Random drabble. Don't own Batman or Catwoman, or Selena or Bruce or blah, blah, blah. I own this piece, though!

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"Who do you think you are?"

Selena Kyle listens to her heartbeat and the sick irony resounding in Bruce's words. Bruce Wayne bores holes into her when he stares; he eats away at her being with his cold, blue eyes.

She answers, with a bittersweet, sardonic laugh, "I don't know."

On this dance floor, at this moment, they are neither Batman nor Catwoman, yet all the same, as though it breathes a hateful breath away from them both, their masks are always there. It's as if on the same reality they forever stand in sleek, black suits, Selena with her deadly whip and Bruce with his infinite strength. They will never escape their attempts to build a wall around themselves, because now these walls follow them, burden them

"Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it."

She nearly tears. Selena Kyle can hardly speak.

"A kiss can be even deadlier."

When she presses against it, Bruce's chest is like a brick, solid surface, like a shield between her and the outside world.

"Oh God…" she whispers, and hates every minute she feels his heart beneath her, "Does this mean we have to start fighting now?"

His voice is regretful. It's almost an epitome of apology, "Let's go outside."

And the masks are there.