I've gotten tired of trying to post all my prompts as one-shots on ao3 and the like, so for now they're just going to go here.
Anonymous asked: Stephanie and "whose blood is that?"
Thanks to the anon who donated!
Stephanie is sitting on the island in Alfred's kitchen at four in the morning when it happens. The lights flip on, Stephanie's head snaps up from the ice cream she's devouring, and Bruce Wayne asks, "Whose blood is that?"
All in all, not a very good way to start her day, Stephanie thinks. Or end it. It is four in the morning, after all, and Steph hasn't really gone to sleep yet. She'd skipped patrol since she'd been exhausted and spent—and considering she doesn't like to half kill herself when she knows she's at her limit like half the crazies in this house do—and all she'd wanted was some ice cream and some peace and quiet in order to think.
Of course, Bruce just had to ruin that for her.
And then Bruce's question registers with her. She looks down at the front of her shirt. There's blood staining it–old, she knows. From an old gunshot wound that had bled through bandages and her thin shirt while she'd slept, and Steph hadn't bothered to try washing it when she was well enough to move. She knows there's no way it's coming out now. Not unless Alfred's involved, at least.
"Mine," Steph says, shoving another spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream into her mouth. Bruce is still tense, though, so when she swallows, she continues, "Chill. It happened like a bazillion years ago. It was the cleanest shirt I had."
Bruce's face does that weird thing where his emotions try to come out or something, but Stephanie knows for a fact that Bruce doesn't know how to deal with emotions that aren't anger or discontent, so she isn't surprised when a frown is the thing to win the Battle of Feelings.
"Don't hurt yourself," Steph jokes.
"Why are you in my kitchen?" he asks, and then he glances at the clock like he hadn't already known exactly what time it was with his freaky Batman powers—and yes. They were definitely powers. Otherwise, there's no way that Bruce would have known anything about that bruise she'd gotten from the Riddler when Bruce hadn't even known she'd fought the Riddler. Because he'd been shot himself. He was freaky that way.
Anyways. Bruce glances at the clock. And then his frown grows deeper. Oh goody. More feelings. Or more of the same feeling. At least she's got him confused. It's usually on Jason that has the pleasure of baffling the Batman.
"It's four in the morning," Bruce says.
"I know."
"And you're in my kitchen."
"Technically it's more Alfred's kitchen than yours," Steph tells him, stuffing more ice cream in her mouth. It's Dick's ice cream, she remembers, but it's the only thing in the freezer that had looked appealing. She'll buy him a new tub later, if he wants. "And besides, I thought I was welcome here."
"You are," Bruce says, his eyebrows furrowed. Oh look, more emotions. Steph thinks that maybe she should do this more often.
Actually, she thinks back to what led to today's venture for ice cream and sitting in Bruce Wayne's—Alfred's—kitchen, and she doesn't really want to experience that shitty day running around between college classes that ran into one another, assholes who wouldn't know respect even if it hit them straight in the face, and Tim who was working himself ragged again. It had been a tiring day, and she's had enough of those in her life.
"Are you alright?" Bruce asks her.
"Ohhh," Steph says, a smirk playing on her lips. "Was that actual concern from Bruce Wayne I heard?" Bruce shoots her an impressed look, and Steph's smirk falters, and she lets it fall. "Sorry. I didn't mean that. Thanks for letting me crash here."
"Anytime, Stephanie," Bruce says, and then he hesitates, looking a little uncertain. His eyes flick to the ice cream Steph's still eating. "Just make sure you replace that before Dick finds out. He's staying in the manor for the week."
Steph thinks that wasn't what Bruce had been about to say, but she smiles anyway, giving Bruce a sloppy one-handed salute. "Whatever you say, Boss man."
Bruce nods, and then he leaves. The lights stay on. Stephanie eats ice cream. It's odd, she thinks. She still feels exhausted, but she feels a bit more settled than before. Maybe her ex-boyfriend's and current best friend's dad deserves a little more credit than Stephanie gives him.
She definitely won't tell anyone that, but she can think it.