Alfred opened the expensive doors of the spacious Wayne Manor, wheeling a plate of freshly made food and coffee for Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon. They were sitting in the main room, Bruce on a chair and Barbara on the couch, a small table between them. Barbara thought that the white and gold color scheme of the interior of the Manor clashed with the dark and gothic look of the Batcave. She didn't expect Bruce to buy comfortable furniture or have an eye for interior design.
Alfred placed the plate on the table.
"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce said.
"Looks great. Thank you, Alfred." Barbara said, picking up the cup of coffee.
"So..." Bruce couldn't find the words to start the conversation. After Barbara's incident with Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, Alfred suggested that both of them take some time out of their day to just speak with each other. Crimefighter to crimefighter. Spend time talking about any leads, improving tech, or just everyday things. Today was their first day of chatting, and small talk wasn't Bruce Wayne's strong suit, but if Barbara wanted to talk, he'd entertain it.
"How is the Justice League?" Barbara asked. She was genuinely curious about her boss working with demigods in space. Bruce swallowed as he remembered the rumors that flew around the team after his night with Wonder Woman, primarily by Barry Allen, who could not stop asking if he slept with Diana. Bruce figured the young man wanted her first.
"They're fine. They've been looking into the strange energy spikes causing earthquakes in the Middle East."
"That's good." Barbara took a sip of her coffee while staring down Bruce. Even in a regular white t-shirt and jeans, he was large and formidable. She hoped he was looking back. While she was only wearing a simple black top and a blue skirt, she still hoped. Bruce took a bite of toast in silence.
"I heard Lucius upgraded the thrusters on the Batmobile."
"He did."
"That's... cool." Barbara couldn't stand the silence. Not when she was sitting across from Bruce Wayne. With Batman over a rooftop, the silence was simply a part of the job, but now it was annoying. The entire point of her missing work at the library was to talk.
"Do you have any questions for me?"
"Yes. What happened that night when Dick found you?"
A lump formed in Barbara's throat. While she didn't remember the specific details, she remembered her costume in tatters and her sore body. She was drugged out on Poison Ivy's toxin, but that didn't mean much. There was no good reason she let those two get the drop on her and use her. That's how she saw it, and if she told the truth, that's how Bruce would see it.
"He found me, they um beat me up pretty badly." She lied while continuing to sip the last bit of coffee she had.
"Him tracking your location from Bludhaven all the way to Gotham isn't easy. He must've been in town." Bruce said.
"Maybe. So uh, any other questions?"
"Sure," Bruce stretched the toned muscles in his back, pushing away the knots with his strong arms. The way his triceps flexed, stretching out the thin white shirt. She felt like he was giving her a personal show even though he was simply making himself more comfortable. "Have you been keeping up on your training?"
"Yes Bruce," Barbara chuckled. Of course, he felt like having a conversation if it involved their war on crime. "I've been practicing the same sprinting and calisthenics routine every day."
"Not every day. Six days a week. You need to give your body time to recover." Barbara thought he looked at her, but he kept his eyes trained on the clock on the wall. Once again, she hoped he looked at her.
"I mean working out vigorously during the day and then jumping around rooftops at night can't be good for our bodies." Barbara said, her eyes locked onto his tight pectoral muscles and broad shoulders.
"That's what it takes." Bruce said, returning his gaze to Barbara.
"You're right. Anyway it's been a good talk. I'll see you later, Bruce." She stood up and smoothed out her skirt before extending her hand. Bruce stood and shook her hand. Barbara noticed his eyes weren't as cold and calculated as they were when he wore the mask. He seemed like an actual human who enjoyed normal conversation.
"Thanks Barbara. I'll see you."
*
The next day after a long shift at the library, Barbara was doing hard sprints on the treadmill at her local gym. Luckily there was nobody there at one in the morning, so she had all the time she could to make up for the three days of training that she had missed. Her toned body dripped with sweat, soaking her white crop top and black workout pants. Her breathing was noticeable, heavy, almost labored, which is something that wouldn't fly on a mission with Batman.
Her legs burned after only five and a quarter miles of running, but she had to get to six miles. Her scarlet red hair clung to her forehead like a second skin as more sweat dripped down past her thick eyebrows and nose. After what felt like forever, she finally got to her target of six miles. Only one-hundred and fifty pushups, pullups, and situps to go. She didn't understand how Bruce involved weight training into these insane exercise routines or how he didn't know that doing intense cardio before muscle-building exercise wasn't good for achieving growth or strength.
Barbara knowing all of Batman's intense training was the easiest part of his job, made her crush grow even more. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she cleaned herself up with the towel in her backpack. She wiped down the equipment and drove home on her bike, funded by Waynetech. When she got home, she took a hot shower and dried off. She tied her hair up into a messy bun as she picked out whatever clothes she had lying on the floor. A simple gray tee and black pajama pants.
When Barbara wasn't doing detective work by reading up on cases the GCPD pushed to the side, she spent the little amount of free time she had on online message boards. Simply lurking. Every now and again, someone would guess that Bruce Wayne was Batman, but there was always someone who swore that Batman was a demon or a famous movie star on a government plant and shot their theory down.
While scrolling through online forums full of people theorizing about superheroes and their secret identities, she saw a post from an anonymous user that questioned if Batman, Batgirl, and Robin were in some sort of weird sex cult with the members of the Justice League. Of course, none of that was true- at least she thought the Justice League weren't up there banging- but she wanted the part with Batman to be true.
Desperately. Just the thought alone made her begin to rub her fingers along her crotch. She slipped her left hand under her shirt and squeezed her tiny breast. Barbara bit her bottom lip while playing with her clit, gently rubbing two fingers over her sensitive spot. She imagined his teeth digging into her flesh as he slid his cock inside of her. His tongue sliding over every freckle as he teased her.
Her brief session of self-pleasure was interrupted by the bat signal lighting up the sky. She nearly tore her clothes off, wiped her damp hand, and put on her repaired Batsuit with the same yellow and purple color scheme she liked the most. She didn't want to look like a tinier version of Batman, and she denied the black and gold suit that was decked out in body armor. Bruce Wayne stood at a bulky six foot three and weighed at least two hundred and twenty-five pounds, so if some jumped up goon got the drop on him, he'd handle it even without the extra weight and protection of the Kevlar.
Barbara couldn't rely on her physicality alone. She stood five foot five inches tall and at least one hundred and twenty pounds in her suit. Dodging and quick reaction time was her best bet. Body armor limited her mobility significantly, and that was needed when avoiding gunfire or chasing thieves. She slid her mask over her head before climbing up the fire escape and gliding towards the signal at the police department.
She landed and saw Batman standing over the railing.
"Batgirl." He said, greeting her.
