Quince (Gotham, Thompkean)
Lee hadn’t expected Barbara to come back after the Sirens had reclaimed their independence from Penguin to an audience that hated him with a passion; the Narrows weren’t exactly the kind of neighbourhood one would think Barbara to frequent, with her designer clothes and a grace that only money could breed.
But Barbara proved her wrong again and again.
Lee had been understandably wary when Barbara had waltzed in and walked up to the bar a few evenings later, balancing on cherry-red killer heels and wrapped up in a pantsuit that almost was even more revealing than the short cocktail dresses she seemed to favor.
She couldn’t help wondering about whether she didn’t know to dress according to her surroundings and occasion or whether she just didn’t care and wore whatever she felt like.
She would have bet on the second as she observed her blond bob tilt to the side in a way that immediately let Lee imagine in vivid details the cheeky and flirtatious smile that must have appeared on her lips, tinted the same shade as her shoes.
Lee didn’t talk to her that time. Neither the following one. Nor the one after that.
And Edward had started to snigger in his grasshoppers, teasing her with just a wiggle of his eyebrows that made Lee’s hands itch with the need to smash his pretty face on her knee.
She managed to resist to the temptation and she distracted herself from her worries - from her growing obsession with Barbara - turning on Edward and jabbing at that big sore spot that was his love/hate relationship with Oswald Cobblepot.
It didn’t help with her problem, though, and it made Edward sulky.
She wouldn’t have wished a sulky Edward on anyone.
“Go and ask her what she wants”
Lee arched an eyebrow, full of disbelief “Would you just go and talk to Oswald, if he dropped by?”
Edward grimaced in his drink, attempting a careless shrug of his shoulders “I don’t know” he admitted “It’s different, we have history”
“She tried to kill me multiple times” she reminded him.
“Oh. I had forgotten about that”
Lee snorted and shook her head “You’re so egocentric”
“I’m not. My brain’s-” Edward’s eyes crossed to look at the finger tightly pressed against his lips, shutting him up.
“You are” Lee chuckled “Stop using your slushie brain as an excuse”
Edward gently batted her digit away, rolling his eyes: maybe he was a little egocentric - maybe - but his head definitely still played games on him sometimes, when it refused to arrange the words in the scheme he wanted them to be or all the connections between the facts and knowledge he had gathered in decades of studying seemed to have gone dark, leaving him with a handful of virtually useless information “Don’t you want to know if she has some kind of plan for the Narrows?” Edward offered her an excuse to go and talk to her - because only God knew that he would have wanted one, if he had wanted to initiate any kind of conversation with Oswald.
Lee turned to watch Barbara again, perched on the probably filthy stool with a dress covered in tiny white flowers that looked more like something one would wear to theatre and not the seediest bar in town, where it solicited unwelcomed staring and catcalling “She is annoying me”
Edward turned his head to follow Lee’s gaze, frowning a little: he wasn’t the biggest Barbara Kean fan, but the other woman was just sitting there “How? She’s just wasting money on watered down drinks”
“She’s so smug with her short dress and perfectly manicured hands and if she didn’t sit so primly, I would see her panties - if she wears any - and she just..” Lee huffed and pursed her lips, letting her tirade fade in the cacophony of noises that filled the club.
“Her panties? Why would you..” Edward could literally feel a grin spread on his lips as he talked and realisation dawned on him “You have the hots for Barbara Kean”
Edward’s smile only brightened at the blush spreading on Lee’s face “Why would you care about her panties then?”
Edward smugly topped Lee’s drink “You could do worse”
Lee couldn’t imagine what worse than a psychotic murderer meant - and she had almost married an hypocrite with a serious hero complex and tied the knot with the son of a former mafia boss who had been infected by the Tetch virus, murdered by the aforementioned hypocrite.
To be honest, Lee thought she had already reached her lowest point - at least regarding her love life.
But she couldn’t deny that Barbara was… a temptation that tugged at her, repeatedly and relentlessly and forced her to watch, mesmerized…
“Don’t tell me that the murderer in her is keeping you back” Edward piped up, shattering her focus “Jimbo hardly was a saint”
“Is it the fact that she’s a woman?”
“Have you mistaken me for you?” Lee retorted, purposefully hurtful even if she immediately regretted it: it wasn’t fair, attacking Edward’s evident refusal to admit to his own orientation “I’m sorry”
“I suppose I deserved that” Edward sighed after a few moments of silence before he tentatively reached out and caressed her arm “I’m trying to help” and maybe he wasn’t doing a great job out of it - helping people wasn’t exactly his passion - but he was putting a serious effort in it “Can I be blunt?”
“You don’t have to fall in love with her” Edward pointed out “You’re attracted to her and want to have sex with her? Good, do it - scratch the itch”
Lee turned around and crossed her arms, challenging “But what if I fall in love?”
“You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it” Edward shrugged “Besides, she’s been coming here for weeks for what? Our drinks? I think not” he snorted: in a way, Barbara must have been considerably interested in Lee - he doubted that the other woman was so desperate that she couldn’t have found another partner, if what she had in mind was only mindless sex.
“Take your time and keep your mind open”
Lee didn’t talk with Barbara that night either.
Lee didn’t even turn around when she heard the scrape of the chair next to her own and just pushed to the side the bottle of whiskey she had been sipping at, bored out of her mind from the lull of a slow evening “Knock yourself out”
“Thanks, Doc, but that’s not my poison of choice” Barbara chirped.
Lee straightened from her slouched position “I thought..”
“That I was Nygma, obviously” Barbara smiled as she petted the fabric of her trousers, smoothing invisible wrinkles “Any chance you’d buy me a drink too?”
Barbara turned towards the barman, clearly familiar enough with the alcohol offered by the club, a finger twirled around a short strand of hair - mussing it out of place, making Lee wonder how she would like after she had snogged the other woman stupid.
Lee wasn’t proud to admit that she had been so fixated on that thought - on the quality of her hair, its softness and style, one she liked so much more than the bob - that she hadn’t even heard what Barbara had ordered “What do you want?” Lee repeated, the words carrying a different meaning.
“Do I need a reason to sit here and share a drink with you? We’re old acquaintances, after all”
“You’ve been coming here for a while and you never approached me”
Barbara leaned in, shamelessly broke into Lee’s personal space “Maybe I was waiting for you to approach me” she whispered, a wink briefly transforming her expression from predatory to cheerful.
As close as they were, Lee could see that Barbara didn’t need makeup to be beautiful: clean-faced, details that she wouldn’t have normally noticed popped up into focus - the pale and almost pearly pink of her lips; the natural sharpness of her features; her thin blond eyelashes, opening like a sparse flower around ice-blue irises.
Lee leaned back to let the barman put between them Barbara’s drink - a startlingly blue concoction “But why?”
“The pleasure of your company?”
“You brought a knife to my throat in at least two occasions” was it possible that everyone seemed to forget about that?
Barbara rolled her eyes “This is Gotham” she said before taking a sip of her drink that almost cast blue shades on her pale skin “What’s a bit of stabbity-stab amongst friends?”
Lee frowned “Is that what we are - friends?”
It didn’t seem adequate to describe what Lee wanted: she wanted to kiss her; she wanted to discover just how deep the masks went; she wanted to hear what kind of noises came out of her mouth when she was close to coming; she wanted to know on which side of the bed she slept.
Lee had always prided herself in resisting temptations - she was still atoning for the one time she had let herself be seduced by something, the possibility to be free and unburdened by conscience. With Jim. At a price that had been way too high to pay.
But this time, she would only be hurting herself.
Lee took Barbara’s chin in her fingers and brought her face closer “With benefits”
Barbara grinned “I aim to please”
Her lips tasted of Blue Curacao.
On ao3, this fic also has a sort of very soft sequel if you want to read it
