Author's Note: Just a one-shot that came to me.
Disclaimer: If I ever tried to claim to own any part of Batman, people would laugh at me. I don't, so stop laughing.
No Longer Friends
Barbara Gordon rounded the corner of Gotham Academy so quickly that she almost scraped her arm on the bricks
that made up the foundation of the building. She was trying to hurry up and find Dick so that they could get going.
It was Thursday and she usually went over to the manor for a bit after school.
Where was he anyway?
Stopping to look around again, she spotted him with a group of kids. That particular group of kids happened to be Gotham Academy's elite mathlete team. Or as
everyone else at the school referred to them, "the numbers squad."
Not that anyone at the school said it to their faces.
Barbara had to smile.
She tried not to find that funny, but it was hard not to. Dick enjoyed being in the group however and she was not going to tease him about it.
Trying to re-gain her serious face, she started to walk over towards them. Sometimes, the mathlete team could be as chatty as a group of girls in the school's
bathroom.
She heard someone say her name, but when she looked up, it was obvious that Dick had not spotted her.
"Who?" Dick asked. He looked confused. Barbara halted.
"Barbara. Barbara Gordon?" One of the other boys pressed him. "About this tall, red-hair, super cute, hangs out with you . . ?"
"Oh, ah, what about her?"
The other kid rolled his eyes.
"So why don't you ask her to come with you?"
Dick looked uncomfortable.
"I just don't . . ."
"You are being such an idiot about this." A blond kid spoke up. "What is wrong with you? She's like the smartest girl at school, plus you already hang out with her."
"Yea, I know." Dick said. He stopped to rub the back of his neck.
This was a sign to Barbara that he didn't want to talk about this.
"But I don't think of her like that. I mean, Bab . . . I mean Barbara is just . . . she's just always been around. She was always the one to hang out with me when I
first got here."
Barbara frowned and she stayed put.
"Wow," The first kid said dramatically. "I wish I would have had some cute girl forced to play with me."
"Well, she wasn't for . . ."
"You suffer Dick. You really do." The blond kid said shaking his head as he interrupted. "But you're still an idiot if you don't ask her."
"I can't ask her like that. It would be weird." Dick said, appearing to be a little more confident. "I can't think of her in that way."
"Try. It can't be that hard." The first kid said bumping him with his shoulder. "I'll see you later."
Most of the group dispersed.
Barbara walked back around the side of the building and leaned her back against the brick wall.
Was that all she was to him? Just the person who came over when they were littler? Just some person who happened
to be around?
"That jerk." Barbara muttered.
He had kissed her less than a week ago. Apparently, it had slipped his mind.
They had been Robin and Batgirl at the time—but a kiss is still a kiss.
Everything had been going right that night. Everything was falling into place. It had probably been one of their best
nights ever. Even Batman, who never was one to look on the bright side, had said so. Before they parted for the night, Dick had leaned over and kissed her.
It wasn't major, nothing had been said about it afterward. She supposed it was some sort of "yeah us!" kind of kiss, but still . . . She thought that maybe it meant
something more.
Dick tried to shake off the weird feeling that was occupying his head. He was never quite sure what to say to people about him and Babs.
Letting out a breath of air, he decided just to let go of it for now and move on. Barbara was around here somewhere. Right around . . .
"Babs!" He called out as he picked up his pace. She was walking quickly in the same direction as him—towards the street. "Babs!" He tried again.
She stopped and turned around, but didn't move. He caught up to her.
"You're going in the wrong direction." He pointed out with a smile.
They always walked to the manor together.
Alfred was not keen over the idea, but they were able to convince him that Robin and Batgirl should be able to walk somewhere without getting hurt. They still had
to call him every two miles though.
"Oh." She replied stiffly.
Dick's smiled faded. Obviously, something had happened. The next step was to decide whether or not to ask about it.
"So you coming?" He said trying to sound cheerful.
"No."
Dick blinked. Okay, she was mad about something, and apparently it had to do with him.
"Come on Babs, you always do."
Always—there was that word again. Barbara gritted her teeth. She wasn't going to bring it up, but now that he said that . . .
"Yes, I realize that. I'm always around. I didn't realize that I was encroaching on your space so much." She said a bit more rudely than she had wanted to. "I had no
idea that it was such a burden to hang out with me all this time."
Dick almost felt the need to step back lest he be knocked over by the glare she gave him.
"What on earth are you going on about?" He questioned. Whatever it was, it was serious.
"You should have just told me that you didn't want to hang out, instead of putting up with it all."
"Okay. I'm lost." Dick said, and he honestly was.
"Honestly, if I knew that you only were friends with me due to the convenience of the matter I would have . . ."
"Stop it." Dick ordered. "What are you . . .?"
A thought froze in his mind. She had overheard.
"Sheesh, Barbara that's not what I meant." He was instantly relieved that he could clear this whole thing up. The other half of him was embarrassed. How much had
she heard?
"You basically made it sound like the only reason you hang out with me is because I just happen to be around." Barbara elaborated, trying not to let the hurt slip
through her voice. "Not because I'm fun, or good company, or that you like me or something like that."
Dick felt as if his lips were glued shut.
Barbara stared at him hard wondering whether or not to continue. Dick was usually pretty easy to read if you knew how to look. At this point, he looked a little . . .
unsure.
"You don't even like me, do you?" The question came out soft and sad.
"No!" Dick objected. "It's not . . . I mean . . . I don't really know."
No other words could have stung the way that those did. Even rejection would have been better.
"You don't know?" She repeated softly. "You don't know!"
This time, Dick did step back as her voice rose.
"Babs, I just . . ."
"How earth can you . . ?" Barbara bit her lip. She couldn't take this. Shaking her head, she brushed past him.
Dick was at a loss of what to do.
Not far from him, she stopped.
"Word of advice Grayson." She had gotten her voice under control and was able to talk in an even tone. "Don't kiss a girl if you don't mean it."
Whatever Dick had planned to say died in the back of his throat. He tried to come up with something.
"Babs, come on." He pleaded. "We're frie . . ."
"We're no longer friends." Her voice was ice cold.
"Alfred? Alfred?"
Dick called the butler's name out as soon as he got back home. He had tried calling like he always did to inform Alfred where he was, but he never picked up the
phone. It was a bit worrying.
"Alfr . . ."
"Dick!" Bruce's crisp voice issued from above.
Dick ran up the stairs and took a left. Pausing outside of the door to Bruce's office, it was open, so he went on in.
"Is Alfred okay?" He asked.
"What?" Bruce said stopping from looking over some papers
"He never answered the phone. I walked home today."
"Oh, he went out." Bruce answered simply, picking up another piece of paper.
"Out? By himself?" Dick questioned. "I didn't realize that you let him do that."
"Only on certain occasions." Bruce paused, as if a thought had struck him. "Now that I think about it, he did mention something to me about answering a phone or
something . . ." He shuffled around a few papers and then opened a drawer. He pulled out a phone.
"Why did you put it in there?"
"I didn't want to be disturbed." Bruce said seriously.
Dick huffed as he sat down.
"Well, I'm back safely so I supposed that is all that matters." He said with an eye roll.
"Where's Barbara?"
"Not here." Dick didn't do much to hide a wince.
"What happened?" Bruce said lazily. At this point, Bruce was just asking questions to ask questions.
"Do you know where he went? Alfred, I mean."
"No idea." Bruce responded. "Did something happen?" He asked again giving Dick a bit more attention.
"Do you know when he will be back?"
"He just said later."
"Did you make sure that he didn't take anything valuable?" Dick managed to joke.
"I'll check later." Bruce said casually. "So what happened with you?"
This time the question was asked with real interest.
Dick just gave a shrug against the brown leather chair.
"Is it that hard to tell me?"
Dick bit the inside of his cheek. Asking Bruce a question was like asking Batman a question. It would be thoroughly analyzed and answered calculatedly. Not all
questions, especially this kind, could be answered using that method.
If Alfred was going to be gone all day, that would not be good. He needed a solution today—now.
It was an emergency. An emergency that warranted even Bruce's opinion.
"Well, after school today, some of the mathlete team was talking about the party that the school is going to be having for . . ."
"Just hit the key points." Bruce instructed.
Dick snapped his mouth shut. Yep, that is what he expected.
"Okay." He tried again. "Ah, everyone wants me to ask Barbara out and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. She overheard me talking and then thought that I was
just hanging out with her because . . . Then she asked me if I liked her and I said that I wasn't sure. She got mad. Really mad." He amended. "And said that we
weren't friends anymore."
Bruce's answer can quicker than Dick had expected.
"Why did you say something stupid like that?"
Dick started.
"What?" He said leaning forward as if he maybe heard Bruce incorrectly.
"Are you telling me that you told Barbara Gordon that you didn't like her?" Bruce asked sternly.
"I didn't say that! I just said that I wasn't sure if I did—in that way I mean." Dick swallowed hard.
"I can't even believe that you would try to deny such a fact." Bruce said with disbelief.
Dick sat there uncomfortably. He had not expected this from Bruce.
"I mean that . . ."
"What reason could you possible give for telling her no?" Bruce demanded.
"It's just that . . ." Dick fumbled for the right way to say it. "I guess I've just never felt . . . I mean that for as long as I have known Barbara, I've never felt any
different about her. It's not like I can say that I realized one day that I liked her because it's never happened."
"You have completely missed the point of that statement. Did you hear what you just said?"
"What about it?"
Dick was getting tired of the fact that Bruce seemed to know more about this than he did.
"Obviously, you are too close to this situation. It's become your blind spot." Bruce said.
"Are we still talking about the same thing?" Dick questioned.
"Do you know how long you've liked Barbara?" Bruce asked him. "Because even I could tell you that."
Dick was dumbfounded.
How was it that Bruce could be certain and that he couldn't be?
Bruce took his silence as an invitation to talk.
"You've liked her just as long as you've known her. Why should you need to have a day that you suddenly realize that you like her, when that really describes every
day that you have known her?"
The thought him with full force.
He was never going to have some grand moment and realize that he liked her, because he already did.
Of course he liked Barbara.
She had been there from day one to cheer him up. She was funny, smart, and always knew how to keep him in line. She could stop him dead with a glare and
instantly warm him up with a smile. She let him ramble on about his mathlete stuff even though she really didn't care and she would always wait to say goodbye to
him after school was over if they weren't already going to hang out. She knew what he liked and what he hated. They could tease each other good naturedly without
either of them getting upset. If someone did get mad—they would always make up. Always.
Because how could they go through life without each other?
"This is amazing." Dick said coming out of his thoughts. "I think you were actually helpful."
Bruce's pleased expression disappeared.
"What do you mean actually?"
"I have to see her. Thanks Bruce." Dick hurried out of the room before Bruce could say anything else.
If he would have stopped to turn around, he would have seen the pleased look return to Bruce's face.
Barbara got home and threw her bookbag on the couch. She stormed to her room and didn't even bother to change out of her uniform before she plopped on her
bed and pulled a pillow to her face.
She let out a deep breath and then hugged the pillow to her chest.
Calm down. Just calm down.
This wasn't worth getting angry over.
"That jerk." She repeated.
Reaching over, she overturned the picture she had of the both of them on her nightstand.
How could he say that? How could he just. . ?
"Jerk."
Commissioner Gordon undid the lock to the apartment door. Pushing it open, he was surprised to have the door meet with resistance.
A pair of sneakers lay in the way—his daughters sneakers.
"Barb?" He called out. He made his way to her room. The door was open. "Barb?"
He saw his daughter sitting on her bed with her uniform still on.
"I thought you were going over to the manor today."
She looked up as if she hadn't even heard him come in.
She shook her head.
"What happened?" He asked knowingly. He had seen this before.
Barbara and Dick would have their occasional fights, but they were never about anything serious. More like lover spats than anything—not that he ever told her that.
They were quarrels over little things: Dick forgot to give Barbara back her biology notes before her class started, Barbara lost Dick's library book, Dick spilled
something on Barbara's new dress, and so on and so on.
Occasionally, things would happen and she wouldn't tell him what.
But it always worked out.
"He's a jerk." She stated.
Gordon gave a soft grin and gave his well-worn advice.
"It will pass, Barbara. You are both too good of frien . . ."
"We're not friends."
That was new. Her words stunned him for a moment.
Should he be worried?
He knew that Dick would never do anything to intentionally hurt his daughter.
It would pass, he decided. Just like it always did.
He called her phone seven times before he went another route.
Dick actually had no idea what the Gordon's phone number actually was. He had always just called Barbara's cell and before that when he was younger, Alfred would
do the dialing for him.
Grabbing the rolodex off the kitchen counter, he flipped right to the "G's" and picked out their name.
He called.
The phone rang twice.
"Gordon residence." A strong voice said.
Dick's mind went blank. Commissioner Gordon had answered the phone, and while Robin was perfectly comfortable talking with him, Dick always felt like he never
knew what to say.
"Hello?"
"Oh, ah, hi. Uh . . ."
Gordon grinned into the phone.
"Hello Dick, how are you?" He asked. The boy always seemed so nervous talking to him.
"Uh, fine Commissioner. How are you?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for checking up on me. Did you need anything else?"
Dick felt like an idiot.
"Yea, ah, I was hoping that Barbara was there."
"Actually, she left not too long ago to help that teacher of yours over at the art studio."
Dick had completely forgotten. She always went there on Thursday to help out. He usually walked with her there when they left the manor. He really was an idiot.
"Thanks." He at least felt safe saying that.
"Are you two going to be okay?" Gordon asked.
Dick gulped. He could hear the serious tone in his voice.
"I hope so."
"Good. Good luck." Gordon added a pleasantry and hung up.
Dick did the same.
He was going to need all the luck he could get.
Mrs. Peterson had been Dick and Barbara's teacher two years ago. She was a warm and friendly person and all the kids took to her instantly.
She had an art studio in town that was just for kindergarten kids. Think like a daycare only with more finger paint and playdough.
Barbara once stopped by to see what it was like and had ended up staying for the entire day. Now, she volunteered there once a week if it was possible.
The outside of the building was painted with bright colors—like the kind you would see down in Miami, but the heavy locked front door always reminded people that
they were still in Gotham.
Looking through the front window, Dick could see kids sitting at the small tables. Painting was already underway. He didn't see Barbara immediately.
He tapped on the glass to get Mrs. Petterson's attention. She gave him a smile and motioned him towards the front door.
In a minute, she was there. After undoing the security locks, she opened the door up.
"Dick, I didn't know that we were expecting you. Come on in."
"Well, actually I was hoping to talk to Barbara. If she has a moment." He added. "But could you ask her to come out? She usually feels like I'm interfering in her
work when I ask her."
Their former teacher gave a knowing smile.
"Alright, but are you sure you want to come in? You can talk to her in here; I don't mind. Tommy Barette isn't here today if that's what is bothering you."
Tommy Barette. Dick was never going to forget that kid. He had taken a blue paint covered hand to the face thanks to that boy. Paint does not taste good.
"No, it's not that." He answered quickly. He didn't want her to think he was still uneasy around a little kid. "But I would rather talk to her out here. If you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all. Hold on."
She shut the door and Dick wandered back by the window to wait.
"Barbara?"
"Still cleaning more brushes!" Barbara called out the door. She turned off the water and placed the now clean brushes in a cup. "And then they'll get all dirty again
within five minutes." She muttered.
She came out of the small room and into the main area of the art room.
"All the bushes are clean. What do you want me to do now?"
Her former teacher smiled.
'Well, everyone seems calm so far, so how about you take a break? Your favorite young man is outside."
Barbara felt herself blush but tried to fight it. Why should she blush about it? Dick didn't even like her.
"Oh, what is he doing here?"
Mrs. Petterson's eyebrows went up.
"Honestly Barbara, you make if sound there was a criminal outside instead of Dick."
Barbara said nothing.
"Fine." Barbara said.
There was no point in discussing it. Mrs. Petterson had always like Dick. She never missed the chance to tell Barbara what a sweet young man he was.
Barbara knew she meant it in a teasing manner most of the time, but other times . . .
Stopping by the sink room, Barbara removed the plastic apron that she wore that acted as barrier between her clothes and those little paint covered hands.
She looked into the mirror to see how she looked.
"He doesn't care how I look." She stated and walked out.
Barbara wasn't quite sure what she was going to say when she saw him, but when she did . . .
"What do you want jerk?"
Okay, a bit more than she wanted to say.
He grimaced but didn't say anything back.
She took a deep breath and tried to not be emotional.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to fingerpaint—duh—I came to talk to you."
His attempted to lighten the situation failed.
"About what?" She huffed. "I'm pretty sure nothing else needs to be said."
"You didn't let me say anything."
"You said enough." She said fiercely.
Dick licked his lips.
"Babs, please would you just listen?" He begged. His blue eyes looked up at her and silently pleaded.
"Fine, just hurry. I'm supposed to be helping, not socializing."
She crossed her arms daring him to try and change her mind about anything.
He stared at her for a moment more.
"What?" She snapped at him.
"Sorry, it's your hair. It's messy."
She instinctively reached back and touched her hair. She had used a large clasp to pull it back. Taking it out, she ran her fingers through her hair.
"There." She said shortly.
"You didn't have to take it out. It was kind of cut. . ."
"Don't change the subject." She ordered. Dick could charm his way out of anything and most of time, he got away with it.
Dick cleared his throat.
"Babs, I didn't mean to . . . when you asked me I was kind of startled. I had never really stopped to think about what I thought of you, or how I felt about you."
Dick bit his lip. "I guess . . ." He gave a soft chuckle. "Bruce called it my 'blind spot'. Initially, I didn't want to lie to you about how I felt, and then I realized that I
didn't have to. I told Bruce that the reason for my answer was because I never felt like I had a 'moment' when I realized that I liked you. But then . . ."
"You kissed me." She interrupted.
"Uh, yea . . ." He said after a moment. "I did mean it though Babs."
"That wasn't the 'moment'?" She pressed.
He could hear her irritation.
"No . . . well . . . let me finish. I realized that I'm never going to have that moment, because I already did a long time ago—the day we met. I've lo . . . liked you
ever since then." By this time, Dick knew that his face was red.
Was that enough? Did he need to say anything else?
The expression on her face evened out. She looked at the ground for a few moment.
"You idiot." She said softly.
Dick froze and his shoulder's drooped. He had failed.
"And here I just promised myself that there was nothing you could say that would change my mind."
Dick's head snapped up and a hesitant smile crossed his face.
"You mean that . . ."
"But don't you ever say something like that to me again!"
"I won't, I won't. Promise." At this point, he might be willing to promise her anything.
"Wait . . ." Barbara said slowly. "Did you say that you talked to Bruce about this?"
"Uh," Was she going to be mad about this? "Alfred was gone." He explained.
An amused smile crossed her face.
"You were so worried that you talked to Bruce?"
Dick shrugged and nodded. Barbara looked like she was trying hard not to laugh. She brought her hands over her mouth and tried to smother a snicker.
She had been out in the sun lately, and she had gotten a cute smattering of freckles across her nose.
"What?" She questioned as she caught his eye.
"Nothing."
Barbara caught the quick smirk that crossed his face.
"Really . . ?" Said sweetly.
Clasping her arms behind her back, she sauntered over the foot required. Slowly leaning down, she kissed him.
Dick let the warm feeling overtake him.
Barbara laughed at the smile that was on his face as she pulled back.
"So . . . uh . . . Babs . . ." Dick spoke each word like he didn't know English very well.
"Hmm?" She answered. Her blue eyes were locked on to his.
"Uh . . ." He faded off and narrowed his eyes as he looked at her.
Barbara brought a hand up to her face.
"Do I have paint on my face?"
"No, it's your lips . . . I mean your lip gloss." Dick amended as his face flushed. "It's sparkly."
She hid a smile.
"I know. Now what were you saying?"
"What? Oh, ah . . ."
He appeared to be lost.
She had to smile then. If one kiss could do that . . .
" . . . I remember now. Do you want to go to the party with me?"
"Sure."
She received a smile in return, but then he looked nervous again.
"What about . . . do you want to be my girlfriend?"
Barbara rolled her eyes.
"Most people ask those questions the other way around, but . . ." She held it out teasingly. " . . . I suppose so."
He seemed to give a sigh of relief.
"So does your new girlfriend get a kiss?" She asked in a flirty voice.
"Sure." He replied quickly.
She leaned down slightly as he leaned up.
"You're going to have to grow sometime here." She whispered before their lips meet.
"I'm not that shorter than you." He objected after breaking the kiss.
A door could be heard opening.
"Barbara? Dick?" A voice called out.
"Oh, ah . . ."
They both turned around hoping that Mrs. Peterson was not looking. Thankfully, she wasn't.
"Shoot. I'm supposed to be helping, Dick." Barbara chastised as she turned back to him.
"Sorry, I forgot. You were distracting me." He said never breaking eye contact.
"Hold on." Barbara ordered. She resisted the urge to kiss him again.
Running back to the door, Mrs. Peterson let her in.
"Barbara, the kids seem pretty good today and everything is in order. How about you go home today?" Mrs. Peterson offered it with an inviting smile and a wink.
Although Barbara felt bad for leaving, after all this, she was happy to.
"Thanks." She said gratefully.
"Don't forget your bag!" The Mrs. Peterson called out as Barbara raced for the door.
"Stop smiling like an idiot, people will stare." Barbara commented as they walked down the street headed for her home.
"It's your fault." He pointed out.
She was happy with his answer. She was happy that his smile was because of her.
"So do you want to do something tomorrow?" Dick asked lazily.
"Something like . . . date-ish?" She questioned with a smile.
"Yea, like ah . . ." Dick stopped and appeared to be trying to think of something.
"Do you want to go to the zoo?" She asked.
"But we've done that before."
"Don't be silly. Just because we're together now, doesn't me that we can't do the same stuff that we always do. To be honest, I don't think much will change. I like
that." She told him.
"I guess so." Dick said looking unsure. "But some things might have to change."
"Like what?" She wanted to know.
"Well for starters . . ." At this point, she could tell he wasn't being serious. ". . . you will have to start sighing dramatically when I'm not around because you miss me
so much."
"Yeah right." Barbara said pushing him off the sidewalk. "And what do you have to change?"
"Me?" Dick said innocently. "I just get to stand around and feel lucky that you're with me."
She had to laugh at this.
"You're a horrible flirt Dick." She told him as they came to a stop outside of her apartment building. "Cute, but a horrible flirt."
"I'm pretty charming; I'll admit that." He said breezily.
"Are you okay with walking all the way back to the manor by yourself? My dad might be able to . . ."
"Who's walking? I could probably float there at the moment." He assured her.
"Again with the flirting."
"Hard to stop around you." He teased. "See you tonight?"
"I suppose so." She said giving a heavy sigh.
"Great."
"Great." She repeated mimicking his smile.
"Now you're the one grinning like an idiot." He informed her.
She didn't care and told him so before giving him one last kiss.
Dick shut the door to Wayne Manor and he leaned his back against the closed door. A dreamy smile was still on his face—it had been all the way home.
"Master Dick? Is that you?"
"Alfred?" He questioned.
They met each other in the hall.
"Did you walk home? What have I told you about calling?" Alfred said, giving him a firm look.
"I did the first time, but Bruce didn't answer because . . . Hey! Liar. He said that you were gone!"
Dick fumed inwardly.
That would be like Bruce to make up some story like that just so Dick would tell him stuff.
"Well, I was gone." Alfred said, quick to stop his rant. "I just . . ." He looked around the room conspiratorial. ". . . told him that so I could clean the batcave without
being interrupted."
Dick gave an understanding nod.
Bruce was weirdly protective over the batcave being clean. He would tell Alfred that it was a cave and it didn't need to be cleaned, while Alfred would argue that it
was part of the house and thus fell into his jurisdiction.
"But Master Bruce did tell me about your predicament."
"He was actually helpful Alfred. He'll never replace you, but his advice wasn't too bad this time." Dick reported.
"I'm happy to know that my job is secure then." Alfred said with a smile. "I see that everything worked out with you. Very good."
Dick raised an eyebrow.
"You do? How?" He wanted to know.
Alfred deftly pulled out a folded handkerchief and handed it over to the boy.
Dick stared at it and opened the piece of cloth up.
"What is this for?"
"Master Dick," Alfred began trying to look serious, but failing. "I can't allow you to continue walking around with shimmery lip gloss on your mouth."
"Oh." Dick said simply. He felt his face grow warm.
Awkward.
Random End Notes: Nothing spectacular, but I like it. Let me know what you think!
{Dick/Babs because, HELLO! They are perfect for each other!}
Alright you know the drill. Advice, and (gentle) [be nice please! :}] criticism, would be appreciated. Or a haiku if you feel like one.