Work Text:
Barbara entered the encryption codes she'd programmed into her computer, watching the program automatically search for the criminals she wanted. It was a bit tiring for her to search manually, checking every camera she could. So, it was perfect for saving time, because she needed it yesterday.
She stretched, feeling a cramp in her right leg. She was starting to feel some parts of her leg again, like her toes, which she could already move, though they didn't feel quite right. Physical therapy had helped a lot with that.
She pushed back the chair's wheels, turning around, and reached for the coffee mug she'd left there. But when she looked closely, it wasn't there. Just the unfinished papers, or the papers Jason and Tim had tossed there without caring about the mess—one day she'd kill them both for this. Dick wouldn't do it because she'd once argued with him about it. Damian was, at the very least, polite to her. With a heavy sigh, Barbara frowned and looked around, only to find the mug held in black gloves in front of her.
She smiled, looking at Bruce. He was in his Batman costume, and if she didn't know better, she would say he'd come just to disturb her peace.
"Do you need to get my coffee?" She held it carefully so as not to burn her hands. She'd accidentally burned herself once by not paying attention—it was her fifth cup of coffee in 30 minutes that night.
“No,” he said quietly, his husky voice reminding her of her own father. “But I wanted to.”
Barbara shook her head. No one would believe her if she said Batman came to the clock tower just to see her face and leave. He'd been doing it forever. Or at least, ever since her spine was shot. Barbara sipped her coffee and turned back to the computer, now surprised by the box there. It was pretty, a light blue with a red ribbon. It looked expensive, too.
Barbara felt warmth blossom as she glanced at Bruce quickly.
“You remembered.” she said softly.
Bruce stared, then removed his hood, blue eyes soft and loving, one of many looks he gives her. “I couldn’t forget.”
Barbara smiled and took the box, opening it carefully. It was mostly velvet inside, soft everywhere. There was a pair of earrings she loved at first sight. They were clearly gold and delicate. And then a necklace with tiny stones she suspected were emeralds. Barbara gasped.
“Bruce, how much is this?” she asked, her voice almost cracking.
"You don't ask about the value of a gift, Barbara." He chuckled softly, and bent down to her chin. A sigh escaped his lips, and he thought before speaking. "...I wanted to give you something that suited you."
she laughed, incredulous at him. “I can’t believe…”
They stared at each other for a second, silence settling in. There was respect and love in their eyes. A long time ago.
Barbara would like to sum up their relationship as "forbidden love," as it was in the gossip papers about Bruce Wayne, where she appeared as a younger woman whenever she was seen with Bruce. The gossip was even more intense when she appeared alone with him—the public suspected they were having an affair. But it was something very different. Much more complicated.
Barbara was in her mother's womb when Bruce began his career as Batman. He once recounted that to cover up his whereabouts, he had to invite a girl he'd never met and who didn't even speak English to pretend to be a call girl who spent the night with him. He apologized to Barbara, saying his mother must have seen too much. He was wearing a robe and no underwear.
“Your mother didn’t deserve to see something like that. She was excited to meet me.”
She laughed at him.
So, Barbara doesn't think he would be attracted to her even if he wanted to be. And neither would she, considering Bruce was once her father-in-law . She sees him more as an uncle and mentor than anything else.
And a friend.
Their respect was for their vigilante work. When Bruce taught and trained her to be Batgirl. When she helped him get up after falling from a building. When he patrolled with her and Dick, caring for them both, even when he told them not to, and they did, and they got hurt, and he did take care of them again. When Bruce held her in his arms as she cried after being hit and abused by the Joker. When he paid all her hospital bills upfront because he didn't want to see her with anything other than physical therapy and therapy.
The love and friendship they'd built since she was a little girl until she turned 32 today was something that wouldn't happen again. At least not anytime soon. There was no other Bruce for her to feel the same way about.
Bruce stood, removing his gloves and placing them on the computer. She watched as he took the necklace from the box and followed her, putting it on slowly and with a delicacy no one would expect from the Dark Knight. His hands were warm, and her skin prickled as she felt the hairs on his arms brush against her neck. Then he picked up the pair of earrings, also putting them on one by one.
The jewelry was a new, gentle weight on her, sure to remind her of Bruce every time. When he pulled away, he glanced at her, visibly admiring.
She felt a little embarrassed, because she wasn't dressed up enough for it. Her hair probably looked like a nest, and she was wearing a cyan sweater with black pants. The circles under her eyes had deepened, and her lips were chapped.
But then he leaned closer to Barbara and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt the heat in her cheeks, but nothing would compare to her reaction when he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Happy birthday,” Bruce said, simply, and she wanted to cry. Oh god, why was he like this?
He smiled when he saw her grimace, his husky laugh echoing beyond the computer devices.
He was always unpredictable. Many called him constipated. That Bruce lacked emotional intelligence. But he did. Sometimes he was just embarrassed to use it. Just as he was embarrassed to say "I love you"—years of being unaccustomed to it after his parents' deaths. As if loving someone openly were a crime. That those people would die if he loved them.
Then he stopped saying I love you, really. She still remembers hearing Dick cry to her because Bruce had said "I love you" for the first time.
She, too, once heard him say this to her. At first, she was young and scared. How could Bruce love her? In what sense?
But once she understood, once she truly understood that Bruce's "I love you" was rarely romantic—it was never for her. She knows it was for Selina. She heard the intercoms, it was beautiful—Barbara stopped being scared. She started appreciating it.
Bruce put his hood back on, hiding the blue eyes she found so beautiful. Sometimes she wondered if it was possible to admire a man so much without falling romantically in love with him.
"Bruce?" she murmured as he was about to leave. He turned around. Barbara parted her lips, taking a deep breath before saying, "Thank you."
Bruce just stared before waving and walking away. Barbara turned back to her computer, stroking the gemstones on her necklace as she went back to searching for the bandits from before.