That Darn Cat Chronicles

The adventures of Jim Gordon and one pain-in-the-neck alley cat. Or, the adventures of Selina Kyle and one pain-in-the-neck detective. It really just depends on who you ask. [Also available on FF.net and AO3.]

[epherwillc]

a hilarious idea would be jim gordon totally, completely, 100% knowing bruce wayne is batman

but

whenever someone tries bringing it up with him he either gives them the patented Doubtful Dad Look (tm), starts laughing, or both

[thatdarncatchronicles]

Is this not canon...?

[i-am-a-stupid-robot]

So, my frens. I starting a podcast with two of favoritest, weirdest, gloriousest peoples. First episode coming soon. The topic? Transformative Fandom. Stay tuned for deets.

Cover art by myself this week.

[thatdarncatchronicles]

From my main. :) so excited to share this with y'all!

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. Five | Waking Up to Ash and Dust

Warnings | Mentions of blood

Rating | K+

Genres | Family, Friendship, Adventure, Whump

Guest Stars | Harvey Bullock, Selina’s Bedside Manner

Word Count | 3K

Summary: Direct continuation of last issue. Jim and Selina are trapped in the ruins of a collapsed apartment complex. Cue concussions, puking, and brave Selina being brave.

Selina woke to the burning of her lungs as they strained for oxygen. She gasped for breath, but there was a crushing weight preventing her lungs from expanding more than a fraction of what they should. Grunting with effort, she struggled up onto her elbows and some of the weight slid away.

As she greedily sucked in air, she took stock of her surroundings. It was dark. The air she breathed was full of dust, and she coughed. The weight on top of her was warm and limp, like a—shoot.

Like a body.

Jim.

Selina scrambled free of the weight, and it slipped to the ground with a soft thump.

No, no, no, no, no. "Gordon?"

No response.

"Come on, Gordon. This is really not the time for napping." Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead. She patted frantically along his frame until she found his neck, then, jabbing two fingers beneath his jaw, she waited, breathless.

There.

Jim's heartbeat thumped slow and steady beneath her fingertips and Selina fairly gasped with relief, slumping forward until her forehead came to rest on the scratchy wool of his coat. "See, Detective? I told you this would be fun."

When Selina had caught her breath and the panic had subsided to a manageable degree, she set about assessing the situation. The first order of business was light. In the pitch-black around them, she could neither see what was wrong with Jim nor look for a way out. Jim's flashlight was buried somewhere in the wreckage, and she didn't hold out much hope of finding it at all, let alone finding it in working condition. And of course, the one night she left her night-vision goggles at home, this would happen. That left Jim's cellphone. She had seen him put it in an inner coat pocket back at the apartment.

Feeling around until she found a lapel, she jerked until it was free of his weight and froze when she felt something small and hard in the coat's fabric. "Score!" She pulled the phone free and flipped it open, grinning when the screen lit up, even as she turned away from the sudden brightness. "Now we're talking."

When her eyes adjusted, she searched the screen for the flashlight setting and aimed it at the far wall before turning it on. Suddenly she could see all the rubble surrounding them, their enormous shadows morphing like monsters in the beam of her light. She was relieved to see that they weren't as closely walled in as she'd feared—maybe there was an easy path out of there.

But first, Jim.

Selina knelt at his side and took a deep breath before turning the phone on him.

Jim was sprawled on his stomach, covered in dust and plaster. A beam was propped at a diagonal angle about two feet above him, and it seemed to have kept most of the larger chunks of cement and whatnot from falling directly onto him. She didn't see any gaping wounds. That, at least, was a plus.

She reached out and brushed away some of the rubble, leaving gray streaks on his black suit. "I'm gonna turn you over, okay?" She didn't know why she was talking to him when she obviously wasn't going to get a reply, but she did it anyway. "You ready? Here goes." Setting the phone on the ground, she locked her fingers around the shoulder on his far side and gave a mighty heave. It was easier than she expected, and he flopped loosely onto his back, head lolling to one side.

A leaden weight sank to Selina's gut.

The left side of his face was covered in blood, and when she turned it to get a better look, she saw that the side of his head was soaked, as well. The sharp shadows must have disguised it before. Exploring further, Selina found that the source was a rough gash beginning at the base of his left ear and wrapping around to end just above his left eyebrow.

Selina gave a sympathetic wince. "You, my dude, are gonna need some serious stitches." She ran a hand over her mouth as she considered their options. Bullock. She should call for help.

Turning off the flashlight, she found Jim's contacts and was pleased to find Bullock's number at the top.

He answered on the eighth ring. "Jim, darn you, if this is about the case, I told you—we will check it out in the morning. During actual work hours. Like sane people. I know this will come as a shock to you, but some people in this city actually need their sleep, and I'm one of them. Believe it or not, you are too. You should really—agh, what am I doing. This is useless. I'm gonna set a curfew—no calls past nine. No, eight. Ever. Under any circumstances." He paused for breath.

Selina, whose eyebrows had been climbing steadily throughout his speech, took that as her cue. "Are you done?"

There was a pause. "Who is this??"

"Selina Kyle."

"Cat?? Why do you have Jim's phone?"

"Funny story, Detective; I was hoping you'd ask."

"Well, I'm asking! Get on with it."

Selina settled her fingers against Jim's neck as she spoke, the steady reassurance that she wasn't completely alone dulling the fear churning in the pit of her stomach. "We're in an old housing project on Sixteenth Street. Your partner got it in his head to chase down that lead on his own. Shocking, I know. Anyway, we found the guy and killed the snake. Her name was Edna."

"Uh-huh. Selina. Why isn't Jim the one telling me all this?" The detective's voice had a hollow tone to it, like he already knew the answer.

Selina's eyes squeezed closed as a hot tear escaped, scalding a path through the grime on her face. She fought to keep her voice casual as the fear threatened to spiral out of control. "That's the thing. The building kinda...collapsed. On top of us."

There was a series of impressive expletives on the other end.

"We're okay. Kind of. I haven't been able to find out if we're trapped or not, yet. Gordon's...There's a giant cut on his head, and he's unconscious. He’s not lookin’ too hot."

There was shuffling on the other end of the line. "Okay. You hang tight, kid. I'm on my way. Don't try to get out—you don't wanna shift anything that might make things worse. Are you okay?" A door slammed.

Selina was suddenly aware of how sore she was. "I think so."

"Hang tight. Help is on the way."

"Will do." Jim stirred beneath her fingers. "I gotta go—he's waking up."

"He's—Selina. Wait, Selina—"

But she was already ending the call, scrambling to find the flashlight app. "Gordon? You with me?" She moved her hand to his face, giving it a few light taps. "Detective?"

He groaned.

"That's right. Time to rise and shine." She found the flashlight at last, and Jim flinched away from the sudden light pointed directly at his face. "Sorry." She flipped the phone so that the beam was pointed towards the rubble overhead.

Jim stilled.

"Nope! Uh-uh, Gordon. You open your eyes or I will open them for you and shine this flashlight directly into them."

There was another groan, which may or may not have been an attempt at words. Selina opted to treat it like one.

"You heard me. I always make good on my threats, Detective."

Jim opened his eyes.

"Hey, there."

Jim frowned and blinked up at the man-made cavern.

"Hey. You with me?" She tapped his face again. "Over here."

It took a minute and more tapping, but eventually, Jim's gaze drifted over to land on her. "Hi."

"Hi. Welcome back." You really scared me.

He swallowed and moved as if to sit up. "Back. We're...Where?"

She put a hand on his chest, but she needn't have bothered. Jim didn't make it two inches before dizziness seemed to get the best of him and he eased back down.

"We're in the projects on Sixteenth. Do you remember what happened?"

Jim thought for a moment. His eyes grew wide. "Edna."

A laugh bubbled up in Selina's throat. "Yeah. Edna."

"Biggest—mmm." Jim closed his eyes. "Biggest snake've ever seen."

"You and me both." She didn't miss the slur in his words. "How are you feeling?"

"Kinda like a building fell ontop'a me."

"No fooling? What do you suppose brought that on?"

Jim opened his eyes to level a very done glare at her.

She grinned.

He frowned.

She shook her head. "What?"

Jim's arm twitched once, twice, as if he were trying to lift it. After the third attempt, he settled for raising his hand to tap a finger against his cheek. Selina mirrored his motion on her own face and winced when her fingers brushed a cut. Jim was still frowning.

"It's fine." She probed it further. "It's not deep."

His hand flailed lamely against the ground. "The rest of you?"

"I'm good. A little sore. I'm told that happens when grown men tackle you to the ground like quarterbacks."

"Sorry."

She shrugged. "I'm alive. And an awful lot better off than you."

His hand went to his head, but Selina smacked it away. "Yeah, bad idea. It's ugly enough without you clawing all over it."

"Bad?"

"Well," Selina considered it for a moment. "I'm no doctor, but it looks like someone carved the Grand Canyon on your face."

"Bad."

"Yeah."

They settled into silence and Selina felt a lump building in her throat.  She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. This was fine, they would be fine. In, out. "Help is coming." In, out. "Help is coming."

Jim squeezed her hand. Her eyes shot open. She hadn't realized her hand was still on his chest.

If Jim noticed her embarrassment, he didn’t show it. "We're gon' be okay, Selina."

She smirked. "I know." The lump eased a little at the certainty reflecting with the glow of the flashlight in Jim's eyes. "You should have heard the rant Harvey went on about you calling during the night. Said he was gonna give you a curfew."

The corner of Jim's mouth quirked up, but his eyes slipped closed.

"Hey!"

He jerked, eyes flying open and finding her own. "Wha's wrong?!"

"No sleeping! You got us into this mess. You're not leaving me alone in it."

"F'course not," Jim said indignantly as his eyes closed again.

Selina huffed. "Of course not. Can you sit up?" Without waiting for his reply, Selina slipped her hands under his arms and dragged Jim a few feet to the nearest wall—or, what was left of it.

She helped him to lean against it and pulled back to look at his face. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she thought he looked paler than he had a moment ago. "You good?"

Jim blinked. "I think I'm gon' throw up."

He did. Selina wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him from toppling over. "Well," she said brightly in-between heaves, "on the plus side, puking is better than passing out." She gave his back an encouraging pat.

Jim shot her a venomous side-eye that clearly communicated his differing opinion.

After another minute or two, the heaves subsided and Selina propped him, panting, back against the wall and proceeded to root through his jacket pockets.

"What," Jim took a deep breath and swallowed, attempting to swat her away with hands every bit as animated as dead fish. "What're you doing?"

"You got a hankie?"

"What?"

"A handkerchief. You got one?"

"Oh." Jim reached into one of the pockets at his waist and withdrew a folded white cloth. His efforts were clumsy, but he managed to get his face mostly clean.

Selina grimaced. "Sorry. Don't have any water."

Jim rolled his eyes and looked like he regretted it instantly. "Wha'sa matter, you didn't expect to get trapped under a building tonight?"

"Funny. To be fair, I did warn you. There's a reason people stay away from this place." Selina studied their surroundings. "Bullock said he was bringing help. That was a while ago. I guess they oughtta be here soon."

As if on cue, the cellphone rang. Selina almost dropped it in her hurry to pick up.

"Selina?"

"I'm here."

"We're outside. The fire department is trying to find a safe way in now."

"Maybe they could try a little faster."

"Yeah, working on it. Jim, is he—"

"Ask him yourself." She shoved the phone against Jim's ear. "It's your buddy."

Jim only got out a placating "Harvey—" before Bullock reamed into him. Selina rolled her eyes as the scolding session dragged on, Jim's only response a series of confused blinks from which his eyes took longer and longer to reopen. After a minute or two, she pulled the phone away and snapped her fingers in Jim's face as she put the phone to her own ear. "Thanks, Detective. You tell great bedtime stories. But don't you think your time would be better spent on, oh, I dunno, finding us a way out of here?"

"Right, right. You're right. I'm just gonna…" He trailed off.

"Yeah. You do that." She clicked the phone shut, and turned back to Jim, growling in frustration when she found his eyes closed. "Hey. Gordon." More snapping. "Jim!"

He jolted, head rolling against the wall to frown at her.

"You gotta stay awake."

His expression became so petulant, she would have found it endlessly funny under a different set of circumstances. As it was, it was still pretty amusing. "But I'm tired."

"Yeah? Then maybe you should try actually sleeping at night, instead of chasing down serial killers all by your lonesome."

"I wasn' all by my lonesome."

"No?"

"Mm-mm. You were there."

"You didn’t know that when you left!"

Jim just shrugged, and they settled into silence broken only by the faint calls of the relief workers outside and her occasional “hey.” Selina passed the time tapping Jim's face, snapping in it, or shaking him gently.

When she shouted "Hey!" for what must have been the millionth time, Jim huffed. "Hay'z for horses."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Serious—are you serious right now??"

Jim frowned. "Think my filter's broken."

She snorted. "I'd say so."

As the words left her mouth, there was a loud groaning, a scrape, and then both she and Jim shielded their eyes from the sudden window of light that pooled into their prison.

Bullock was the first one through the narrow opening in the wall. He was kneeling at Jim's side in an instant, checking him up and down and swearing like a sailor when he caught sight of the blood crusted on his partner's face. Jim just muttered an intelligent "Harf," and tipped forward to faceplant in Bullock's shoulder.

Bullock's hand came up to cup the back of Jim's neck with a gentleness Selina didn't know he possessed. "You're gonna be okay, buddy, you hear me? I ought to smack you a good one upside the head, but it looks like the building already did a pretty good job of that.” Selina quirked an eyebrow. Someone should tell ol’ Harvey that his threats would carry more weight if he didn’t use such a soft voice to deliver them. “What were you thinking, anyway, going after this guy without any backup? Huh?" He jostled Jim a little.

Jim mumbled something unintelligible into Bullock's coat.

"What's that? Didn't quite get ya there, bud."

Jim let out a long sigh, and Selina guessed it was meant to sound annoyed, but mostly it just came across as sleepy. "I...had backup."

Bullock's eyes turned on her for the first time since he entered, and the respect she found there took her by surprise. She squirmed.

But whatever he was about to say, she was saved when the EMTs burst through the opening and Bullock was obliged to surrender his partner to them, albeit reluctantly. "The medics are here, buddy; they're gonna fix you up. You're gonna be just fine."

Jim just nodded as the EMTs carefully eased him away from Bullock and onto the waiting stretcher.

What happened next was a blur that Selina wouldn't remember much of, later. What she would remember, however, was the look on Bullock's face when he told her that she'd saved Jim's life, and the way Jim winked at her when they rolled him by on the gurney. She would remember how she had tossed him a mock salute, and how he smirked before his eyes slipped closed. She would remember Bullock grabbing her by the arm when no one was looking and telling her to scram before social services showed up.

And she would remember the sunrise that morning, how the red sun had pierced through Gotham's usual smog to dazzle her eyes and her heart with its brilliance.

A/N:

That’s all for now, folks! I’m not super inspired right now, so if you have prompts, I’d love to hear ‘em! :) If you missed the last issue, I’ve got it linked below.

As always, I love you. Eat cake. Drink water, and maybe some orange juice. You are beautiful and wonderful and we need you, so take care of yourself. Till next time, loves. :)

Make sure to follow @thatdarncatchronicles​ and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an installment! :)  Issue No. 4 | Jericho: https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/621465616681992192/that-darn-cat-issue-no-4-jericho

Issue No. 3 | An Unexpected Party:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/621198286498512896/that-darn-cat-issue-no-3-an-unexpected-party

Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620559916396052480/that-darn-cat-issue-no-2-a-hint-of-pesto?is_related_post=1

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and?is_related_post=1

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 4 | Jericho

Warnings | Snek (if you have a phobia, maybe skip this chapter?)

Ratings | K+

Genres | Friendship, Snark, Action, Suspense

Guest Stars | Edna (OC), Anaconda Man (OC)

Word Count | 1.5K

Summary: Selina provides unwanted backup when Jim makes the ill-advised, if extremely predictable, decision to hunt down the Anaconda Man all on his lonesome. Cue snek, sarcasm, and stubbornness from both parties.

Selina darted back against the alley wall as Jim Gordon climbed from his vehicle and stepped out into the light rain. He’d parked a couple blocks away from the projects. Smart.

To her surprise, he turned and began walking towards her. She dashed behind a dumpster barely in time to conceal herself before he entered the alley, but he didn't seem to be aware of her presence. Huh. Apparently she wasn't the only one with a working knowledge of Gotham's secret shortcuts. When Jim reached the end of the alley and turned the corner, Selina left the shadows of the dumpster and crept after him. The rational part of her brain whispered that it was just as dumb for her to follow Jim as he tracked a serial killer as it was for him to go after said serial killer alone. She ignored it. About half a block away from the killer's hideout, she closed the distance between them and fell into step beside him. "How ya doin, Detective?" Jim startled for the second time that night. "Selina! What are you doing here??" "Ideally? Keeping you from getting yourself killed." "You shouldn't be here." "Neither should you."

He shook his head in exasperation. "I'm not taking you in there with me." "Nope. I'm going in there with you." "No. No, you go home, Selina." She crossed her arms and planted her feet. "Fine." He raised his hands. "Fine. We'll both go home." Selina snorted. "Yeah, right. You'd drop me off at my place and come right back here. Besides. You got the tip from me." "Selina—" "How bout I shout "police" at the top of my lungs? Then he'll run off, find a new hidey-hole, and you can have fun tracking him down again while his little pet swallows folks like they’re rats." Jim rubbed his eyes. "I can't let you go in there. What if he's armed?" "You mean with more than a giant snake?" "What if he's got a gun?" "How about this—I'll take cover as soon as we're inside, and I'll only come out if you need me to smack him over the head with a booze bottle." Jim was shaking his head again. "You know I'm good in a fight. Come on, Gordon. He killed my cat." Jim sighed. "There's nothing I can say to make you stay back, is there?" "Nope!" She patted him on the back. "C'mon, Detective. It'll be fun!" She started down the alley, leaving Jim no choice but to follow. The apartment complex was eerily still and silent where it loomed over them, casting them in shadow. They stood looking up at it for a moment before Selina crept forward. "I saw the snake go in through a basement window." Jim grabbed her arm. "Selina—" "Don't even start, Gordon." Then she was making her way around the building, searching for a way in. They found a cellar door around the back, one of its doors torn away to reveal a cement staircase that gave in to black shadows after three and a half steps. Jim drew his gun and pulled out his flashlight before turning back to Selina. "You keep your promise. You find cover, and you do not come out unless I call you." Selina nodded. She would keep her word. He eyed her suspiciously until she rolled her eyes and whispered back, "I'll do what I said I’d do." Jim turned away reluctantly, switching on his flashlight and bracing it across his raised gun. Then he descended the stairs and was swallowed in blackness. Selina waited until he was far enough away with the flashlight for her own descent to be obscured, and then she planted a hand on the concrete and sprang into the shadows to the left of the steps. There was an alcove beneath the stairs, and she crept into it, listening intently and watching Jim's silhouette against the beam of his flashlight. She suddenly became aware of how afraid she was—adrenaline was surging through her, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Surely even Jim could hear that racket. She took a deep breath, then another. Better. But what if they could hear her breathing?? Then something cool and smooth and very much alive slid over her hand where it was braced on the ground, and her heart seemed to stop altogether. The snake was heavy, and Selina felt something sick in her stomach when its shape abruptly changed against her from smooth and sleek to a series of large, distended bulges. She clenched her jaw and tried not to think about what—who?—the bulges had once been. Not daring to move her hand or call out, she squeezed her eyes closed as the cool scales eased over her hand for what felt like an eternity. Eventually the body thinned into a tail, and then, with a final flick, it was gone. Selina heaved a silent sob of relief, but her elation was short lived.

The snake had slithered into the pool of light from the open doorway, and it was making a beeline for Jim. Selina's heart leapt into her throat as she tried to think of a way to warn the detective without endangering him. The snake was moving faster, now. Jim, still oblivious, took slow, careful steps forward, the beam from his flashlight sweeping to and fro as he searched for evidence of what was right behind him. Wanting nothing more than to scream in frustration and fear, Selina balled her hands into fists against the cold floor. And froze. Her left hand had closed around something small and hard.

A nail. She could work with that. Leaning further from her alcove, she tossed the bit of metal away from her and prayed it would be enough.

It was. The nail made a few tiny clinkclinkclinks against the concrete, and Jim whirled around, backpedaling when he caught sight of the creature now a scant yard from his feet. He shot it. Selina startled violently at the sudden sound and flash of light. The snake writhed and twitched, still advancing, but Jim stepped on its head, all his weight focused on the foot that trapped the creature. She heard a crunch, and Jim stepped back, shoulders slumping, head turning towards her hideout. The shadow came out of nowhere. Selina didn't even have time to call out a warning before the man slammed into Jim, knocking him to the ground and screaming something about Edna. The gun clattered across the floor. Selina was on her feet before she knew she was moving, swiping a pipe from the ground as she ran. She leapt over the still-twitching corpse of Edna and swung with all her might at Jim’s attacker. Her blow struck true against his shoulders, and he fell. Darting around to go for his head, she swung again, but he wrapped his arms around her ankles and she crashed to the ground. She was obliged to discard pipe in favor of defending her eyes as her attacker clawed at her face, still shrieking the name of his dead pet at the top of his lungs. Then Jim dove at him and they rolled a few feet away. There was a brief scuffle, but Jim fought his way on top and pounded the man's face until he went still. He sat there for a moment, panting, before turning the man over and pulling out his cuffs. He looked over to where Selina was picking herself up. “You okay?" "Yeah, I'm—I'm fine. I'm good." She took a deep breath and clenched her fists to squeeze away the trembling.

“I told you not to come out unless I called you.” Jim’s gentle voice didn’t match the reproach in his words as he clicked the cuffs closed and got to his feet.

“Like you were gonna call me. Besides, I said I would keep my word. I didn’t say anything about yours.”

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but a movement behind him snagged her eye and she cut him off. "Jim!" The perp had scrambled to his feet and was barreling towards one of the iron supports, slamming into it full tilt. Dust showered down on them, and before either Jim or Selina could react, he was running again, straight at another brace. This time, chunks of plaster came down. Time slowed as the old building groaned above them and Jim turned towards her with wide eyes. "Run." She did. She saw the killer make it through the cellar door and felt Jim hot on her heels as the rumbling intensified. Then there came the shrieking of metal and Selina was knocked to the ground for the second time as Jim braced himself over her.

The last thing she heard was Jim's pained grunt as a sudden weight took the air from her lungs and the building came down on top of them. A/N: To be continued...

Previous chapters linked below! Thank you for reading, hooman. You is kind. You is smart. You is beautiful. I love you!

Make sure to follow @thatdarncatchronicles​ and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an installment! :)

Issue No. 3 | An Unexpected Party:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/621198286498512896/that-darn-cat-issue-no-3-an-unexpected-party

Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620559916396052480/that-darn-cat-issue-no-2-a-hint-of-pesto?is_related_post=1

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and?is_related_post=1

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 3 | An Unexpected Party

Warnings | None

Rating | K+

Genres | Friendship, Family, Snark (it’s totally a genre)

Word Count | 1.5K

Summary: In which Selina catches Jim when he comes back from a date and gives him an unfair amount of grief. Cue milk theft, hot tips, and lots of blushing Jim.

"Evening, Detective."

Selina had to work hard to keep her neutral expression from cracking when Gordon jumped, still half-in, half-out of his coat, and whirled towards her. She settled for an unimpressed quirk of her eyebrow.

"Selina." Jim's mouth smiled, but his eyes were flat as untangled himself from his coat and hung it on a hook by the door. "Make yourself at home." His eyes swept over where she sat, cross-legged in the middle of his counter, and landed on the half-empty bottle of milk in her hands.

"Oh, don't worry. I have."

"So I see." He shook his head, dropping his keys on the counter. "Breaking and entering is illegal, Selina."

Selina feigned offense. "Whoa! Listen, I didn't break anything. The window was open."

"The window was not—we're on the fourth floor."

"And…?"

"How do you even know where I live?"

"I followed you." She threw back a gulp of milk.

His eyebrows shot up. "You followed me."

"You got bad ears or somethin'? That's what I said."

"Tonight?"

Selina could have sworn she saw him flush, just a little. Interesting. "Nah, a few nights ago. You work late, man. I always thought detectives were nine-to-fivers"

He flashed a bitter grin. "Yeah. So did I. Why did you follow me?"

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Detective."

He squinted. "What the—what is that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Hey." Her head titled as she looked him up and down. "You look different. Spiffy. You have a meeting today, or something?"

Jim shot her a warning look as he loosened his tie.

Oh. Selina's eyes widened as a wicked grin spread across her face. "No. You were on a date."

Jim slung his suit jacket over his shoulder and headed to his room. His ears were definitely redder than they had been a second ago.

"You were, weren't you!"

The door clicked shut. Selina smirked.

He emerged again a few minutes later, minus tie and shoes, and padded to the kitchen without even glancing at her where she was now sprawled on the couch. She wiggled her eyebrows. "So...How'd it go?"

Jim grabbed a glass from the cupboard and placed it on the counter with a clatter before turning to open the fridge. He rooted around for a few seconds before he blinked, straightened, and slowly, deliberately pushed the door shut. His baleful gaze turned to rest on Selina for a long moment as she took another swig of milk.

Selina smothered her gratification and gave her head an innocent shake. "What?"

He sighed and replaced the glass. "Why are you here, Selina?"

"Hey! No changing the subject. I asked you first."

"What?"

She sat up and threw her hands in the air. "How. Was. Your. Date?"

Jim scoffed, shaking his head as he retrieved the glass and filled it with water instead. His ears were positively pink, now. "You're in my house, without permission, sitting on my couch, drinking my milk, and you want to know how my date went?"

"Fair's fair, Detective." She set the milk on the couch's wooden arm and crossed her arms, leaning back into the cushions. "I asked you first."

Jim made a face that Selina decided to refer to the "Really? Very mature" face. She tucked it away for potential future use and enjoyed his exasperated sigh as he ran a hand over his face and leaned back against the counter. His cheeks were pink, now, too. Oh, yes. Selina dug her heels in.

"Listen, man. Homeless kids ain't got TVs. We gotta get our entertainment somewhere." She gave an inward flinch. Bringing up the homelessness was a mistake. Fortunately, Jim seemed sufficiently annoyed by her persistence to ignore that part.

"Fine, fine. It was good."

She waited expectantly.

He didn't continue.

"Seriously? That's it? Details, my dude."

He rolled his eyes and gave a shrug that was probably supposed to look casual. "We had a good time. It was nice."

"Wow. You are really bad at this. I hope you're not this boring on your dates."

"My dates don't show up in my house uninvited and drink my milk."

"So that's what has you all bent outta shape! Look, man, if it's that big of a deal to you, here. Let me—" She grabbed the bottle up and popped the cap back on, holding it out to Jim as she licked away the residual mustache.

She savored the way his nose wrinkled. "No. Please. By all means, just…" He trailed off, waving his hand in dismissal.

"Suit yourself." She popped the cap off again. "So, are you gonna tell me about her? What's she like?"

"No one's taught you it's not polite to pry into other people's affairs, have they?"

"Who cares about polite? What's her name?"

It was Jim's turn to throw up his hands. "You know what? Alright. Fine. Her name is Lee. She's a doctor. She's kind, smart as they come, and has this smile that just...lights up her face."

Selina watched, wide-eyed, as Jim's expression transformed from deadpan to...worshipful. Gross.

"Lights up the whole room, really. She's great. She's nice. We ate pasta and had a nice time, even though I made a mess by leading with work-talk. I think it might actually—" Jim stopped abruptly, frowning as if surprised at his own speech.

"Wow." Selina shook her head. "Wow."

Jim grit his teeth. "What."

"Nothing, nothing. Just...Gotham's golden boy's got it bad."

The water in Jim's glass sloshed as he threw his arms out in exasperation. "This is only the second time we've gone out. I don't even know if it's gonna work, yet."

"Uh-huh. You were practically making heart eyes. I might puke."

"Yeah? The bathroom's that way. And I'm not Gotham's golden boy." He dragged a chair in front of the couch and straddled it, arms resting across the back. "Alright. Like you said—fair is fair. Why are you here?"

Selina pulled a rolled-up newspaper from her jacket and chucked it at him.

He caught it against his chest and unrolled it to read the headline. "Oh."

GOTHAM'S GOLDEN BOY VOWS TO TRACK DOWN ANACONDA KILLER.

"Yeah. Oh." Selina blew a curl out of her eyes. "You know, you really gotta stop doin' that."

Jim looked up from the article. "Doing what?"

"Oh, I don't know—telling serial killers you're after them? Why not just put a sign on your back that says, 'Snake food! Come and get it! Four out of five vets recommend me!'"

"Ah. Well, I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to worry about me. And I don't think you came here just to warn me off."

"Nah. I came here to tell you I know where he's holed up."

The reaction was instant. Jim leaned forward, eyes on her with a focus so intense, it was all she could do not to squirm. "Where is he?"

"Down, boy. Take it easy. There's an old apartment complex on my block. No one's been in it for years 'cause it looks like it'll topple like a Jenga tower if you so much as sneeze. Anywhere else, it would have been torn down ages ago, but—"

"—it's Gotham." Jim was standing now, searching around his desk and coming up with a pen and paper. "Address?"

He pulled out his phone and made a call, letting it ring as he jotted down the address she gave. "Harvey? We got a lead." He sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "I know. No, I know. I know, Harvey, but—Harvey. Harvey?" Jim made a face and flipped the phone closed. He stared down at it for a moment before shaking his head and darting back into his room. He returned less than a minute later, tie back in place, arms full of his holster, jacket, and shoes.

Selina sat up straighter. "Wait—you're going after him now?"

Jim looked at her as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Yeah."

"Even though your partner just told you he wasn't coming." At Jim's look, she continued. "No, I wasn't eavesdropping. It was fairly obvious what went down. So, this is why you always look like you haven't slept in a week. You actually don't sleep. It's all so clear now."

He shrugged into his holster, then his jacket, rolling his shoulders to settle them in place. "How'd you know where he was, anyway?"

"His snake got one of my cats."

Jim looked up from tying his shoes. "You saw it?"

"Ayup."

"You're lucky it didn't get you."

"Yeah, yeah. It's stupid to go in there alone. You should wait for your partner."

"I'll consider it." He waved the address in the air. "Thanks for the tip."

With that, he was out the door and Selina was left to listen to his hurried steps as they echoed down the stairs. She shook her head. Four flights. The fire escape was much faster. Draining the last of the milk, she stood, swung her legs over the windowsill, and leaped out into the Gotham night.

A/N: You’ll never guess what next issue is about!

If you said, “It’s about Jim and Selina going after the Anaconda Killer” you’re exactly right! Good job, you smart cookie.

So, I am currently recovering from typhoid, and my brain was super foggy when I wrote this one. So yeah. If it’s terrible, I blame the typhoid. :P

Follow @thatdarncatchronicles​ and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an issue! Next issue up soon. :)

Oh! Also, you are doing great.Yes. You are doing great at life. And if you know you aren’t doing your best--no stress! There’s always tomorrow, and you’re growing and learning just like every other person on the face of the planet. Like me. And my 50 y/o father who told me the other day that he still just feels like he’s pretending to be an adult. He’s really good at it. You will be, too. This is all gibberish, but the point I’m trying to make is that as long as you’re doing just fabulously, and you’re on your way to doing even better. Remember to drink your water today. Hydration is important and makes your skin prettyful. Also, I love you. Peace out, gorgeous soul.

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and

Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620559916396052480/that-darn-cat-issue-no-2-a-hint-of-pesto

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 2 | A Hint of Pesto Aioli

Warnings | Mentions of blood, Canon-typical violence

Rating | K+

Genre | Friendship, Family, Snark (Is that a genre...?)

Guest Stars | Harvey Bullock, Ornell Sackett (OC)

Word Count | 1.7K

Summary: Help comes from an unexpected source when a suspect is kicking the snot out of Jim. Cue Agents of Shield references, a large dose of Harvey!snark, and a lovely dollop of protective!Harvey.

The third punch sent Jim reeling, stars and colors bursting behind his eyes. This was not how he had seen his day going. Pushing off the brick alley wall, he turned back to his assailant just in time to catch a meaty fist square in the face.

Ow.

He staggered and dropped to his knees on the rough pavement, blood spurting from his nose. Then a heavy boot connected with his chest and suddenly his cheek was pressed into the asphalt.

He grunted. He could hear Harvey's I-told-you-sos already.

The boots stepped into his field of vision, and Jim struggled to his hands and knees just in time to catch the kick in his side rather than his face. Flat on his back now, Jim watched as the surrounding buildings swam against the gray clouds of Gotham.

He knew another blow was surely coming, and he knew he should probably do something to avoid it, but he couldn't find the energy to move. When several seconds passed without any sign of his attacker other than an intelligent, "huh?" and a loud clonk, he wondered if he had been forgotten. There was another clonk, followed by a thud, and then footsteps.

Great. Another thug who wanted a piece of the imprudent GCPD detective. He should definitely do something now. He groaned, and was about to try to roll to his feet when this new threat interrupted his view of the Gotham skyline.

"Hiya, Detective." Selina Kyle stood leaning over him, hands planted on her knees and an insufferably smug smile on her face.

Jim frowned. Was he hallucinating? He didn't think he had been hit that hard. "Selina? What are you doing here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks, Cat! That guy was really kicking the snot out of me."

"Yeah." He shifted successfully, if painfully, into a sitting position and smeared at the blood still pouring from his nose with the back of his thumb. "That, too I guess." His halfhearted attempt to stem the blood flow ceased abruptly when his eyes landed on the fallen form of his attacker, spread-eagled on the pavement, a sizable welt already forming on the side of his head. "Did you just—?"

Selina pulled a large glass bottle from her coat and flipped it in the air, catching it with cat-like grace. "Lucky for you, the local booze joints dump right outside my digs."

"Huh." Jim gave up on his nose and rubbed experimentally at his jaw, instead. Ow. "So what brings you to this part of the neighborhood?"

She shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms. "I could ask you the same question, Detective."

"I feel like we've had this conversation before." He struggled to his feet with a barely suppressed grunt and gestured at the prone form beside him. "Ornell Sackett."

Selina smirked. "Well, he certainly sacked you."

"Funny. He's a suspect in a murder investigation." He pulled his phone from his jacket and dialed 911. "This is Detective Gordon, badge number two-three-six-seven-four. I have a suspect unconscious at 24th and Finley, in the alley between Sergio's and…" he glanced at the sign hanging above the second establishment's back door, "Arnold's Florals. Gonna need a bus." Returning his phone to its pocket, he reached back for his handcuffs and set about restraining the man in question. The last thing he needed was for Sackett to wake up and come at them again. Then he called Harvey.

"Hey. I got him in custody, but he's gonna need to be checked out by a doc before we can bring him in. Yeah. Okay. See you in a few." Flipping the phone closed, he looked up, somewhat surprised to find Selina still present, sitting cross-legged atop a trash can. "You're still here."

"That's quite the observation, there, Gordon. I see why you made detective."

He sighed. "Usually, when our paths cross in the city, you take off at the first opportunity—probably with my watch or my wallet. Or leave me in a sewer."

"That was one time." He raises his eyebrows and she shrugs in acknowledgment, amending, "And it probably won't be the last."

"Exactly."

A siren wailed in the distance, growing nearer, and Selina swung her legs off the trash can. "Well, as fun as this has been, Detective, I'm afraid I can't hang around long enough to see the touching reunion between you and your pals at the GCPD."

"Selina, wait."

She did, head tilted, eyes hard.

"Stay a little longer. Harvey'll be here in a minute, and he'll have seen that Fitzsimmons' food truck is parked two blocks away, which means as soon as he's allowed to leave the scene, he's gonna be dragging me over there. Eat with us."

"Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. I think I'll take my chances somewhere where there aren't a dozen cops waiting for an excuse to send me upstate."

"No one is going to send you upstate, Selina. Not on my watch."

"Sure. Whatever." She turned to go.

"Hey."

She paused with a dramatic sigh, back still towards him, her very posture oozing annoyance.

"Thank you."

She turned back just enough to meet his eyes, her own glinting with mischief as she gave him a two-fingered salute and darted away, disappearing into the maze of Gotham's underbelly.

Jim sighed, turning his attention to the ambulance that had pulled up at the entryway behind him.

A few minutes later, Jim watched, standing by with the two of the uniformed officers now on the scene, as the EMTs loaded the still-unconscious Sackett onto a gurney.

"I gotta admit, partner, I underestimated you."

Jim's eyes closed when he heard Harvey Bullock's voice behind him.

"I'm impressed! You takin' down a hard hitter like Sackett all by your lonesome. I gotta tell ya, I thought you were gonna get your—"

Jim reluctantly turned to face his partner.

"—butt kicked." Harvey's face went from amiable pride to shock to concern in record time, and he was he was at Jim's side in an instant, poking and prodding him to determine the extent of his injuries.

"Harvey—" Jim swatted at his partner's hands when he found a particularly sore spot. "Harvey. Stop it. Stop it, I'm—no, I'm fine. I'm okay."

Harvey eyed him suspiciously, but the fact that Jim was standing seemed to assuage his worry at least enough for him to stop his bearish pat-down. "You sure?"

"Yeah. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Well, that's good, cause it looks bad. Look at you—you got blood everywhere."

"It's just from my nose." Jim ran his blood-crusted hand under his nose again. It seemed to have stopped, mostly. Small mercies.

Ten minutes later, despite his protests, Jim was sitting on the ledge at the back of the ambulance as an EMT made sure he didn't have a concussion or fractured skull or anything. The bruising would be substantial, but the EMT pronounced him good to go and gave him a towel to clean up with.

Jim was in the middle of mopping the worst of the blood from his face when Harvey leaned against the ambulance beside him with a look that Jim knew only too well.

Jim sighed and accepted his fate. "Go ahead. Get it out of your system."

"I told you. I told you this was a stupid idea. Didn't I tell you this was a stupid idea?" He turned to a uniform passing by. "Didn't I tell him this was a stupid idea?" The officer shot him a quizzical look and kept walking. Jim offered her an apologetic smile as Harvey continued. "I definitely told you this was a stupid idea. But did you listen? Nope. Nobody listens to Bullock, do they?"

"Alright, alright. But you also told me this was a bum lead, and I found him, didn't I?"

"Yeah, sure, you found him all right. But got your butt handed to you—royally, I might add. I'm surprised you were able to see well enough to cuff him with that fat eye."

The EMTs rolled Sackett by, and Jim stood to let them load him up.

Harvey's eyes widened at the sight of the golf ball-sized lump on Sackett's temple. He whistled. "Dang, son, what'd you hit him with?"

"I didn't."

"What do you mean, you didn't? That thing's the size of a grapefruit!"

Jim expelled yet another sigh. It was going to come out sooner or later. "It wasn't me. Selina Kyle showed up with a bottle and...Well, you see."

"Selina Ky—hang on, let me get this straight. You're tellin' me a twelve-year-old kid with a beer bottle and a bad haircut took out a three hundred and fifty-pound murder suspect while you sat on your thumbs seein' stars?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. It was a champagne bottle. And you're hardly one to talk about bad haircuts. Or...any haircut, really."

"Hardy-har-har. Where'd that kid get a champagne bottle?"

"Some dumpster, I guess."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

Jim finished cleaning up his face while Harvey finished laughing.

When the guffaws had faded to the occasional chortle, Harvey slapped a hand on Jim's shoulder and began guiding him back to his car. "So, it's your lucky day."

Jim shot him an incredulous look. "Really? My lucky day, huh? How so?"

"How so? I'll tell you how so. You'll never guess who I saw parked a couple blocks down."

"Fitzsimmons."

Harvey didn't appear to have heard Jim. "Fitzsimmons! What do you say we get a bite to eat? I'd kill for a sandwich right now. Prosciutto and mozzarella—slap some buffalo on there, maybe a hint of pesto aioli, and…" Sliding into his seat, Harvey proceeded to make a series of sounds that Jim was embarrassed could come from a seasoned member of the GCPD.

No sooner had Jim eased gingerly into his own seat and Harvey finagled the key into the ignition than the back door opened and closed, someone plopping merrily into the seat behind them.

"Howdy, boys."

"Selina, what are you—"

"I said I didn't want to go upstate, Gordon. Never said I didn't want lunch."

A/N: So, this is super nerdy, but I didn't want the bottle to break when Selina conked the guy out, so I did a little research on the packaging of alcohol. Because the only time I have handled any was when I found a can of beer someone left on the beach and disposed of it. (It smelled terrible. 0/10. Do not recommend.) Annnyway. I found out that while most tall bottles, such as wine, are made of fairly fragile glass, champagne bottles are dense and heavy because of the amount of pressure the contents are under. So yah. If you ever need a large bottle to knock someone out with, champagne is the way to go, y'all. You're welcome.

Props to those who caught the shamless Agents of SHIELD reference, and double props to anyone who caught the more subtle Louis L'Amour reference.

Oh, hey! Lemme know what you thought of Harvey in this chapter! This fic definitely focuses on the grudging palship between Jim and Selina, but I'm excited about the opportunities for guest stars. :D Who would you like to see make an appearance in upcoming chapters?

Remember to follow my blog and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to never miss an issue! If you missed issue no. 1, I’ve got it linked below. :)

Thanks for reading, beautiful hooman. Get your sleep, take your vitamins, drink your water, eat somethin’ :) I love you! *hugs*

Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghettie and Sneezes:

https://thatdarncatchronicles.tumblr.com/post/620372790294528001/that-darn-cat-issue-no-1-of-spaghetti-and?is_related_post=1

[i-am-a-stupid-robot]

Guess who recently fell down the rabbit hole that is Gotham??

That's right! It me. So here's Jim x Lee, cause I ship it a lot.

[thatdarncatchronicles]

Power couple.

[thatdarncatchronicles]

That Darn Cat | Issue No. 1 | Of Spaghetti and Sneezes

Warnings | None

Rating | K+

Genres | Friendship, Family, Fluff

Word Count | 2K

Summary: Jim finds a snuffly stray in Barbara’s flat. Cue sarcasm, sighs, and spaghetti.

Jim Gordon rubbed at the back of his neck as he ascended the last flight of stairs to Barbara’s flat, trying in vain to ease away the headache that had been growing steadily since morning. He was fairly sure the coffee-to-water ratio he had been consuming that week weren’t exactly helping. Or the lack of sleep behind the excessive coffee-drinking. Too many cases, too little time...

A weary sigh escaped his lips as he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

He took one step inside and stopped, hand going to his gun. Something was wrong. 

“Barbara?” His call was experimental; he knew there would be no response.

Slipping his weapon from its holster, he gripped it before him, muzzle trained on the floor, and took a few cautious steps into the apartment. The lights were all out, but someone was definitely there. Something was wrong.

There was movement in his peripheral vision, and he whirled, gun poised to eliminate the threat, adrenaline surging through his veins.

The “threat” was the fluttering of the muslin curtains that veiled a window off the balcony. He lowered his gun and rolled his eyes at himself. Well, at least the open window confirmed that someone was there—or had been, at any rate.

Treading as softly as he could, he turned the corner into the living room. His frown deepened.

Whatever he had been expecting, this was not it. Cereal boxes and snack wrappers littered the coffee table, and a heap of blankets adorned the sofa. He inched closer. Faint snores were coming from somewhere within the plush mountain, and he could now see sandy curls peeking out. An idea struck him, and he crossed to the head of the couch, where the scant inch or two of visible face confirmed his suspicions. 

Jim’s shoulders slumped as he heaved a sigh and holstered his weapon, hands coming to rest on his hips.

Before him, sleeping soundly on his ex’s couch and wrapped in what had been her favorite pink throw, was Selina Kyle.

He stood there for a minute or two, weighing his options and trying to find a direction in which to channel the unplanned adrenaline rush. Then, coming to a decision, he exited the apartment and retreated down the stairs to his car. He returned shortly with a paper sack full of the groceries he had been planning to take home after he checked on the flat.

“Guess I’ll be eating here,” he grumbled to no one as he flipped on the lights in the kitchen and set his burden on the island counter. There was a stockpot in the cupboard, and filling it with water, he put it on to boil while he dug through his sack for a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce.

The noodles were in the water, the sauce was simmering, and he was rinsing dust off of a couple of plates when he sensed someone behind him. He shut off the water. “Morning.” He turned around and channeled his amusement at her impressive bedhead into a friendly—if somewhat smug—smile. “Hungry?”

She just stared at him.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“What are you doing here?”

He set the plates on the counter and crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink. “I could ask you the same question.”

She plopped down on one of the bar stools at the island and shrugged with a practiced nonchalance. “It was raining. You?”

He raised his eyebrows at her explanation. “I come by periodically to make sure everything’s in order. Water plants, take care of the mousetraps...”

“See if your girlfriend came back…”

He leveled her with a glare.

She grinned. And sneezed.

“Bless you.”

She sneezed again. And again, six times, to be exact, in rapid succession.

Jim waited patiently until the fit seems to be over, then, “Ble--”

Selina held up a finger and sneezed again. Then she tilted her head and waited expectantly for a moment. A nod. “You’re good.”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly. “Your sauce is burning.”

Jim jolted from his position with a curse, reaching for a spoon with one hand and turning down the flame with the other. The spaghetti was probably done, too. “So,” he said conversationally as he searched for the colander, “you sick?”

“It’s just a cold.”

“How long has that been going on?”

He could practically hear the shrug. “A couple of days.” A loaded snuffle.

“There should be tissues in the living room, somewhere.”

A moment later, a muffled trumpeting assured him that she did not have any trouble finding them. Then he heard the bathroom sink running. When she came back, flinging the water from her hands, he had two steaming plates of spaghetti on the island and was rooting through his sack for the carton of orange juice.

She slid back into her place as he set a glass in front of her. “Drink up. I’ll check to see if Barbara had any cold meds after we eat.” He stuck a fork into her noodles and pushed the plate towards her.

She took it, stirring at the sauce. He had barely enough time to smirk at the glee in her eyes before an indifferent mask slid into place, and she declared, “There’s parmesan in the fridge.”

His eyebrows climbed, but he crossed to the fridge, and, sure enough, there was a half-empty container in the door, along with bottles of mustard and ketchup, a jar of mayonnaise, and some kind of marinade. Tossing the container to her, he watched as she thoroughly doused her food. “You like some spaghetti with your cheese, huh?”

She said something in response, but it was garbled by the massive bite she was trying to slurp up.

He chuckled, leaning back against the counter behind him with his own plate. “I’m not sure that was English.”

“You’re so funny,” she groused around the last two noodles dangling against her chin. “You should do stand up.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Augh.” She gulped down another bite. “Please, no. I would pay not to see that.”

He huffed, and with a shake of his head, started into his own food.

Fifteen minutes later, Jim was searching through the cupboard above the stove for cold medicine. “What are your symptoms?” he asked, scanning the label on a bottle filled with a syrupy blue liquid. He glanced up. “I mean, besides the heart-attack-inducing sneezing fits?”

“Detective, if all it takes to give you a scare is a little sneezing, you sure you should be on the job? Jumpy cops do questionable things. You should at least consider trading in your piece for a stun gun.”

“Who’s a comedian now? Symptoms.”

“Well, sneezing–“

“We’ve established that.”

“–headache, runny nose. My throat’s a little sore.”

“Okay…” He picked up another bottle. “Do you have a fever?”

She shrugged. “How would I know?”

Jim reached out to feel her forehead, but her glare aborted the movement halfway, and he raised his hands in placation before turning back to look for a thermometer. 

“So. You haven’t heard from the girlfriend at all, huh? The place seemed pretty deserted. It was Barbara, right? Breaking up via note on a piece of computer paper is pretty cold. Like,  really co–”

Jim popped the thermometer into her mouth, relishing the sudden silence and the glare she sent his way. He smiled. “Huh. That works pretty well. I think I’ll have to carry one of those around all the time.”

She grumbled something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry—did you say something? I can’t quite make it out.”

Her eyes narrowed and she made a face.

Jim left the thermometer in longer than was strictly necessary as he took his time perusing the contents of the cabinet. He pulled down a cardboard box full of bubble packets of dissolvable tablets and scanned the directions. “How do you feel about homeopathics?”

When she didn’t respond, he glanced up to find the most deadpan glare he had ever seen in his life. He worked his jaw to hide the grin threatening to take over his face and feigned surprise. “Oh. Right. My bad.” He pulled the thermometer from her lips and held it up to the light.

“Do I get a lollipop?”

Jim squinted up at the small numbers. “99.7. I can’t remember if that’s technically considered a fever, but if it is, it’s very mild.”

“Jumpy...Bad eyesight...forgetful...Elderly. You  sure you should be carrying a weapon detective?”

He turned his squint on her. “I’m thirty-four.”

“Like I said.”

Jim shook his head and grabbed a medicine cup from the drawer of random items that fit no category. The Drawer of Miscellaneous Items, Barbara had dubbed it. He settled on something called ColdEEZ and poured the prescribed fifteen mls. “Drink that. You’ll need to take it every…” he glanced at the directions again, “six hours. But if you can, sleep, and just take some more when you wake up.”

“Sure thing, Mom. Wait—does this mean you’re not kicking me out?”

Jim sighed. “Well, not tonight, anyway. It’s late, you’re sick, and like you said, it’s raining. Barbara would understand.” He hoped. He honestly didn’t know. But there was no way he was just sending her back out into the street. Barbara would have to understand. His fingers went to his eyes, rubbing at the dull pain he had nearly forgotten in the last hour.

“Headache?”

“Hmm?”

“You should go home more.”

Jim looked up now, frowning.

“Oh come on. It looks like you haven’t shaved in a day or two. I honestly don’t know—I’m not super familiar with the average growth rate of men’s facial hair. Anyway. Your shirt’s all wrinkled, and you look  rough.  I’m betting you’ve pulled a couple all-nighters at the GCPD.”

Jim huffed. Sharp kid. “Maybe you should be the detective.”

“Nah. I hear the pay’s dirt, and everyone hates you. ‘Sides, I earn more on the street.”

He shot her a look that said very clearly,  “Earn? Really?”

She shrugged. “Like I said, we can’t all be cops.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get some sleep, Selina.”

Jim set about washing the dishes and finding containers for the leftover food while Selina settled herself once more on the couch. When Jim had dried and put away the last dish, he found Selina in much the same position as before, sound asleep beneath Barbara’s blanket.

He sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day, but a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He flipped out the lights and made sure the tissues were within reach. “Goodnight, Selina.”

Grabbing his coat and his keys, Jim headed out the door to go home and get some sleep himself. But there was one more thing he had to do, first.

***

 When Selina awoke the next morning, she found the apartment empty, save for the assortment of groceries on the kitchen counter. Amid the cans of soup, a loaf of bread, a bottle of vitamin c chews, boxes of crackers, and a carton of chicken broth, was a note.

Selina,

Medicine’s on the table. 15 mls every 6 hours, 4 if your fever climbs.

Make sure you drink a lot. There’s orange juice and Gatorade in the fridge. Seriously, stay hydrated.  

I’ll try to check in on you later.

Jim.

P.S. There’s leftover spaghetti, too.

If you have an emergency, my phone no. is 735 897 2096

P.P.S. Prank calls do not qualify as emergencies.

Selina grinned and went for the orange juice.

A/N: Hey, y’all! I hope you enjoyed this first installment in my little series of misadventures! I have the next four chapters written and mostly ready to go, so keep an eye out. Let me know what you thought in the comments!

I know the world is crazy right now, and it’s my hope that these will bring just a wee bit of innocent happiness, if only for a few minutes. Hang in there, y’all. Be safe. Take care of each other. You’re important and needed, and I love you.

Follow my blog and #thatdarncat (no spaces!) to make sure you never miss an issue. :)

[thatdarncatchronicles]

COMING SOON!!! That Darn Cat, A Gotham Fanfic

The adventures Selina Kyle and one pain-in-the-neck detective. Or, the adventures of Jim Gordon and one pain-in-the-neck alley cat. It--yeah. It really just depends on who you ask.

Starring:

Jim Gordon

Selina Kyle

Guest Stars:

Harvey Bullock

Bruce Wayne

Alfred Pennyworth

Lee Thompkins

SNEAK PEEK:

"What are you doing here?"

Jim set the plates on the counter and crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink. "I could ask you the same question."

Selina plopped down on one of the bar stools at the island and shrugged with a practiced nonchalance. "It was raining. You?"

He raised his eyebrows at her explanation. "I come by periodically to make sure everything's in order. Water plants, take care of the mousetraps..."

"See if your girlfriend came back…"

He leveled her with a glare.

She grinned. And sneezed.

"Bless you."

She sneezed again. And again, six times, to be exact, in rapid succession.

Jim waited patiently until the fit seems to be over, then, "Ble--"

Selina held up a finger and sneezed again. Then she tilted her head and waited expectantly for a moment. A nod. "You're good."

"Bless you."

"Thank you." She smiled sweetly. "Your sauce is burning."