Title: The Magnificent Seven
Fandom: DCAU (with numerous elements of the DCU)
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1100
Content notes: N/A
Author notes: Largely set in the DCAU, but with elements of DCU comics canon included. Barbara Gordon + Bruce Wayne(/Wally West/Diana/Shayera Hol/John Stewart/J'onn J'onzz/Clark Kent), with implied Dick Grayson/Teen Titans.
Summary: Bruce breaks the news of his new relationship to Barbara.



“You’re dating six people?” She blinks, somewhat taken aback, “six people?”

“Yes,” Bruce says, bent over the computer. And it may well be a trick of the light, but she swears that there’s a small smirk on his lips, “does that trouble you?”

“Not really, it’s just…” She bites her lip, but the next bit spills out despite all her best efforts. Obviously shock is making her a little less on the ball than she usually makes sure to be, “I never really thought you’d get one person to put up with you, let alone six.”

“Hn.”

“No offence, but-“ She pauses, bites her lip again, takes a deep breath. Bruce is still smirking at the computer, utterly untroubled, but she has standards to uphold. No point in tossing them aside, no matter how shocked (stunned, possibly flabbergasted) she is, “yeah, probably everything I can think of to say on that topic is offensive. If you don’t mind me asking, who are these mysterious six?”

Bruce types in a command, shifts his shoulders a little. Luckily for her, he doesn’t actually seem to mind that much. She thinks she knows him well enough by now, that lingering smirk is a good sign, “you’ve heard of them.”

“I’ve heard of a lot of people, Bruce, that really doesn’t narrow down the-“ she pauses, gulps. The urge to throw up is well-controlled, after all this time, but is still most definitely there, “please tell me that it’s nobody from Arkham. I’m tolerant, Bruce, I’m super tolerant but that is where I draw the-“

“It’s nobody from Arkham, Barbara,” Bruce interrupts her before she can start rambling – but does, true to form, look even more amused. Honestly, she likes the guy and even she’s totally willing to admit that he can be an utter and complete asshole at times, “don’t worry. My partners are far more… Heroic, than that.”

She stares at him for a long few seconds, mastering the urge to either throw up or punch him squarely in the face. He only stares back at her, eyebrow slightly arched as if waiting for her to work out the obvious…

“The Justice League?” She ventures thoughtfully, and it says a lot about her life that she’s relieved when Bruce gives her a faintly proud nod, “seriously? Well, I suppose it makes sense. After all that Dick’s told me about the Teen Titans-“

“I’m not sure I want to hear what Dick’s told you about the Teen Titans,” Bruce says wryly, but doesn’t actually show any visible signs of distress. Of course, that could mean that he’s dying inside and simply doesn’t want to arouse her suspicions at present moment – but she prefers to keep some optimism alive, thank you very much, “and our arrangement is somewhat… Different.”

“Different?” She asks bluntly, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest before she can think better of it, “in what way? If you all still have sex with each other-“

“Yes.”

“…Okay, I should’ve thought better of asking that question,” she sighs, allows herself a full body shudder as she uncrosses her arms and makes a secret vow to be less curious for the next, oh, day or so, “but the underlying point still stands. What makes your relationship different from what went on – from what’s still going on, judging by the hickeys I’ve seen on Tim’s neck – with the Titans?”

Bruce remains silent for a long few moments, typing in figures with an entirely too casual sort of carelessness.

“Bruce?”

“We have a Martian,” he answers, in that special tone that means his weird and twisted sense of humour is coming firmly into play, “a speedster, an Amazon and a Kryptonian. Does that answer your question?”

“Not really,” she sighs, feeling comfortable enough to roll her eyes at him. He may not react, but she knows that he appreciates it deep down, “considering that they also have a Kryptonian, an amazon, a speedster – the same speedster, might I add – and several aliens that could be considered close to Martians on the alien family tree. Try again, please.”

Another bout of silence.

“Bruce-“

“It makes me happy.”

…And this time, the bout of silence is entirely on her. She chokes a little, on her tongue and her spit and the air itself, and can’t hold herself back from open gawping as she recovers. Bruce, kindly for him, doesn’t comment on it. Just keeps inputting numbers, and staring thoughtfully at the screen like everything in the world is as it should be.

“Uh, Bruce,” which it may well not be, for him, she realizes as she finally gets her breath back and decides to forge on, “not to rain on your parade here, but I’m pretty sure that the Titans were – are – pretty happy with their arrangement-“

“Yes,” Bruce says amiably, not denying it. Which means that she’s missed something, again, and is going to spend the next few hours feeling that unpleasant mixture of grouchy and confused, again, “but their arrangement didn’t make me, personally, happy. This one does.”

…Or not, as the case may be. Instead she just blinks at him, frowns at him, can’t resist the urge to shuffle a little closer. For once, Bruce isn’t scowling over the sin of personal information. For once, his sharp smirk has transformed into a softer sort of smile.

“Selfish, I know,” as he allows his fingers to trace the keyboard. And allows his face, for the first time that she can remember, to actually show some genuine emotion – soft happiness, shining ever so cheerfully through, “unwise, probably. But… I’m happy, for the first time in years. And I’m willing to be a little selfish, for that.”

She stares at him for a little longer. Hand to her throat, eyes prickling suspiciously.

“…I can understand,” and then coughs, blinks, gets back to normal life because existing in this weird world of empathy is starting to make her back ache and she needs to go on patrol soon, for heaven’s sake, “just don’t tell me any details about your weird sex life, okay? It’d be awkward if I could never look you in the face again.”

“And dangerous.”

“And unpleasant, and unwise, and immature…” She moves on, but still continues looking at his face – the new brightness in his eyes, the curve of his smile. And, hey, if this new and strange sevensome makes Bruce – the great and fearsome Batman – smile like that? It has to be worth it, no matter what.