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Stephanie threw herself onto the bed. She'd just finished a five-page essay (without proofreading, that could come later or never at all) after beating up some thieves by the convenience store down the block. The owner had given her three cans of coke as a reward, two of which she'd downed trying to write a comprehensible conclusion. Oh, well, Barbara would just have to puzzle out whatever word combo she'd banged out.
She shuffled under the covers, snuggling into their warmth. Tomorrow there'd be fresh waffles and a trip to the mall with Mom. It still surprised her sometimes, coming downstairs to a fully prepared breakfast and a lucid Mom telling her to get to class. A few years ago she'd have dismissed that kind of morning as a pipe dream.
She pinched her arm. No use thinking of the past, Stephanie Brown. She was Batgirl now, in college, with another essay due in three days. She had better things to think about than the way things were before.
There was a tap at her window.
Robin? She swallowed the word before it got near the tip of her tongue. Of course it wasn't Tim. He was god knows where, doing god knows what. That idiot. That handsome, frustrating, awful idiot.
She flung off the covers and plodded towards the window. Maybe it was Damian, coming to bother her about something.
Or maybe not.
She opened the window. "Batman?"
"Hey, Batgirl." Dick scanned the room behind her before meeting her eyes, grinning. "You free?"
"Who broke out of Arkham? Riddler? I've been wanting to smash his face again."
"No breakouts," Dick said. "It's actually a quiet night. Which is why I thought we could hang out."
Stephanie blinked. "Hang out? You mean me? You and me?"
"Unless you have a problem with that."
She didn't. Or, well, she did, but it wasn't Dick's fault. He just made her think of Bruce sometimes. Not that Dick was very much like Bruce, though they did command a similar authority, and Dick had mastered that I am your boss and you are in my way tone of voice that had made the old Batman such a pleasure to be around. Sometimes when she saw that cape or those ears her heart stopped, and she felt fifteen years old again, wondering what she'd done wrong this time. So hanging out with Dick wasn't exactly a thrilling prospect.
Still. Hanging out meant she was in, right? She knew she was in. Knew it logically, knew it by the Batgirl outfit hanging in her closet, but sometimes—okay. No need to think too much into it.
"Sure," she said. "Just let me get my costume, I'll be with you in a sec."
One quick wardrobe change later and she was swinging through the Gotham air, Batman at her side. She could never get tired of this—the rush of the wind, the lights zipping below her, the street-lamps that lined the suburbs. Her suburbs. Her city. She let out a whoop.
They landed on a roof downtown. Batman pointed to a store across the street, a big neon ice cream sign lighting up the pavement.
"It's a new place. It's supposed to be pretty good."
"And we're ordering in our bat costumes?"
"That's the best part," Dick said, grinning. "Apparently the owner was saved by Batman way back when, so all Bat vigilantes get to eat for free."
"Oh my god," Stephanie said, grinning back. "That could be exploited to hell and back. Do you think we'll need to show Bat I.D? I've got a bat stamped at the bottom of my boots, will they accept that?"
"I think they'll accept my Bat cash." He pulled out a dollar bill with a bat stamped on it.
She snorted. "Why do you even have that?"
"It came in handy at some point, so it's got permanent belt status. C'mon."
He flipped off the roof, executing turns so beautiful they would've brought Stephanie's old gymnastics teacher to tears. Stephanie dived after him in a decidedly less graceful manner.
The door tinkled as they came in, bright blue walls and white lights washing over them. A long glass case displayed dozens of ice cream flavours, ranging from normal ones like chocolate to tongue twisters like 'super raspberry cheesecake oreo supreme'. Stephanie eyed a black-and-white flavour with orange swirls.
"Ah!" The young girl at the cash register straightened at the sight of them, eyes widening. "Oh my god. Is it—are you guys really Batman and Batgirl?"
"In the flesh," Dick said.
"Whoa. This is super cool. Um, you can have anything you like, on the house."
Dick got coffee ice cream while Stephanie got 'the cookies caramel cream confection' in a cup. The girl flushed as she handed Stephanie the ice cream.
"You're my favourite," she blurted out. "I saw you outside my house once. You were up there, against the moon, and you looked so cool."
"Thank you! You're now my favourite civilian," Stephanie said, winking. The girl's cheeks turned even redder.
They exited the shop, embraced once again by the brisk fall air. Since she'd become Batgirl, that reaction had gotten more and more common—kids, girls, women, coming up to her and telling her she was their favourite. Their favourite. She shovelled ice cream into her mouth, cold and sweet.
"Let's sit up there," Dick said, pointing to a nearby roof.
They scaled the fire escape and settled on the edge, swinging their legs over the dwindling traffic. Dick ate his ice cream silently. Was this some kind of test? Was she supposed to break the silence, or exhibit patience by waiting? Bruce had liked her jabbering, or at least he'd said so. Maybe it was the only thing he had liked about her.
"That girl was nice," Stephanie said.
Dick huffed. "You're just saying that because she said you were her favourite."
"Well, yes. That's how I know she has taste."
"You haven't been Batgirl for long, y'know. She was probably talking about Cassandra."
Stephanie jabbed her spoon into the already-melting scoop. "Probably."
"I didn't—sorry. That was a joke."
"I know." Change the subject, Steph! "How's your ice cream? I thought only old people liked coffee."
"Hey, Babs likes coffee too."
"Exactly. Old people," Stephanie said, waggling her spoon.
He rolled his eyes (or at least she thought he did—the cowl didn't make it easy to tell). "I dare you to call her that to her face."
"Deal. In exchange, you get me some of that Bat cash."
They fell into another silence. It occurred to her they'd never really talked, not one-on-one. It felt like she knew him—Tim had talked about him plenty, and they'd worked together a few times. But that wasn't anything real. She wondered what he thought of her right now, or back then. Had he thought of her back then?
"What's this about, anyway?" she found herself saying.
"What?"
"This. Us. On this roof. If it's not a test, then you want something from me, right? Something about Damian? Tim?" The subtlest of shifts. Jackpot. A lifetime of being hyper-aware of men's body language came in handy. "He hasn't talked to me recently, if that's what you're wondering."
Dick sighed. "I figured. I just wanted to check."
"He didn't exactly appreciate our last check-up." Hadn't that been strange—Dick reaching out to her, asking her to talk to Tim. A very Batman thing to do. She gulped down the last of her ice cream, more liquid than solid now.
She'd planned on finding Tim anyway, so it had stung a bit when Tim had rejected her not for her, but for being Dick's 'spy'. Well, he'd rejected her for her, too. I still can't trust you to wear that costume. She touched the bat on her chest, traced its outline.
"Thanks for doing that by the way," Dick said. "I'm sorry he didn't react very well."
She blinked. "Oh. No problemo, Bossman."
"Bossman?"
"You're the boss now," Stephanie said, brandishing her spoon. "You might as well own it."
He pulled a face. "I don't know if I like that. Makes it feel so... corporate."
"God, can you imagine? Batman, incorporated. Benefits include dental care for when your teeth get knocked out and fully covered funerals for your 90% chance of death."
She stopped short, wincing. Mentioning death to someone whose mentor/father/miscellaneous just died was maybe not the most tactful thing ever.
"Sorry," she said. "Bad joke."
"It was alright. Could've used a little more flair," he said, smiling. A charming smile. No wonder everyone liked him. "And it isn't about Tim."
"What?"
"This. Us. It isn't about Tim."
"Oh. Then..."
He leaned back on his hands. "I wanted to thank you. You've been trying with Damian, and you've been good with him. Not many people have been either of those things."
"I wouldn't exactly say good," she said. "I'm not even sure if he likes me."
"He does. And you have been doing good, Batgirl. Babs tells me so. I see it, too."
Stephanie wasn't sure what surprised her more—that Dick thought she was doing a good job, or that it didn't make her desperately, deliriously happy. It would've once. She would've grabbed on too hard, and it would've slipped away. Now, though, she just let it settle within her, soft and warm.
"Thank you. You've been doing a good job too, if that means anything. Very Batman-esque."
"Is that a good thing?" he asked.
"Well, uh. Maybe not." They both laughed. Stephanie shifted, looking up at the sky, the stars. "I mean, you're a little un-Batman-like too. I don't think he would've done this with me, y'know?"
"Yeah. And if Cass were here, she probably would've stolen my ice cream."
"Then it's lucky it's just the two of us," she said, grinning.
He grinned back. He reached up and took off his cowl, the wind ruffling his hair. Stephanie did the same.
"Dick," she said, because she could, because their cowls were off and this was just Dick and Stephanie for once, "I might head home now. Got classes tomorrow. But this was fun, and—I wouldn't mind doing it again."
"Of course. Don't let me keep you." Dick got up, stretching. He bounced a little on his toes. "Tell Babs I say hello, when you see her."
"Sure. Tell Damian he still owes me a sketch, I know he has one of me in his notebook."
Dick snorted. "He draws a lot of us Robins in there."
"Us," Stephanie echoed. She looked up at him. "I'm not sure I count, Dick."
"Of course you do. You always have." Dick whipped out a grappling hook. "I'll see you soon, Steph."
He leapt off the roof. Stephanie watched his figure shrink in the darkness. Then she got to her feet, put on her cowl, and hummed the whole way home.