Part 7
by Darklady
Who wishes to state this is *not* Dracoverse. That belongs to Kaylee & company. It is merely that Planet Krypton is not the only restaurant that transcends the laws of hypertime. Aunt Danny Fanny is truly infinite.
Thanks: To Dannell for TTBBQ - because Sarah asked for Barbeque.
Rated: PG (Also V for Voyeur )
PS: Standard Disclaimer. I do not own the characters. DC owns most of them, Dannell owns Aunt DF. If I did own them I would surely respect their privacy more then this. [Yeh! I bet! And don't call me Shirley]
(Barbara and 'Alvin' - just for variety)
^^V^^ ^BC^ ^^V^^ ^BC^ ^^V^^ ^BC^
"Yo' Oracle."
Barbara Gordon looked up as her 'unexpected' visitor rappelled down her living room wall. She *had* caught his approach - but only on her inner bank of cameras. The kid was getting better. She made a mental note to tell Dick that his 'training' weekends with Tim were paying off.
"Hello 'Alvin'."
"Nightwing told me to drop by." The young man in red and green answered as he jumped to the floor.
"I doubt he meant it that literally."
"Whatever." Tim shrugged. "Boss-man wanted us to check the security monitors. Seems Queen Meanie and her crew smashed a bunch and twisted a load more, so Dick and I were supposed to spend tonight putting together a replacement list, but Dick called up and...well.. he *said* he was working late at the station, and the Boss is out on a *date*, so....."
"Let me guess. Dull job + Robin in town = you get stuck."
"Sherlock." The teen pulled a small CD from his vest and spun it over to where Barbara was sitting. "You and me."
"Make that you and I."
Like he hadn't just *said* that, Tim thought. He dropped into a guest chair and reached for the candy dish, Only a few jelly beans left, and those were the black ones, but still.... He popped them in his mouth. He would rather be outside on a line, but if he couldn't..well... He was a growing boy. Which brought up the question of.... "Any brownies left?"
"A few" Barbara smiled. Cassandra had made heavy inroads in the last batch, but there were still some in the freezer. Dick always like a snack after...exertion. But if he wasn't going to be by tonight? Babs considered the point. She could always make some more. Or just serve up chocolate sauce and marshmallow cream. Whichever fit her mood at the time. For now? Robin could have these.
She rolled to the base and dropped in the CD. "Give me a moment to start the program, and you can watch the monitors while I heat up desert." She typed in the code that would run the inspection protocol on each camera in the Bats extensive network throughout Gotham.
Another thought, and she canceled the sub-routine for the suite at the Ritz-Gotham. Bruce had been *on edge* lately, which increased the odds that any date would end there to..well. much too likely when you had a kid on the monitors. She'd leave that until morning, by which time this evenings entertainment would have been safely packed back to her own home. With another click she slotted the Wayne Tower apartment in it's place. If Dick was at work and Bruce was at play? She smiled. No chance of that apartment being occupied. It wasn't *quite* the cave, but almost as exclusive. Only 'family' and real friends got that close to Bruce Waynes *real* life.
She watched the main monitor until the first camera blurred and focused. A second monitor filled with color scales and efficiency graphs.
"OK,Chipmunk." The redhead cranked firmly and spun towards the kitchen. " I've got everything set for a fifteen-second test run. The machine should catch most problems, but you keep an eye on the main screen and tell me if anything looks odd."
Tim glanced at the screen which was displaying a terrifically unexciting expanse of door."No prob."
He watched as the picture shifted to an empty hallway, then to an elevator, then to another door. All familiar, as they were the entry to Bruce's downtown apartment, but likewise all boring. Still. He listened with appreciation to the clank of the refrigerator and the hum of a microwave. If monitor duty meant he got some of Barbara's brownies...well, bored wasn't so bad when he was well fed and bored.
The view shifted again to three views of the living room. A lamp was on. Tim made a mental note to swing by and turn it off if he was in the area. Not that one lamp mattered, but it was still a waste. besides, if he didn't mention it, the lamp could stay on for days.Sometimes nobody went in there for a week.
"You want ice cream?" Barbara's voice echoed from the kitchen.
The camera clicked to the kitchen. Plates on the counter, and the foil lined box from the 'Tyler Texas Pitt BBQ'. Bruce must have had Lucias Fox over for lunch, Tim decided. No one else had rank enough to get the good grub.
"Strawberry?" He answered in a voice just this side of pleading. Barbara knew his weaknesses. No matter. Unlike his *loving* bro, the Oracle would never use that knowledge against him.
"With chocolate sauce and marshmallow cream." came the welcome reply.
The guest bedroom flashed on screen, then the attached bath. Nothing there, but then there never would be. Bruce never opened this apartment for guests. Well, not unless you count that period with Jean-Paul, which Tim - being loyal to Dick - most assuredly did *not*.
The squeak of wheels assured Tim that his favorite snack was forthcoming. He glanced at the door, then back at the cameras which were now in the master bathroom , where there were....towels on the floor? What? Bruce was never that much of a slob, and no one else was allowed to be, so what could....?
The picture shifted again, this time to the far wall other the master bedroom. Another towel, and something bright draped over a chair, and also a...shirt? Wha....
Another click, and the screen caught the same room from the other side. The side that had the bed, and Bruce, and a.... Oh my GHOD!
Tim spun, reaching to kill the program just as Barbara rolled back in from the kitchen,
"What..."
"Sorry" Tim felt the blush rise up his neck. "I didn't ... I mean...." What the hell was he *supposed* to say.
"Oh Shit." Oracles voice was softer then the clatter of the tray and plates hitting the floor. "Dinah."