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1)
A year into being Robin and Dick has never been more sure that he knows everything there is to know about being a vigilante. That’s why he doesn’t hesitate at all to run to the Batcave on his night off and speed over to the GCPD Policeman’s Ball when he sees that news report about Firefly and Killer Moth. Robin will jump in and save Batman, yet again. All in a day’s work.
When he arrives, there’s the usual pandemonium, this time with the added bonus of everyone wearing stupid costumes. Commissioner Gordon is down for the count, but most people’s attention is elsewhere.
Flitting around the back of the building using what looks like the bastard child of judo and karate is a girl. Her cowl is clearly plastic, but the costume itself looks pretty convincing, the bat symbol on her chest contrasting well against the blue of the rest of her uniform.
Costume, he reminds himself. Not uniform. She’s not one of them, and probably won’t be as long as Bruce has a say.
He puts his musings behind him as he works with Bruce to take the villains down and get the girl outside. Bruce does his whole bad cop thing, but Dick’s not really paying attention. Now that she’s standing still, he gets a better look at her. Red hair. Freckles. He thinks back to a girl he saw on a rooftop not too long ago.
But he’s not going to say anything in front of Bruce. Instead, he plays along, tries to spar with her to prove she doesn’t have what it takes to be a Bat. When she summarily wrist throws him so hard he sees stars, he tells himself that the butterflies he feels in his stomach are from getting beaten in a fight. No other reason.
He keeps his eyes on her as she speeds away.
“We’ll be seeing her again,” Bruce growls.
“I hope so,” Dick says into the night, praying for more good surprises in his future.
2)
“How many missions does Batman just make you keep watch like this?” Barbara asks.
They’re hiding in the rafters of the Gotham City Art Museum, observing what is theoretically a fundraiser but actually a black market auction of stolen artifacts. The Robin costume feels too hot in the stuffy indoor air. He’s itching to run, or at least stretch his legs, but he doesn’t see any opportunities to intervene. So far, nothing going on below them seems out of the ordinary, save for a few shadowy conversations that he’s sure Bruce is already recording.
“Too many,” Dick answers, hoping that how tired he’s getting of playing Robin doesn’t show on his face. “At least I’m not alone this time.”
Babs looks at him sideways before turning her gaze back down. The DJ starts up a livelier song and a throng of people end up on the dance floor.
“Oh man, I love this one. I think the last time I heard it was at my prom,” she chuckles.
He imagines her in a prom dress, red hair wild at the end of the night, singing along to the pop song that echoes through the hall. “Does Batgirl cut loose? You’ve been holding out on me!”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She gives him a wink. “I miss dancing like that.”
You could dance with me whenever you want, he wants to say, but he knows she would probably kick him off the rafter. “Is this your roundabout way of inviting me to the club? I’m not twenty-one yet, but I could sneak in.”
“Maybe in your dreams, Pixie Boots,” she smirks.
Just then, their comm lines crackle to life. “Robin. Batgirl. Arms dealer at your three o’clock. Prepare for backup.”
His daydreams have to take a backseat as they ready themselves for action, but they never go away.
3)
What feels like immediately after Dick leaves Gotham to strike out on his own, Bruce calls him back for a weekend. There’s some society wedding between two of the most prominent families in the city. Bruce and Dick are not quite back to speaking terms yet, but if there’s one thing Dick has learned since becoming a vigilante, it is the importance of keeping up appearances, so he still shows up.
Somehow, his newfound maturity and wisdom doesn’t make it sting any less when Bruce immediately dumps him and Jason on perimeter duty while he gets to do everything fun. At least he managed to rope Donna into coming as his plus one.
She’s a pro at things like this effortlessly managing to hold down a conversation while keeping a hawk’s eye on all the guests. Dick suspects that this must have been part of Amazon training, but he has no proof. So far, from their vantage point at a table near the back, no crime is happening yet. Unless you count the way that the new city comptroller is grinding on his date, which Dick really believes you should.
As he scans the crowd, he half listens to Donna and Jason’s bickering.
“Yes, yes, give me your speech about how love is gross and weddings are pointless. You really think romance will never grow in your heart, Jason?”
“That’s exactly what your mom asked me last night,” he responds immediately.
“I don’t know what you expected talking to a fifteen year old boy,” Dick sighs.
Donna just eyes the kid up and down with an exacting eye. “I think you will fall in love one day. And I think she will be a woman who can and will destroy you.”
Jason’s face goes red.
“Don’t get offended, it’s true of all my sister’s biggest fans.” She pushes forward before Jason can protest even more. “Now, the real question is who Grayson here will choose. Supermodel? Movie star? Royalty?”
Dick looks across the room, where Barbara Gordon is laughing at something that one of her father’s colleagues is saying. Dick loves Bludhaven, but God does he miss seeing her around like this. She catches his eye for a second and her face scrunches up into a confused smile. The alcohol from the open bar must be getting to him because he can’t hold back the idiotic grin on his face.
“None of the above.” Jason claps him on the back. “Dick’s going to marry a Jersey girl. I guarantee it.”
Dick closes his eyes and hopes that, for once, his little brother is right.
4)
When Dick cheered so loud that he almost got kicked out from Barbara’s doctoral graduation ceremony, he was almost afraid that he would be banned from the reception afterwards. Dozens of heads in the audience whipped towards him to hiss at him to quiet down. This was the library and information science department, after all. Shushing was part of their job.
Thankfully, he had no trouble getting in with Babs, save for a few dirty looks from her fellow graduates. But he just ignored them and turned up the charm as she introduced him to all her thesis advisors and friends from school. Now, he’s just grateful for the chance to rest as he wheels her to a table to eat.
“I still don’t understand how you managed to write a whole dissertation on top of everything else,” he says as he flops into a chair.
He didn’t just mean the Oracle of it all, but also her physical and mental recovery, training Steph and Cass, and still managing to hold down a part time day job at the GCPL. Any time he wanted to complain about how busy he was, he just thought of Barbara’s schedule and kept his mouth shut.
“You caught me. I’m actually a meta that can be in three places at once.” She winks at him as a server comes by with appetizers.
He takes one of every finger food in the tray. “Seriously. I couldn’t even handle one semester of college when I had, like, one quarter the amount on my plate. I’m just proud to be your plus one, Dr. Gordon.”
“I only invited you because I know how much you love an hors d’oeuvre platter.” She punctuates her sentence by spearing an arancini and popping it into her mouth. “But, really. I should be thanking you for letting me annoy you into coming to this. And for wasting your time with me at all of these other stupid events.”
Normally, he would laugh and play along. Of course, Babs. In my busy schedule of pissing off criminals, getting hurt, and putting my friends and family’s lives in danger, the worst thing on my plate is getting to dress up all fancy and drink champagne with a beautiful woman. But he has the sense that she’s not joking. Not entirely, at least.
“I don’t think it’s a waste.” He doesn’t break eye contact.
A flash of confusion passes over her face, which sends his heart sinking. Obviously, he needs to be even more clear.
He reaches across the table and takes her hands in his own. “I came today because I’m really proud of you. And I come to all these other things because I just like spending time with you. You’re my best friend. I’ve run around outside all night in the dead of February for you, you think I wouldn’t throw on a tux and come to a reception?”
Her eyes get sad. “I miss that. Those nights on the rooftops with you.”
He remembers being Robin, being fifteen, seeing those glimpses of her red hair in the night. He remembers all the times she’d get hurt in a fight or her comms would go down, how his heart would jump into his throat.
“Me too. But you know how incredible you are at your—“ he looks around the room to make sure her classmates aren’t listening. “At your new job. And I have to admit, it is nice to hear your voice all night. Makes me feel safe. You make me feel safe. Always have.”
For a few moments, she just eyes him with a discerning look that reminds him a little bit of her father, then she takes the half-empty champagne flute from his hand. “I think you might have had too many of these, Dick, if you’re getting all sentimental on me.”
“I haven’t.” He steels himself and inches a little closer to her. “Look, Babs, I know we have the worst timing imaginable, and you know I love being your friend, but would you want to go out with me? On a date that isn’t at a reception hall and we don’t have to RSVP three weeks in advance?”
“Are you just asking because you feel bad for me?” She tries to keep it light, but she can’t hide the pain in her voice.
It’s the same pain she almost drowned in during the weeks after the shooting. He would do anything to take it away from her, but he can’t. All he can do, all he’s been able to do this whole time, is be steady. Be a man she can lean on.
“No. I’m asking because I’ve had a crush on you since I was twelve and I want you to put me out of my misery if I don’t have a chance with you in this way.”
Slowly, she breaks into a small smile. “You do have a chance, Boy Wonder. But, fair warning, I don’t think anything can prepare you for the Jim Gordon shovel talk experience.”
He squeezes her hands and hopes she can’t feel the way his heart is racing. “Second only to the one I’ll get from Bruce.”
Later that night, when he carries her on his back up to the roof of the University’s clock tower and they kiss for what feels like hours, he tells her that he wishes they had gotten their shit together sooner so they could have been doing this for years.
“I don’t know,” she tells him, running her fingers through his hair. “Timing feels pretty perfect to me.”
5)
At this point, Dick is starting to think that Wayne Enterprises hosts a gala every week just to spite him. He always shows up late, always gets bored out of his mind, and always ends up arguing with Bruce about why he still has to go. This time, though, he has his girlfriend to keep the train on the rails. Girlfriend. He will never get tired of thinking of Barbara that way.
And she really does keep them in line. He’s done getting dressed while Babs puts the finishing touches on her outfit, and they have half an hour to spare.
He scrolls though his phone while she gets ready in a Wayne Manor changing room the size of a studio apartment. “Seriously, why would anyone need this big of a closet? What did they have in there, Narnia?”
“Why would you build your mansion on top of a cave system full of animals that can give you rabies? Rich people are deranged.” Through the door, he hears some shuffling, and then a sigh. “Okay, I know this is our first one of these as an official couple and it’s going to be embarrassing no matter what, but I need you to tell me if this dress is okay or not. Steph and Cass and I bought, like, three backups.”
He furrows his brows. “Why would it be embarrassing?”
Her scoff comes through the closet door. “Um, have you looked in a mirror lately?”
“Have you?”
The rustling stops for a minute. “Dick, I know you always want me to feel good about myself, okay? And I know that your family’s whole public persona thing is an act. But I’m just saying that Vicki Vale’s audience will probably not love noted celebrity heartthrob Dick Grayson ending up with a librarian who uses a wheelchair. I need to make sure I don’t look terrible so that they don’t have even more of a field day.”
By now, he’s spent so long having every move analyzed by the Gotham Gazette society section that he’s tuned it out. But he’ll never forget how it felt to step out at a gala as Bruce Wayne’s ward for the first time. How violating it was. The idea that this was something Babs would have to deal with from now on as Dick Grayson’s partner makes his stomach sink.
“You never look terrible.” He unties and redoes his bowtie. “Even if they didn’t like what you’re wearing, you know that doesn’t matter, right? To me, at least. You know I want you.”
When she pushes herself out of the changing room, Dick’s brain stops working. Her hair is swept to her right side, soft and loose. Under her glasses, she wears her typical black eyeliner with a frost of gold eyeshadow that brings out the green of her eyes. The dress she wears is strapless, revealing the dusting of freckles across her shoulders and collarbone that runs up the curve of her neck. The dress is his exact shade of Nightwing blue.
She seems to brighten up at his stupefied expression. “Sure I do, Boy Wonder. But it wouldn’t hurt to remind me.”
In one motion, he scoops her up from her chair and turns around towards the guest bedroom. “We’re going to be late for the gala again.”
“It’s good to be consistent,” she laughs. “Now don’t mess up my makeup too much or we might miss the entire thing.”
He doesn’t make any promises as he carries her to bed.
+ 1)
September 23rd is a rare warm day in Gotham. Babs is wearing this short green sundress that makes him weak in the knees and they’ve spent the whole day actually enjoying themselves in the sunlight and his life hasn’t felt this perfect in a really, really long time. He figures if there’s any time to push his luck, it’s now. So he tells her that he has another birthday surprise planned and leads her to Burnside, to McCaffrey’s Pub. It’s just like he remembers it from Tim’s twenty-first: the walls are caked with stickers, there’s a jukebox blasting classic rock, and every surface feels vaguely sticky. It’s perfect.
Babs takes a skeptical look around. “Why are we here?”
“People generally go to bars to drink, dance, and have fun.” He takes a sip from his beer.
She shoots him a look. “Why are we here?”
“Because I want to dance with you.” He shuffles closer to her and snakes his arms around her waist. “If you’re up to it.”
The microchip spinal implant that he still doesn’t quite understand hasn’t been a magic bullet solution for her paralysis. She can only use it for a few hours at a time, and, even then, she ends up with shooting back pain for hours after she turns it off. But she still pushes through it, reminding him that this was the only way to get used to it for longer periods of time. To Dick, it’s been torture to watch. She’s in pain all the time. He might be useless at making it better, but he can at the very least give her a night out on her birthday instead of another hour of boring PT exercises.
Plus he really, really, wants to dance with her.
She’s apprehensive as she looks at the five or so people dancing at the back of the bar, but her face softens when she looks back at him. “I don’t know if my strength’s so good yet. I might get tired pretty quick.”
In response, he holds her tighter. “That’s alright. If you get tired, I’ll hold you up until we can get back to our seats. Lucky for you, you’re dating a guy who’s strong, handsome, and considerate.”
“So humble, too,” she adds, pulling him in to press a kiss to his cheek. “I am lucky. Lead the way, then.”
And he takes her by the hand and does just that.