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Early in the morning of August 11th, Stephanie hits snooze on her alarm five times before she wakes up enough to realize that it was a terrible idea.
With that realization comes panic, and she almost falls onto the floor as she scrambles to get out of her bed, wasting a precious minute getting her legs untangled from her blankets. She makes it all the way downstairs before realizing that it’s a weekend and she doesn’t have any classes today.
It’s 7 a.m.
“Fuck my life,” Steph mutters, turning around and trudging up the stairs tiredly.
She manages to snatch another hour or two of sleep before getting up a second time. Her mom’s gone, but there’s a note on the fridge saying that Crystal’s just gone to the shop for a bit and that there’s food for her in the fridge.
Stephanie scrolls through her phone while eating, huffing out a laugh at a message from Cass, who’s recently started to spam her notifications with memes. She takes a second to send one back before closing her phone and fully revelling in the taste of her mom’s glorious, wonderful waffles. She’s barely finished breakfast when she hears the sound of the car pulling up onto their driveway.
“Steph, honey, you awake?” Crystal calls when the door opens.
“‘m here, Mom!” Steph replies, head resting on the table with her eyes closed. She doesn’t look up, not even when her mom walks in and brushes a kiss against her forehead.
“How were the waffles?”
“Awesome,” she says, voice muffled by her arm. “Especially since you barely make them—by the way, Mom, do you think—”
“Nope,” Crystal interrupts, sounding way too amused, “they’re saved for special occasions.”
Stephanie actually lifts her head at that, squinting at her suspiciously. “Then why’d you make them today? There isn’t anything special about—” She trails off, grabbing her phone and checking the date. “—August…eleventh…”
“Remember now?” her mom says, smirking when Steph looks up at her.
“Holy shit it’s my birthday!” she shrieks, jumping up and almost knocking her chair over. “Mom! I’m nineteen now! Nineteen!”
“I know, Steph,” Crystal says, rummaging through the fridge before pulling out a cupcake with eggplant frosting and holding it out to her with a soft sort of look in her eyes. “Happy birthday, honey.”
Stephanie almost chokes when she shoves the cupcake down her throat as fast as she can—she’s probably missing out on a really delicious treat, but hey, there’s probably more in the fridge. If not, she can mope about that after she finishes squeezing the life out of her mom in the tightest hug known to man.
“Stephanie!” her mom scolds, but she’s laughing too hard for it to really mean anything. After a minute, Steph lets her go, stepping back with a beam. “Oh, you got frosting on my clothes!”
“Sorry, Mom—I’ll clean it later,” Stephanie promises distractedly, still thinking about the fact that she’s nineteen. Nineteen. God, she hadn’t—she never even really thought she’d make it this far, always figured that somehow she’d end up dying, and then after she did and came back, that one day she’d die again and it would actually stick.
Stephanie’s been alive for nineteen years. She could live for another—and one more after that, and then another. She could live until she’s twenty five, which hasn’t been something she’s really considered for a long time, not since she was a little kid and didn’t know that her dad was one of the people Batman fought against at night.
God.
Nineteen.
“I asked Maya to take my morning shift, but I’m going to have to get to work soon,” Crystal says, drawing Steph out of her thoughts. “Go have fun today, sweetie. Hang out with your friends—that girl you’re always talking about, Cassandra? Watch a movie with her or something.”
Stephanie dodges her mom’s attempt to ruffle her hair with an annoyed huff before swooping in and planting a kiss on her cheek. “I will,” she promises, before gently nudging Crystal in the door’s direction. “You should hurry up—I bet Maya would hate it if you didn’t take over on time.”
Her mom just smiles indulgently and heads for the door. “Love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too, Mom,” Steph calls back. The door shuts, and she immediately makes a beeline for the fridge.
She was right—there are more cupcakes.
spookygirl: happy birthday!! 🎉💕
coolerthantim: thank you thank you <333
coolerthantim: also i have wonderful news cass
spookygirl: ?
coolerthantim: damian
coolerthantim: DAMIAN
coolerthantim: he invited me over :D
spookygirl: :0
spookygirl: great :D!!
coolerthantim: yes exactly!!
coolerthantim: i have no idea why but i’m just. this is great this is WONDERFUL cass
coolerthantim: but anyways yeah i’m going ot be coming over to the manor in a bit
coolerthantim: *to
coolerthantim: see you soon uwu
spookygirl: no uwus
coolerthantim: 😔
coolerthantim: okay but only for you
spookygirl: 👍💕
coolerthantim: <3 <3
The second she opens the door to his room, Damian shoves a box into her hands with so much force that it nearly knocks her over.
“Hi, Damian,” Stephanie grumbles, finding her balance. “Nice to see you too.”
“Open the box, Brown,” the kid says, crossing his arms. As an afterthought, he adds, “Please.”
She huffs, but takes a look at what she’s holding. For the first time, she realizes that it’s wrapped, which.
“Did you get me a present?” Steph asks, a gleeful grin spreading across her face. Damian just hrrn’s, because that’s apparently something he’s picked up from Bruce since he came back. “Aw, thanks, Dami.”
“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, looking away.
“Alright, fine, give me a second.”
She sits down and starts carefully peeling the wrapping paper off the box. Damian taps his foot impatiently, groaning dramatically when she finishes.
“Finally, ” he complains. Steph flicks his forehead.
“Brat.”
She makes sure to open the box extra slow, just to see him huff. When she looks inside, she’s surprised to see a pair of new, very nice—
“Roller skates?” Stephanie asks, pulling them out as a slow smile spreads over her face. “How’d you even know I like roller skating?”
“Cain mentioned that you taught her,” Damian says, puffing up his chest. “And Drake said that he found your old skates. They were horrible. I got you good ones.”
Steph beams at him. “You’re the best—I lost my old skates, and then I…there was the gang war, and then I came back and it just…I guess it just slipped my mind.” She sighs, resting her cheek in her hand. “Oh, this is great. I haven’t been skating in so long.”
“Skating?” a familiar voice pipes up, and a second later Cassandra turns around the corner. Her eyes land on the skates Stephanie’s holding, and she brightens. “Oh! Are those—”
“Damian got them for me,” Steph says with a grin. “Remember when I taught you how to roller skate?”
“Mhm,” Cassandra says, a smirk twisting her lips as she sits down. “Fun. You told me I was better than Tim.”
She laughs, the memory of her disastrous attempts to show Tim how to roller skate flashing through her mind—not that she did much better when he tried to teach her how to skateboard, years ago, before she died and before he left Robin, when everything felt so much more simple between them.
“Oh my god, he was terrible,” Stephanie cackles, shoulders shaking. “He—he tried to skate without holding onto me and just—immediately wiped out, he had this huge bruise on his leg—”
Cass covers her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.
“And—you don’t understand,” she continues, laughing, “this was literally three hours after we got to the damn rink, and he was freaking out so much but trying to hide it, and the second he let go—”
Steph cracks up all over again, and Cassandra starts to cackle just as loudly. Damian’s looking between the two of them like they’ve lost their minds, even though he’s also trying not to snicker.
Little hypocrite, she thinks fondly, wiping her eyes.
There’s a small stretch of silence after they calm down. Damian joins the two of them in sitting on the floor of the hallway, looking around before making himself comfortable.
“You know, I have a group project I’m working on,” Steph says, after a bit. “I’m meeting with the rest of the group in the afternoon, and I really can’t afford to miss it, but there is time before I need to go, and I also really want to try these out.”
Damian huffs. “Spit it out, Brown. What are you proposing?”
She rolls her eyes. “Jeez, kid. I was just going to ask if you guys wanted to go roller skating with me because I figured you’d like to be better than Tim at something, but if you’re giving me that kind of attitude, I’m not sure if I want to—”
“Let’s ditch him,” Cassandra suggests. “We can go together.”
Stephanie gasps dramatically, trying desperately not to smile. “You’re so right, Cass—we don’t need an annoying, bratty, snot-nosed little gremlin with us anyways, do we?”
“Nope—better without him,” Cass agrees. “I’ll…buy you ice cream after.”
Steph sighs. “A girl after my own heart.”
Cass blows a kiss at her, but Damian, looking supremely annoyed, flicks the air before Stephanie can try to do something cheesy like catch it. She pokes his stomach in retaliation.
“Both of you are imbeciles,” he announces with a huff. “Show me how to roller skate, Brown—I bet I’ll be much than Drake’s incompetent ass.”
“Language,” Cassandra chides. Damian sneers at her but doesn’t actually argue. Stephanie jumps up, rubbing her hands together gleefully.
“Oh,” she says cheerfully, “this is going to be so much fun.”
They go to a roller skating rink not too far from Tim’s apartment. Stephanie’s been here before—Tim had tried teaching her how to skateboard not too far from here, and this was where she’d wasted half a day trying to help him roller skate. The evening had ended with bruises and bandages and a small amount of blood.
Ah, memories.
“Okay,” Steph says, watching Damian put on his skates, “we’re going to start out pretty slow. Uh, try to find your balance first, then we can work on actually moving.”
“Tt,” Damian says scornfully, “it can’t be that hard, if you can do it.”
“Brat,” she mutters. “It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me.”
He grumbles a little but falls silent, leaving Stephanie to lazily skate circles around him and watch him try to get up. He fails miserably the first two times, and the amount of willpower it takes to stop herself from laughing at him makes her surprised that she hasn’t already been accepted into the Green Lantern Corps. She decides to be content with discreetly taking a video of him to blackmail him later.
“Not a word,” Damian warns, when he finally stands up on wobbly legs. Stephanie just smirks at him, snickering when he tries to take a threatening step towards her and almost falls.
Honestly, she thought he’d be better at this.
“I thought he’d be better than this,” she tells Cassandra, who’s mainly been skating around aimlessly. She skids to a stop near them and nods.
“He’s tiny,” Cass says, like that’s a reason.
“Fuck you,” Damian grumbles. “Both of you.”
“Don’t be rude,” Cassandra scolds. Stephanie intervenes before anything bad can happen.
“Okay, seriously, I know you’re a stubborn little shit, but you should really start out slow—slow! Dami, what the fuck—”
Needless to say, it’s a long afternoon.
At the end of it, though, Damian’s good enough at roller skating that he’s able to mostly keep up with her when she goes slower than usual, so Stephanie grabs his hand and ignores his complaints about it, leading him to the nearest ice cream parlour, shoes dangling in one hand as they skate together.
“This was fun,” Steph says, after Cass has paid for their ice cream and the three of them are sitting on a bench together. “We should do it again sometime.”
“We should,” Cass agrees.
Damian hn’s, busy trying to stop melted ice cream from dribbling down the side of his cone, but he doesn’t seem to be opposed to the idea.
“You suck at skating,” she adds, just to get a rise out of him. He glares at her, jabbing his elbow in her side and almost knocking her cone out of her hand. “Hey! Watch it, you little twat!”
Steph stays with the two of them for a little longer, waiting for Alfred to come pick him up. When a car she doesn’t recognize but Damian clearly does pulls up around the corner, she hugs Cass and ruffles Damian’s hair.
“Bye, guys,” Stephanie says with a grin. “Tell Alfred I said hi.”
“I’ll see you later,” Cassandra promises, kissing her cheek before heading to the car. Damian lingers for a minute, and she gives him a questioning look.
“What’s up, Dami?”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters with a scowl. “I simply…happy birthday, Stephanie.”
She blinks, taken-aback for a second before softening. “Yeah,” she says softly, “thanks.” After a second, she adds, “I love the skates, by the way. How’d you know my size?”
Damian smirks at her and runs off instead of answering. Stephanie shakes her head bemusedly, waving at Alfred through the window. Her phone chimes with a message from the group project chat as the car pulls away, and she sighs, already not looking forward to dealing with Jordanna.
“Here we go,” she mutters to herself, turning around and skating towards the library.
“You’re late,” Jordanna complains the second she takes a seat at the table. Steph rolls her eyes.
“Nice to see you too, Jo,” she grumbles. “I was out with my brother and his sister, okay? And nobody else is here yet either, so get off my ass about it.”
Jordanna grumbles a little, but Francisco rushes in before she can say anything else—probably a good thing, Stephanie thinks dryly.
“Sorry,” he gasps, practically collapsing into his chair, flushed and sweaty, “sorry, I was on a date and I lost track of time—I ran all the way here, and—”
“It’s fine, Fran,” Steph says, rolling her eyes fondly. “How’s the boyfriend?”
He shrugs, sinking into his seat. “He’s good,” he mutters, looking embarrassed. Jordanna huffs, but she doesn’t seem as annoyed as she used to be when Francisco brought up his boyfriend—maybe she’s finally getting over her crush. Good for her—it’s about time, Steph thinks, and then she feels mean for thinking that, because she knows how hard it can be to get over someone, so she sends a mental apology to her.
“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?” Jordanna asks, startling her out of her thoughts. It takes Stephanie a second to realize that yes, she’s speaking to her.
“Yeah,” she replies, eyeing her carefully. “How’d you know?”
She shrugs, pulling out her phone. “I have my sources.” After a second, she adds, “Happy birthday, I guess.”
“Congrats,” Francisco says with a friendly grin, “you’re nineteen now! Welcome to the club.”
Steph snorts. “Thanks,” she says, lips twitching. “Nice to be included.”
“Bet Jo here wishes she could say the same,” Francisco says, nudging her. “Right, Jordanna?”
“Shut up,” she grumbles. Stephanie snickers, patting her shoulder mock-sympathetically.
“It’s okay,” she says patronizingly, “I’m sure you’ll catch up soon.”
“I hate you both,” Jordanna declares, as the last two members of their group finally show up.
Don’t I know it, Steph thinks, but she figures that Jordanna isn’t really all that bad, even though she snatches up the last slice of pizza seconds before Stephanie can.
All’s fair in love and war, she supposes.
brooce: Happy birthday, Stephanie.
brooce: I know I haven’t exactly treated you very well since we’ve met, but I want you to know that I have always appreciated you.
coolerthantim: omg 😭 bruce wtf
coolerthantim: what are you going to say next? that i’m a valuable and meaningful member of the team?
brooce: Do you want me to?
brooce: Because you are.
coolerthantim: please stop you’re freaking me out
coolerthantim: thanks tho
coolerthantim: really, bruce. it means a lot 🥺
brooce: 🤣
brooce: That was the wrong emoji.
brooce: Please ignore that.
coolerthantim: you’re such a boomer lmao
“Babs!” Stephanie yells cheerfully, dropping her bag onto the floor. “Your favourite Batgirl is here!”
“Cass is visiting?” Barbara asks with a shit-eating grin, wheeling around the corner to meet her at the door.
“Rude,” she mutters, then freezes when she notices who’s standing behind Babs, an amused smile spreading across her face. “Oh, fuck me.”
“Language,” Barbara scolds. “Dinah, you know Stephanie.”
“Yeah, I remember her,” Black Canary says, pushing her hair away from her face, and sure, Steph’s met her before—she’s trained with her, for god’s sake—but even now the awe hasn’t fully worn off. “You’re taller—and wearing less purple.”
Stephanie shrugs. “I don’t wear it all the time,” she mutters, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “And it’s been a while. People grow, you know. Anyways, I can go if you guys are—”
“I was just leaving,” Dinah says, and sure enough, she’s wearing her leather jacket. “Nice to see you again, kid. Stay out of trouble.”
“Yeah, you too.”
“Bye, Dinah,” Babs says with a wave.
The second the door shuts, Steph whirls on her. “You didn’t tell me Black Canary was going to be here when you invited me over!” she hisses furiously. Barbara just snorts and waves her towards the kitchen. Still fuming, she follows. “You could’ve at least warned me or something!”
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Babs says dismissively. “You’ve met Dinah before—she likes you. It’s fine.”
Steph crosses her arms. “Has it occurred to you,” she says, scowling, “that I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of her? And that I just did?”
Barbara lets out a startled laugh. “What?”
Stephanie sighs, grabbing the nearest chair and pulling it towards her. “It’s just—she’s this big-shot hero, y’know?” She waves her hand, all but collapsing onto the chair. “And when I met her, I was some snot-nosed little brat in purple that just didn’t know when to quit.” She shrugs, blowing a strand of hair away from her face. “I guess I just—I’m different now. Better.”
“You were pretty good back then, too,” Babs says softly. Steph shrugs again.
“It’s nothing,” she mutters, then straightens. “So, why’d you call me here anyways?”
For a second, she thinks that Barbara’s going to push, but then she sighs and says, “Nothing specific—I haven’t seen you in a while, and, well, it’s your birthday. Happy birthday, by the way. I didn’t get you anything, but—”
“Oh, god, I’m not nine,” Steph interrupts, “I don’t need a gift.”
Barbara raises an eyebrow. “So I guess you don’t want to help me annoy Bruce by messing with the Manor’s systems?”
“I changed my mind,” Stephanie says immediately, “I accept your present, thank you very much.”
Babs snorts, and they spend two hours eating snacks while watching Bruce get progressively more and more unhinged through the Manor’s security system. Steph nearly chokes to death at one point because she’s laughing too hard.
“Careful, Steph,” Barbara says, handing her a glass of water. “You wouldn’t want to die on your birthday, would you?”
“Absolutely not,” she replies, taking a sip. “That would be such a dumb way to die. If I go out, I want to go heroically in the line of duty.”
“Attagirl,” Babs says, patting her shoulder. “Try not to die either way, though—I don’t think—”
“Holy shit,” Stephanie interrupts, pointing at the monitor, “look at Bruce.”
Barbara glances at the screen, where Bruce can be seen wearing an expensive-looking robe as he walks down the hall. A second later, he slips and falls flat on his face, and both of them crack up.
No offense to Damian, but she thinks that this might just be the best gift she could ever ask for.
Stephanie’s curled up on the couch, shoving popcorn in her mouth and watching the television intently as her mom shuffles around in the kitchen. Apparently, she’s making some sort of pie, or cake, or something—she wasn’t really listening when Crystal explained.
(Sue her—she can’t help the fact that the TV is more interesting than her mom sometimes.)
When the doorbell rings, Steph hollers, “I got it!” as she jumps up from the sofa.
“Check from the window first!” Crystal calls abc, but she’s already swinging the door open. She has just enough time to regret not checking who it is— god, what if it’s Nightwing with some important news and he sees her in her Hello Kitty pajamas and Green Lantern shirt?
Please don’t be Nightwing.
When she sees who’s standing on the other side of the door, she’s stunned silent. Stephanie has no idea who, exactly, she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t Tim.
At least it isn’t Nightwing.
“Hi,” Tim says after a minute of silence, shaking Steph out of her thoughts.
“Hey,” she says, staring at him, chewing on her lip. She isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he’s here—things are still strained between them. She doesn’t even know why he’s here. “Uh…what are you doing at my house?”
He runs a hand through his hair, offering her a half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
Steph blinks, then smiles brightly. “Yup! I’m actually kind of surprised you remembered,” she admits, then kicks herself because that did not come out how it was meant to. “I mean—you’ve been pretty busy lately, and I figured that you wouldn’t have time, and we’re not…”
She trails off at the amused look on Tim’s face.
“It’s fine,” he says, still wearing that same smile, except this time it actually looks more real—nothing like the beaming, gorgeous grins he used to give her, but real all the same. “It’s not like you didn’t have a reason to—”
“Who is it?” her mom yells, cutting him off before he can finish. Maybe that’s a good thing. “Stephanie?”
“It’s, um—” Crystal’s never met Tim as Tim, only as Robin or Alvin. “It’s a friend!”
Her mom pokes her head around the corner, her face doing something complicated when she sees Tim. “I didn’t know we were expecting someone.”
“Me neither,” Stephanie admits, fidgeting with her fingers. “Mom, this is Tim. Tim, this is my mom.”
Tim holds out his hand, all proper and rich boy. “Nice to meet you, Miss Brown. Steph’s…she mentioned you.”
Crystal snorts, shaking his hand. “Flattering.” She gives Steph a look, one that means, do you trust him?
She nods. Of course, she thinks.
Her mom turns to Tim. “It’s getting late. Do you want to stay for dinner? I’m sure you and Steph can talk afterwards.”
He flushes, shaking his head. “No, it’s not—I don’t want to impose, it’s fine.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing,” Crystal insists. “Any friend of Stephanie’s is welcome here. Besides, I’m sure you know how dangerous Gotham is at night.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Has her mom put the pieces together? She’s a smart woman, but then again, she doesn’t even know Tim is the same Timothy Drake-Wayne from TV, or that Bruce Wayne is Batman. How do you solve a puzzle without all of the pieces?
Her mom could find a way, probably. She’s great like that.
Steph wonders if Tim’s thinking the same thing as her. The look in his eyes tells her that he is.
“You don’t need to stay if you don’t want to,” Crystal says, apparently sensing the sudden tension. “I’ll be in the house—I need to watch the oven, the pie’s nearly done. The invitation still stands, but if you choose to leave, then it was nice to meet you, Tim.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, eyeing her warily, “you too.”
Her mom leaves, and then it’s just Stephanie and Tim left at the door. There’s a beat of silence, and then he speaks.
“Does she know?”
“She knows about me,” Steph replies. “I don’t think she’s figured you guys out, but even if she has, it’s fine. You can trust her, Tim.” She pauses, then adds, “After all, I do.”
Tim chews his lip for a minute, mulling it over. She shivers at a sudden gust of wind—she’d forgotten how thin this shirt is. She’d also forgotten what she was wearing.
Her ex-boyfriend and current acquaintance has seen her Hello Kitty pajamas. She can’t decide if that’s better or worse than Nightwing seeing them. Probably better, she thinks, just as Tim seems to come to a decision of his own.
“Okay,” he says, nodding firmly to himself. “Okay, if you say your mom can be trusted with our identities, then I believe you.”
Despite herself, Steph feels her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
Tim shrugs. “I do trust you, you know.”
She isn’t sure what to say to that, so she doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, she steps to the side and gestures inside her home. “Stay for dinner?”
Tim stays.
Dinner with Tim is nice. Strange, but nice. Her mom’s pie is delicious, and Stephanie ends up fighting Tim for the last slice.
Apparently, he came over because he wanted to take her to watch a movie. “Not as a date,” he says reassuringly, but she can’t tell if he’s speaking to her or her mom.
Either way, Steph ends up fiddling with the aux cord while Tim drives them there. After a bit, they turn onto a familiar road. Stephanie raises her eyebrows when she climbs out of the car.
“This is where we had our first date,” she comments.
“Uh huh,” Tim agrees, not really paying attention. “You coming?”
She rolls her eyes and follows him. The movie they watch is crappy, with terrible CGI and special effects. Steph loves it, and apparently so does Tim, because he almost chokes on his popcorn when one of the characters makes one of the worst jokes she’s ever heard, and then that sets Stephanie off, and soon enough they’re being politely escorted out of the theater.
“Oh, man,” she wheezes, fanning her face, “oh, man, I can’t believe we got kicked out.”
“I’m not too surprised,” Tim replies, still red in the face. “I figured something like this would happen.”
“Oh, did you?”
He shrugs, lips twitching up at the corners. He does that a lot, she’s noticed—half-smiles, like he’s afraid of what’ll happen if he really smiles. Or maybe he isn’t and he just doesn’t want her to see him like that—happy. Vulnerable, in a way.
The thought is depressing, so Stephanie vows to not come back to it again until later.
“Apology mashed potatoes on me?” Tim suggests, when they’ve both fully calmed down.
“We just had dinner a while ago,” she points out half-heartedly. He shrugs.
“So you’re saying you don’t want the extra food?”
“No, I do,” Steph says hastily. “Lead the way—” Boy Wonderful, she almost says, but catches herself just in time. “—Timtam.”
He snorts, waving her towards the car. “Timtam?”
“Yeah! Like the biscuits!” She shoves her hands into her pockets, their elbows knocking together as they walk. “Timbit.”
“Stop.”
“Timbellina.”
“Steph.”
“Timbatha.”
“Please stop,” Tim groans, and sighs, relieved when she doesn’t say anything. “Thank you.”
“Sure thing, Timbaland.”
Very, very tiredly, Tim sighs. Stephanie grins.
He takes her to the diner she told him about her dad in. The one where they’d had dates before. The Diner.
Stephanie can’t help but think that there might be a reason for that.
“So, the cinema? This diner?” She raises an eyebrow at Tim. “It’s almost like you’re trying to copy our old dates.”
He blinks. “What? No—I just like the food here, and I know you used to love it, so I figured it was a safe bet.”
“And the movie?” she prods. He shrugs, looking away and poking at his food.
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “I guess it just felt—symbolic, in a way. You know, because we started there and now we can start again.”
Stephanie tilts her head, raising an eyebrow in an unspoken question as she takes another bite of her potatoes. After a second, Tim’s eyes widen.
“Right. Yeah, I never told you why I came here, did I?” She shakes her head, and he nods. “Okay.”
Swallowing, she says, “Is it something bad?”
Tim shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. It’s just—I figured, it’s been a while. Since…everything.” Everything. Nice way of putting it, she thinks wryly. “And honestly, I miss you, Steph.”
Now that really comes as a surprise. Stephanie almost chokes—she can accept Tim missing her, but admitting it out loud so easily? So openly? That isn’t what she expected. He waits for her to stop coughing, drumming his fingers against the table.
“Sorry,” she wheezes after a minute, “sorry, keep going.”
Tim’s lips tug upwards. “I wanted to apologize—really apologize, without either of us being on our deathbeds or something.”
Stephanie takes a sip of her water. “That’s surprisingly mature of you,” she comments. He shrugs, one shoulder almost meeting his ear.
“I try. But I really am sorry for how I’ve treated you since you came back. It was shitty of me and I never really owned up to that.” Tim sighs, staring at his food. “I wasn’t in a good place not too long ago. You know that.”
She does. The broken look in his eyes from a couple months ago haunts her more than she wants to admit.
“Still,” he continues, “that doesn’t excuse how I treated you. And for that, I’m sorry.”
Steph takes her time replying, mulling it over. He’s caught her off-guard—she wasn’t prepared for this sort of conversation when she agreed to go with him.
Maybe Tim wanted that. Then again, maybe he didn’t.
“How long did it take for you to script that?” she finally settles on saying.
Tim actually huffs out a laugh, which is much more than she expected from him. It breaks the tension, at least. Steph sighs, drawing circles in her water with her straw.
“You weren’t the only one who was shitty,” she says quietly, not daring to look at him. “I did things that hurt you, too.” After a second, she meets his eyes. “I’m sorry. I never said that, did I? But I really am.”
Tim swallows. “I forgive you,” he says, after a minute. A weight she hadn’t even realized she was carrying falls off her shoulders.
“Well, I forgive you, too.”
Stephanie smiles at him, and after a minute, Tim returns it. It makes him look his age for once.
“I figured that we should try to start over again,” he says. “As friends, this time.”
“I think I’d like that,” she replies softly, then straightens. “Okay. So, how do you want to do this?”
Tim holds his hand out over the table, a sparkle in his eyes. “Hi—I’m Tim Drake-Wayne,” he says, barely suppressing a grin. Steph snorts, reaching over to shake his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Stephanie Brown, but you can call me Steph.” She beams at him over their food. “I have the feeling that this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“You know what, Steph? I think so, too.”
Despite herself, her heart flutters when Tim lets himself smile.
Even after all these years, his smile is just as pretty as it was the day she first saw it.
It’s nice to know that some things don’t change.
coolerthantim: want to patrol together?
spookygirl: 👍
“I don’t know if I’ve told you this before,” Stephanie says, hanging upside down from a fire escape, “but your cape is really damn cool.”
“Thanks,” Cassandra replies, smiling down at her from her perch on the rooftop, only a foot or so away from her. “I like your Batgirl costume. Very purple.”
“Eggplant,” she corrects, swinging herself up, but grins anyways. “And thanks, I’m proud of it.”
Steph hauls herself onto the rooftop, and they sit together in companionable silence for a while, staring out at the city. They’re in one of the better parts of Gotham, and here, sitting with her best friend and watching the mundane life of people she fights to protect, it’s easy to remember why she’s in this business.
“How was your birthday?” Cass asks, after a bit.
That’s right. It’s past midnight, and Steph’s birthday has passed. She’s been nineteen for a day now. It feels even more weird than before—maybe because existential crises are always easier to have at night.
“It was good,” she replies, stretching her arms over her head. “It was really fun, actually. Tim and I hung out, y’know.”
Cassandra tilts her head. “Really? He said…you haven’t really talked a lot. Since you came back.”
“He’s right,” Stephanie sighs. “We never hung out like we used to. We usually only talked about missions and stuff. It was like we weren’t even friends.” After a minute, she adds, “I missed him.”
“He missed you too,” Cass tells her, sounding so sure that even if Steph didn’t already know that she’d find it hard not to believe her. “When you were gone, and after. I did, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie says, after a beat of silence. Her death has always been something they’ve danced around, this big, unspoken thing hanging between them. This is the first time either of them has brought it up. “I should’ve…I never should’ve stayed there. I should’ve come back the second I was better.”
Cassandra doesn’t answer for what feels like forever. Finally, she says, “Thank you. I don’t…I need to think. I’m still mad you didn’t say anything.”
Steph nods, looking away. “I know.”
“But thanks. For apologizing.”
She swallows, practically crawling with nerves as the silence stretches, and holds out her pinkie finger, tilting her head. “Still friends?”
Cassandra lets out a startled laugh, locking her own finger around Stephanie’s. “Still friends,” she agrees, then lets go and stands up. “Race you to the dock!”
Steph grins, nerves forgotten as she jumps up. “You’re on, Cassie.”
As far as birthdays go, it’s pretty good. Stephanie thinks that it might even be the best.