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Series: Tales of Scarecrow and Kitten (Pt. 3)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Breakfast on Pluto
Summary: Jonathan and Kitten work out some details.
Rating: PG-13
AN Notes: Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melty_girl for the beta.
I’ve always prided myself in knowing precisely what I’m doing. I never make a move without having previously planned it to the utmost detail. That my plans don’t always work out is a different problem, one with a bat engraved on his chest. Now, however, as I stand in Kitten’s kitchen watching her cook eggs and sausages wearing a slip of a nightgown, I wonder if I do in fact know what I’m doing in getting involved with someone like her, someone who surely has dreams of a handsome man who’ll take care of her and will always do right by her. And as we all know how perfectly I fit that profile, I have to ask myself: what is it that I’m doing? Then I look at her and I can’t even think of letting her go. I know what this is. Fear wasn’t the only emotion I studied in college. I just never expected it to happen to me -- that chemical imbalance in the brain that makes me feel like I must spend every night with her, looking at her, touching her. Do I sound a bit cynical, calling this feeling a phantom disorder of my wayward brain? So much hides behind the smokes and mirrors of our self-constructed worlds. I’ve made my career of it for a reason. I know how visceral fear can be, that sick, thundering scream that completely overpowers you. And this one is no less so.
I step close to her, sniff the remainder of that flowery perfume she wore last night. It was our third date, and this is the third morning I woke up in her bed to the feeling that is she. One might call that a routine.
“Kitten?”
“Hmm?” she murmurs, setting the food on two plates.
“Do you need money?”
She glances at me with surprise, but I can see that the question isn‘t really unwelcome.
“Oh, well, actually, I am a bit short at the moment. I don’t really have a steady job.”
“I know. I saw you the other night at Collins Street.”
Now she does look startled. She was certainly not expecting that. I feel a little sorry for having brought it up, for there’s a pain in her eyes that not even she can deny as she utters a small, “Oh, that.” She picks up the plates, takes them to the main room and puts them on placemats on the floor. It was her idea to have breakfast like a picnic, since she doesn’t have a table or chairs. She doesn’t look at me as she arranges the forks and napkins with an almost compulsive precision.
“That’s just a way to get by,” she says, speaking too fast, rushing the words together. “It doesn’t… I don’t like it, but there’s nothing else to do if one wants to get money. I can’t really get a regular job. They wouldn’t take me, you see.” When she finally glances up, she’s smiling with a self-pitying expression that I don’t want to see ever again. I crouch down next to her.
“Kitten, I don’t want you doing that,” I say firmly. “I’ll give you all the money you need. Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. But I don’t want to see you out there.”
A true smile blooms on her cheeks. “Anything I want?”
“Anything at all.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me: a long, slow kiss that makes me want to ignore the food beside us and take her to the bed.
“You’re very good to me,” she murmurs into my mouth, eyes twinkling.
I stroke the back of her neck, weaving my fingers through her brown curls. “It‘s only what you deserve, Kitten.”
“Oh, Jonathan!” Purring a happy noise, she kisses me again. I start pulling her closer, but she suddenly pulls back.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she says, glancing at the plates. “We better eat or the food will get cold. And it’s no good having a cold breakfast. “
I consider insisting anyway, but she’s right, and cold eggs have never been to my taste. So we eat our eggs and our sausage and finish off the bottle of orange juice.
When I go to pick her up that night, I bring her an envelope containing one thousand dollars in cash. I don’t tell her that it came from the bank robbery last Thursday.
* * * * * *
The sixth night I take her to a movie: March of the Penguins. It was her choice. I wanted to watch something else, but she insisted so long and hard with her little pout that I felt compelled to say yes in the end. And how she loved the baby penguins scurrying around their mommies and daddies all wide-eyed and innocent of what the world has in store. She gushed over them so when they cried out in their trilling little voices. There are really few things lovelier than her happy smile.
She’s still talking about it on our way back to her apartment. It’s getting colder now and she leans into me for warmth, laying her pretty head on my shoulder every once in a while. I feel so comfortable just listening to her speak, her hushed voice right next to my ear. Then suddenly, after a pause, she asks me where I live. I can’t tell her, now can I, that my current residence is in an abandoned warehouse? That it’s where I can continue my experiments in peace, away from nosy rodents, and that what passes for a bedroom is a small office close to a furnace that by some miracle still works? No frills, nothing fancy, just an old cot with an old blanket and I’m happy as can be, for I’ve never been one to care much for fancy bedding. It’s not like I was getting any creature comforts in my “happy” childhood home. I have two options in answering Kitten’s question: evade it or lie. I’m surprised at how displeasing the second option has become. I don’t like lying to her. Even when there isn’t another viable choice, I don’t like it.
“You’ve never told me anything about it,” she continues. “All these nights you’ve spent with me, we’ve been at my place.”
“That’s because it’s not very interesting. It’s just a regular apartment, like all the rest. I’ve always spent most of my time in the office. I don’t bother with it much.”
“But you still haven’t told me where it is.”
“Why do you want to know? Do you plan on visiting me?”
She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Maybe.”
Now that would be a very bad scenario, because I know that she’s definitely the kind to do that. A fake address would let her know I’m lying, and the real one would tell her more than I want her to know.
“It’s too far from here for you to go there just for that,” I say. “It’s north of the isle.”
Kitten frowns. “But why do you go back and forth every day if it’s so far away?”
“My workplace is on the way.” Oddly enough, that part is actually true. The warehouse is on the way to my old apartment, close to the Narrows, as is Arkham.
“But it can’t be pleasant traveling so far every day.” There’s something in her voice, a suggestive tone. “Maybe…I know it’s soon and everything, but… Maybe we could live together.”
She sounds so sweetly hopeful I want to say yes. But this is not as simple as giving her money.
“We can’t, Kitten,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes.
“But why not? You’ve already slept at my place all the past week. It’d save you all those bothersome trips.”
Her insistence is so pure and heartfelt. If she starts with that childlike pout of hers I really don’t now what I’ll say, but she won’t win me over. Her argument is sensible, but it fails to take into account all the other bothersome things that she does not know about. And moving in with her would basically guarantee that she’d discover my secrets very quickly, and that I don’t want.
“The apartment is closer to the office than your place,” I say. “It’s more convenient if I need to get something in the middle of the day. And there are other things I need to do, that I can’t do around here.”
Her disappointment is not something I like seeing, but in this case it’s unavoidable. We arrive at the front of her building, that dirty, dilapidated place that I still can’t stand. Once again, I wish that I still had my old apartment on Federal Street so I could move her out of this dump. But I can’t have her that close to me, no matter how much I want that.
We climb up to her apartment in silence. As she unlocks the door, I feel in my pocket for the copy of the key she gave me yesterday. She had said it seemed wrong for me not to have it, since I’m spending every night here. I didn’t dare refuse such an inviting token of her affection. I realize now that it was a prelude to this conversation. This small piece of metal was carrying deep overtones of commitment that I wasn’t expecting. I was a fool not to see it coming.
Kitten looks troubled after we enter her apartment. She’s biting her bottom lip just the tiniest bit and is rubbing her hands together. I step up behind her and slip my arms around her waist. She lays her hands lightly on mine.
“What is it?” I ask, my head on her shoulder.
She takes a breath and ducks her head to the side for a moment before answering. “It’s just… Well, there isn’t anyone over by where you live that you wouldn’t want to know about me? Is there?” She turns to look at me, suddenly shy eyes gazing nervously into mine.
Sighing, I tighten my arms reassuringly and look at her earnestly. “No. I wouldn’t hide you, Kitten. But you can’t move in with me.”
She lowers her head, a disappointed sigh on her lips. I can’t stand seeing her like this anymore. Loosening my arms, I move in front of her and wait until she glances up at me.
“I’m not good at living with people,” I say. “You don’t want me around full time, trust me. I need to be alone to work properly and I can be easily irritated if I don’t get the space I need. You wouldn’t like it.”
She lifts her hands and starts playing with the lapels of my jacket, her fingers lightly brushing my chest.
“I could get used to you,” she says in the little girl lost voice that I’m more and more convinced she puts on just to charm people.
I kiss her, trying to get some of that sad tilt off her lips. “Look,” I say, giving a little. “I’ll consider it. But don’t get your hopes up. I won’t guarantee you anything.”
Despite what I have just said, I can sense that she’s getting her hopes up already, but I am glad to see at least a faint smile on her face.
“Okay,” she says, tilting her head. “I won’t insist.”
She lightly rubs her nose against my cheek and I kiss her again, tightening my arms around her waist.
She murmurs into my lips: “Though I might mention it… from time to time.”
Fandom: Batman Begins/Breakfast on Pluto
Summary: Jonathan and Kitten work out some details.
Rating: PG-13
AN Notes: Thanks to
melty_girl for the beta. I’ve always prided myself in knowing precisely what I’m doing. I never make a move without having previously planned it to the utmost detail. That my plans don’t always work out is a different problem, one with a bat engraved on his chest. Now, however, as I stand in Kitten’s kitchen watching her cook eggs and sausages wearing a slip of a nightgown, I wonder if I do in fact know what I’m doing in getting involved with someone like her, someone who surely has dreams of a handsome man who’ll take care of her and will always do right by her. And as we all know how perfectly I fit that profile, I have to ask myself: what is it that I’m doing? Then I look at her and I can’t even think of letting her go. I know what this is. Fear wasn’t the only emotion I studied in college. I just never expected it to happen to me -- that chemical imbalance in the brain that makes me feel like I must spend every night with her, looking at her, touching her. Do I sound a bit cynical, calling this feeling a phantom disorder of my wayward brain? So much hides behind the smokes and mirrors of our self-constructed worlds. I’ve made my career of it for a reason. I know how visceral fear can be, that sick, thundering scream that completely overpowers you. And this one is no less so.
I step close to her, sniff the remainder of that flowery perfume she wore last night. It was our third date, and this is the third morning I woke up in her bed to the feeling that is she. One might call that a routine.
“Kitten?”
“Hmm?” she murmurs, setting the food on two plates.
“Do you need money?”
She glances at me with surprise, but I can see that the question isn‘t really unwelcome.
“Oh, well, actually, I am a bit short at the moment. I don’t really have a steady job.”
“I know. I saw you the other night at Collins Street.”
Now she does look startled. She was certainly not expecting that. I feel a little sorry for having brought it up, for there’s a pain in her eyes that not even she can deny as she utters a small, “Oh, that.” She picks up the plates, takes them to the main room and puts them on placemats on the floor. It was her idea to have breakfast like a picnic, since she doesn’t have a table or chairs. She doesn’t look at me as she arranges the forks and napkins with an almost compulsive precision.
“That’s just a way to get by,” she says, speaking too fast, rushing the words together. “It doesn’t… I don’t like it, but there’s nothing else to do if one wants to get money. I can’t really get a regular job. They wouldn’t take me, you see.” When she finally glances up, she’s smiling with a self-pitying expression that I don’t want to see ever again. I crouch down next to her.
“Kitten, I don’t want you doing that,” I say firmly. “I’ll give you all the money you need. Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you. But I don’t want to see you out there.”
A true smile blooms on her cheeks. “Anything I want?”
“Anything at all.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me: a long, slow kiss that makes me want to ignore the food beside us and take her to the bed.
“You’re very good to me,” she murmurs into my mouth, eyes twinkling.
I stroke the back of her neck, weaving my fingers through her brown curls. “It‘s only what you deserve, Kitten.”
“Oh, Jonathan!” Purring a happy noise, she kisses me again. I start pulling her closer, but she suddenly pulls back.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” she says, glancing at the plates. “We better eat or the food will get cold. And it’s no good having a cold breakfast. “
I consider insisting anyway, but she’s right, and cold eggs have never been to my taste. So we eat our eggs and our sausage and finish off the bottle of orange juice.
When I go to pick her up that night, I bring her an envelope containing one thousand dollars in cash. I don’t tell her that it came from the bank robbery last Thursday.
* * * * * *
The sixth night I take her to a movie: March of the Penguins. It was her choice. I wanted to watch something else, but she insisted so long and hard with her little pout that I felt compelled to say yes in the end. And how she loved the baby penguins scurrying around their mommies and daddies all wide-eyed and innocent of what the world has in store. She gushed over them so when they cried out in their trilling little voices. There are really few things lovelier than her happy smile.
She’s still talking about it on our way back to her apartment. It’s getting colder now and she leans into me for warmth, laying her pretty head on my shoulder every once in a while. I feel so comfortable just listening to her speak, her hushed voice right next to my ear. Then suddenly, after a pause, she asks me where I live. I can’t tell her, now can I, that my current residence is in an abandoned warehouse? That it’s where I can continue my experiments in peace, away from nosy rodents, and that what passes for a bedroom is a small office close to a furnace that by some miracle still works? No frills, nothing fancy, just an old cot with an old blanket and I’m happy as can be, for I’ve never been one to care much for fancy bedding. It’s not like I was getting any creature comforts in my “happy” childhood home. I have two options in answering Kitten’s question: evade it or lie. I’m surprised at how displeasing the second option has become. I don’t like lying to her. Even when there isn’t another viable choice, I don’t like it.
“You’ve never told me anything about it,” she continues. “All these nights you’ve spent with me, we’ve been at my place.”
“That’s because it’s not very interesting. It’s just a regular apartment, like all the rest. I’ve always spent most of my time in the office. I don’t bother with it much.”
“But you still haven’t told me where it is.”
“Why do you want to know? Do you plan on visiting me?”
She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Maybe.”
Now that would be a very bad scenario, because I know that she’s definitely the kind to do that. A fake address would let her know I’m lying, and the real one would tell her more than I want her to know.
“It’s too far from here for you to go there just for that,” I say. “It’s north of the isle.”
Kitten frowns. “But why do you go back and forth every day if it’s so far away?”
“My workplace is on the way.” Oddly enough, that part is actually true. The warehouse is on the way to my old apartment, close to the Narrows, as is Arkham.
“But it can’t be pleasant traveling so far every day.” There’s something in her voice, a suggestive tone. “Maybe…I know it’s soon and everything, but… Maybe we could live together.”
She sounds so sweetly hopeful I want to say yes. But this is not as simple as giving her money.
“We can’t, Kitten,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes.
“But why not? You’ve already slept at my place all the past week. It’d save you all those bothersome trips.”
Her insistence is so pure and heartfelt. If she starts with that childlike pout of hers I really don’t now what I’ll say, but she won’t win me over. Her argument is sensible, but it fails to take into account all the other bothersome things that she does not know about. And moving in with her would basically guarantee that she’d discover my secrets very quickly, and that I don’t want.
“The apartment is closer to the office than your place,” I say. “It’s more convenient if I need to get something in the middle of the day. And there are other things I need to do, that I can’t do around here.”
Her disappointment is not something I like seeing, but in this case it’s unavoidable. We arrive at the front of her building, that dirty, dilapidated place that I still can’t stand. Once again, I wish that I still had my old apartment on Federal Street so I could move her out of this dump. But I can’t have her that close to me, no matter how much I want that.
We climb up to her apartment in silence. As she unlocks the door, I feel in my pocket for the copy of the key she gave me yesterday. She had said it seemed wrong for me not to have it, since I’m spending every night here. I didn’t dare refuse such an inviting token of her affection. I realize now that it was a prelude to this conversation. This small piece of metal was carrying deep overtones of commitment that I wasn’t expecting. I was a fool not to see it coming.
Kitten looks troubled after we enter her apartment. She’s biting her bottom lip just the tiniest bit and is rubbing her hands together. I step up behind her and slip my arms around her waist. She lays her hands lightly on mine.
“What is it?” I ask, my head on her shoulder.
She takes a breath and ducks her head to the side for a moment before answering. “It’s just… Well, there isn’t anyone over by where you live that you wouldn’t want to know about me? Is there?” She turns to look at me, suddenly shy eyes gazing nervously into mine.
Sighing, I tighten my arms reassuringly and look at her earnestly. “No. I wouldn’t hide you, Kitten. But you can’t move in with me.”
She lowers her head, a disappointed sigh on her lips. I can’t stand seeing her like this anymore. Loosening my arms, I move in front of her and wait until she glances up at me.
“I’m not good at living with people,” I say. “You don’t want me around full time, trust me. I need to be alone to work properly and I can be easily irritated if I don’t get the space I need. You wouldn’t like it.”
She lifts her hands and starts playing with the lapels of my jacket, her fingers lightly brushing my chest.
“I could get used to you,” she says in the little girl lost voice that I’m more and more convinced she puts on just to charm people.
I kiss her, trying to get some of that sad tilt off her lips. “Look,” I say, giving a little. “I’ll consider it. But don’t get your hopes up. I won’t guarantee you anything.”
Despite what I have just said, I can sense that she’s getting her hopes up already, but I am glad to see at least a faint smile on her face.
“Okay,” she says, tilting her head. “I won’t insist.”
She lightly rubs her nose against my cheek and I kiss her again, tightening my arms around her waist.
She murmurs into my lips: “Though I might mention it… from time to time.”
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