Chapter Text
You can't be blamed for staring. Not really.
Well, maybe a little. It could certainly be construed as creepy if the object of your terribly obvious appreciation ever actually looked your way. As it stood though, Cassandra, or “Cass” (as you had heard the blonde, Stephanie, call her), had never so much as glanced in your direction. It was a fact that did absolutely nothing to deter the relentless teasing of your friend Nicky the second the two of you were out the door of the gym each week.
Being pulled to work out with her originally hadn’t been thee highest ranked activity on your list of “fun things to do with friends,” but you had been swayed regardless because it was at least time spent catching up. It wasn’t the worse place either; the space was clean, close enough to affluent neighborhoods you didn’t have to watch over your shoulder as much, but far enough a membership never broke the bank, they had drinks at the front that were always cold, and a small group of regulars that left you to your own devices. A win was a win was a win; so was the post-workout treat you made Nicky pay for each time. And now the silly little crush you had that had grown just tacked itself on to the list of things making it a worthwhile trip.
“Could you be any more obvious about it?” Nicky asked from the treadmill beside you. She wasn’t even sweating today, not that it mattered, the one day you came with her had turned into her easy day for the two of you to walk and talk.
“I am not being obvious.” you say, face crinkled up in annoyance at her pointed comment.
“And the sky isn’t blue.” she deadpans, looking back to the treadmill dash and upping the speed. “You could, you know, try talking to her.”
“I’m not going to go bother someone mid-workout. Especially not someone who seems to take it as seriously as they do.” To a point that was true, the duo seemed to either focus intently on their own training or get swept up in whatever little competition they egged the other on in at any machine they were using.
“Coward.” was the only quip you got, but the smug look on your friend’s face screamed she had plenty more locked-and-loaded.
Refusing to add the kindling she seemed to want so desperately, you settled on sticking your tongue out at her; an act truly reflective of a mature adult. Satisfied she had seen it, and the consequent lack of a retort, you turn back to focus on your own workout before you risked tripping in front of every other gym-goer present. From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of that same head of short black hair that had your attention locked back in, this time at the pale blue mats that were overdue to be replaced. They were both doing handstands near the back wall, though it seemed Stephanie was trying to nudge Cassandra over with one leg, risking her own forms stability in the process. It did nothing to tip her and Cass seemed more than amused about the increasingly desperate attempts. The sight alone made you snort and turn away before you could be caught by them.
And then there was the feeling of eyes on you, a familiar burning that settled on you until the hair on your arms stood on end. It was something you pointedly ignored in hopes you could save face if someone else had finally taken notice of what continued to distract you. Despite the lingering feeling of being watched, the last half hour of your walk finished without incident – and without you going to tumble over your words in a bid to speak to your gym crush despite the persistence of your wonderfully aggravating friend – and both you and Nicky were out the door and down the street to the café to complete your weekly ritual without fuss.
The next week began the same: picked up at the same time, arriving to the gym at the same time, the same exercises to warm up. That same insistent little habit you had formed before you had realized; your eyes zeroed in on Cassandra without your permission before you even realized what was going on, but the distraction cost you this time. Nudged slightly out of it’s normal position, your leg collided with the metal edge of the row machine, echoing a brash noise you ignored over the sudden pain that had you sucking in a breath before you could create a new curse word.
Nicky choked down a laugh next to you, patiently waiting for you to recover in silence the moment she knew you were okay. A few others stopped, an assortment of blurry colors and unfamiliar faces, glancing over if at all before returning to their own sets.
You turned, eyes narrowed like you dared her to laugh again when you finally felt you could move; you would throw her into Gotham Harbor if you heard even a wheeze. Message received, she held her hands up in surrender and took one step out of range in case you decided to lunge for her anyways.
“That-“ she started.
You cut her off before she could say anything else, hand in the air and pointing center mass at her. “No. Not a word about it.” you warned, already headed towards the open treadmills and tossing your jacket on one of the chairs lined against the wall where you could still see it. “Not one.”
She seemed to stare past you for a moment and shrugged before taking her normal spot next to you. “They have to have access to a private gym, right?”
You took the change of topic in stride, mulling the question over and knowing already who she was referring to. “Probably? Or they could afford it.” It had taken too many weeks before you had put together that they were a part of the Wayne family; in your defense, most of the wards seemed skilled enough in avoiding the press determined to hunt them down.
“And they still come here.” Not much of a question, Nicky seemed to barely register she had said it as is, already cranking up the incline and speed on her treadmill.
“I mean, I’m sure it’s nice to get out of the house sometimes, even if you live in a giant one.” you say, almost missing her reaching over to attempt messing with the settings on your own device. You swat her hand away with a warning and a scowl, falling into your usual conversation that lulls only when she catches you looking for a woman you’re too scared to talk to or at the sound of the door opening.
It's getting cooler outside, but the temperature in the gym is always set too high. Everyone suspects it’s because the owner, who sits at the front desk working, is right under the air vent and is convinced everyone else must be freezing like he is. You’re all waiting for the day someone drops from heat exhaustion, but it won’t be today when his wife walks in the door and lectures him. He sulks over to the covered thermostat and you’re so busy watching you almost miss the feeling of eyes on you again, turning on instinct to look for who it is.
Four months of quick stolen glances have maybe given you too much confidence in the idea of never being caught, because when you look over next you freeze enough to misstep the second you catch her eyes. Head snapping around like you’ve locked eyes with a wild animal, you can almost swear you hear yourself get whiplash as you look over to Nicky for help.
She is helpful to the sum total of zero. All she can do is open her mouth and try not to laugh until she finds words suitable enough for the situation. “Because that was exactly how normal people react to their crush looking at them.”
“I’m sorry that other people didn’t just make eye contact with the most attractive person on the face of this Earth, but I did and now I don’t know what to do.” you hiss, head lowered and practically begging her to save you from the situation you know logically shouldn’t have the skin all the way up to the tips of your ears burning.
“I’d say act normal but we’re really past that I think.” Nicky says, taking a sip of her water and turning her head like it could hide that offending smile you see.
Your phone buzzes on the stand, the silenced alarm ringing up at you and informing you both it is time to leave. “Thank you, Gotham.” you say, already stepping off the treadmill before it comes to a full stop. The sooner you wipe everything down the sooner you can get out, get your coffee, and then lament your reaction over fleeting interactions with pretty girls for the next 72 hours of your life.
And then Nicky is behind you, shit-eating grin so wide on her face you swear you astronauts must see it from space. “So,” she shrugs, rocking on her heels, “bad time to tell you they’re walking over here?”
“What?” You pause, wipes in hand before risking a look at her.
“Getting closer.” she says, plucking the cleaning supplies from your hand and practically spinning you back around to the treadmills. Her grip on you only means there is no chance you can make a break for it, not that it would save your dignity if you took off like a bat out of hell now.
Stephanie makes it to you first, but Cass is barely even a step behind her when she speaks. “Are you okay? You were limping on the treadmill a bit.”
It actually catches you off guard, and Nicky as well. Too engrossed in your conversation earlier, neither of you had noticed, but now that the spotlight is on it you can feel the throbbing running up and down your leg. You’ll be sporting a nasty bruise for some time, you’re sure of it before you ever even pull your pants leg up to take a look. “I busted it coming in, that’s all, but thank you.” you assure, slowly trying to scoot backwards behind Nicky.
Taking the cue, they both seem to back off, but not before sharing a look with each other that you can’t place. “Well, we just wanted to make sure, but we’ll see you guys around.” Steph says, Cass nodding once in your direction as she silently agreed. You flush, stopping yourself from ducking like a coward – Nicky would never let it go if you did – and thanked them again.
Lips pursed and gears visibly turning in her head, there was no stopping her the second their backs were turned. “They’re single, by the way.” Loud enough to be heard by everyone around, it catches their attention and has both Cass and Steph turning around to see what the pink-haired menace at your side is starting on about.
“Nicky!” you squawk, quieting yourself and taking a quick scan around before you start pulling her out the door.
She plants her feet for a moment, voice raising to get her words across. “Just, you know, if anyone in particular is interested in that very important information. They’re very single. They’re also very free Tuesday night!” She can’t get anything else out (you worry what comes next would be her calling Cassandra out by name) before you’re in front of her, squaring your shoulders and throwing your weight into the front of her body to force her out the door entirely. She relents with a huff, without a choice, and you both barely manage not to go crashing to the ground as the door swings shut behind you with that same annoying squeak that demands a healthy layer of WD-40 it never gets. “Someone had to do it.”
“You owe me so much,” you start. “You owe me your first born, and all of your food for a month, and –“ you’re cut off by a tapping on your left shoulder that has you freezing in place. When you dare to turn around Cass is right behind you, quiet as a church mouse and holding the jacket you had abandoned in a desperate attempt to get Nicky as far away from them as you could. Whatever perfume she had been wearing, or whatever she had picked up is sweet and suddenly you find your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth, too dry to form any sounds that might actually pass as human.
“Forgot this.” she says, offering it to you. And oh. It’s the first time you’ve actually heard her speak, usually too far away to catch anything she says.
You would really like to hear her voice again.
Nicky jams her finger into the base of your spine, overly saccharine smile on her face, and that’s all it takes to snap you back into reality and take the clothing item back. “Thank you, you didn’t have to.”
Cass cocks her head to the side, like she’s studying you and for a moment you feel that same heat you swear you had felt over the last few months, watching you maybe just as much. Whatever she finds after a moment she seems satisfied with and you can feel yourself exhale the breath that had stuck itself halfway in your throat. “Wanted to return it.” There’s a little smile on her face you almost miss, like she might know something you don’t.
Feeling left out of the loop has never been so confusing – you’d love to know what you’re missing, but you don’t mind it as much if you’re at least part of the reason she’s smiling.
Scuffing your shoes against the sidewalk to tamper down your nerves, you nod, trying to find your voice once again now that it seems to have gotten lost for a second time. You find it the second you hear Nicky snort behind you and it takes restraint you’re unfamiliar with not to elbow her in the ribs. “Well, thank you again.” you say, unsure what else to do as you slip your jacket on. There’s a piece of paper brushing against your fingers in the right pocket that you don’t remember having before, and you glance down as you pull it out, almost missing what Cass says next: “See you Tuesday.”
You catch the smile, the wave; you give one of your own because it’s hard not to when she’s directing them right at you. And then a heartbeat before the door closes behind her the synapses in your brain fire off and you realize what she’s said and what you’re holding. “Wait.” It’s her name on the scrap paper, number scrawled underneath. There’s a tiny note at the very bottom telling you to ice your leg punctuated by a smiley face.
This, currently, is the most important thing in your possession and standing still on the sidewalk you decide that not even the Joker is prying it from your cold dead hands. (You’ll put it in your phone before you even sit down at the café table.)
“She’s been checking you out for months by the way.” comes that all too familiar voice.
“Nicky!”