Who: Dick and Selina Where: Dick's apartment in Gotham City When: After the Suit theft What: Another discussion for the Cat and Nightwing - Red Fingerstripes are decided upon Warnings: Nope
Selina really shouldn't be crawling around any downtown Gotham high rises, not when the address wasn't pricey enough for her to be stealing anything there, not these days. The fur on the back of her neck was always standing on end lately. She wasn't sure who was watching - Ra's or someone from the nest - but she always felt like she had a tail on her, one that wasn't her own. But the fact that she'd stolen Dickie's fingerstripes meant she had an excuse to climb into his window. Kitty cats loved to taunt, after all, and everyone knew that.
She was dressed in full black, cowl and goggles and a whip for a belt. Because, see, no one had stolen the kitty cat's suit. She had chased the skylines until she found Dickie's building, and then she'd scaled the escapes until she reached his window. She could've knocked, but that would have been out of character, so she used a diamond to cut a circle in the glass and unlock the window latch. She oiled the pane before shoving it open, the tiny bottle of grease going back into her utility belt before the glass slid silently upward.
She could have worried about surveillance, but she didn't. After all, she was expected; it just had to look like she wasn't.
One booted foot first, then the other, and the kitty cat was standing inside the open-floor plan that belonged to Dick Grayson. "Dickie, I like the manor better," she called out, shoving her goggles off her face and atop her cowl, inky black fringe framing the yellow lenses.
Dick was standing in his kitchen area drinking from a bottle of water when he heard Selina’s voice and she came in through the window. He was wearing black jeans and a blue shirt and his hair was a black mess on his head, hanging in his eyes like it usually did. The apartment wasn’t tiny, it wasn’t huge, and it wasn’t all that fancy.
The fanciest thing in it was his television and stereo - important things for bachelor pads. But the apartment was clean at least. He didn’t anticipate staying long, he had meant it when he said he just needed to be away from the manor for a bit. Gather his thoughts, not think at all, whatever it was he decided on doing he wanted to do it anywhere but at the Manor.
“It’s a little quieter here,” he said with a slight chuckle once she entered. “Not a lot of pretty things to get your paws all over though,” he said with a shrug as he walked towards her.
She followed the sound of his voice, and she climbed onto the kitchen counter with the graceful ease of someone who did a lot of crawling on things. She crawled to the edge closest to him, and she knelt against the heels of her boots at the end as she watched him drink from the bottle for a few seconds, before extending her claws for what was left as he walked toward her. "Is that why you came here? Because it's quieter?" The kitty cat had become fond of Wayne Manor in a way she never would have thought possible. After all, when she ended up in this messed up version of Gotham, she didn't even know Bruce and the Bat were the same person. She'd hated Bruce Wayne and everything he stood for, but now she liked slinking through his house when no one was looking. If anyone asked, she'd say she just liked the jewels in his mother's old jewelry box. After all, he never tried to get them back from her.
Dick leaned his hip against the counter next to where she was perched and handed her the bottle. “It’s pretty much the only reason it exists, I don’t live in Gotham regularly and if I do I’m usually the Manor. But it’s a little full to bursting of feelings right now. And kittens. And Lois Lanes with pregnancy symptoms, which in turn lends itself to Bruce consistently trying to put a GPS tracker on the poor reporter so we don’t cause problems on the other side. While it’s amusing, it’s a bit of a circus,” he said smirking because he would know all about circuses.
"Then Dickiebird should feel right at home," Selina noted, quirked inky brow and her head tipped back as she finished off the water. "Where do you usually live? Last I heard, in my world, you were off with a circus you'd inherited," she said, her lush grin telling her just what she'd thought of that. "Something about the owner dying and leaving you a mystery and the big tent. You were gone forever. We thought you weren't ever going to fly back to grimy Gotham." At the time, that had sounded like heaven to the kitty cat. Freedom, moving around, never being domesticated. Now, she wasn't sure. But she smiled at the idea of poor Lois having to deal with the symptoms of a Las Vegas pregnancy, though it made her want to type a quick note to Blondie telling her not to even think about it.
He chuckled, the first actual laugh in a while (which was new for him) “I inherited a circus, sounds good, I’d have been a great circus owner.” He looked down at the ground for a moment and then back at the Cat, “When I stopped being Robin and started being Nightwing I moved to Bludhaven first, was a cop there for a while, then moved to New York and that, that was my city. Then we lost the Bat and I came home, and was determined not to be Batman. Ever. Even Bruce thought Nightwing would be enough and he was dead. There was no other Bat except for my father, well. That didn’t last too long. And Damian needed something. Jason was running around with guns, someone really did have to do it. Nightwing wasn’t going to be good enough. And I wasn’t good enough to be the Bat, but I did it anyway because someone had to.”
"And you became good enough?" the kitty cat asked, because that was how the story should end, wasn't it? With a glorious finale where Dickie realized he could be his own Bat, and where Gotham didn't even notice the change. Where Damian finally found a place he fit, and where Jaybird was brought back into the fold by someone who could understand that he wasn't crazy, just hurt. "What happened when Bruce came back?" Because she assumed Bruce did come back at some point. It never occurred to her that Bruce died and stayed dead; she couldn't imagine that Gotham, and she didn't really want to.
Dick smiled a bit sheepishly, “I like to think so, I wasn’t him, but it fixed everything else that had gone wrong when he left. Damian and I,” his sheepish smile turned to proud in almost a split second. Even his shoulders straightened up a bit, “We had it.” He said with a nod. He shook his head, “I don’t really know, as far as I can tell Batman Inc happened, I was Batman-lite Damian and Bruce went on their merry way and then nothing. It all became new. New Selina,” he said nudging her with his elbow a bit, “Red fingerstripes.”
"I like new Selina," she said, confident enough to make the statement and truly mean it. There was nothing in her older, 'better' counterpart that impressed her. "And I like red fingerstripes," she said, tugging at his fingers when he nudged her elbow, pulling his hand up between them. "And it's still the same fingers in the gloves, Dickie." She understood what he was going through, even if she wasn't willing to ask for help figuring out her own place in this, but she understood. "Damian still needs you. Gotham needs you. I'm willing to forgive your fingerstripes being the wrong color, and think you look purrfect in the Batsuit. But this is a new place for all of us, Dickie. We're all outsiders here. None of our stories are what they're supposed to be. I'm supposed to be home, fighting the mob and having sex with the Bat on every roof in Gotham. Bruce is supposed to be alone and heading into exile. Damian isn't even supposed to be having wet dreams yet. Jaybird is supposed to be out leading his Outlaws. We all need to fit into new shoes... or fingerstripes, whatever the case may be."
“I like new Selina too,” he admitted easily. It was strange but she listened to him, and at the same time she didn’t put up with his bullshit, and she understood exactly where he was standing and why. “Well I’m without any fingerstripes at the moment, maybe I should go for red,” he said with a genuine smile. He sighed then and nodded, she wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know how to go about it, but she wasn’t wrong. He looked at his hand between them, hands that were just as confused as he was because his whole body felt like it was lost - and maybe it was. “I still need Damian, even if he’s not my Robin,” he said seriously, “And I still need Gotham. It’s not Nightwing’s city, but it’s Dick Grayson’s home, if that makes any sense at all.” he said with a breathy chuckle that wasn’t amused more than it was resigned.
He looked up at her then and said rather easily but he hadn’t told anyone yet, “I asked Gordon about a job, not a replacement job for the fingerstripes,” he clarified quickly, “but who knows who’s on this force, they might not be ready for anything that any number of our supervillains can cook up. Bruce doesn’t understand magic, and I don’t know what any of them would do if someone like - he paused and played pick a villain any villain - Killer Croc showed up here.”
"Red's a much better color," she purred, all smile and teasing, and maybe it wasn't the time for it, but if they were going to die, they were going to die; no point being dour about it. "It makes sense," she said of Gotham. "I hate this place as much as I love it, but there's nowhere else I belong, even if it isn't exactly like mine. It still smells like home, dirty and foggy and cold. The kitty cat would rather die than live, say, in sunny Metropolis. And Damian isn't going anywhere, but he's different here, older, not that little boy you knew. You have to let him pick his own flight path, Dickie."
She should have been surprised with his confession about the Gotham PC, but she wasn't. "You'll forgive me if I don't purr about that. My GCPD was as dirty as they come," she admitted, and a lot of trouble they'd caused her, too. But he was right; someone on the inside would be a good thing. She might not be part of the Bat's little family, but even she knew that every little bit helped. "It's a good choice," she finally conceded, even if she hadn't hit it off well with Jim Gordon.
She slid off the counter, and she let his fingers drop as she landed, feet on the floor and all graceful sway against him. "Don't overthink it, Dickie. Just live it," she said, even as she swayed past him. After all, that was the kitty cat's motto, wasn't it? Live in the moment.
Dick grinned back at her, he was never one to stay dour for long, looming death or not. Missing suit or not. And certainly not with a pretty woman sitting on his counter who was smiling right at him. “Red it is,” he said and he thought he’d give it a try. It would be new. And different. And probably strange to get used to, but he’d do it. “I left Gotham for Bludhaven,” he said with a chuckle, “I don’t know what to do without dirt and grime either.” She mentioned Damian and he nodded, “I know, but he still looks to me to help chart that course,” he said seriously. “I have always wanted him to find his path, but I can’t tell him no,” he admitted with another shy smile. “I’m always going to be there to help him. We all need a little looking after sometimes,” he said raising his eyebrows admitting as much as he was stating.
“I’m sure there’s dirty here too, Bludhaven was,” he almost shuddered, “Almost not worth saving as much as it worth throwing everyone over for new. “Don’t take my badge while you’re living in the moment when my back is turned,” he said with an audible grin as she swayed past him. What was he supposed to do, not look?
"Red would make me feel like I was at home," she admitted, her tone a little wistful. Even the suits were different here; his, the Bat's, even Joe dressed differently and actually had a face here. "It's the small things," she explained, her fingers climbing up his arm where his stripes would lead up and curl over his shoulder. She didn't mean anything by it, the kitty cat; it was just who she was. "Do you still meow at Babs in your world?" she asked, curiosity and cats.
As for Bludhaven? "Gotham is dirty, but there are plenty of pretty things that sparkle here, plenty of things to steal. I don't think you can say the same for Bludhaven. But in the kitty cat's world, you were in Gotham. You only left to go run your little circus, but then you came back." And he was right about Damian, right about Damian needing someone to help him find his path. "He's overwhelmed, Dickie. Just remember that. Everyone wants something different from him, and he's having trouble figuring out what Damian wants," she explained, her concern evident in her voice; she was worried about the baby bird.
"Oh, you never know, I might decide stealing badges is better than stealing diamonds," she teased as she swayed, and she knew he was watching. She shot him a look over her shoulder as she neared the window, one that said caught you with a warm smile. "Try not to arrest me. I don't like orange. It clashes with my eyes."
“I’ll see what I can do,” and he meant it. For a few reasons actually. He doubted that Ra’s would do anything good with his suit. It was tainted as far as he was concerned. He was looking for a change, and it was small enough that it would matter to him and if it made someone comfortable then it was worth it. He chuckled at bit at the Babs question and shook his head, not saying no, just because that was a loaded question beyond belief. “I haven’t meowed at Babs in a long time,” he admitted. “Sometimes I think we’re going to get it right, then one or both of us does something that reminds me just how very wrong I was. Or she was. Or we both were. And now,” he sighed. “Now it’s kind of like being strangers. I’ve never walked on eggshells around her before. That’s a new development.” He smiled at the Cat widely, mischievously, “This is a conversation to be had over something a little stronger than mineral water.”
Damian was overwhelmed, they were all overwhelmed. He didn’t want Damian to feel like he expected anything of him. He didn’t, well aside from being a quasi-decent human being and making smart choices. But Dick understood, better than most, what it meant to make your own decisions. He had the benefit of being the first Robin, and thus the hard job of being the first one to go out on his own. Maybe he could help Damian, and maybe he could even help Bruce. Maybe he could help them all. He couldn’t if they didn’t start talking to him, that made his job that much harder. But given that their family was short an active and willing patriarch and Alfred wasn’t around to kill them all with the Pennyworth Eyebrow of What the Fuck is Wrong With You, maybe Dick would have to work it out for all of them. “Well that’s why he’s got me, Selina,” he said after long sigh.
He smirked, he’d been caught, there was no use in denying it, he gave an innocent shrug and kept on watching. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Whiskers. Takes all the fun out of the actual chase.”
She wasn't expecting even a tiny concession about the red fingerstripes, so she was surprised when he gave her just that. It only took a second for her to understand why, and she wondered if everything in their lives led back to Ra's these days. "You do that," she told him, all purr and encouragement. It was play, but it would make it feel more like home. It was hard being the only person from her world here. Even Bruce had Jim Gordon to buddy up to now, but the kitty cat was just another Cat here, someone a decade older and not at all the same.
As for Babs, that earned him a quirked, inky brow. "Do you want to meow at Babs?" she asked, because that's what mattered, wasn't it? And Selina was out of the loop these days, blissfully unaware that Oracle and Babs were even the same person. She'd met Babs - her Babs - and she had a tentative respect for the fiery redhead that had helped her save a Talon named Mary once. But that was all she knew, and she wasn't in the family enough these days to know that Dickie's long lost lover had lost her memory recently. She laughed when he said the conversation called for more than water. "You're right. Borrow some of the Bat's money and take me out if we don't die from the plague," she teased, warmth in her smile and in the jewel green of her eyes.
That long sigh after his admission about Damian made her feel sorry for the little acrobat bird. They were all playing grown-up these days, even if they weren't suited for it. "Don't worry, Dickie. The kitty cat will make sure you get some play time," she assured him, and she meant it. She liked trouble, and she liked being chased, and she loved dragging law-abiding little birds into the danger zone. What else was a kitty cat supposed to do when the Bat wouldn't play with her?
And that smirk, that smirk was met with a dangerous grin. There one second, then gone as she climbed into the window frame. She turned, perch and crouch, and she tugged her goggles down, her green eyes hidden by yellow for just a second before she flipped down into the Gotham dark.