#...i need to settle on a jean design asap because this idea is so...yes

[incoherentbabblings]

Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (1/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer's work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you'd expect. 

Ao3 link here!

Hey, @thatblondeperson​ @our-happygirl500-fan the odyssey begins, huh? Thank you both for your help with this, I imagine I will keep bugging you with questions and pictures of pretty dresses going forward.

“No way.”

“Batgirl.”

“No! Are you serious? Look, I did the trip to England – even though I have a life here and didn’t want to – because it was like only for a semester and it was to help people… but this? No.”

“I agree.” Red Robin chimed, bolstering Batgirl against Batman. He pulled back his cowl, revealing the tired young man underneath. He didn’t look wholly invested in anything Bruce had to say. “Can’t you fake it? With Selina or… I don’t know. Zatanna or…” Tim shrugged uselessly. “I’ve already had a fake engagement! One’s enough, thank you.”

“No-one is going to believe Bruce Wayne’s engagement… They know it will all fall through.” Dick chimed up. He was sat at the batcomputer, feet up on the keyboard, eating chunks of mango and watermelon and looking completely indifferent to the outraged faces around him. He looked briefly at Bruce. “No offense.”

“Well you do it then!” Stephanie argued. “You’re a…fully grown adult. No-one would blink an eye if you and Babs got engaged! Everyone knows you’re sweet on each other.”

Dick slowed the chewing of his fruit. Looking Steph straight in the eye, he spat out seeds over the edge of the ground down in the depths of the cave. Tim watched out of the corner of his eye as Bruce folded his arms, exasperated. Finally, after a tense stare off, Dick grinned.

“Can’t. Going off world on Friday. Can’t get married if you’re not on Earth. And this case really needs to be closed asap.”

It was a shit eating grin, one that made Steph want to instinctively slap it off his face as she felt increasingly crowded into a corner. Tim meanwhile screwed up his lips.

“You seriously think the designer has something to do with it?”

“Two murders at a wedding in two months. Both bride and groom.”

“No such thing as a coincidence?” Asked Stephanie. She tugged off her cape, hair getting caught as she did so. After a brief fight with the cowl, she tossed both aside and spun back to look at Batman.

“No. Not in these instances.”

“But what’s the connection?”

“Both brides were wearing the same designer.”

Tim nodded, catching on. “So… someone either has it out for the designer and wants her life to collapse… or she’s a wedding dress designer who hates happy couples.”

“Potentially.” Bruce walked towards Tim, seeing he was less aggressively opposed then Stephanie. “All you have to do is pretend. Hire her for the dress, plan the wedding. I’ll find the truth.”

Stephanie was not moved. “Using us as decoys? Really? And with what spare time am I supposed to plan a wedding? This is my final year of college… I can’t drop it all for the sake of a lie.” She looked to Tim, hoping to implore him to side with her. Bruce couldn’t make them both agree, surely.

To her growing distress, Tim was frowning off to the side, pulling his usual thinking face when he was musing something over.

“We’d seriously have to go through with it? Like from engagement, planning…wedding. All of it?” Something sparked in Tim’s eyes, and Stephanie’s stomach dropped.

She shook her head at him, unable to beg out loud. Bruce’s large chest heaved up and down with an exaggerated breath.

“It would have to be public. We’ll be making you targets. Big ones.”

If anything, this seemed to further motivate Tim, rather than placing the pressing guilt that had formed in Stephanie’s lungs. He looked to Bruce, expression serious and earnest.

“But we’d be potentially redirecting it from innocent people.”

Dick blinked, his somewhat sadistic enjoyment of their discomfort shifting as he too noticed Tim’s expression. A sort of desperation that Stephanie recognized in a way that made her breath short.

Panic went through her then, and she blurted out a, “What if I say no?” She tried to put her foot down, but instead it came out quiet and pleading.

“Then I won’t do it either.” Tim said, looking her in the eye for the first time since the idea was brought up. “I don’t want to. Not without her.”

Dick’s expression morphed into what only could have been described as pity. Tim and Stephanie were not dating, hadn’t been for years, but everyone knew from watching that they still knew each other inside and out, better than most anyone else. For all Tim had been drifting in and out of closeness with Bruce and Dick the past three years, it seemed he had only relocated positions within the family. Always to Cassandra first, his sister in every way that counted, and, despite his initial reservations, also to Stephanie, who had taken every effort to move past the worst of their adolescence with open arms.

They had grown closer (still not close enough in Tim’s opinion) but a level of shyness, of fragility remained. One wrong step and the false peace they had put together the past few years would crumble and reveal structural faults that neither could fix.

For all Tim wanted a partner to ensure that his loneliness would depart from him permanently; for all Tim wanted Stephanie to be that partner – Stephanie in all her hard fought and earned independence – Tim knew he couldn’t force her to do anything. Neither could Bruce. Not anymore. That lesson, they had both learned a long time ago.

He had been treading on eggshells for some time now, desperate to not upset her, even if it came at the cost of his own happiness.

Stephanie knew all of this. She had watched him argue with himself and twitch in a way that indicated he wanted to move closer, and she had watched him refuse to verbalise any of it.

He wouldn’t speak; therefore, she wouldn’t speak. Ergo, their relationship was at a dead end.

Unless he could get her to agree to lie with him.

Which would make her miserable. Because he wouldn’t be talking to her. Not truly.

And the uroboros of a Catch-22 situation would continue to eat its tail.

Bruce watched the naked relief play out on Stephanie’s face that she had Tim’s conditional support. He gave another sigh, and Dick watched from his seat, knowing that Bruce was about to play dirty.

“I do not trust anyone else to follow this through.”

Tim groaned, and hung his head down, and Dick knew Bruce had won. Stephanie meanwhile, for a lack of a better term, flipped out.

“No.” She said, and she began to tear off her uniform until she was only in her black tank top and leggings, stomping barefooted back up the stairs.

Trying to not take it personally, Tim rushed to the changing area to get into his shirt and jeans and socks. Maybe if he just caught her…

Dick watched the pair go, chewing loudly on a crunchy piece of fruit.

“Sometimes you’re really cruel.”

“…I know.”

Stephanie rushed into one of the drawing rooms, grabbing her bag she had left resting on a seat to pull out her shoes, collapsing to the expensive rug. Her little purple car was parked out front, so she could make a quick getaway.

Tim practically fell into the room, having thrown on a checked shirt and jeans that made his butt look good.

Stupid Tim.

“Steph.” He breathlessly plead. She tied her shoelaces, ignoring his tone. Finding the expensive cream rug much more interesting, she aggressively tied knots in her shoes.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“We could end up saving a lot of people down the line and –”

“You know that throwing yourself in front of a bullet isn’t going to make daddy love you any better, right?”

Tim stopped breathing, and she knew instantly she had crossed a line. She slumped forward, head banging against her knees. Tim watched her shoulders heave with silent sobs. Instantly he moved to be level with her, curled up on the floor, hidden out of sight from Alfred, or Bruce, or anyone.

His hand hovered, wanting to stroke her hair, but instead he settled for her bare forearm. He felt her muscle spasm under his cold fingers and watched as goosebumps appeared on her arm. She was looking paler than normal.

“Steph I won’t... I won’t force you to do it. But, if we can make ourselves targets then we could be saving someone else, and if Bruce closes the case before we even get to the alter… It doesn’t have to be serious...” He murmured the last part, trying to hide the paranoid part of him that believed Stephanie was reacting so strongly to the idea of being tied to him again – even temporarily.

“Tim, if this were five years ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. And not just because there’s no-one else I’d rather do this with...”

Tim smiled, despite the general mood of the room. Stephanie, with her head pressed to her knees, did not see.

“But I’m not going to be fake marrying a nice boy from down the road.”

“What do you mean?”

She finally looked up at him, and her eyes were dry and clear.

“Your name, Tim. Bruce’s name.”

He blinked, still not comprehending. Her fingers crept forward, absently stroking the fabric of his shirt.

“If you were me... If you were just an average Gothamite, and you saw that one of the richest and most handsome guys in Gotham, the one who spends his life in the public eye... If you saw he was marrying a girl who has a father on death row, and a mother who has a history of drug abuse. A girl who he hasn’t publicly associated with before outside of days where his sister was present... A girl who got pregnant at fifteen... How would that look? A two-month engagement?”

“I’d think it was none of my business.”

“And then the marriage breaks off after a month. Or they don’t even make it to the marriage stage. What do you think happens to that girl? How do you think her life is going to be afterwards?”

Tim couldn’t help it, with his free hand he reached for one of hers. Tangling their fingers together, he felt her trembling. She squeezed back tightly, their fingers turning a little purple.

“Bruce and I wouldn’t let anything like that happen.” Tim swore.

“You can’t promise that.”

Still so jaded, under all that optimism. Still so doubtful of how kind the world actually was.

“Yes, I can. I can.”

“God Tim, you’re so naïve!”

She tried to pull away, but Tim held tight, not letting her leave. She stared at him outraged, as he tried to convince her.

“Please Steph. Bruce doesn’t make mistakes about this sort of thing. More people are going to die unless we do something.”

Pale blue eyes stared into indigo, and a long moment passed in silence, the clock on the mantle providing the only noise. Some garden birds chirped outside, and the fluttering of their wings past the window made Stephanie flinch out of the moment. She breathed unsteadily. Tim tugged their conjoined hands closer to his chest.

“You’d honestly rather do it with no-one else?” He asked, smiling crookedly.

She blinked, unable to stand the vulnerability anymore, frowned and looked out the window. “You said the same thing downstairs.”

He blushed, and she tugged her hands finally free. Tim tried not to grimace at the feeling. Steph was always warm, a beacon of tanned skin and golden hair. Without her, his fingers quickly grew cold.

He had run home once, on a cold Gotham day, when he and his dad had spent an afternoon playing catch outside. His parents had been home for two months that time, and he had run in to find his mother and beg for a hot chocolate. He had been only six, and Janet had been sat in front of the computer, dark red hair piled up in a messy bun. Tim remembered her always looking well put together, even in her messier more relaxed moments.

“Mom, mom!” He had cried, cheeks flushed red from the temperature. His mother’s stress lines had disappeared when she spied him coming her way, and she held out her arms to catch him. She had been in a good mood that day. Ready to indulge him.

She pulled him up onto her lap, and Tim had laughed.

“Feel my hands!” And he had put his frozen fingers on her cheeks, causing her to gasp exaggeratedly.

“Frozen solid!” And she had kissed and kissed and kissed him and with each kiss he felt warmer and warmer. “Cold hands mean a warm heart though Tim. That’s the most important bit.”

And his father had entered the room, and the smile had slipped from Janet’s face, and the soft moment with his mother had been over. The warmth fled him, her and the house.

Fifteen years later, Tim wasn’t sure he believed Janet’s little saying anymore. Steph was just plain warm. From her head to her toes, her golden skin gave off warmth like she had been laying in the sun all day. Like she held the sun in her chest, and her hair was the yellow rays escaping. His mother and father’s warmth had come and gone with their moods. Stephanie’s was ever present. Even when she was angry, even when she was being cruel, she seemed incapable of being cold whilst being so.

Tim blinked, realising he had completely drifted off and away from the present moment, and was daydreaming again. Stephanie sat with her legs splayed out, still upset but more reserved than before.

"I’m going to go home.” She declared. “And I am going to think it over. Give me a day.”

“You gonna talk to your mom?”

“If I do go through with it, she’ll need to know.” Stephanie shifted, putting on her other shoe. “You’re already on thin ice with her you know. Have been for years.”

Tim was going to tease her and ask why it mattered what her mother thought of him, but like Steph said, he was treading on thin ice. Even getting her to consider it was a victory in his eyes.

She said her goodbye and got up, Tim remaining sat on the floor. Impulsively, she tugged at his hair playfully. Tim may have imagined it, but he felt her hand stroke his hair, like she used to when he’d rest his head on her stomach. It had started when she had pulled him down in her room, on her little bed, to see if he could hear or feel her baby move. It had continued long after the baby had been given up for adoption. She had said his hair was nice to play with.

Stephanie paused, looking down on him.

“You really won’t do it with someone else? Just me?”

“Promise.”

She sighed and went to go. She stopped, blond hair swinging round her shoulders, and looked like she was going to say something else. She thought better of it, and gave a half-hearted wave.

“See you tomorrow.” She uttered, then she was gone.

Tim remained sat on the floor long after she left. He heard her car switch on and roll off, and he remained on the carpet. His mind was racing.

Bruce eventually found him. Out of costume, in a white t-shirt and black trousers, he sat on the loveseat by Tim.

Keeping his head down, Tim spoke.

“She said… she wanted the day to think about it.”

“Okay.”

Tim stared off, knowing Bruce was waiting for him to ask the burning question.

“Why us?”

Tim heard the frame of the seat creak as Bruce shifted. Neither man was looking at the other.

“As I said. I trust you two will do a good job.”

“And no-one else.”

“You work well together.”

“Do we?”

“Tim…”

“She said that she was afraid of how people would react. Poor girl and a rich boy get hitched quickly and all that.”

Bruce’s response was firm and immediate. “I won’t let people think of her that way.”

Tim tilted his head to look at his father, comforted by the protective nature in his tone. “That’s what I said. She didn’t believe me.”

“Hnn.” Bruce placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly. “She’ll help. She won’t turn away from people in need. I’ll leave you to deal with the… nitty gritty of it all.”

He got up to leave, allowing Tim to brood alone on the floor.

“Bruce?”

Bruce turned, looking at him expectantly. Tim swallowed.

“You honestly think we work well together?”

Bruce chewed his tongue, thinking of how best to respond. “I remember, how happy you made each other, and I trust her with you. You’ll both do well in this.”

And that was all. Tim stared at the now empty doorframe, unsure of what to make of Bruce’s statement. His fingers twitched, craving the warmth of Stephanie’s grip once more.

He couldn’t decide if he was being selfish or not for wanting her to agree to such a silly idea. A silly idea that could save several people down the line. Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to spend time with her outside of the costume. Only if she wanted it though. He wasn’t that cruel. Falling forward to the floor, butt up in the air, Tim grumbled to himself about how lovesick he was.

Stephanie meanwhile had to pull over halfway home, so emotional that she needed to catch her breath.

This was what was going to bring Tim and her together once more? Another lie?

She couldn’t bare it. To have to pretend to be happy and in love when really what she would be was miserable. But still in love.

She’d never stopped. She still craved his eyes on her (and only her), to hear him say how proud he was.

No.

No, she was past that. That was the point. The point of Batgirl, the point of returning to Gotham.

She rubbed aggressively at her eyes, sat on the layby of the road, and called her mother, unable to wait until she reached home. She put on the speaker, and set the phone on the dashboard.

Her mother had the next three days off, so with some luck she would catch her.

“Hiya Stephie.” She answered. “All good?”

“Yeah. Just driving back.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“I… mom… I’ve been asked to do something. For work.” She clarified. Her mother would understand. “And I’m not sure I should.”

“Why?”

Something in Stephanie snapped, and three years of grief came pouring out. Her mother listened, saying nothing. Stephanie knew that her mother was wary of Tim, of Batgirl, of the whole thing, but she was also the one who could give a somewhat neutral response. As she ranted, Stephanie grew more distressed. She knew from the outside she must have looked like a mad woman, arms flailing and legs kicking. As she drew to a close, Stephanie rested her forehead on the wheel of her car.

“...But I want to help people. And I want to be with him. And I don’t know if that makes me weak.”

“It makes you lovesick.”

Her mother’s tone was soft, sad, and empathetic. Stephanie didn’t know which emotion was comforting and which was upsetting. She sniffed loudly, pressing the heel of the palms of her hands so tightly to her eyes that she saw stars. Crystal was silent, letting her daughter think her rant through. A minute passed, and Stephanie lowered her hands from her eyes, feelings slowly clicking into place.

“Thanks mom.”

“You made your mind up?”

“Yeah.”

Turning her engine back on, she picked up the phone once more. “Gonna be a bit longer until I get back. We need anything from the shops?”

“Another two cartons of milk wouldn’t hurt.”

“’Kay.” She buckled her seatbelt on. “Love you. Bye.”

“Love you too, Stephie. Glutton for punishment that you are.”

Stephanie laughed, then hung up. The smile quickly faded, and she stared at her home screen. Closing her eyes, taking a breath, and flicking her indicator on, she got back on the main road, looking for a place to do a u-turn.

Alfred opened the door to find Stephanie hopping up the steps to the front door, having let her back through the front gates. She smiled bashfully at the butler.

“I’ll inform Master Bruce that you’ve returned.” He said, ushering her inside.

“And Tim?”

“Of course. Make your way to the kitchen, Miss Stephanie. There are some baked goods cooling. You can take some home for you and your mother.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

She perched herself on one of the breakfast bar stools, staring at the banana muffins on the cooling rack. They smelled very good.

Tim arrived first, Bruce following behind. Both men looked expectant.

There was a brief pause as Stephanie collected her words.

“I’ll do it.” Bruce nodded, and Tim, betraying himself utterly, smiled broadly. It made something in her gut jerk, and she continued despite herself. “Only to help you solve the case. You promise to protect me from bad press?”

Bruce’s eyes tightened. “We’ll need a lot of publicity to ensure we capture their attention.”

“Good publicity.”

“Yes.” Stephanie’s eyes flittered to Tim as he moved closer to her, only partially listening to Bruce. “You’ll both have the family clout behind you. Use it.”

“Fine.” She nodded one last time. Tim opened his mouth to say something, but Stephanie turned away to grab one of Alfred’s muffins. Sensing the mood of the room, Bruce left, passing ownership of the task to the two young adults.

Tim moved closer than she would have preferred, close enough to feel his warm breath move her hair, but she still couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Stephanie…”

Taking a large bite, she inspected the granite worktops, finding the little silver glimmers fascinating. Tim saw she was going to be unresponsive. Hating himself a little, he began to dictate their plan going forward.

“We’ll go on a few dates first. People have seen you, me and Cassandra hanging out, so it won’t be a total shock. When do you next have a spare afternoon?”

She bristled at being told what to do in the manner Tim had slipped into, but she answered quietly.

“Thursday.”

“I’ll pick you up from campus. We’ll go to Robinson Park.” Colour rose to Tim’s cheeks as he got lost in his own head. Stephanie continued not to look at him, finding Alfred’s baking less upsetting. He was looking at her longingly. She knew that look well enough that she could sense it on him.

“Sounds good.” She said around a mouthful of muffin.

“You still want me to teach you how to ride my skateboard?”

That got her to look at him. She shook her head, trying not to give in to his puppy dog eyes.

“Tim, not like that. Not with everyone watching.”

This is what she had been dreading. Things she wanted, things she craved, but built on a foundation of lies. She and Tim weren’t going on a real date, so why should she do something she wanted for real? She was fine with lying, she did it every day of her life, but not for this. Not when half-truths were thrown in with Tim.

Tim seemed confused. “You said it just the other day. This is a good as reason as any.” He pushed his way closer into her personal space. Frustratingly, she wasn’t unnerved by it. “Steph… It gets easier. Those guys being around taking photos... Bruce has so much hold over them they don’t come near any of us.”

“Frightened of the big bad bat?”

“More like the billionaire with a big pocket for legal fees.” Tim snorted. “Honest. You’ll forget they’re there.” His tone turned a bit more serious, a bit more somber. “I know the whole thing is…less than ideal. So, let’s try and have some fun, yeah?”

Tim thought he knew that Steph knew that he still loved her. He’d said as much. But that was years ago. He’d also tried to kiss her. But that was also years ago.

Okay, so maybe being forced to get engaged and married wasn’t the best foundation to start a genuine courtship, but Tim could make it work.

So he smiled at her, and Stephanie smiled back. It was genuine.

He could make her happy.

“Okay.” She picked up two muffins to take home. “I’ll see you Thursday then.”

Tim’s smile widened as he watched her go. Mind racing, he twirled around in the kitchen, smacking his hands repeatedly off the counter.

“So… you’re going to tell her that you want to pursue a genuine relationship once this is all over or…?”

Dick’s voice drifted over from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, one foot resting on his other ankle. His body language was casual, but his expression was deadly serious. Tim dismissed his concerns.

“Won’t need to. I will…show her that I am emotionally ready to get back in a relationship with her, and I know she still loves me so… by the end, the lie can be over, and she can ask me.”

“She has to ask you?”

Dick sounded so unapproving that Tim’s hackles rose. He walked around to the other side of the counter, further separating him from his elder brother.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Tim shook his head, baffled. “Because I’m the one doing all the work.”

Dick tilted his head, frustrated with Tim. “Define ‘work’? Buying her a nice dinner counts as work?”

“No! But I… She’s frightened. I’ll prove she doesn’t need to be.”

Dick’s eyes tightened. Like Stephanie, he thought Tim was being awfully naïve. Tim grumbled to himself.

“Just… go do your space adventure. When you come back in two months… you’ll see. We’ll catch the bad guy, innocent people will be saved, the press will love Steph as much as I do, and we’ll be on our merry way to getting out all the bad air between us.”

“By…not talking about the bad air.”

“We’ll talk! She… she has to start it. ‘Cause I did all the talking in the past. It’s her turn now. That’s all.”

Dick chewed on the inside of his cheek. Tim picked up a muffin and threw it at his brother, unable to bear the condescension. “You have no room to judge. I’ve loved her for half my life. I’m not going to have a mission be another nail in the coffin.”

Dick caught the muffin, ripping the top off and inspecting the inside. He turned to go, knowing he would get nowhere with Tim. Once the boy had made his mind up, it took a plan exploding in his face to realise he’d done wrong.

“No,” Dick said, nibbling as he walked away. “You want a lie to be the kiss of life.”

Tim stood in the kitchen, his loneliness creeping up on him. Looking desperately around, he grabbed his own baked good, then rushed downstairs to take his car back to his apartment.

He could make this work.