I typed away furiously on the keyboard. I was in a terrible and sour mood. He left us for three days without a phone call or anything. He just stuck me with busting a big arms deal that both of us have been tracking for months. Ok I'm pissed at him, but also myself. I wanted to prove to him that I could do it on my own and do it well. The bust was a complete disaster. I was hoping to take down the big boss but I was only able to get one of his upper henchmen. So disappointing. To top it off I was grazed by a bullet and had a massive migraine. I don't know why, but I felt compelled to fill out a detailed report right after Alfred patched me up. He said something about me being just as bad if not worse than "Master Bruce." Then Alfred just shook his head and retired upstairs.

Just thinking about how Alfred could compare me to that inconsiderate ass made my blood boil. I never said a word back, but Alfred could tell I was angry. Soon I found myself forgetting to even type and I just got lost in my angry thoughts, then HE showed up.

"Barbara, what are you still doing here?" Bruce asked. His tone didn't sound concerned, more like "really, why the hell are you here".

"I had some things I needed to get done, why are you here?" I bit back.

"The arms bust went badly, didn't it?" he said taking off his cape and cowl.

"Oh so you do remember that you were suppose to be somewhere. Three months Bruce. Three months down the drain," I didn't yell but I wasn't being pleasant either. I turned the chair to face him and let him see my stupid bandage. I wanted to confirm his thoughts.

"What happened?" he said looking at my wrapped up arm. He looked disappointed in me.

"There were too many, but I had no choice. If I didn't stop it tonight - They were leaving Gotham for two months and going to Russia to get another haul from their arms dealer there," I turned the chair back around. I didn't want to look at him. I put my elbows on the console and started to rub my temples. The damn migraine was killing me. It felt like someone was twisting a screw in my head and everything was getting tighter and tighter. I heard a heavy sigh behind me and then I felt Bruce's gloveless fingers pressing into my neck right below my skull. My head tingled, the giant screw I imagined in my head seemed to unscrewed itself.

" .God. Whatever you're doing, keep doing," I said out. I wanted to cry, it felt that good.

"You keep getting these," he said quietly.

"It's nothing new. Had them before I took up my night job," I replied as I let the pain relief flood my skull.

"I know, but you've been getting them more frequently," he said as he started to work my shoulders some.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine," I replied. I felt better but I wanted an answer to my questions, "Where were you?"

"Putting Luthor back in jail, along with Joker and a bunch of other supervillains," he said stepping towards the computer.

"Sounds like quite the motley crew," I replied looking up at him.

"They didn't call themselves that, they called themselves the Injustice Gang," he said looking back at me.

I just glared back and elbowed him. "You know what I mean." He just smirked back.

"How's the headache?"

"Better. I'll see you tomorrow. I should probably get some rest, and I think you should too." I got up and started to climb the stairs. Bruce was working away at the computer.

Any party at the Wayne Manor is a big affair in Gotham. Anyone who is notable in Gotham is invited. Bruce needs to keep up appearances after all.

Dad was making his rounds and decided to give me a bit of a break. He always liked to have me at his side, but he knew I could only handle mindless small talk for so long. Seemed to be the same case for Bruce.

"Sometimes I think going twelve rounds with the league of assassins would be less tiresome than these events," he said quietly as he stood next to me.

"What's wrong Bruce? Tired of Gotham's rich and privileged throwing themselves at you?"

"Brucie! Would it be too forward of me to ask for another dance?" Phoebe Le Meur came striding towards us. Bruce seemed a bit terrified.

"I'm sorry Phoebe but Bruce promised this one to me," I said grabbing his hand. She gave me a sharp 'how dare you' look.

"Your loss Bruce," she replied as I pulled him to the dance floor.

"I owe you one," he said to me without anyone else hearing.

"You owe me several," I said with what I'm sure was a devilish grin. He stared into my eyes not saying anything. I could understand why women get weak in the knees when they are with him. His blue eyes, dimples, and charm go a long way. But I know the truth. This is all faked. The eyes may still be piercing, but the dimples and charm go away. Sometimes I get to see the dimples, but only when I amuse him.

"If looks could kill, at least half of the women in this room would have killed me already," I said as we danced.

"I've seen you go toe to toe with Gotham's worst criminals and these women scare you?" He asked a bit amused.

"If you only knew how crazy of a battlefield the women's restroom is. They might not kick or punch, but their tongues are as sharp as knives."

He just laughed a bit at that, a genuine laugh. Maybe the first one he had all night. "I don't envy you."

"Hey don't look like you're enjoying yourself too much. The tabloids might claim we're an item. They already did once."

We were still dancing flawlessly, must be all those nights fighting side by side. His eyebrows shot up, "I have to admit it was a bit amusing, seeing you react to being in a tabloid."

"I don't remember you being so amused. Remember the headline? Fifty Shades of Wayne, Bruce's New Girl." I glared back. "The tabloids probably won't talk about us anyways. They will be all a chatter about how you are back in the dating game after Susan."

He grimaced a bit.

"I'm sorry that was an idiotic comment. I didn't mean to bring up Susan," I said referring to his plant wife Ivy used to try and gain his billions.

"No its fine. You aren't the first person to bring her up tonight." Bruce had been using Susan as a way to explain why he didn't go on dates or to many social functions for about a year now. Alfred has been telling him for months that the excuse was starting to wear thin.

"I'm still sorry. I've never told you, but I was really disappointed for you. You put yourself out there and then you got back something you didn't deserve."

He just smiled and shook his head.

"What? Did I say something funny?"

"No, not all. It's just you."

"Okay. It's just me?"

He whispered in my ear something I wasn't expecting.

"You are kind and loving soul. Don't ever change."

Huh? That was really nice.

Then a hand was placed on my shoulder. "Mister Wayne, the last song is playing. Do you mind if I dance it with my date?" It was Dad and he looked a bit irritated.

"Not at all Jim," Bruce separated from me and gave my hand to my father.

"Thank you again Barbara for all your help," Bruce said as he left. I must have looked dumbstruck because my Dad started to look at me strange.

"I hope you didn't mind. I didn't think you wanted a repeat of that tabloid fiasco from a couple of years ago," Dad said, "someone already asked me if you two were dating. I told them absolutely not and you were just good friends."

I kept looking at Bruce as he walked away and said his goodbyes to people in the room. He was so charming, graceful, and polite. I almost forgot who he truly was.

I could feel heat in my cheeks. Bruce has been very affectionate with me lately. Is he developing feelings for me that go past a friendship? No. I am just reading too much into this…so am I developing feelings for him? No, I can't be. He is so not my type. I mean I had a crush on him a very, VERY long time ago, and I was just a stupid kid who didn't even know who he was.

I hate that he broods. I hate the way he shuts people out. I hate how he's rude and is basically a downer when it comes to anything fun. He's so serious all the time….but he isn't exactly with me is he? I make a joke and he at least usually gives me a smirk. He is always looking out for me more than he should. I lost count of how many times he's helped me on patrol with things I am perfectly capable doing myself. I always like it though, especially if an explosion has gone off. More often than not when that happens he's against me, shielding us with his cape. He doesn't need to do that, but I've never wanted to tell him to stop.

"Barbara?" My Dad said confused.

"Huh?"

"Where were you just now? I asked you a question and you completely ignored me."

"What question was that?"

"What did Wayne mean by 'all your help'?"

I finally got my bearings. "He meant with Tim."

"Are you ok honey? You look flushed."

Great I was blushing. "I'm not feeling so good actually. Do you mind if we go home. I think I might be coming down with something."

"Sure kiddo. Let's go."