people, but it's such an immediately available opportunity to repay a favor, she figures she'll offer.

[daretodo]

I look over her face, or at least the parts of it that aren't hidden behind her sunglasses. Instinct keeps telling me not to trust her.

I hold in a breath and hold out the tube, sliding the kit back over. I twist to give her access to the right arm.

"I dated a cat burglar once," I say, half to remind myself exactly why this is a terrible idea. "She tried to turn a new leaf. It never stuck."

[purrloined]

"Are you serious?" she asks, stopping in her cursory look over the back of his shoulder. Nothing seems too bad.

Her gaze narrows a little.

[daretodo]

I sigh, mentally kicking myself. I'd say I don't even know what I was thinking, but that much is obvious. I scoop up the kit under my arm, pressing curled fingers against my hairline in frustration.

"...forget it. I shouldn't've--"

[purrloined]

"I'm not judging your life choices, I just wouldn't have expected that given your general disdain for my person," Selina says mildly, then hesitates.

"Actually, if you tried to fix a thief that didn't want fixing and failed, that would entirely explain it."

[daretodo]

"Hey, I don't have disdain," I say, letting my hand fall back down. Distrust is not the same as disdain.

"You're the one with the insults about a socio-economic status that doesn't even matter here. The nicest thing you've said to me since we've met is that I wasn't boring you to death!"

[purrloined]

"You made it pretty clear you didn't want my type moving into the neighborhood," she says, but doesn't look exceptionally bothered by it.

"There's a little disdain. And socio-economic status always matters, Parker. You may speak the same language and get each other, but the world works differently for the people who were raised expecting it to go their way and the people who learned they had to make it go their way."

She absently brushes some sand off her thigh and doesn't shrug at him, exactly, but the set of her shoulders seems to imply it.

"Being nice isn't one of the skills I keep in my repertoire. You know why?" she asks, stepping forward and holding out the little tool from the kit that had the extendable blade in it, ostensible, she figured, for cutting gauze or thread. She'd removed it, idly, almost without thinking. She was giving it back.

"Because life doesn't give a damn about kindness. Thanks again."

[daretodo]

I blink at the tool sitting nicely in the palm of my hand, then back at Selina. I tuck it back where it belongs, trying to shake off the lingering and unsettling feeling of surprise.

Does it mean something that she gave it back? Am I reading too deeply into this?

"You're right. It doesn't." I've been dragged through the mud enough to believe that, just a little. I stare at her hard, my expression unreadable. "But I was maybe being a jerk about the neighborhood thing. You're as free to make a life here as anyone else." A beat, and then a brittle, bitter smile. "Until it all gets torn away."