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Chapter Text

Dana pulled her coat tight around her. This evening was terribly cold for midsummer, and didn't bode well for her sheerly clad legs. 

She made her way down the streets of Gotham, determination and near desperation in every clicking step. She cursed herself for not living a little closer to her workplace, and feared she might be late for her meeting.

As she turned a new corner, a long line of people came into view. 

Finally , she thought to herself. 

Coming closer, the entrance to The Iceberg Lounge came into view, and, at the front of the queue, stood Mr. Oswald Cobblepot; a small portly man with long black hair peeking out from under his top hat, wearing a coat with faux fur trimmings around the cuffs and hood. He wore a monocle over his right eye and had his trusty umbrella hung over his right arm.

With a small smile stretching onto her face, Dana waltzed up to greet the smaller man.

“Oh, Ozzie!” She sang, waving in his direction. His head snapped her way, a smile gracing his face at the sight of her.

“Ah, Miss Hayes.” He greeted, excusing himself from the queue. He took her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, “Wonderful to see you, dear. Come along now, you are expected in the V.I.P. area.”

Dana thanked Oswald, and hooked her arm through his as he led her into the Lounge.

—-‐—--

Inside the Iceberg, the lights shone interchanging variations of white, purple and blue and one of the girls; Sadie, was singing tonight. The gentle, melodic Jazz of “Smooth Operator” coming from her slightly deeper voice, making for a calm dining atmosphere.

The odd couple or group of people sat dotted around the circular tables, quietly chatting amongst themselves either enjoying some of the wonderful food provided, or drinking a nice herbal tea.

Dana had always felt at home here. The atmosphere, the people, and owner of the Lounge himself never failed to make her feel at ease here.

Oswald turned to her as they walked, an odd seriousness plaguing his face.

“Hayes, I must warn you. The client you are about to meet is not one to mess around. If he's asked for your services personally it must be very serious.”

She'd never seen the man so glum before, in all honesty it had her every bit on edge.

“Oz, I've dealt with dangerous clients before, I can handle myself you know.” She smiled, trying to be reassuring, though the smile faltered when Oswald merely eyed her with a pursed lip.

“I've known Harvey for some time now, Dana. He's unpredictable. Just be sure to stay on his good side, and don't get smart with him.”

“Understood.”

—-‐—------

Dana and Oswald walked up to a room partitioned by a lovely red velvet curtain. Beyond the curtain, stood another round, white table. 

Sitting at the head of the table, positioned halfway between the light and shadow was the infamous Two-Face, fiddling with the double headed coin, ever present on his person. And flanking either side of him were two red headed boys with identical faces and suits.

His dark gaze moved from Oswald to Dana, who hung up her coat on the back of the only other available seat, and sat down comfortably, giving him a once over. 

“Hello, handsome.” She greeted, her voice as smooth as silk. 

The man's eyes narrowed, and instead of returning her greeting, he addressed Oswald instead.

“You're late.” The man growled, his voice raspy and hoarse. “And I remember asking for an assassin, not entertainment.”

Dana smiled softly, ignoring the not-so-subtle jab, and leaned forward as if about to reveal a secret. 

“Do you remember the disappearance of Ferris Boyle? The humanitarian who ruined countless lives in the name of progress and business, including the lives of Mr. Freeze and his wife?”

One of the twins piped up at that. 

“I remember that!” he told his brother. “It was just before a major business deal. It was going to have Gothcorp and Wayne Enterprises combine shares in stocks and plans for progress in Gotham. It was all over the papers!”

“And,” Dana interjected, “at the time, dear old Boyle was engaged to a lovely young thing. An engagement that seemingly came up out of the blue.”

“Yeah!” The other twin exclaimed with a snap of his fingers. “What was her name? Stella something?”

“Sylvia.” Two-Face corrected, a puff of smoke wafting out of the scarred half of his mouth. His gaze never left Dana, his good eye scanning her face, the way her eyes drooped to accentuate her lashes. The way her lips molded into a sly smirk, the same way Boyle’s “fiancé's” had.

The same face in tons of Gotham Times papers. 

Though the color and texture of her hair had been different - darker - and her eyes lighter, the foundations were the same.

“Sylvia Blaize.” He concluded.

“So, you've got skills.”

“I've got a lot more than that, babe. I've taken care of far more than just businessmen. I was the one who took out Rupert Thorne's right hand, Candace. I've had my fair share of lackeys, thugs, the like. I could even give the Falcone’s a run for their money.”

Two-Face considered her words carefully, dragging another puff from his cigar, mulling over the option in front of him.

“Dana is the best for getting in close to the target without arousing suspicion, Harvey.” Oswald informed, his voice cautious, calculated. Gently trying to convince the man.

“She can gain complete trust, and break them down from within. No one will suspect a thing.”

“So.” Dana said, redirecting attention back to her. “Who gets to be my prey?”

Chapter Text

Harvey Bullock was a simple man. He'd wake up, do his job, get paid, and take no shit from no one.

Given his line of work, dealing with wise-cracking wannabes every other day, Bullock prides himself on his gruff exterior. That same exterior- and zero fucks given attitude- often got him a lot of flak.

Not only from the criminals he cuffs on a day-to-day basis but also his colleagues.

Only one such colleague had a stubborn streak that near rivaled his own, that being his partner; Officer Renée Montoya. 

Currently, she sat in the passenger seat of his dinged up old Buick as they patrolled the streets of Gotham.

On such a blazing hot day, it was a miracle how quiet the city seemed. Not a single crook or nutcase made themselves known, and Bullock should've known it was too good to be true.

He was just about to call the patrol off early for lunch as they rounded a corner, when he caught sight of a woman in a rather expensive looking dress and fur shawl, walking along the sidewalk, being eyed by a red-haired kid.

The boy seemed to look around to make sure no one would see him and snuck behind the girl, grabbing at the purse on her shoulder and taking her by surprise. 

‘I knew it was too quiet around here.’ He thought, slamming on the brakes, and bolting from the car.

“Hey! Drop the purse!” He yelled to the kid, unholstering his gun while waiting for Montoya to round the car. The kid just grinned and grabbed the woman he'd robbed and threw her at the Detective before taking off with the handbag.

“Hey!”

Bullock caught the blonde, but barely looked at her before handing her off to Montoya and chasing after the kid.

The ginger continued running, reaching an alleyway and ducking into it. Bullock ran after him, slowing down cautiously in case of a surprise attack. 

Rounding the corner, gun at the ready, Bullock was caught off guard when instead of an awaiting showdown, the ginger haired boy was nowhere to be seen.

Bullock shuffled along the alleyway, peering around every trashcan and skip, just in case, but nothing. The only trace that the kid had, in fact, been there was the lone handbag discarded in the middle of the alley.

—--------------

“You alright, ma'am?” Officer Montoya asked, helping the blonde woman steady herself.

“I'm fine,” Dana winced as she placed a little too much pressure on her right foot. She must've twisted it in the altercation. “I just hope this won't hinder my performance tomorrow.”

This caught the officer's attention. Montoya raised a curious eyebrow at the blonde.

“You a dancer?”

“ Performer, but yes.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you work?”

Dana hesitated for a moment, a sudden uncertainty washing over her.

“Oh. No, I-- I wouldn't want you to think wrongly of me.”

“Psh. It can't be that bad.”

“Well, okay. I work at the Iceberg Lounge.”

“ Penguin’s joint?” Montoya asked, the baffled tone of her voice, accentuating her gobsmacked expression.

Dana could do nothing but nod and pray for the best.

“I know it seems sketchy, but the Penguin doesn’t dabble in that kind of life anymore. And the Iceberg is a beautiful establishment, really. Pays well.”

“Hm, you’re a lot stronger than me, ma’am-”

“Oh, it’s Dana actually. Dana Hayes.” The blonde stated, shyly offering her hand to the officer, and despite her initial bias, Montoya accepted Dana’s handshake.

“Dana. Pleasure to meet you. Montoya.”

“Montoya. Hm, do you dance? You seemed interested when I brought it up.” Dana started, changing the subject. And if Montoya noticed the sudden shift in topic, she didn’t acknowledge it.

“Hardly.” She huffed instead. “If hand-eye coordination was a person, she’d be my worst enemy.”

“Yeah? I think with the right teacher, anyone can dance.” Dana retorted.

“Tell that to my salsa teacher.”

Dana seemed to think for a moment, hesitating on if she should ask. If Montoya would accept her offer, knowing where Dana works.

“...What if I taught you?”

“You-- You’d do that?”

“Sure, the lounge isn’t such a bad place really. You should pop down sometime and I’ll give you a lesson. Or, even if you’d just like to watch one of the shows. The food there is great and the dessert-”

“-Someone say dessert?”

Detective Bullock had made his way back to the scene, confused and weary, clutching Dana’s lost handbag.

Now that the scuffle was over, Dana was able to get a proper look at the detective. He had a crooked, busted up looking nose. Tired brown eyes, half hidden beneath strong dark eyebrows, and an almost permanent scowl etched into his lips. Exactly like the picture in the file Two-Face had given her. He was on the bigger side, too, not that it mattered to Dana.

“Oh, yes.” She purred, smiling softly at the man. The detective seemed taken aback by the action, a blush blooming across his olive skin. 

Hm. For a supposed womanizer, he sure handles flirting like a rookie.

“Actually, they serve a special affogato, one of their most sought after- oh! My handbag!” Dana gasped, comically breaking character as she reached to take the bag back. “You got it back!”

“Eh, yeah, well. Just doing my job.”

Dana noticed the detective’s attempt at maintaining a gruff, hard persona like the one she’d read about, instead, he almost looked a little pathetic.

No problem, she could work with that, in fact it would make things much easier. 

She smirked and leaned forward, catching the detective well off guard, and kissed him on the cheek. She made sure to linger close to his ear and purred, “Thank you.”

She felt the larger man shudder beneath her as her breath brushed the curve of his ear, and she took pride in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, as he gulped harshly. 

More than pleased with herself, Dana retracted and batted her eyelashes at the detective, smiling as innocently as an angel.

“So,” she continued, turning back to Montoya as Bullock tried and failed to pull himself together, a hand mindlessly reaching up to graze the spot Dana had kissed. “If you do consider it, my next performance is tomorrow night at 8.”

Dana then leaned in close to Montoya, as if telling a friend a secret. “And uh, maybe you could bring your friend here along with you. He looks like he could use a night off,” she laughed. “Well, I should let you two get back to your duties, then. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Do you need to be dropped off anywhere? That kid might come back to try again,” Montoya offered.

“Oh no, I’m not too far from my destination anyway. Thanks again, officer. Detective. ” 

Dana sent a flirtatious wink at Detective Bullock, before turning to make her leave.

Bullock watched Dana leave, and continued to stare into nothing as she rounded a corner, disappearing from sight. Montoya called out to him multiple times before she finally caught his attention.

Bullock slid into the passenger's seat- Montoya had taken over driving- and as they drove off again, Bullock finally snapped back to reality.

“That dame. Who was she?”

“Dana Hayes. She didn’t tell me much more than that. Seemed to like you though.”

“Where did she say she worked? She said something about a performance.”

“The Iceberg Lounge.” Montoya shrugged.

“She’s one of Penguin’s girls?” Bullock paled at the thought.

“Maybe. Maybe not. She said she was just a performer. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look around anyway. See for ourselves if there really is some shady stuff going on,” Montoya affirmed, solidifying a plan as she drove off to get that lunch break underway.

—----------

Checking to make sure the officers had left, Dana breathed a huge sigh of relief. And out of the darkness came two red-headed boys with identical faces, giggling amongst themselves and giving each other high-fives.

“How did we do, did we get ‘em?” One of the twins asked. His lapel pin read ‘Min’. Excitement was clear on his freckled face.

Dana smiled triumphantly at the boys, taking one of each of their hands in hers. 

“They bought it alright; took the bait like rats to a trap. Well done, boys! Now, all we have to do is wait for them to show their faces at my performance tomorrow and the detective will be mine.”

“Yes! Two-Face is gonna love this. Come on, he’ll be waiting for the good news!”

The three skipped merrily to a sleek black limousine parked at the end of that same alley. Dana and Min slipped comfortably into the back seat while the other twin, Max, took the driver's seat.

“Oh boy,” Min grinned, kicking up his feet. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole horse!”

“Hey, yeah! So could I!” Max piped up from the front.

“Hey, you’re just saying that ‘cause I said it!” Min retorted angrily.

“Nuh uh!”

“Yuh huh!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yuh huh!”

“Oh, boy.” Dana groaned, what a long ride this would be.

Chapter Text

Dana and the twins arrived at the back entrance to the Iceberg Lounge, and just as they expected, Two-Face was indeed waiting for them. He sat with Oswald at the latter’s office desk.

Min and Max couldn’t contain their excitement as they went about, talking their boss’s ear off about the stunt they had just pulled off, like giddy kids telling their parents about something they had discovered.

Two-Face looked like he was about to form a migraine from listening to the two talk over each other, and it was Dana who calmed the twins down.

“Oh, sorry,” they apologized in unison, embarrassed smiles flooding across their faces.

“So, you were successful? Good,” Two-Face hummed, taking a thoughtful drag from a new cigar.

Dana made herself comfortable by jumping up onto the desk between the two older men and allowing her feet to swing beneath her.

“Yup,” she confirmed. “All we have to do now is wait.”

“Heh. May have been the right call paying for your services, after all!” Two-Face snarked.

“Aw, you wound me, handsome,” Dana pouted, laying back on the desk, putting herself face to face with the criminal and attempting to brush her fingers through his hair. “And here I thought you were beginning to like me.”

Two-Face snatched her wrist in a vice-like grip, making Dana wince, before he shoved it away.

“Don’t make me regret it, doll face.”

Dana felt another hand come up to take her wrist, this time much gentler, and she turned to find Oswald had stood from his chair and was now leveling her with a warning glare.

“Dana has everything under control, Harvey,” he piped up, now discreetly caressing her bruised skin beneath his fingers. “Today proved that.”

“Just as long as she saves that ‘sucking up’ for the detective, she may just live to see the payoff.” Two-Face growled.

Dana took that as her cue to leave. She bid Oswald her goodbye’s, reassuring him that she was alright, and the twins followed her out of the office and towards the kitchen to order up some food.

—-----------

Out in the main area of the lounge, where the white tables lay dotted around the floor, sat Harley Quinn and Pamela Isley, sharing a smoothie. Vegan, no doubt.

As Harley noticed her, she waved Dana over.

“Dana! How you doin’, babes?” she greeted.

“Can’t complain,” Dana replied, massaging her wrist. “I just got a new customer.”

“Really? Who is it this time?” Ivy began, before seeing a rather peeved Two-Face stalk out of Oswald’s office. “Ooh, who’s got ol’ Harv riled up now?”

Dana huffed, and pouted as she ordered herself a peppermint and honey tea.

“I was only messing with him! He’s such a sourpuss.”

This made both girls gasp.

“You did what?”

“Ooh, don’t tell me he’s your newest customer! Who’s the target? Ooh, tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Harl!” Dana chuckled. “Two-Face is paying me twenty thousand dollars to take out Harvey Bullock.”

Harley and Ivy stared at Dana like she’d lost her marbles. They looked at each other, then back to Dana, as though they couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“Oh.” Ivy deadpanned.

“Bullock?” Harley shrieked, catching the attention of the other performers, workers and the twins - luckily the only people in the Lounge at that moment. “That pig?!”

“Cool your jets, Harl. It’s just a job,” Ivy scolded. “Besides, this is a good thing for us all. Bullock will be out of our hair permanently, right, Dana?”

“Right. And I’ve read all about him; I know what a louse he is, how unfavorable he can be. I’ve already seen him in action, too. Believe me, Harl, he’s easy pickings. He’ll be gone before you know it.”

Harley grumbled, and Dana felt guilt creep up within her. Harley had told her once about a dirty old cop who had tried to make a move on her, not once, but twice. Dana just didn’t know it had been Bullock. 

All the more reason to get this over and done with, then.

“So. What’s your plan?” Ivy asked, and Dana smiled again as she relayed exactly what she was going to do.

—----------

8 o’clock was rolling around, and Dana was adding the finishing touches to her makeup.

She wore a bedazzled, floor length silver dress, with a prominent slit up the side, and a feather shawl. Her eyeshadow matched her dress, and her lips were painted blood red, as were her nails.

Perfect.

“Dana!” called one of Oswald’s bodyguards, Lark, in a harsh whisper. “You’re on in two minutes!”

Dana smirked and put away her lipstick, giving herself one last look over in the mirror. Patting down her dress and fluffing her delicately curled hair, she breathed a sigh.

This is it. Hook, line and sinker. I laid the bait, got his attention, and now, time to spring the trap. 

All according to plan.

“Dana!” Lark rushed, waving the blonde over.

“Coming!”

Rushing from her dressing room and over to the curtains as quietly as possible, Dana took a corner of the curtain and discreetly peeked beyond it. 

The crowd was massive as usual, and Dana felt a familiar buzz of adrenaline spike her heart. She scanned the crowd for the detective, or, at least for officer Montoya.

Maybe they’re hanging around the shadows, trying not to be seen. Typical, Dana thought, ei ther way, the show must go on.

The host announced Dana’s performance, and the lights faded to a low yellow spotlight. The music began and Dana took her place behind the curtains.

“You had plenty money in 1922…” Dana sang, stepping sensually out from behind the curtain. The crowd went wild, whistling, hollering, cheering and clapping. Dana couldn’t help a proud smirk at the response.

“You let other women make a fool of you, why don’t you do right? Like some other men do…” 

Strutting up to one man, she leaned over him and snagged his tie, pulling him close to her as she playfully looked him up and down before pushing him away.

“Get out of here…get me some money, too….”

Onward she strutted. Watching the male patrons lose their minds never got old, but they weren’t the ones she was worried about.

Subtly glancing around, she finally saw Detective Bullock. He was sitting at one of the many tables with Montoya, opposite to where she currently stood. He looked like he didn’t want to be there, but she saw how he stared at her, and just that silent acknowledgement alone made her grin.

Dana honed all of her attention on the two and made her way over to them, making sure to give a little attention to the other patrons.

“You’re sittin’ down and wonderin’ what it’s all about…” she continued, throwing a wink at the general audience while stopping to show off the slit in her dress. “If you ain’t got no money, they will put you out. Why don’t you do right? Like some other men do...”

One of the male patrons tried to reach up onto the stage and touch her, to which Dana stopped him with her heel on his chest and pushed him back as harshly as she could, reveling in the way he fell into the crowd onto his backside. 

“Get out of here,” she scolded, never breaking her seductive performance. “Get me some money, too…” She drawled, half-lidded eyes settling back on her target. 

“Now if you had prepared twenty years ago…” 

Her audience clapped and cheered as she sauntered over to the detective’s table. 

“You wouldn’t be a-wanderin’ now from door to door…”

The spotlight followed her as she effortlessly stepped up onto the table, uncovered leg first, and watched the detective’s every reaction. The way he slowly looked up from the table, drinking in every inch of her body sent chills through her blood. 

The way he readjusted himself in his seat as she circled him, moving to step onto the table directly behind him…

The way he shivered as she playfully brushed the nape of his neck… 

“Why don’t you do right?” Dana smiled, and decided to play with the man just a little more by brushing her hand through his hair, her nails gently grazing his scalp. She felt his posture stiffen as she continued to sing without a care. 

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “Like some other men do...”

She felt the detective’s breath hitch, and she knew she had him. 

Good. 

Dana slunk off through a couple more tables, gradually making her way back to the stage and finishing her performance, Dana sensually wrapped herself in the curtain drapes as she leaned against the pillar its railing protruded from and lowered herself, singing the last of her song as the crowd went wild.

“Why don’t you do right? Like some other men… do…”

As she rose back up, caressing her throat and drawing all eyes down her form, she blew a kiss towards the rowdy audience as they howled and cheered for her, and threw one last sly wink at the detective before slipping behind the curtain. 

—----------

“So… still regret coming down for a look?” Renée Montoya joked, arms crossed, observing the spaced-out expression on her partner's face. 

Harvey Bullock grunted and readjusted himself. He wasn’t happy about being dragged down to the Iceberg Lounge of all places. 

How could such a dame work in a rotted, disgusting place like this?

Harvey had been actively trying to avoid being seen by anyone who may recognize him, but that would be a hard feat after that little show.

When Dana stepped out from behind that curtain, her dress hugging her figure and sparkling like a sky full of stars, accentuating her every curve, he was hooked.

The way she prowled the stage, her skin glowing in the soft light, drawing in and pushing away patrons left and right, like she owned them…hell, from the looks of it she did.

Then, Dana’s eyes found his, half-lidded and sultry. She smirked, and Bullock realized that she had lured him into the same trap.

He hadn’t anticipated Dana strutting up to him like she had.

The way she had almost crawled up onto the table he sat at; the way her leg tantalizingly peeked out from the slit of her dress; the hungry look in her eyes as she circled him like a predator sizing up its prey; the way she brushed her nails across his neck and into his hair, setting his skin ablaze…

And then she just had to go and tip him over the edge.

She just had to lean down, her hair brushing his cheek, her delicate hands gripping his shoulders as she whispered into his ear…

Dammit.

He wasn’t thinking right.

He was struck by Dana, hypnotized by her hair that shone like the sun, her eyes that drew him in and spoke volumes beyond words. The way she practically floated from table to table like a goddess, the other patrons kissing the very ground she walked on as she merely smiled without a care.

She had already imprinted herself into his mind. If he were to close his eyes, he was sure he’d see her there. That smile, those eyes, the way she barely had to touch him for him to crumble beneath her.

But she had put him in the spotlight, and in this sketchy place? He had to think logically.

They had to leave before they were approached by someone.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, jumping from his seat and stalking off to the door.

“Hey! Slow down, Harv!” Montoya called, rushing to keep up with him. “You’ve gotta admit that was fun though, right? You sure seemed to be enjoying it.”

Bullock merely grunted again, still lost in his own mind, and while Renee was disappointed at his lack of an answer, it certainly wasn’t a no, and that was all the confirmation she needed. 

 Montoya shook her head in amusement as she followed Bullock out of the Iceberg Lounge.

Chapter Text

The next day, Harvey Bullock found it hard to focus. Any moment he had to himself, he remembered that performance, and it frustrated him to no end.

Currently he had piles and piles of paperwork sitting atop his cluttered desk, dated back a week that he had yet to file, and he just couldn’t stay focused. Admittedly, Dana’s little performance wasn’t wholly to blame - Bullock had been putting the paperwork off well before venturing down to the Lounge - but it certainly hadn’t helped.

Running a hand through his scruffy black hair, he sighed. This was ridiculous. He was a seasoned, hard detective, and not only that, he was far too old to be behaving like a schoolboy. Yes, Dana was attractive - insanely so - but he had no time to be getting distracted like this. 

And all because one woman batted her eyes at him.

Harvey Bullock supposed that in all his years he just wasn’t used to a dame being interested in him.

Hmph. How pathetic.

He had always been the one to initiate or express any kind of interest towards a woman, sexual or otherwise. Typically with less than successful results.

But this was different.

And Bullock had yet to decide whether that was a good thing or not.

“Morning, Harv,” greeted the voice of his partner, Reneé Montoya, effectively bringing Bullock out of his thoughts.

She held two cups of coffee in her hands, and helped herself to the seat on the opposite side of his desk, while setting down one of the cups in front of him. “Still having trouble with those papers?”

Harvey Bullock grunted in response, already mindlessly reaching for the cup of coffee.

“What’s up?’ she continued, taking a sip from her own steaming mug. “Can’t focus, or just procrastinating?"

How she consistently managed to read him like an open book, he’d never know. And, in all honesty, he was a bit afraid to ask.

“You try working multiple cases, back to back, and see how drenched in paperwork you get,” he grumbled instead, taking a sip of his coffee before jerking back at the sudden burning heat.

He heard Reneé snort in amusement, and shot her a scathing glare.

If she’d still been a rookie, she would’ve shrunk back from a glare from Bullock, but instead she casually leaned her chin on her palm, and grinned at the detective.

“Oh, what? So you aren’t still thinking about last night?” she teased.

She knew pushing the limits of his temper was never a good idea, but she liked to think she was the only person he would allow to do such a thing with minimal consequence.

Harvey gave an annoyed sigh, leaning back in his chair; the furniture creaking under his weight, “If I’d known you came here just to annoy me, I’d have stopped you at the door.”

“Oh, please, Harv. Anyone could see from a mile away how distracted you were.”

“And you still chose to bug me?”

“What? A girl can’t have hobbies?” Montoya joked.

It was Bullock’s turn to snort a laugh as he took a hesitant sip from his coffee, relishing in the bitterness, and at not having his tongue burnt again.

“So, have you?” Reneé inquired, prying further.

“So what if I have? Are you gonna keep buggin’ me ‘til I admit it?” The detective grumbled, rubbing his face in irritation. “Just leave it, Montoya; I’ve got paperwork to do.”

And there was the end of the fuse.

Sighing at her partner, Montoya grabbed some of the paperwork that Bullock was reaching for, and wordlessly began sifting through it.

“What are you doing?” Bullock asked.

“Helping you.” Renée stated, never taking her eyes off of the papers in front of her as she flicked through them.

“If I wanted your help I would’ve-”

“-asked?” Montoya finished, shooting him a knowing look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harv. Besides, we worked on some of these cases together, right? I can fill in pieces you might’ve missed or forgotten.”

Bullock frowned, but didn’t argue, and instead grabbed another file, and began looking through it, taking an occasional sip from his coffee cup.

—-----------

Down at the Iceberg Lounge, Dana lounged in Penguin’s office chair, her heels resting on the desk in front of her. She leisurely swayed from side to side as Two-Face eyed her intensely, a frown plaguing his face.

The white light overhead highlighted the blisters and boils of his bad side, while almost entirely hiding his good half.

Dana wasn’t fazed. Even his scarred side still held a small charm to it.

“I must say, handsome,” she teased, her eyes roaming over the man in front of her. “I'm surprised you wanted to see me after the other day.”

Two-Face glowered at her, shoulders tense, clearly not amused by her behaviour.

Dana’s face softened into a more pleasant smile. “Don’t worry, I won't try anything. Like you said, I’ll save it for the detective.”

“Speaking of the detective,” Two-Face cut in, throwing the blonde an accusatory glare. “I take it your performance wasn’t as successful as you’d have me believe, given that you aren’t… preoccupied.”

“He's more stubborn than I'd anticipated, yes. However, that doesn't mean my methods aren't working.”

“Bullock doesn't go after you after your show, and you call that progress?” Two-Face seethed.

“Patience, Dent.” Dana chided, though this only pissed Two-Face off even more.

“Patience!?” He yelled, jumping from his seat and stalking up to Dana who ever so slightly shrunk back. “I don't have time for patience, doll, I want results! I want him gone!”

“Now hold on, Dent. Flirting with a man once won't make him fall in love,” Dana retorted calmly, thankful that her voice didn't falter. “Likewise, you can't gain his trust after only two interactions. You are proof enough of that.”

Two-Face's eyes narrowed but he backed down, and Dana knew she was right. She stood from her chair and circled the table to stand face to face with him. He didn't push her away, but she could see he wasn't happy with how close she was.

Two-Face was a fair bit taller than Bullock, and stood about a head and a half taller than herself. Even with her heels she had to tilt her head back a little to look him in the eye.

“You won’t like it,” she muttered now that she was so close to him. “But I need time.”

Two-Face was about to protest, when she spoke again, almost in a whisper. “You want me to gain his trust? Wholly? Completely? That takes time. Time to truly gain his favour, to wrap him around my finger. But once I do, he'll be completely at your disposal.”

Dana saw Dents's gaze shift from one eye to the other and back again, searching. Likely for a hint of a lie, but he'd find none.

“Give me time,” she continued. “And I'll have him jumping through hoops for me."

“...How much?”

Dana hummed in thought, as she stepped back from the scarred man, before beginning to pace around him. His eyes, following her movements.

“I can't say for certain. It may take a couple of months for him to even begin to trust me,” she began, stopping behind him, and leaning forward so she was close to his ear, being careful not to touch him. “But, I promise, when the time comes, it will be so very rewarding to watch him crumble.”

Dana heard the telltale sound of a metallic ping as Two-Face flipped his coin, and she held her breath. When the coin landed, she tried to lean over his shoulder to see the result, but Two-Face expertly blocked her field of vision, and checked the coin for himself, before sighing in frustration.

“Fine,” he relented, repocketing his coin.

Pleased, Dana circled back around. But before she could get too far, Two-Face snatched her by the wrist again, though not as hard as he had the first time.

“You have two months to come back to me with some progress,” he warned, his face dangerously close to Dana's and she could smell the familiar scent of tobacco and coffee on his breath with every word he spat at her. “Or I'll kill you and Bullock myself. Got it?”

Even though he was actively trying to intimidate her, she wasn't afraid of him. He had a hell of a temper, and she certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of it again. 

That she feared. 

But she wasn't afraid of him.

Instead of granting him the satisfaction of watching her squirm, she just smiled and sweetly batted her eyes at him.

“Yes, sir.” She purred.

Two-Face sneered at her antics, dropping her wrist as he heard the handle of the door behind him click open.

—------------

Oswald walked into his office but froze in his tracks seeing the back of Two-Face, as he towered over Dana.

Fear struck his heart.

Dana looked over at him. She seemed unharmed from where he stood, but she quickly averted her eyes, which didn’t help his concerns.

Oswald's eyes flicked from her, to Dent, who hadn’t yet turned around, and he cleared his throat.

“Ah, Harvey, old friend,” he greeted hesitantly, stepping further into his office, careful to keep his voice steady. “I wasn't aware you'd stopped by…”

“Just getting an update from your little songbird.” Dent retorted.

Dana took the opportunity to step away from the scarred man, though his pointed glare never left her.

“Ah. I… hope it went smoothly.” Oswald muttered. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No need, old man. I have what I came for.” Two-Face replied, his voice now void of malice as he finally took his leave.

Oswald watched Dent walk out, and breathed a sigh before turning to Dana.

“What happened?” he pressed, concern and slight panic dripping from his voice as he came up to the woman, taking her hand in his and attentively searching for bruises. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, Ozzie, he didn’t hurt me.” Dana dismissed, while trying to slip her hands from Oswald’s, only to have him grip them tighter and frown at her.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes! I'm fine, Oz, honest!” Dana exasperated.

Oswald let her retract her hands, but his fears weren’t quelled.

“What were you thinking?” he questioned. “Meeting with him after what happened last time. And without me? He could've hurt you!”

“But he didn’t! I promised I wouldn’t try anything- I toned it down! Mostly.”

Oswald’s eyes widened at that, and he was about to interject, when Dana quickly put her hand up. “But! I convinced him to give me more time on my mission.” She grinned, as Oswald’s face contorted into intrigued confusion.

“More time to win over Bullock. More time to make him really trust me, more time to break him down, just like Dent wants. And. He. Agreed.” She specified triumphantly.

Oswald huffed an astonished laugh, shaking his head a little. “How you have yet to give me a heart attack, I’ll never know.”

“Well, it’s not out of lack of trying,” Dana joked, which earned her a throaty chuckle from the old bird. “You… aren’t still mad, are you?” she wondered shyly.

Oswald smiled warmly at her, and held out his arms to her. She readily accepted the hug. “Of course not, dear girl. I’m not mad. I’m just… concerned. Worried.”

“Don’t worry about me, big bird,” Dana assured. “I can handle myself.”

“...and yet, I do worry so.”

Dana hummed in content, before retracting from the hug.

“Okay, you’re getting sappy on me now, old man,” she laughed. “Do you need me for anything? ‘Cause I might meet up with Pam and Quinn for brunch.”

“Actually…” Oswald affirmed. “I was thinking of hosting a charity ball in a month or so, and I’ll be needing a plus one.”

“Sold!” Dana affirmed, kissing Oz on the cheek, before sauntering off towards the door to the office. “I’ll be there.”

Oswald watched her leave and shook his head in amusement.

That girl will be the death of me.

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since her performance and Dana went about life as she usually would; having brunch meet ups with Harley and Ivy, practicing for and performing shows for the regular patrons, hanging around the Lounge, and trying not to let the absence of a certain Detective irk her.

Try as she might, Dana couldn’t help but fret. She only had a month or so to get anywhere with this detective and he’s been nowhere to be found. Granted she wasn’t actively stalking him, but he’d made no move to seek her out.

Harley and Ivy tell her not to worry about it, saying that if she lets the silence go on long enough, Bullock won’t be able to resist coming to her.

“Relax, Dana!” Harley had said as the girls had congregated inside Dana’s dressing room. Despite her own biases against the detective, she still tried to reassure her friend.

“Bullock would be a fool not to come back! Take it from me; guys like him all think with the same head. And it ain't up here!” She jested, tapping her temple with a sly wink.

“And don’t worry about ol’ Harv,” Ivy added. “Dent may threaten you all he likes, but he’s just a mean old pussycat ; all hiss, and no scratch.”

Dana appreciated the girls being there for her, even if their attempts didn’t quite sway her concerns like she’d hoped. She wanted to believe them, she really did, but with every passing day, it got harder and harder to shake.

Even the twins, Min and Max, had begun hanging around the Lounge. Dana had had her speculations about their intentions, and she’d quickly been proven right.

It didn’t take much prying on Dana’s part for the boys to spill that Dent had ordered them to keep an eye on her, and to report back to him with updates on her progress.

No pressure.

But apart from that, the twins imparted that they genuinely wanted to hang around of their own accord, which made Dana smile. They were good kids, funny, and Dana wondered just how two little rays of sunshine like them had ended up working for someone as grumpy as Two-Face.

She supposed it was the paychecks.

Dana sat at the vanity inside of her now empty dressing room, staring into the mirror as she got ready for another performance. Her blonde hair was curled in tight rollers, and she wore a sheer, pink bathrobe with faux fur trimming, while she applied her makeup.

It was her last performance of the week, and then she would be free to plan her next move with Detective Bullock. Right now her only trouble should be getting dolled up in time for her show.

The dress she wore tonight was secretly her own personal favorite – powder blue silk; understated, but no less glamorous. She still wanted to look good for her regulars, even if they weren’t her intended audience. 

Raven, one of Oswald’s many bodyguards, came in to let her know she would be on stage in a moment, and Dana thanked her.

As she finished shaping her curled hair and pulled her shawl around her shoulders, a small part of her wished Bullock would show up tonight. She did still have a deadline to meet after all, and logically, she knew her time was running out.

Maybe I’m losing my touch.

No. That couldn’t be it. She’d gotten far more confident in her capabilities since she’d started this business. And by the way the detective had reacted when she’d teased him, he had to have been interested.

No. It has nothing to do with my abilities. She concluded. It’s Bullock. He’s holding out, not wanting to let me in. To let me get under his skin. Oh, but he will. I’ll worm my way into his heart if I have to claw my way in!

Dana smirked as Raven made her final call, and she confidently made her way to the stage. Even if he didn’t show up today, she would just have to put herself out there and go to him first. One way or another, she will have him. He will be hers.

Again, Dana was called to the stage. Again, the lights dimmed. And again, Dana stood proudly as the curtains were pulled back, and her performance began.

—----------------

It had been two weeks since Bullock had seen Dana. Not that he hadn't thought about going to see her once or twice- he'd just been too busy.

Well… that was somewhat true.

The moment he'd dropped off the last lot of paperwork - with more help from Montoya than he'd dare admit - he'd been hit with a whole new case. A real piece of work; multiple charges of battery, assault, aggravated assault, the works. A nasty thug operating under Rupert Thorne. 

Of course .

Bullock would take great pleasure in locking this one up.

So far he hadn’t found much. No current address, no hideout, or day business. And he didn’t want to storm in on Thorne’s turf - he wouldn’t make that mistake again. But what he did find made his heart beat a little faster, a pang of anticipation, nerves, adrenaline, whatever it may be, Bullock felt it.

Apparently, this guy frequented night clubs. Of course, being the man that he is, and with a certain someone still lingering in the back of his mind, Bullock immediately thought of the Iceberg.

But, he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, nor did he want to look like a desperate fool. No, he’d save the Iceberg Lounge for last.

Instead, Bullock stopped in at an underground, casino-lounge called the Laughing Jackal. He made sure to stick to the shadows and keep his eyes down as he brushed his way through the rambunctious crowd. Bullock didn’t want to risk meeting eyes with someone he might have locked up. He could be reckless at times, but he wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t want to make a scene if he could avoid it.

He just hoped he’d get to his destination without being caught.

“Bullock? Hey, is that Bullock?”

Ah, shit .

Of course he’d be found out. How could a guy like him ever get around unnoticed?

Begrudgingly turning towards the voice, Bullock met the smug grin of Boxy Bennett. The thug pushed his way through the crowd, beaming from ear to ear, as if greeting an old friend.

“Bullock, you son of a gun! How’ve you been?”

Bullock inwardly cringed, took a breath, and tried to play it cool as some of the passersby turned in his direction.

“Boxy! Just the man I was looking for!” He greeted through a strained smile.

“Were you now?” Bennet retorted lightly, coming up to pat Harvey on the back as he began to lead the detective to a private room, the people around watching the two leave, some whispering among themselves. “After what happened with little Quinnie and Miss Moneybags, I thought you’d gone sour on me.”

Harvey almost laughed at that. 

Almost .

They had been close once, he and Bennet.

When they were both young, and angry at the world. 

When they had been easily influenced by their families and the chaos and crime around them. 

When they had once been so eager to make those families proud. To be everything that their families wanted of them.

Now they fought on opposite sides of the law. Bound to different morals, different values. And they’d become different people because of it.

He wasn’t sure if it was some cruel fate, or God, that kept Harvey and Boxy in each other's lives, or just the simple fact they’d both lived in Gotham and practically grew up together. Maybe a little of both.

“I got a job to do Box, you know that. I have obligations.” Harvey huffed as he sat down in an offered chair.

It was a cozy little office room he was brought into. There were low yellow lights dotted around. The walls were rustic wood panels that complimented the red leather furniture. And there was the odd potted plant here and there to add a little character.

Boxy offered Harvey a drink, which he accepted, as he spoke again. Hesitant this time.

“Actually, that’s why I stopped by.”

Boxy’s hand faltered for a moment while pouring his own drink. If Bullock noticed the hesitation, he didn’t mention it.

“I need help tracking someone down, I was hoping you might’ve heard something.” Bullock finished, taking a healthy swig of his drink.

  Bourbon , he noted. The liquor burned its way down his throat.

“Ah, and here I thought this was a social call.” Boxy quipped as he took a sip of his own bourbon, making himself comfortable in his own chair. He addressed Bullock with a sharp smile playing on his lips. “Well. That all depends on who you’re looking for, my friend.”

“Does the name Frank Boles sound familiar to you?” Bullock asked, watching Bennet's face closely. He tried to glean anything from the man’s expressions, anything at all, but nothing seemed out of place as he gave his answer.

“Boles?” He rasped, the drink burning his own throat. He cleared his throat and continued, “Yeah, I know him, runs under Thorne’s thumb. What do you want with him?”

“I’m investigating numerous accounts of assault, theft, murder, and the works. You know how it is. Have you seen him around?”

“Now, Harv,” Boxy huffed, a patronizing smile stretching onto his face, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Thorne runs every major crime ring in Gotham. I can’t just go around ratting out his boys; it’s bad for business! And after that bat freak crashed my pad, business hasn’t exactly been boomin’. What’s in it for me?”

Bullock scoffed.

That snake.

No doubt he wanted protection. Protection from the law, from the consequences of the shit he might get himself into. He wanted Bullock to cover his ass, just as he used to.

But that wasn’t Bullock’s life anymore. And unlike Boxy, Bullock didn’t want to get involved in the gambling scene, or to be tied to a thug like him. He just wanted a name, or location, something that might get him a little further in his case.

“Listen, Boxy,” Harvey sighed, rubbing his face, “if you just give me the name of a place, or anything that could help, I’ll make sure it doesn’t come back to you.”

Realistically, Bullock knew he couldn’t keep a promise like that. Thorne had a finger in everything in Gotham, including some of the weaker officers of the G.C.P.D. Boxy knew that too. Of course he did, he’d had dealings with Thorne in the past, and everyone knew; once you make a deal with Thorne, you were indebted to him for life. And the last thing either man wanted to do was piss off Rupert Thorne.

Boxy looked at Bullock. A man he once considered his brother- heck, he still did. Even though time and life had formed a rift between them, Boxy still remembered when Bullock would stand up for him when they were kids. When Bullock would cover his smooth lies, or when he would help him steal candy from the corner store.

No matter the side of the law Bullock had chosen now, Bennet still thought of him as family. However foolish and sentimental that may be. And right now his brother, his friend, needed his help.

Boxy didn’t want to be on the wrong side of Rupert Thorne, but he was always one to put family first. Even if that family wasn’t by blood.

“Alright,” Boxy sighed reluctantly, downing the rest of his drink. “I don’t want this to come back to bite me in the ass, so I can’t give you much.”

Bullock just nodded his understanding.

Boxy leaned forward, lowering his voice like he expected someone to overhear. “I heard Boles likes to hang around the Iceberg in his downtime. Goes on and on about this blonde broad- one of the entertainers- he’s got an eye on that one. Could be something for you to look into.”

Bullock heard those words and his blood ran cold. There was only one blonde entertainer he knew of at the Iceberg Lounge. Boles frequenting the Lounge helped his case tremendously, but if Dana was involved with him, it would complicate things.

What if she didn’t want to give him up? What if they were a thing? What if-?

His thoughts raced a million miles a second, and it made his blood boil. Every thought was worse than the last, but amongst the simmering anger, he felt a strange surge of righteousness.

He needed to get this over with, asap.

Bullock strained to keep his cool as he kicked back the rest of his own drink, thanked Boxy for his time- promising again that the man's hands would be clean of all this- and he stalked out of the club.

He was one step closer to closing this case, as he now knew where Boles might be. He just hoped that Dana would choose to help him, and this would all go smoothly.

Chapter Text

Bullock pulled up outside of the Iceberg Lounge in his old Buick. There were signs on the walls outside with Dana’s face plastered across them, an alluring smile on her blood red lips. The signs read; Tonight! Dana, Darling of the Iceberg Lounge! See her latest show! 8 o'clock tonight!

Bullock checked his watch. 8:30pm.

Her performance was probably just finishing up. Good. Hopefully he’d be able to catch her before she leaves.

A chill ran through the air, and Bullock pulled the collar of his coat up to cover his neck. He shivered slightly, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.

He shouldn’t smoke. He knows that. Everyone makes it their business to remind him of it, and he constantly shrugs them off. It’s a habit he took up a long time ago and wholeheartedly blames Boxy Bennett for. But apart from the drink, it’s the only other thing he turns to for a quick tinge of warmth.

He placed one of the cigarettes to his lips, and dug around for a lighter. His eyes, finding one of the posters as he flicked it on, lighting up the cigarette and taking a long drag.

He hesitated as he let out a puff of smoke. He hadn’t stepped foot inside the Lounge for two whole weeks. Had Dana noticed? Did she care? Had she cared at all? She seemed interested in him, and for the life of him, Bullock couldn’t wrap his head around why.

Maybe she was just being nice. He thought to himself.

It made sense. Bullock had saved her from getting mugged and returned her belongings. Inviting him and Montoya to one of her shows was probably her way of thanking them.

Then why would she tease him like she did? Why go out of her way to do something like that if she wasn’t interested?

Bullock didn’t know. But he had a job to do, a case to close, and questions to be answered. He could worry about ‘feelings’ when they actually mattered, and finally, he entered the lounge.

The inside of the Iceberg Lounge looked just the way he remembered; crowds of people rubbing up on each other as they all tried to reach the stage in the center of the room, like a pack of animals. Low yellow and white lights highlighting the performers on the stage, music blasting out from numerous hidden speakers around the floor.

And there, up on the stage, Bullock saw her.

Just as mesmerizing as the first time he’d seen her, with hair glowing like a halo around her, and a beautiful form-fitting dress that hugged her body perfectly.

An angel.

Bullock quickly shook the thought away. He'd never get anything done being so easily distracted like this.

Get in, get some answers, get out.

And don't get distracted.

Letting out a breath, Bullock stuck to the shadows, away from the crowd while he waited for Dana's performance to end. All the while, trying not to focus too much on the way her leg would peek out from her dress, or the way she would run her hands down her curves while throwing playful winks towards the eager patrons.

This may prove to be harder than he thought.

—-----------

Dana bowed as her performance came to an end. The crowd lost their minds, hollering and hooting like a flock of seagulls. Dana blew them one last kiss and ducked behind the stage curtain.

Another successful show. Not that it surprised her. She could probably stand up there in a potato sack and they’d react the same.

Cheap thrills, she supposed.

Dana passed one of the other performers; Cheri, while on her way back to her dressing room.

Cheri was a little younger than Dana; in her early 20s. She was fresh, new to the game, but a damn good singer. She had beautiful, feathery brown hair that matched her eyes, and complimented the blue she wore.

Dana wondered if it was Cheri’s favorite as much as it was hers.

She was a pretty little thing too, and no doubt will become a crowd favorite.

“Good luck out there!” Dana smiled with a polite wave. Cheri simply nodded in return.

Dana was a little disheartened at the girl’s lack of verbal response but couldn’t hold it against her. Dana had once been too nervous to speak to anyone besides Oswald when she was starting out, she wondered if it was the same for Cheri.

She couldn’t dwell on it too long though, as Oswald came up to her.

“Ah, Dana my dear. Someone to see you.”

“Uh, not now Ozzie. I was hoping to- oh!”

Dana was about to brush past Oswald, thinking the person he’d brought to her was a patron hoping for a private show, when she turned to come face to face with the one person who had been plaguing her mind.

“Detective!” she smiled, pleasantly surprised. “I was starting to think I might never see you again!”

Oswald left the two to it, throwing a knowing look in Dana’s direction.

Harvey Bullock looked slightly more confident than the first time she’d seen him.

His posture was straighter, making him slightly taller. He had a cigarette in his mouth and stood with his hands on his hips.

Dana had to admit, the change in confidence, paired with his ever present scowl, was kind of attractive.

“Been busy, Doll.” He replied cooly, smoke curling out of his mouth. “Listen, I need a favor.”

“Oh?” Dana asked in a flirtatious tone, her eyelids drooping as she subtly leaned in, emphasizing her cleavage.

“I’m investigating someone,” Bullock informed, taking a puff, while trying not to let his eyes wander too low. “Heard he hangs around here. Was hoping you might know ‘im.”

Dana’s face fell. She straightened her posture as her smile morphed into a frown.

“Oh. Right.”

Bullock noticed her change in demeanor and silently panicked. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, and his face flushed as he scrambled to apologize, cursing himself as his bravado slipped.

“-It’s fine. I was hoping- ah, never mind.” Dana interrupted, waving him off. She tried to push down her rising disappointment. There’d be plenty of time to seduce him later. Hopefully .

 “What do you need?” she continued through a tight smile.

Bullock huffed an anxious sigh, guilt creeping up within him, but grateful that Dana moved the conversation along.

“Are you familiar with Franklin Boles?”

Dana’s eyes widened, and she looked around as if searching for someone, before she snagged Bullock's hand in hers, catching the detective wildly off guard.

“We can’t talk about this here,” she said in a harsh whisper, her face dangerously close to Bullock’s. “Come with me, we’ll go somewhere more private .”

Dana led the incredibly flustered detective to her dressing room, all the while, Bullock was struggling to stay in the moment. Dana’s words sent his thoughts wandering to more suggestive themes, making his heart beat a little faster.

So much for not getting distracted.

—-------------

Inside the dressing room, Bullock was ushered in while Dana kept a sharp eye outside. Determining the two of them safe, she shut the door, locking it tightly, before turning and pushing the detective down onto a couch.

Bullock landed with an unceremonious “Agh!”, and stared, bewildered at Dana, who stood over him, her hand on his chest, and a smirk on her lips.

Bullock's hands clenched at his sides as he fought a sudden urge to pull Dana down with him.

God, you are pathetic. His subconscious sneered.

Bullock chewed the inside of his lip to keep from snarking back, when Dana retracted her hand and sauntered off behind a divider frame.

Bullock didn't need an active imagination to guess what she was doing, but his ever-helpful brain provided exactly that.

Dana piped up from behind the divider as Bullock frustratedly adjusted himself in his seat.

“Can I get you anything while you're here, detective? A drink? Food? I can get one of the girls to grab you something if you're hungry.”

“No thanks, Doll,” Bullock replied through gritted teeth. “I won't be staying long.”

If Dana noticed his discomfort she didn't mention it as she slipped back into sight wearing her sheer bathrobe and a set of black lingerie that made Bullock's mouth run dry.

Dana lifted one leg beneath her as she sat next to Bullock on the couch. She positioned herself so close to him that her knee pressed against his, and he could feel her warmth radiating onto him. She leaned an arm against the couch cushion next to his face and leaned into him.

“So,” Dana began, close enough to touch him, yet she didn't.  “Frank Boles, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bullock croaked, trying and failing to keep his eyes from trailing down. Maybe he should've taken that drink. “I’m guessing you know ‘im?”

Dana hummed, unfazed by the man's blatant gawking. “He comes to all of my shows. I swear one of these days he’s going to follow me home.”

Dana meant it as a joke, but a small part of her did believe it. She could tell Bullock knew it too by the look he gave her. Dana tried to return his stare with a smile, but it wavered.

“So, you said you’re investigating him?” Dana quickly spoke again.

Bullock nodded in response.

“On account of what?”

“A lot of bad stuff. Assault, robbery, murder, rape . And a whole list of other things he’s done; either for Thorne, or on his own.”

Dana turned from Bullock, her head hanging low as she let out an uneasy breath. “I should’ve knocked that bastard on his ass instead.”

Looking back up, Dana was met with a curious, if not confused look from the detective.

“Remember that performance you came to?” she asked.

Of course he remembered. How could he forget? The whole damn night replayed in his mind over and over again. It plagued him in the late hours of the night when he couldn’t sleep. Or even if he could, he was woken up by it, in a cold sweat and a prominent problem that only a cold shower could cure.

But, Bullock didn’t say that. How could he? This beautiful young dame who’s only trying to get her job done- who’s no doubt already got a line of creeps waiting to pester her- sitting in front of him. Who was he to come in and add to that line of freaks? No , he couldn’t say that.

“Yeah.” He nodded instead.

“Remember that patron? Not the one I knocked over, but the first one?”

Another nod.

“ That was Boles.” Dana concluded.

Bullock thought over this new information. Being one of Thorne’s boys, Bullock could guess the thug wouldn’t take too kindly to being slapped around, especially by a dame like Dana. And being as dangerous as Boles is, and the simple fact that he works for Rupert Thorne…

Bullock breathed a deep sigh.

His eyes flickered to Dana. She didn’t deserve to be roped into all of this trouble. Not her.

His eyes landed on her hand, resting casually on her thigh. His hands fidgeted. He bit at the inside of his lip as he warred with himself, but his body moved before his brain did, and suddenly his hand was on top of hers.

Dana’s eyes snapped to their joined hands, her expression unreadable, yet she didn’t draw back.

“Dana.” He whispered, making Dana’s golden-brown eyes snap back to his. He’d subconsciously leaned forward, so his lips almost touched hers. Dana didn’t move away, so neither did he. His hand gently squeezed around hers, and her eyes flicked down to his lips and back to his eyes.

“If you know something about Boles, anything, ” Bullock continued gently, “I gotta know, Doll. I gotta put him away before he hurts someone else.”

Before he hurts you.

Dana’s eyes flicked between his, “I…” she began before clearing her throat, not leaning away. “He’s here every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday to watch my performances. Every week at the exact same time.”

“He was here tonight?” Bullock questioned, a stern look in his eye.

“Yes.” Dana confirmed, before grabbing a hold of his arm, the one on top of her other hand. “But it’s no use looking for him now, he doesn’t stay long.”

“But he’ll be back.” Bullock frowned, his other hand coming up to grasp Dana’s wrist. “And if he’s got his eye on you, there’s no telling when he’ll make a move.”

Dana nodded slowly in understanding. “My next performance is next week. I’m sorry I can’t give you more than that.”

“You’ve given me more than enough, Doll.” He reassured, giving her hand another squeeze, before he suddenly withdrew his hands from hers and stood up.

A little bewildered, Dana stood as well, as Bullock made to leave.

“Detective!” she blurted, making Bullock stop in his tracks. He turned as she rushed over to him.

“I…” she hesitated. She wanted him to stay, she needed solid proof that she was doing her job well, something to report back to Two-Face. But she didn’t want to push him too hard, or he might pull away.

“I… hope this won’t be the last time we meet.” she muttered, leaning in close to him, a hand on his forearm. Bullock looked at her, searching her eyes, almost desperately.

He watched as her hand slowly drifted up his arm and to his chest, he could feel his own heart hammering against her palm, and he was sure she could feel it too.

“And maybe,” Dana continued, her face so close to his. Any closer and he could kiss her. God, I want to kiss her.

“Maybe next time we could drop the pretense of business, hm?” she hummed suggestively, and Bullock swore he could feel the vibrations through his skin, like shockwaves, all leading to one place.

Bullock drew a sharp breath in, and nodded, unsure of himself. “Yeah.” he breathed out before quickly unlocking the door he was now pressed up against- when did that happen? - and ducked out of the room before he could do something stupid.

Dana watched the detective stumble a little as he left, her soft smile molding into a smirk.

Chapter Text

“He’s going after one of Thorne’s.” Dana informed.

She had met up with the twins the morning after her run-in with Bullock and demanded to speak with their boss. The two readily drove her to an abandoned club in downtown Gotham, teetering on the edge of Gotham Bay, by the name of ‘The Lucky Pair’, where Two-Face waited impatiently.

“Hello again, handsome.” Dana had greeted the scarred man with a flirtatious grin. The gesture was answered with an unpleasant scowl. She was offered neither a drink nor a seat, but pulled one up anyway, and dropped down comfortably, pulling out a compact mirror and fixing up her lipstick.

Two-Face sat at the round table opposite her, much like the day she’d first met him. He sat, clouded in shadow, a cigar in one of his hands, his precious coin in the other, smoke wafting from his scarred lips. He was an intimidating figure, Dana could admit that.

She'd just finished updating the scarred man on the events of the past evening. Her progress with Bullock, and now, about his latest case.

“He came to me last night, wanting information,” Dana continued.

“One of Thorne’s boys, huh?” Two-Face finally spoke. “Which?”

“Franklin Boles.”

Dana turned from her pocket mirror to Two-Face, who now leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table in front of him. He took an almost thoughtful drag from his cigar.

“Boles is one of Thorne’s top men,” Dent muttered, smoke curling out from his lips, his eyes unfocused. “He won’t take too kindly to one of his own gettin’ busted.”

“Are you saying he’ll try to get in the way of my mission?” Dana questioned, a perfectly shaped brow arched to match.

“It’s possible.”

“Then what?” Dana snapped. “You can’t expect me to turn down Rupert Thorne? ”

Dent finally looked at Dana, considering her for a moment. Her tense shoulders, her deep frown, that, although creased her porcelain face, didn’t hinder her beauty – yes, Two-Face could admit she was attractive, even if she thoroughly annoyed him.

 The subtle shift in her honey-brown eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re afraid,” he observed. It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need to ask. Dana’s eye twitched a fraction, confirming all he needed to know.

“Shouldn’t I be?” Dana shot back, snapping her compact mirror shut. “As I recall, you almost made a deal with him once-”

“I’d never make a deal with that slime !” Two-Face shouted, slamming his hands firmly on the table, his chair scraping as he stood almost nose-to-nose with Dana.

“But you understand the stakes of doing so,” Dana breathed, her gaze shifting between Dent’s mismatched eyes, her heart hammering with adrenaline.

“Heh. I'd have thought Penguin’s ‘precious little songbird’ would’ve also been aware of those stakes. ” Two-Face countered, a malicious grin spreading across his lips.

Dana frowned again. “That was different.”

“Was it?” he shot back.

A silence fell over them. Only the sound of tense breathing could be heard from either party. The twins, who had been watching the altercation silently from afar, looked at each other, but neither dared intervene.

“...I’m not arguing with you on this, Dent. I had no choice, any more than you did,” Dana finally spoke with a snarl, placing her mirror back into her handbag. She stood, her chair scraping against the ground as she did.

“Bullock will be coming back to the Lounge next week to take Boles in.”

“And Thorne?” Dent asked as Dana turned, presumably done with their meeting. She stopped just short of the door, her slender fingers grazing the handle. She huffed, wondering why he cared, then grinned, turning back around.

“If he intervenes, I’ll handle it,” she shrugged.

“And how are you gonna do that? You still have Bullock to focus on.”

“Bullock isn’t a problem, sweetheart ,” Dana replied, with a dramatic flourish of her hand. “I’m a performer. If Thorne comes to me, I’ll put on a show.”

Two-Face watched her strut out the door, a contemplating frown on his face, and nodded to the twins to go with her.

“So… what now?” One of the twins asked as they led Dana back to the car. The meeting had left the twins incredibly uncomfortable and they were happy to have left the tension-filled club behind.

“Now,” Dana sighed, slipping into the backseat, “Let’s go shopping.”

—--------------

Dana and the twins pulled up to the Gotham Plaza, and headed straight to one of the high end boutiques. Dana rushed over to one of the racks and began sifting through it while Min and Max hung around behind her awkwardly.

“So, why are we here again?” Min asked, watching Dana run around pulling out a bunch of dresses of different colours or styles and disapprovingly shoving them back.

“I’m buying a new dress.”

“What for?” Max wondered aloud.

“Penguin’s throwing a party soon, and I have nothing to wear,” Dana explained simply. “Well, it’s more like a charity thing, but you get the idea.”

“Oh,” the two said in unison, then they looked at each other–almost as if speaking to each other without saying a word–then they smiled and nodded, and began searching the racks as well.

The two took note of the size range Dana seemed to be rifling through, chatting quietly amongst each other, and pulled out colours or styles that matched what she was already wearing, or something similar. After about a couple of minutes, the twins came back to Dana with both arms full of garments, and large grins on their freckled faces.

“Miss Hayes! Look!” The two piped up cheerily, showing off the array of dresses in their arms.

“Hm? What–what’s all this?” Dana asked, turning to the two, absolutely perplexed.

“We wanted to help!” Min and Max smiled. “We got some dresses we thought you might like!”

Dana stared at the two young boys, a warmth filling her heart, and making her smile. She hadn’t thought the two would help her with something so…trivial, or that they would want to for that matter. That kind of unprovoked support felt kind of nice.

“Thank you, boys. You’re too sweet.” She smiled gratefully.

“Well. Let’s try them on, shall we?”

Dana hurried off to the changing rooms with Min and Max in tow. The two handed her off dress after dress through the curtain and she would showcase each one for them to judge.

The first dress they picked was a little short for her taste, falling about mid-thigh, and was a sparkly silver like the one she wore at her performance for Bullock and Montoya. It was, however, a halter neck, which she liked, but it certainly wasn’t fit for a formal charity ball.

The twins agreed that while it was cute, it was not the one.

The second dress was a deep blue silk with spaghetti straps, that pinched in at the waist. It had slits up the sides that called to Dana and it was a perfect length, but it was just too tight.

On and on they went, dress after dress Dana tried, for hours. She had a few options by the end, blue ones, silver ones, black ones, gold ones, even red ones. The last one she tried was sleek black silk, strapless and floor length, with a slit up the side and a cute, thin, matching scarf. It was elegant and sultry. Dark and enticing. And fit like a glove.

Dana stepped out from behind the dressing room curtain, and the twins–who had been leaning on each other, fighting to stay awake–scrambled to stand, their eyes wide.

“Wow! Miss Hayes, you look–” One twin exclaimed.

“Great!” The other interjected.

“Fantastic, even!”

Dana smiled, and thanked the boys generously, and showed off just a little more before changing back into her original dress.

“Okay, so…what do we think?” she wondered looking at the pile of dresses that hadn’t been returned. It was still a large pile and she really liked a lot of them. But which would she wear for the party?

The twins considered the selection for a while. “Hm…I really liked the gold one with the sparkles,” said Min.

“I like that black one with the scarf,” Max countered. “And that blue one, the light one.”

“What-? I was gonna say the black one!”

“No, you weren’t!”

“Yes, I was! I just didn’t want to be boring and obvious.”

“You’re boring!”

“ Boys! ” Dana cut in. “Please.”

“Sorry, Miss Hayes.” The two smiled bashfully.

Dana considered the options in front of her, and the twins' suggestions. She did quite like the way the gold dress matched her hair. And it had a detachable choker to go with it.

And her eyes were drawn to the blue one. She loved both, but she’d already made up her mind. Gathering the rest of the dresses, she pawned them off to the twins to put back.

She sighed, looking at the last three dresses. “Oh, what the heck, Why not get them all?”

As she went to pay for the dresses, the cashier took the black dress and frowned.

“Something wrong?” Dana asked with a tilt of her head.

“Not wrong , per se,” the cashier hesitated. “But did this dress come with a pair of gloves? Long ones? Like up to the elbow?”

“...No, I don’t think so.” Dana thought for a moment, trying hard to remember.

“Oh. Well, it’s supposed to come with a pair.”

“I see.” Dana frowned sadly, and placed her member's card–courtesy of The Penguin–on the counter before reaching for the dress. “I’ll just return it, then–”

She saw the cashier’s eyes widen upon seeing the expensive card, “Oh no, no! Don’t worry!” she blurted, “I’m sure I can find you another!”

Dana hid her rising smirk as the cashier hurried off to the back room, and she heard things being moved around before the lady came back, huffing, a drop of sweat on her brow.

“This is your lucky day, miss! I found an extra pair in the back!”

Dana just smiled sweetly and thanked her, paying for her items. She heard the twins return to her side after rehanging the discarded dresses.

“Boy, am I starving,” said one, huffing and puffing.

“Me too,” wheezed the other.

“Well, then. What are we waiting for?” Dana asked coyly, taking the bags of clothes and turning to pass them over to the boys.

“Who wants sushi?”