Batman: The Promise

A Kiss in the Cave

Through a side door, Alfred stood and raised the platter. The silver, domed top almost rattled with heat. Bruce took it and Alfred nodded and returned upwards. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd cooked, but he guaranteed it was a specialty of great cultural integrity. Bruce carried it over to Harley as she swivelled in his chair. When he removed the lid, he couldn't help but recognize the joke.

Two freshly cooked burgers were placed next to a mound of fries; the garlic on them overpowering. Two cans of iced cola were underneath too. Harley let out a squeak of what Bruce imagined was appreciation, and then he slid the plat onto the desk where she clawed at the fries with ravenous gulps.

She froze for a moment, and looked at Bruce. Her cheeks puffed out and then she slowly grabbed one at a time, composing herself.

"It's fine, Harley. You're starving. Eat how you like."

She grabbed handfuls of fries at a time, savouring each bite before the echoing, hiss of the cola can and the pleasurable sound of her slurping echoed out. Bruce watched with a raised eyebrow.

"I think it's best if I keep an eye on you for a few days. Whoever dosed you with the toxin most likely will do it again. In any case, here," he slipped a glass vial from his belt and gently placed it next to the plate.

"Whamsat?" Her mouth filled with a bite of the burger.

"Inoculation. The potency won't matter. I've increased the strength of it. The next time your phantom doser gets to you, you'll be prepared. So will I."

Harley gulped down the bite. "Ya got any needles?"

Bruce reached into the belt. Inside was a small syringe, the shape similar to a hole puncher. The needle only an inch long. It would do the job. He grabbed the vial, slid it into the device, and watched as the metallic vice snapped the top.

"Arm, please."

Harley gripped the burger in one hand, and eyed him, looking up with a playful glance.

"Will it hurt?"

"A pinch."

"What if I like the pain?"

Bruce aimed the syringe. It pierced the skin, and he pressed down. The vial sucked in droplets of blood, mixing, and then he pushed the tip down. Harley looked at him, unflinching. When he pulled the needle away, she took another bite. A thin line of blood seeped our, circling her arm. Bruce grabbed her arm, held it tight. The comment she'd made had knocked him off kilter again, and there came a lack of lucidity with it. Did she know she was playing games? Did she enjoy those jokes, loaded as they were?

She dropped the burger onto the plate and stood up, his grip didn't lessen. "You can let go, Bats. I'm no stranger ta blood."

"I'll--I'll grab some cloth."

When he turned away, she pulled him back. He towered over her. Her hands were spotlights upon the skyscraper as she reached up to touch the peaks of the cowl, his own stone gargoyles. Her fingers slid beneath the cowl, and pulled it up. His hands gently went to her wrists.

"Ya scared?"

"Knowing who I am. It wouldn't change anything."

"I'd know the real face. Get ta see who's been kind to me. Somethin' tells me you are scared. You think I'm gonna use it?"

Bruce pulled her a little closer, his head bent, his eyes staring into hers. He saw himself reflected in those dark pools.

"What do you think?"

"Then let me," she said as she pushed the rubber again.

"No."

He looked at her; Her blond hair askew, Her face tired. The strains of work at the corners of her eyes. No makeup, no persona. No part of him believed she'd ever return to the Joker but he had seen it a thousand times. When she pulled away from him and returned to the chair, he wanted to tell her that, to at least explain that his reasons weren't because of her. If he removed the cowl, neither of them go could back.

He knew he'd never want to with her, and maybe she would feel the same.

"I get it," she said.

"You do?"

"Yeah, you just can't imagine I'm different. Maybe you really are scared. Maybe."

He turned away and pulled out the second vial. He replaced the empty one in the small syringe gun and kept it ready, tucked.

"I told you it wasn't, Harley."

"Actions and words. I'm just a henchman and now I'm just something for you to protect. I'm just a damsel in distress."

"No. I want to protect you, I want you to be safe because it's important."

"Why?"

"Because I have to."

"Ya like a yo-yo. Up and down."

"Would it change anything? Me taking this off? I know you're scared too."

He took a step forward to her and reached for the mask. He pulled at it, lifting it above his head. She stared. He felt the cool air on his noise, his face still hidden in the dark. Fine, he'd call her bluff. When it slid above his eyes, she jumped from the chair.

"Wait."

"Are you scared?"

"I don't know what ta think."

"Close your eyes."

She tapped her foot but obliged him. He took the mask off, the weight of it heavier than he'd imagined. He saw her lips break, a preemptive word airless on the cold, dampness between them. When he saw her eyelids flutter, he reached into his belt, and pulled her close. His arm glided around her waist, and his lips went to hers.

For a moment she froze up, and then her hands went to his face. She traced the stubble.on his face, Her nails scratching softly the skin underneath his hair, slick and sweaty with nothing but pure, heart-pumping adrenaline. She leaned into the kiss, and he turned his head. She kept her eyes closed and he followed, tasting the coffee and garlic on her breath, and finding that he savored any taste between her lips. Her fingers trickled down his neck, and then he slid the syringe into her arm.

Too lost in the kiss, she barely felt the pinch. In a second her lips, hungering for the taste of him, pulled away and she fell back. He caught her, carried her back to the table, and slid the cowl back on.

He drove her back into town, and carried her into her apartment via the grapple. Too many eyes and curious folks would be around and it was safer that way. His heart had been racing the entire drive, and he could still taste her on his lips, the salt and grease of the fries andthey way she kisses him, hungrily between each lapping. It was a kiss he'd fantasized about, he'd been punched harder and felt less.

Her little furry guardians had grown accustomed to him by now. As he swung open the bay doors and laid her down in bed, they both climbed on and nestled up to her. She smiled in her sleep, turning to spoon one of the mutts. Both of them seemed regal to him, eyeing him with a pretentious glare.

"You may leave," their eyes said, and so he obliged.

He returned to the manor, stripped off, and showered in the cold for half an hour before he regained some semblance of control. He was a master at control, but as the sun rose, he found his sleep thin. His thoughts rife of mouth movements, pleasurable squeaks, and scary but tantalising fear that he knew both of them shared, scared of each other, but wanting more.

He wanted more.