Barbara managed a productive day considering her sleep the night before was partial at best. After Grayson left, out the front door this time since Frankie was still knocked out from their morning run and he wasn't dawning his Nightwing gear, Barbara put on pants and dove deep into a never ending thesis that weighed heavily on her shoulders. After seven months of material being gathered, she was just starting to write the opening pages to what she assumed would be another seven months of writing and rewriting. Then would come the editing process, then fact checking, then presentations. The workload was daunting, but not enough to discourage the graduate.
Barbara had written for six hours straight, ingesting five cups of coffee and three bowls of cereal. As she hunkered down in her room, Frankie had gone and returned from a quick photo shoot to start getting ready for the night's outing.
Barbara lifted her glasses to rub her heavy eyes. If she didn't have a lead for her case at this party tonight, she would certainly be crashing on her bed right now. But instead, changed from sweatpants into dark blue jeans and a white v-neck tee, slipping in to black booties and leaving her hair down, the layers falling in to her face as she quickly brushed on mascara.
Being too far to walk, Frankie and Barbara headed out shortly after 8pm, taking the train to 14th St station. As the girls walked down the stairs to street level, Barbara saw Grayson leaning against a lamppost at the bottom of the steps. His arms were crossed, but she could still see the tight, navy blue T-shirt under the black, half unbuttoned dress shirt. Coupled with tight black jeans and black boots, Barbara couldn't help the smile on her face as she approached her partner for the night.
"Waiting long?" She pulled a confused Frankie with her and Barbara realized she left out some key information for the night.
"Frankie, Dick was heading to the party tonight, too. I figured we could all go together." Her two best friends knew the other existed, but never hung out together before. Only ever meeting each other in passing; they led very opposite lifestyles. Frankie being Frankie was all for the extra company.
Grayson pushed off the post and followed slightly behind the two girls who continued their conversation from their travels as if he wasn't there. Which he preferred. He liked watching Barbara be a normal girl; no mask to dawn, no corruption to cleanup. Simple. When he was around her in these moments, he felt normal too. It usually only lasted a few minutes, but he cherished those times with her.
A short walk from the station led the trio to an old brick house nestled between two glass towers. The frat house was bumping with a heavy bass, the sidewalk littered with already drunk boys leaning against giggling blonde barbies. Grayson shook his head slightly. They'll be puking in the bushes by ten, he bet himself. Silently following his companions inside, he did a quick recon of the layout. Kitchen to the left, large living room to the right, stairs straight ahead. Beside the staircase a long hallway, leading to another open common area, and a bathroom he assumed. A door under the staircase, which must lead to the basement. Once he took a lap around the main level he'd head upstairs; poke his head into some bedrooms and see if maybe he could find a nesting ground for Greg.
Looking around him he realized he was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. Alone. He glanced to his left and saw a flash of red. Always easy to find her in a crowd. He followed the girls to the kitchen, stopping at the large island littered with red plastic cups and bottles of alcohol, most only half full, some already completely empty. As he looked through the liquor, opting to pop open a bottle of cheap beer, he saw a tall, broad shouldered guy saunter up behind Barbara. He wrapped his right forearm around Babs's collarbone, and leaned his lips against her left ear. Grayson couldn't make out their conversation over the aggressively loud beat, but saw her eyes widen and her mouth drop into a frown. Grayson set his beer down calmly. He took two steps towards the couple; eyes narrowed, shoulders tense, ready to slam this douchebag's chiseled jaw into the marble countertop.
Barbara had something similar in mind. She grasped his forearm with her right hand. Jutting her head back swiftly, the drunk took an unbalanced step back, far enough for Barbara to pivot, twisting his wrist around his back and with her left hand, forcing his head down onto the countertop with her right. Her small frame was dwarfed by the creep's stature, even bending down, but she twisted his arm far enough to cause pain but not fracture any bones. Just like her dad taught her. She bent over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.
"Don't ever speak those words consecutively to another human being in your life, understood?" He nodded as best he could with his head still held firmly pressed against the counter. Letting go, he rubbed his wrist while walking out to the hallway, tail between his leg, but with enough bravado to still whisper "bitch" under his breath.
Grayson slowly glided his foot out as the guy walked passed him, enough to make him stumble but not fall down. Grayson grabbed his shoulder, steadying the drunk.
"Sorry, man. My bad. That looked rough though. You sure she didn't hurt you?" His tone was dripping with fake concern. He smiled down at the guy, giving him a slight push out the room and made his way over to Babs.
"So, I'm about done here," Barbara laughed. She knew Grayson had seen the whole thing, and was moments away from jumping in to rescue her. Sometimes he needed reminding that she had been protecting herself her whole life. Although, she would never turn down the back up. She saw his shoulders visibly relax. He grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the stairs.
"Just a couple things we need to check before we head out," he said, leading her up to the second floor.