ETA 08.01.12- Given the story told in The Dark Knight Rises, this is very much AU, I think. ;) I did make a few small edits to better fit the awesome Catwoman Anne Hathaway gave us though!

Title: Making a Mess
Characters: Catwoman, Batman
Disclaimer: DC Comics and Warner Bros own.
AN: There might be more to this later, but for now here's a Batman/Catwoman oneshot in Nolanverse.

She was so tired. More tired than she'd been in a long time. She could hardly move her right arm and the pain shooting from the gunshot wound in her leg was nearly unbearable. It hurt too much to stand and as she leaned against a rather large rooftop AC unit for support, she collapsed slowly to the ground. The noiseless thud sent a jolt of pain through her body and it took all her focus to keep from screaming.

She's not sure how long she blinked in and out of consciousness and would have worried that the pain was fading fast, but she figured her life had been a fucked up one since the beginning, it only made sense that she'd have a fucked up death as well. Funny thing though, she didn't see her life flash before her eyes like she always heard about and expected. She didn't see the night she lost her mom and her sister. She didn't see the day she finally built enough courage to run away from the orphanage. And she didn't see the day Leslie found her and took her in. All she could see was the gun pointed at him and the way she stupidly jumped to push him out of the way. Her eyes fell shut again, just for a moment…

Thunder struck and she was startled awake. She was pretty sure her body was in shock because the pain seemed very far away now. Maybe she should try to stand and find some cover to get out of the sudden downpour of rain. When she looked up; the cold drops of water barely registered against her numb skin. Taking a deep breath, she put most of her weight on her uninjured leg and with the AC unit's help, managed to stand.

She glanced around at all the buildings before her and for the first time since she put the mask on, all the rooftops looked uninviting and even a little daunting. Perhaps she had outlived her short welcome. Perhaps it was time to simply lay down on the rooftop and fall asleep. Just a while. Allowing her body to give in like it wanted to and rest for a bit sounded like a really good idea. Giving up was always so easy…

That's when she happened to glance sideways and noticed…him. He blended in near flawlessly with shadows, but she knew he was there. And hell if she was going to wait around to see what mood he was in at the moment. If she broke into highly secured buildings, he was pissed. When she tried to help him, he was pissed. Screw him. She tried to walk and dragged her injured leg behind her. Spotting the fire escape she somehow missed before, she tried to get to it before he arrived.

Within seconds, he landed a few feet behind her.

"You're injured," he gritted out.

She scoffed, not bothering to turn towards him, "And you are a master at stating the obvious."

He furrowed his brow, but didn't reply. He seemed unable or unwilling to find an accusation or reprimand to throw at her. He didn't even have a lecture to offer. She turned to look at him just to reassure herself that it was in fact him.

He wasn't scowling or frowning. He looked…worried. Concerned. About her. She wished her leg didn't hurt so much. She'd kick him just to swipe that pitiful look away.

"You need help," he said, the low growl almost lost to the falling rain.

"Not yours, I don't," she shot back, confident that she could get off this damn rooftop on her own. There was a painful throbbing through her leg again, but hell if she was going to let it show. When she moved forward, she stumbled. Batman was next to her in the time between heartbeats, careful of her injuries. His arms steady and strong, keeping her upright.

"Let go of me!" she snapped, brown eyes ablaze with rage, both with herself for suddenly being unable to walk on her own and with him for being there to catch her.

He ignored her protest, his gaze glued to her thigh and the blood streaming from it. She wasn't supposed to get hurt. He wouldn't have left an obvious trail for her to follow if…if…if what? How is stepping into the lion's den ever not a dangerous endeavor? He knew this. He knew neither one might make it out alive. And yet…he wanted her there…felt better knowing she was there.

"You…saved my life tonight…" he admitted, "…I…have…"

It must have been the loss of blood because she could have sworn he was thanking her. Could've been she imagined it, too. There was no way to be sure. The buildings seemed to swirl and twirl together and then it was dark.

…

Opening her eyes to a bright, white room filled her with dread. She tried to sit up, but the restraints kept her in place.

"What the—?"

"You're safe."

It was him. She wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse. She was relieved that her mask was still on, though. Her eyes traveled around the room, instinct searching for a way out.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice hoarse. How long had she been out?

"A safe house," he replied.

She was lying on her back and tried looking down. She could see the pointy ears of his cowl between…her legs?

"What're you doing?" she asked, trying to get up again.

"The bullet was still in your leg when I brought you here. It's not anymore."

"Can you untie me now?" She laughed at her words and the ludicrous situation. Hadn't she wondered how he'd react to being the one tied up? She shook the thoughts away.

He walked over and removed the restraints from her wrists, chest, and waist.

"Wanted to make sure I wasn't going anywhere?"

He grunted in reply, making her smile. He was back to being his usual untalkative self. She preferred him that way. Taking in the room, she decided the room looked like a very clean doctor's office. Even Leslie's office wasn't like this. Batman walked towards a counter and he seemed very out of place in such a well lit room. Hell, she probably looked just as ridiculous. Black leather, titanium, and masks worked better in the dark.

She sat up fully and realized she wasn't wearing any pants.

"What did y—?"

He flung the remains of what used to be leather pants at her. The bastard cut them off!

"Here," he threw the medical tape at her, "Tape it up and you're done."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not failing to notice that he'd kept his back to her since she'd woken up. "My pants are ruined because of you. The least you could do is finish what you started."

His shoulders tensed as he seemed to weigh his options.

"Don't worry," she teased, red lips curling up, "I won't bite. Unless you ask nicely…"

"Lie down," he ordered.

She laughed at him, "Whatever. Look, I won't overpower you and take your mask off, okay? You left mine on, right? We're even," her voice softened.

He moved without looking up at her, crouching down between her legs. He angled his head, so she only saw the top of his cowl.

He wasn't wearing any gauntlets and she studied his hands freely. They were large and softer looking than she imagined. They barely grazed her thigh as they worked on the bullet wound.

She reached out and touched his cape.

His hands stilled.

Panic gripped his heart. He shouldn't have put himself in this position. Then, he reminded himself, he shouldn't have put her in such a precarious position to begin with. She wouldn't have had such a close call. And neither would he be having one now. But he was ready to fight her. He was ready to exploit her wounded leg in order to keep his secret.

"It's okay," she reassured, not going for his mask like he assumed she would, "You're safe." She repeated his earlier words to him.

He looked up at her. His hazel-blue eyes, wide and at a loss.

She trailed a finger along his jaw — she'd wanted to do that since she saw him that first night — marveling at the subtle changes of his eyes. She could have sworn they were usually a hard, cold blue, but now, they looked softer…warmer...

She leaned down, lips barely grazing his, the sudden pain in her thigh not thwarting her actions in the least. His lips were cold, as she discovered was the rest of his face when she splayed her fingers on either side.

He closed his eyes, but didn't move otherwise. His hands itched to rest on her and touch her, really touch her, but he was waiting for something. He didn't know what, until those legs pulled him in closer and wrapped around his torso. Her knees under his arms, her ankles just below his belt. He exhaled slowly, lips parting, and he reached up to kiss her. Lips so soft and welcoming…like he dreamed of so often… But the rest of her he couldn't feel. He still wore all the armor that usually protected him, except now it was in the way. But maybe that was a good thing.

"Wait," he said, standing up.

"We've waited long enough," she reminded him, stood up on one leg, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

It had only been three weeks that they had known each other and yet it felt like they'd been fighting for years. Fighting each other and within themselves, fighting a growing attraction that could no longer be ignored.

He felt dizzy and lightheaded, his body moving against hers in a primal rhythm. His hands quickly found that glorious swell of flesh just south of her lower back and he scooped her up. Strong, smooth legs wrapped around him.

The heat in her breasts and belly grew exponentially out of control. She kissed and bit along his jaw wanting to kiss and bite every part of him. She moaned—half pleasure, half protest—as her back hit the wall. He wanted to rip off her top and her mask. He wanted nothing between them. Just the two of them. Nothing else.

That's when he reached for the switch and turned off the lights. Apparently, sometime over the past few weeks, he'd lost his mind completely. He knew this because as he threw off his cowl his concern wasn't whether she would reach for the switch and expose him, but how fast he could get back to kissing her again.

She ran her fingers through his hair, breaking the kiss to whisper in his ear.

"More," she panted and he knew what she meant.

He pressed her against the wall, kissing the suddenly bare curve of her neck and shoulder. God, she tasted like a dark kind of heaven — the most tempting of sins — and he knew he was going mad because he couldn't get enough of her.

She couldn't get enough of him either, tugging on his cape wanting it gone as he trailed hot circles down her body.

The room was getting warmer and he wanted to rip off his suit. Three quick moves later and he peeled it off. She pulled at it too, impatience getting the best of her. Then her legs wrapped tightly around him once more, the pain from her injury only adding to the mix of emotions she was feeling. One of his arms went securely around her waist, pulling her in close now that there was little to nothing between their bodies.

It was only then that she removed her own mask. Unwilling until that moment to truly believe he wouldn't back down. With the mask fell the last of her restraint, her hips grinding desperately against his. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he buried his nose in it. The deep, rich scent of her driving him further into reckless abandon.

He couldn't remember a time he felt more lost, more overwhelmed or out of control. He slid the thin fabric of her panties aside and pushed into her slowly. His mind went blank. She was all there was, all there ever would be. Her lips on his shoulder, moving towards his neck. Her fingers running through his hair. Her breasts bouncing lightly against his chest with every thrust. Her ankles digging gently into the back of his thighs, pulling him in closer…deeper… She was all he knew and all he wanted to know.

His hands slid up from her hips to her waist and he kissed her, deeply.

The warmth of his hands was everywhere, his body sliding against hers…

He didn't want the feeling to end…

She was so close, the buildup coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. God, she couldn't remember the last time she felt this good.

Sheer pleasure washed over them, slight trembles of satisfaction followed. And then, it was over. Their breath came ragged, the panting ceasing slowly.

The pain of her leg came back in sharp spurts and she was sure she'd torn a few stitches. She didn't want to move, but did, bringing her legs down away from his waist. Despite the darkness she closed her eyes, wanting to bury her head in his shoulder if only they had been other people; instead she let it fall back against the wall, convinced that she might have just made the stupidest mistake ever.

He had yet to move. His hands were still on her and he took deep breaths trying to buy time to figure out what to do next. He was relieved when she slid off and away from him.

She wanted to say something, tease him, rate his performance, anything because despite the mess she made of things afterward, he probably saved her life. But, she didn't trust her voice enough to speak, so she said nothing as she picked up her mask and the remains of her tattered clothes scattered around.

Still, he found himself unable to move. He could hear her dressing, her movements slow because of her injuries. He wanted to help her, but those were things couples did for each other after they finished. And that's not what they were. They'd crossed a line and he was afraid things would never go back to what they had been. He was even more afraid they would. Still, he didn't offer to help unwilling to risk more of himself than he already had. So, he was stuck to the spot that only minutes ago, he and she had… where they had… Having been with so many women wasn't helping him at all because they hadn't mattered; some had been mere props. Slept with because he knew they would talk. He rarely saw them again unless Bruce Wayne needed the publicity, but she…she was Catwoman. They were bound to run into each other the following night or the next. She had saved his life and he repaid her by taking advantage of her fragile state.

She stumbled across his cape and considered borrowing it, if only to make him ask for its return. She could almost picture his irritated expression at having to do so, but settled against it choosing simply to tie her pants around her waist. They barely covered her, but it was hardly a problem. When had she been modest anyway?

Turning to him, she wondered if he was ever going to move again. That's when it happened. Like a whisper, a soft caress, it grew in the back of her mind. She wasn't wearing her mask and neither was he. Curiosity began to grow. She was tempted to turn on the light. Have it all out in the open. Her identity… His… Everything revealed with the simple flip of a switch.

But she didn't do it. Whatever this was — and she didn't want to delve too deep into it — she wasn't ready to throw it away just yet. She found the door and opened it, stopping midway. Had she bothered to look at him with the dim light from the outside entering the room, she would have seen the silhouette of his perfect body with his head downcast, but she didn't look back.

"Maybe next time I'll buy you dinner first," she said and closed the door behind her.