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Kipling-Nori: Thanks, beta-buddy. In appreciation for all your hard work, I leave you with sunshine, lollipops, rainbows, and GB. Good luck figuring that one out. : P

Razor Burn

Diana and Bruce stared one another down, as she raised her hand up to his face. She knew she had the advantage, as he was sitting on the bathroom counter, and she was looking down on him, but she wanted him to know who was boss. "Stay still," she ordered.

That was the last thing he felt like doing. More than anything, Bruce wanted to run. Forcing down the wave of panic that was quickly climbing up his throat, he folded his arms across his broad chest, and drew his eyes together in mild annoyance. "I can't believe I agreed to this."

"What would Mr. Freeze say if he knew you were being such a baby?"

"Mr. Freeze would understand."

"I promise to be gentle."

That gave Bruce little comfort. She had made that promise before on numerous occasions, and he had quickly learned that there was a gargantuan chasm between their understandings of the word "gentle". Not that he usually complained, but this was different.

He drew in his breath sharply as she brought the instrument closer to his face. His hope that she hadn't noticed was dashed when he saw the smirk that played at her lips. Gathering all his courage, Bruce made himself stare unflinchingly at Diana. Repressing the shivers that were shooting down his spine, he tried to think of anything besides the blade of steel that was currently traveling erratically over his right cheek. Eventually, he grew accustomed to the sensations running over his face, and he slowly let his eyes drift shut.

But then he felt a slight pinch.

His eyes snapped wide open, and he reflexively moved away from his torturer, pushing her hand aside. In a voice bordering on yelling, he said, "Be careful, Diana! You cut me!"

"Well, maybe if you would stop talking, I wouldn't do that."

He decided not to point out to her that he hadn't been talking when she sliced his face open. But that didn't stop him from giving her one of his batglares. He made sure that this one looked really really really angry.

"Oh, Bruce, don't make me laugh. My fingers will slip, and then I might slit your throat." The cold way she said it gave him the chills.

As she continued to work he watched her face, set in grim lines, lips pursed in concentration, as she finished the task she had set out to accomplish.

He didn't shut his eyes for the rest of the procedure. It normally took him about three minutes to complete the job, and, yet, Diana seemed to be taking forever. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, but to him it felt like an eternity.

She tipped his chin upward, so she could get better access to the skin of his neck. Sensing that he was staring at her, Diana looked down at him and gave him a playful wink. He barely refrained from yelling at her to take her job more seriously.

When she had finished shaving his face, Diana grabbed a dampened wash cloth and wiped the remaining foam off of his face. "Thanks to me, you look gorgeous."

Bruce slid off the counter and turned to look in the mirror, rubbing his face as he spoke. "It's perfect, if you can overlook the eleven nicks you gave me."

"I can fix that." Diana disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a large roll of toilet paper. She began tearing off tiny pieces and setting them on the counter. Standing behind him and using the mirror as a guide, she affixed them all over his face and neck. Once she had finished, she grinned at his reflection. "All better."

"Hardly a solution."

Turning around, Bruce pulled his barber over to him, and she rested her arms on his shoulders as she gazed at her handiwork.

"I've always wondered how a person with hair as dark as yours never has a five o'clock shadow. You must shave all the time."

Ignoring her observations, Bruce focused on exacting his revenge. She had hurt his neck, so he was going to return the favor by leaving some marks of his own. Ever the multitasker, he was even able to say, "Wouldn't want the bad guys to think that I was letting my guard down. Five o'clock shadows suggest laziness."

"And the Batman never lets his guard down. Doesn't even sleep."

Bruce raised his face from her neck to throw an insinuating and highly amused glance at her. "You'd know that better than anyone."

Diana giggled as she trailed her fingers over the skin of his face. "I think I did a very good job. What do they call it? Kissably smooth?" She leaned in to verify it for herself, when he retorted, "Be careful. I wouldn't want you to fall into the deep gashes you made in my face."

"You're still going on about that? The way you talk about them, you'd think the Grand Canyon was etched into your skin. Next time, I'll let you guide my hands."

"What makes you think there will be a next time?"

"We both know I have ways of breaking down your resistance. Now where do you keep your aftershave?"

"I don't wear aftershave."

"Please." It wasn't a polite request, but a statement of extreme disbelief.

Begrudgingly he admitted, "Under the sink."

Having retrieved the liquid, Diana began to twist the bottle in her hand. With much trepidation, he watched as she splashed the liquid into her palms. "Diana…"

"Is that fear I hear in the Dark Knight's voice?"

"Hardly. You're using too much. It shouldn't be obvious that I'm wearing any." Diana didn't have to know that the more she used, the more it stung his face.

"Really? I would have guessed otherwise."

Bruce scowled at her as she quickly removed the little white and red dots from his face, and lightly coated his face with the aftershave. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I suppose it could have been worse. Now when do I get to wax your legs?"

The End

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