Five Times: Boy or Girl Wonder
Title: Five Times: Boy or Girl Wonder
Characters/Pairing: Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, Bruce, Babs, Cass, the cast of Young Justice
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Dick is suddenly a girl, Jay has always been, Robin is trans, Steve woke up to find his dick missing, and Regan wants to be like her mother. Five AUs.
Notes: For au_bingo, theme 'Other: Genderbent'. I promise one day I'll be able to write a fic which contains both male and female characters that isn't entirely about the female characters, god I promise even if I have to spend the next sixty years of my life fighting my gender issues for every word. Also: I never imagined writing genderbend could be so fun. I hope you like reading this as much as I loved writing it. Crit of all kinds welcome.
1.
After the third time Dick almost twists his ankle crumpling in an ungainly mass on the ground, he doesn't stand again, just stays right where he is and complains.
“Ow. It's not working. I don't get it, why do I have to keep trying? I'm never gonna be able to walk in these things, much less fight!”
“Again,” Barbara says. She has a manic glint in her eyes. “It's a vital part of your training. You don't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of the bad guys, do you?”
“No way am I not gonna look ridiculous. I'm a girl! In Robin's costume! The bad guys are going to fall all over themselves they'll laugh so hard!”
If Batman hadn't privately settled on letting them work the thing out for themselves, he would certainly intervene. Comment that there's no reason for the Robin costume to look any less Robin because it's worn by a girl - even one who is habitually male. But he has, and so he refrains from pointing out the obvious.
“That'd be useful. But no, you'd need to be a much better actress if you wanted to make them laugh. A man falling, that's a classic, but a girl? A gal falling on her ass, that's just sad.” Batgirl is perched on the foot of the examination bed. There is no doubt to Bruce's mind she's having tremendous fun, but at the same time-- he'd have to be stupid not to perceive the edge to her amusement.
“How do you do it?” It's strange, Bruce muses, how bodies shape the perception of people. Dick's female voice calls his attention where Bruce is pretty sure, as a male, it would only register as whining.
“Habit. Also, motivation.” She pauses. The first page of the file Bruce is updating is complete, and he needs to click on to the second to continue, but it can wait until Barbara has either revealed what she's thinking about either made up her mind not to. In any case he's not going to remind her of his presence. Barbara would only take it as a rebuke or a form of control, and would close up right away.
If he's honest with himself, Bruce has far more interest in her input on the subject than on the latest connections that the Blackout Gang may have established out of Gotham, though the latter may let them save lives later.
“You gotta knock 'em right on their ass. Come on, Girl Wonder, I manage, and I'm not the trained acrobat here!”
“Right now, neither am I,” Dick says piteously. “Look, I-- I can't even get my arms to do what I want them to and give me some balance. Whenever I try to use them, I've got these--” If Bruce is any judge, he must be gesturing at his breasts. His strained tone suggests nothing different. “--just, bouncing and, and stuff, and-- and they're smaller than yours! How do you do it?”
For a breath Bruce wonders how Barbara'll react to Dick - who's never hid his attraction to her particularly well - mentioning her chest casually, and whether he wants to be there for the fall-out.
“Sport bras are your friends.” There's nothing but amusement, and maybe a hint of sadism, in her answer. She's playing the big sister to Dick's pubescent kid sister, Bruce realizes. “Now stop making up excuses. Get up, chop chop. Show me what you got.”
The cheery authority in Barbara's tone brooks no argument. Dick pulls himself up, grumbling.
In the reflection on the computer screen, Bruce spies Dick take a first step. It's more self-assured than the last few times, at least: he wobbles less.
“Walk faster and you'll keep your balance better.”
Watching Dick, and Barbara guiding him, Bruce is giving serious consideration to making this regular training practice. Learning to walk in heels is a valuable exercise. He hasn't had much use for the skill since he grew too big to make a credible girl, but the ability to fake a feminine walk saved his life twice before he was fourteen. Five times in the following year. And there's no doubt Dick is more graceful than Bruce ever was.
“I feel like I'm half-naked,” Dick suddenly says. “I mean, it's the same costume I wear all the time, but now I feel like I'm basically wearing a-- a swimsuit or something, and I look at my legs and I want to get a pair of pants. Is that 'cause I'm a girl? Is that why your costume covers all of you, Batgirl?”
She stops laughing, and shakes her head, but a quick glance reassures Bruce that her smile isn't gone. “No. You're just not used to seeing yourself this way. It's the same for most teens, actually, it's got nothing to do with being a boy or a girl.”
“Then how come I don't feel this way usually?”
She shrugs. “I think it's maybe because you're such a fantastic acrobat. Your body always does what you want it to, you've got complete control. Right now, you don't, so you're aware of it in ways you usually aren't. Besides, this body is more adult than your body as boy. Girls are formed earlier, you know?”
Slowly, Dick nods.
“Makes sense, I guess.” He hesitates. “You're not having me on, I really don't look too ridiculous dressed like that?”
“Sweetie, if I had your legs, I would parade around in panties too,” she reassures him. At least, Bruce supposes it's a reassurance.
“Oh. Okay.” The strangest thing about this experience is how Dick seems comforted by Barbara's words. Bruce's never known him to be plagued with the body-image issues common to teenagers. It was one thing they shared, though Bruce always thought he and Dick came into it from different places. “I still don't get why you do these things to yourself. Wouldn't it be more practical if you wore flats?”
“I told you. It's all about the motivation. I get to kick bad guys' asses in heels.”
Batgirl smiles, and Bruce knows she won't expound any further on the subject, for either of them.
2.
It's Bruce's face when Leslie tells him that Jay is a girl that really makes it.
It's a face that shapes their entire relation , because Jay hasn't known Bruce for twenty-four hours and she already knows that Bruce isn't infallible.
He can be surprised. She can surprise him.
It took him off guard, that Jay's a girl, and in return she's not so sure what to make of it.
On the one hand, it just proves that he didn't molest her while he was kidnapping her and tying her to the chair, so that's a win. If Batman was into kids, she'd probably think back on being Robin. Probably. On the other hand, seriously? That's all it takes to throw him off his game? Batman learns his new Robin's a girl, and... what?
She eyes him. “You not gonna take that offer back, are you?” she demands. She tries to make her tone harsh because otherwise it might tremble.
Bruce's eyes are deep and unreadable, and he looks at her long and hard - Jay shifts, crosses her legs, ill at ease - and he shakes his head, mutely.
“No,” he finally says. “Of course not.”
His voice sounds a bit like he looked when he saw her wearing Robin's costume. Like last night, it makes Jay's skin feel like electricity, ants, anticipation tensing through her and excitation thrumming. Like there's something really good waiting for just as soon as Bruce opens his mouth and tells her.
Jay grins at him, the shadows in his eyes nothing compared to how warm he sounds, and cocks her head. “Can we go now? We can wait for the test's results just as easily in the Cave.”
From what she saw, the Cave's got some really sweet gym equipment, and she's just dying to try it all. And this is too weird; Jay knew Leslie Thompkins from sight, before. Never guessed she was really Batman's ally - never bought onto that piece of gossip.
She knew her, and everyone in Crime Alley knows the clinic, and Jay just wants to be gone already. It's not that she's scared Bruce is gonna change his mind and leave her here, it's just-- it's too weird.
When Jay's mom was sick, they didn't come here, because Mom didn't want to attract the attention of those among Dad's friends and enemies who might want to hurt them that week. Mom never wavered from that idea, and Jay-- Jay was a bit fucked up, so. Clinic makes her think of Mom dying.
Of maybe dying herself, the street and Gotham and Jay never really thought it might happen to her, but still. If she's got to die, she doesn't want it to be in the hospital, y'know? Not in Leslie Thompkins' free clinic in Crime Alley. She wants to do something with her life.
Bruce is still looking. Jay doesn't think Bruce ever stops looking.
“What is Jay short for?” he asks, almost soft.
“Jasmine.” It's a flower. A flower and a bird, she's got the most special name. One word. One fucking word. She's had it with creeps dripping sleazy grins at her and drawling that it's a pretty name. Last time she practically made the guy swallow the match he was chewing on.
“Hm,” Bruce says. It's noncommittal enough that she can ignore it as she pulls the sweat-shirt over her head. “Yes, I think we're done here, Jay.”
3.
“I think,” Superboy says in a portentous tone, “that it's awesome you've both joined the club.”
Cassie and Cissie exchange a glance, smiling, and Cissie says, “yeah, we think we're awesome too.”
Everyone burst out laughing, not because anyone found the joke really funny, but the kind of laughter that means they're happy to be together and have a good time, and sometimes Superboy makes is so easy, it would be practically a sin not to grasp the opportunity to laugh at him a bit. It's not mean, and he doesn't take it badly, grins goofily as he insists. “No, really, I mean it. That way the papers can stop pairing me up with Robin.”
“Superboy, I hate to pop your illusions, but the papers aren't writing about your love life.”
“Imaginary love life,” Cassie says, clearly wishing it weren't so, but incredibly relieved that this particular scrap of gossip doesn't have a shred of truth to it.
It didn't take that long to convince Cassie there's nothing between Superboy and her, seriously, nothing; Robin just acted the way she always did and Superboy went on as always, not even realizing what there was to be gained or lost in the process. Still, from times to times, Robin catches this look on Cassie's face when she and Superboy are-- there really is no avoiding the word arguing at this stage, because Superboy just will not listen, and she knows that means that Cassie gets insecurities about this.
“It's not,” Superboy protests. “I have plenty of experience!”
Cissie screws her nose. “Ew. Remind me, you're how old?”
“He can't have that much,” Impulse informs them. “Because he needs to sleep, so that takes a lot of his time. He also takes a lot of time in the shower, and I think he's all alone in there.”
Cassie and Cissie explode into clusters of giggles as Superboy turns a brilliant, intense red and Secret merely looks interested. Robin, well, she makes no attempt to conceal the smirk.
She ponders whether she'll need to take Cassie aside and assure her that she has no intention regarding Superboy and that Cassie is free to help herself. It's not that Superboy's not attractive; Robin isn't especially attracted, but she's got eyes and a functioning sexuality.
But anything that came between them would be unspeakably complicated, because of, in no particular order: the team, Batman, the awkwardness that comes when feelings mix with the professional and don't even have the decency to work out, the fact that any relationship restricted solely to code names was bound to rush into a wall really fast, Batman's grimness and displeasure if he was to learn that his Robin was dating the local Super.
It's going to be difficult enough dating a normal guy who won't make an issue out of the fact that his girlfriend's got a dick. Attempting to date Superboy would be secret identity suicide.
Maybe she's thought about it a little. She needs to have answers for when Dick or Oracle rib her. For some reason, they both find it amusing to try and make her-- not really uncomfortable, she doesn't think that's their goal, but they enjoy poking at the personal at the least expectable moment.
Of course, thinking about Dick or Oracle and how she dislikes the lack of boundaries when she's with Young Justice is a massive no don't. It feels like a severe violation of a moral code of some sort. Best to shelve it.
“Right,” Cissie hiccups. “Pleeeenty of experience. I can just imagine.”
“I do too have experience!” His insistence, of course, only makes everyone else laugh harder. “Just ask me one question, go on, do it. I choose truth, go on, ask, I dare you to ask me!”
“That's okay, Superboy. I'm sure we all know as much about you and this subject as we want. Thank you for sharing.”
“Oh! Oh, let's talk about you, Miss Stick In The Mud. You date, or would a boyfriend be too much of an imposition on your time?” It casts a cold; between his tone and the reference to when she'd called attention to the fact that she couldn't exactly slip out of Gotham whenever she wanted, his anger is impossible to miss. She's a bit sorry, she didn't mean to hurt him.
But he's still looking at her, expectant and mutinous.
“Hey,” Secret starts, then drifts, unsure of what to say.
“It's not Robin's turn, she doesn't have to answer,” Impulse pips up, his head darting into tilts as he looks from Robin to Superboy and back, like he's watching a ping-pong match.
They don't know anything about her. She hasn't told them her name, whether she has siblings or not. She's pretty sure Wondergirl's got theories about her, and she knows Arrowette has opinions about Batman and her, though she's not aware yet of what they are. She could lie to them, and they would never know it, and it would not make her any less their teammate, and she would not think worse of either them or herself.
“Sure,” she says. She attempts to make her smile sweet. “I'm dating Impulse. Your non-existent harem was getting crowded.”
“Yay!” There's a gush of wind brushing against her, and lips pecking lightly on her cheek, and then Impulse's back in his place across from her before anyone else had the time to react. “I'mdatingRobin.” The ash tracks he's left on the ground, she notices, spell G♥ me!
She blinks.
“O-kay,” Cissie says slowly. “Please tell me you were joking about the harem thing.”
Even Secret looks concerned.
4.
Journal,
Today I skipped school, my girlfriend took me to meet the scary mentor (again), I was fed tuna sandwiches and tea, and I'm not sure how but I ended up in a Robin costume.
And I woke up a girl.
Batman's looking at Steve in that unfriendly way that would make Steve believe he totally knows what Steve's thinking if it wasn't Batman's normal expression, or what little can be made of it, every time he comes across Steve. And in this case, well, frankly, Steve refuses to be daunted. As far as he's concerned, he's totally allowed to think up imaginary entries in his journal while he's being given the hairy eyeball by the big guy.
There's a minute narrowing of the bat lenses, and Steve cringes in his little old sneakers converted into Spoiler boots for the occasion. Okay, so the sex-change had no effect whatsoever on how really fucking scary Steve thinks Batman can be.
Journal: whatever way Batgirl and Oracle have of not being totally terrified of the big boss? Turns out it's not the ovaries after all.
Which is kind of a shame, because here Steve is with his new boobs praying that his not-a-dick is going to protect him, like, an invisible vagina shield, he would not be picky. But no, nothing, just the Bat Stare of Disapproval, like he's one second away from sending Steve to bed. Bad Spoiler, no protecting the innocents for you!
Cass smiles at him like she can hear what he's thinking and yeah, she? Probably can. Cass is more awesome than Batman like that. Meanwhile Batman is still looking at Steve like he suspects him of having lost his dick on purpose.
Don't get him wrong: it's not that Steve's opposed to girls' bodies, it's that he woke up and found his dick missing. That's the kind of hijinks that sounds hilarious when it happens to the JLA and Steve hears about it from three steps removed, through Oracle's allusions of paint-stripping irony. Not so much when it happens to him, even if he's dealing. He already had the world's most decaffeinated freak-out in the morning, and since then he's dealing.
Mostly by thinking about other things and trusting into Batman's brain to figure out what happened and how to fix it, but he figures he's allowed that, as well.
“He should be Robin,” Cass says.
Steve loves her, but sometimes he does not know how her mind works.
Batman's eyes may or may not flick to Cass, who knows with these damn lenses, but he doesn't turn away from Steve. Who's having the world's quietest heart attack.
“Something happened to Robin?” he asks. He doesn't know Robin's real name; it's like an empty space in that sentence.
Batman looks like he's bitten into a particularly sour lemon. Which is another expression Steve's accustomed to seeing on his face, for given values of 'expression' or 'face', so Steve clings to that proof that he didn't wake in a parallel universe. That was his first coherent thought after he was done pinching himself this morning. “Nothing happened. Batgirl?”
“Robin's with the Titans,” she persists. “Steve should be Robin.”
Steve sort of considers being the kind of guy who'd interrupt the scene and say he doesn't wanna be Robin.
Only he wouldn't turn down being Robin. Even if it's just for the night. Even if tomorrow everything has slotted back into place and things go back to normal and Batman doesn't want him in his Cave anymore. Even if it's just for as long as he's a girl, or something, and fuck but Steve hadn't imagined he might find a reason he wouldn't want to get his dick back too soon.
Steve's been a costumed crime-fighter long enough to admit that he's fantasized about being Robin. A lot. Even if Batman's kind of a jerk.
Cass knows, of course. There's not a lot you can hide from Cass, Steve supposes, and he's never tried to hide that. When he's with Cass, flying through the city on decel-lines with Batgirl, it feels like he imagines being Robin to feel. Not like the grim boy who is Robin, but-- Robin. Like how he imagines Robin is, from patching up tales and rumors of the hero community and perps.
Not that his daydream's gonna matter a lot. Batman is not convinced. It's not like Cass has been forthcoming with the justifications either, so Steve can kind of see where he's coming from. It's not every time he finds himself in agreement with Batman either, or at least not when it comes to what Steve ought to do. That's one for the 'alternate universe' theory.
Cass makes a frustrated noise. Steve doesn't need crazy body language reading skills to know that Batman and he are both radiating, like, tsunamis of skepticism.
She straightens from where she's lounging (it looks like a lounge, even if Steve knows more than well enough she could kick his ass fifteen ways from Sunday from that position) against the Batcomputer and points at the area of the Cave Steve knows better than to even entertain fantasies of ever asking about.
He leans forwards all the same, a reflex to follow the line of her finger, and also an excuse to look at somewhere else than the table where Batman's been making him feel like a guinea pig for the past three hours. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Batman-- stilling, or tensing, and then turn his head in that direction.
The Case is displayed in such a manner that the only way to ignore it is to have one's back turned on it, or someone blocking the view, and it's better lit than any other part of the Cave. If Steve strained his eyes, he could make out what's written on the golden plaque. He's too busy kicking himself for not adding two and two before. The second Robin, the dead one. The girl. Next to Steve, Batman is very still.
“Robin,” Cass says. It sounds like something obvious to her. The costume in the Case might fit Steve, like this.
5.
The computer screens cast greenish lighting over the Cave, cutting raw edges on masses of darkness. Regan will not let herself be intimidated. This is her birthright.
All of this - the Cave, the cowl, everything - belongs to her. It's been appropriated by people who have no right to it, certainly no more rights than she does, and if she wants to come over to the Cave, it's nothing but what she's entitled to.
She has to keep on repeating the logic to herself like a mantra. Grayson doesn't know she's gone, and, more importantly, the Cave is Oracle's now. Regan overheard Grayson and Oracle fighting about it over the intercom.
She had to come. She's the Bat's daughter. No-one has as much right to her mother's heritage as she does. Not even Oracle.
Not even--
“Regan.” The voice seems to come out of nowhere, echoes against the Cave's edges, too sudden for Regan to hide her startle. “Does Dixie know you're here?”
If she's been spotted, no use in trying to conceal herself. That was stupid anyway. She should've known her mother would've had installed perfect surveillance over the Cave and Oracle knew how to use it. Trying to maintain a believable game face, Regan steps into the neon lights.
Oracle is there, in front of the computer. If she'd entered the Cave without trying to avoid being seen, she couldn't have missed him. He turns his wheelchair a few degrees as she comes closer - damn, she didn't think she was making that much noise. But then again, it makes sense that Oracle is good. Almost as good as Regan's mother.
“Well?” he repeats.
“No,” Regan says shortly, evading eye-contact. She doesn't know what else to say, so she cuts herself short before she says anything incriminating. Out of all of them and with Cain gone, Oracle is the toughest competition to the title of heir. Oracle inherited the Cave, didn't he? And the only reason he didn't inherit the name as well is because of his legs.
Grayson's excellent, but Oracle is the eldest son.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Oracle rolling his eyes behind his glasses and sighing. He half-turns on the chair, types something that she's too far away to read. “Come into my parlor...” she hears him grind under his breath. “God.”
“What,” she immediately demands. First lesson of survival: always be on top of the situation. That means, don't let anything take you by surprise. That means, know things. There, too, Regan is at a disadvantage. He's Oracle.
The glance he sends her is so dismissive for a moment she can hear her grandfather. “Nothing. Private joke, don't worry about it. So, you didn't tell me why you turned up in my belfry.”
Regan frowns. “What?”
“Bats live in belfries. It's another private joke, ask Dixie about it,” he clarifies when he sees the explanation didn't make any sense to her. It's always so difficult to have a discussion with these people. With their references and their short-cuts they seem to expect her to already know. If possible, it makes Regan feel like even more of an alien than their rules about not killing. “Why are you here?”
This is the part of the conversation she'd wished to deflect, and the main reason she tried not to be caught. A futile hope, she's well aware. Sooner or later, Oracle would've realized she'd accessed his files, if even she'd been able to break his securities, but-- she had to try. Even if it was impossible, she had to try. Where else could the impossible become possible if not in Gotham, in her mother's Cave?
“Either tell me or leave, but stop wasting my time, I'm busy.”
“With Brown,” Regan mumbles.
The sharpness of this glance makes her curse herself for not biting her tongue. “Is that jealousy I hear? Yes, Regan, with Stan. And half a dozen other heroes who depend on me, and I'm not in the mood for baby-sitting.”
From the little Regan's known him, Oracle is like this, brisk and impatient. He's different with Grayson, but not as much as how different Grayson is with him.
She can relate.
She shuffles her feet. Oracle's turned back to his monitor; it makes thinking and moving easier, though she knows better than to believe he's genuinely not keeping an eye or an ear on her. It gives her a moment to reach her decision.
“It's about Cain.” Admitting it wrings her heart in her throat. The shadows of the Cave seem shallower, all of a sudden, their protection dwindling; and the costume she's wearing feels as fake as the one she put together by herself months ago.
“What about him?”
“Is he- is he coming back?”
There. She said it.
Her heart is beating in her ears loud enough that she's amazed Oracle doesn't pick up on it. She said it. Her throat's dry.
“...I don't know,” Oracle finally says. “Maybe.”
It's not the answer Regan hoped for. But she knew there were no chances she'd get that one. She's lucky that Oracle's not pushing to demand why she's asking, that he seems lost in thoughts of his own, and then one of his partners-- or agents-- calls for his help on the intercom, and the moment is dispelled. (It's not Brown.)
She leaves before he can pry more. She doesn't want him to know that she's afraid Cain will return, one day, and take the Bat's heritage for himself. She's heard about him, from Grayson and, and other people. He's the best fighter they have. Regan may be Brenda Wayne's daughter, Cain is the perfect son. It is impossible for a daughter to be as valuable as a son; this is one lesson she's grateful for her grandfather to have made certain she'll never forget.
She can't give up. Everything she's learned about her mother goes toward proving that impossible isn't a notion that holds much weight with the Bat. Regan's mother is the only person to have ever stood up to Regan's grandfather as an equal.
She just has to be like her mother.
Characters/Pairing: Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, Damian, Bruce, Babs, Cass, the cast of Young Justice
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Dick is suddenly a girl, Jay has always been, Robin is trans, Steve woke up to find his dick missing, and Regan wants to be like her mother. Five AUs.
Notes: For au_bingo, theme 'Other: Genderbent'. I promise one day I'll be able to write a fic which contains both male and female characters that isn't entirely about the female characters, god I promise even if I have to spend the next sixty years of my life fighting my gender issues for every word. Also: I never imagined writing genderbend could be so fun. I hope you like reading this as much as I loved writing it. Crit of all kinds welcome.
1.
After the third time Dick almost twists his ankle crumpling in an ungainly mass on the ground, he doesn't stand again, just stays right where he is and complains.
“Ow. It's not working. I don't get it, why do I have to keep trying? I'm never gonna be able to walk in these things, much less fight!”
“Again,” Barbara says. She has a manic glint in her eyes. “It's a vital part of your training. You don't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of the bad guys, do you?”
“No way am I not gonna look ridiculous. I'm a girl! In Robin's costume! The bad guys are going to fall all over themselves they'll laugh so hard!”
If Batman hadn't privately settled on letting them work the thing out for themselves, he would certainly intervene. Comment that there's no reason for the Robin costume to look any less Robin because it's worn by a girl - even one who is habitually male. But he has, and so he refrains from pointing out the obvious.
“That'd be useful. But no, you'd need to be a much better actress if you wanted to make them laugh. A man falling, that's a classic, but a girl? A gal falling on her ass, that's just sad.” Batgirl is perched on the foot of the examination bed. There is no doubt to Bruce's mind she's having tremendous fun, but at the same time-- he'd have to be stupid not to perceive the edge to her amusement.
“How do you do it?” It's strange, Bruce muses, how bodies shape the perception of people. Dick's female voice calls his attention where Bruce is pretty sure, as a male, it would only register as whining.
“Habit. Also, motivation.” She pauses. The first page of the file Bruce is updating is complete, and he needs to click on to the second to continue, but it can wait until Barbara has either revealed what she's thinking about either made up her mind not to. In any case he's not going to remind her of his presence. Barbara would only take it as a rebuke or a form of control, and would close up right away.
If he's honest with himself, Bruce has far more interest in her input on the subject than on the latest connections that the Blackout Gang may have established out of Gotham, though the latter may let them save lives later.
“You gotta knock 'em right on their ass. Come on, Girl Wonder, I manage, and I'm not the trained acrobat here!”
“Right now, neither am I,” Dick says piteously. “Look, I-- I can't even get my arms to do what I want them to and give me some balance. Whenever I try to use them, I've got these--” If Bruce is any judge, he must be gesturing at his breasts. His strained tone suggests nothing different. “--just, bouncing and, and stuff, and-- and they're smaller than yours! How do you do it?”
For a breath Bruce wonders how Barbara'll react to Dick - who's never hid his attraction to her particularly well - mentioning her chest casually, and whether he wants to be there for the fall-out.
“Sport bras are your friends.” There's nothing but amusement, and maybe a hint of sadism, in her answer. She's playing the big sister to Dick's pubescent kid sister, Bruce realizes. “Now stop making up excuses. Get up, chop chop. Show me what you got.”
The cheery authority in Barbara's tone brooks no argument. Dick pulls himself up, grumbling.
In the reflection on the computer screen, Bruce spies Dick take a first step. It's more self-assured than the last few times, at least: he wobbles less.
“Walk faster and you'll keep your balance better.”
Watching Dick, and Barbara guiding him, Bruce is giving serious consideration to making this regular training practice. Learning to walk in heels is a valuable exercise. He hasn't had much use for the skill since he grew too big to make a credible girl, but the ability to fake a feminine walk saved his life twice before he was fourteen. Five times in the following year. And there's no doubt Dick is more graceful than Bruce ever was.
“I feel like I'm half-naked,” Dick suddenly says. “I mean, it's the same costume I wear all the time, but now I feel like I'm basically wearing a-- a swimsuit or something, and I look at my legs and I want to get a pair of pants. Is that 'cause I'm a girl? Is that why your costume covers all of you, Batgirl?”
She stops laughing, and shakes her head, but a quick glance reassures Bruce that her smile isn't gone. “No. You're just not used to seeing yourself this way. It's the same for most teens, actually, it's got nothing to do with being a boy or a girl.”
“Then how come I don't feel this way usually?”
She shrugs. “I think it's maybe because you're such a fantastic acrobat. Your body always does what you want it to, you've got complete control. Right now, you don't, so you're aware of it in ways you usually aren't. Besides, this body is more adult than your body as boy. Girls are formed earlier, you know?”
Slowly, Dick nods.
“Makes sense, I guess.” He hesitates. “You're not having me on, I really don't look too ridiculous dressed like that?”
“Sweetie, if I had your legs, I would parade around in panties too,” she reassures him. At least, Bruce supposes it's a reassurance.
“Oh. Okay.” The strangest thing about this experience is how Dick seems comforted by Barbara's words. Bruce's never known him to be plagued with the body-image issues common to teenagers. It was one thing they shared, though Bruce always thought he and Dick came into it from different places. “I still don't get why you do these things to yourself. Wouldn't it be more practical if you wore flats?”
“I told you. It's all about the motivation. I get to kick bad guys' asses in heels.”
Batgirl smiles, and Bruce knows she won't expound any further on the subject, for either of them.
2.
It's Bruce's face when Leslie tells him that Jay is a girl that really makes it.
It's a face that shapes their entire relation , because Jay hasn't known Bruce for twenty-four hours and she already knows that Bruce isn't infallible.
He can be surprised. She can surprise him.
It took him off guard, that Jay's a girl, and in return she's not so sure what to make of it.
On the one hand, it just proves that he didn't molest her while he was kidnapping her and tying her to the chair, so that's a win. If Batman was into kids, she'd probably think back on being Robin. Probably. On the other hand, seriously? That's all it takes to throw him off his game? Batman learns his new Robin's a girl, and... what?
She eyes him. “You not gonna take that offer back, are you?” she demands. She tries to make her tone harsh because otherwise it might tremble.
Bruce's eyes are deep and unreadable, and he looks at her long and hard - Jay shifts, crosses her legs, ill at ease - and he shakes his head, mutely.
“No,” he finally says. “Of course not.”
His voice sounds a bit like he looked when he saw her wearing Robin's costume. Like last night, it makes Jay's skin feel like electricity, ants, anticipation tensing through her and excitation thrumming. Like there's something really good waiting for just as soon as Bruce opens his mouth and tells her.
Jay grins at him, the shadows in his eyes nothing compared to how warm he sounds, and cocks her head. “Can we go now? We can wait for the test's results just as easily in the Cave.”
From what she saw, the Cave's got some really sweet gym equipment, and she's just dying to try it all. And this is too weird; Jay knew Leslie Thompkins from sight, before. Never guessed she was really Batman's ally - never bought onto that piece of gossip.
She knew her, and everyone in Crime Alley knows the clinic, and Jay just wants to be gone already. It's not that she's scared Bruce is gonna change his mind and leave her here, it's just-- it's too weird.
When Jay's mom was sick, they didn't come here, because Mom didn't want to attract the attention of those among Dad's friends and enemies who might want to hurt them that week. Mom never wavered from that idea, and Jay-- Jay was a bit fucked up, so. Clinic makes her think of Mom dying.
Of maybe dying herself, the street and Gotham and Jay never really thought it might happen to her, but still. If she's got to die, she doesn't want it to be in the hospital, y'know? Not in Leslie Thompkins' free clinic in Crime Alley. She wants to do something with her life.
Bruce is still looking. Jay doesn't think Bruce ever stops looking.
“What is Jay short for?” he asks, almost soft.
“Jasmine.” It's a flower. A flower and a bird, she's got the most special name. One word. One fucking word. She's had it with creeps dripping sleazy grins at her and drawling that it's a pretty name. Last time she practically made the guy swallow the match he was chewing on.
“Hm,” Bruce says. It's noncommittal enough that she can ignore it as she pulls the sweat-shirt over her head. “Yes, I think we're done here, Jay.”
3.
“I think,” Superboy says in a portentous tone, “that it's awesome you've both joined the club.”
Cassie and Cissie exchange a glance, smiling, and Cissie says, “yeah, we think we're awesome too.”
Everyone burst out laughing, not because anyone found the joke really funny, but the kind of laughter that means they're happy to be together and have a good time, and sometimes Superboy makes is so easy, it would be practically a sin not to grasp the opportunity to laugh at him a bit. It's not mean, and he doesn't take it badly, grins goofily as he insists. “No, really, I mean it. That way the papers can stop pairing me up with Robin.”
“Superboy, I hate to pop your illusions, but the papers aren't writing about your love life.”
“Imaginary love life,” Cassie says, clearly wishing it weren't so, but incredibly relieved that this particular scrap of gossip doesn't have a shred of truth to it.
It didn't take that long to convince Cassie there's nothing between Superboy and her, seriously, nothing; Robin just acted the way she always did and Superboy went on as always, not even realizing what there was to be gained or lost in the process. Still, from times to times, Robin catches this look on Cassie's face when she and Superboy are-- there really is no avoiding the word arguing at this stage, because Superboy just will not listen, and she knows that means that Cassie gets insecurities about this.
“It's not,” Superboy protests. “I have plenty of experience!”
Cissie screws her nose. “Ew. Remind me, you're how old?”
“He can't have that much,” Impulse informs them. “Because he needs to sleep, so that takes a lot of his time. He also takes a lot of time in the shower, and I think he's all alone in there.”
Cassie and Cissie explode into clusters of giggles as Superboy turns a brilliant, intense red and Secret merely looks interested. Robin, well, she makes no attempt to conceal the smirk.
She ponders whether she'll need to take Cassie aside and assure her that she has no intention regarding Superboy and that Cassie is free to help herself. It's not that Superboy's not attractive; Robin isn't especially attracted, but she's got eyes and a functioning sexuality.
But anything that came between them would be unspeakably complicated, because of, in no particular order: the team, Batman, the awkwardness that comes when feelings mix with the professional and don't even have the decency to work out, the fact that any relationship restricted solely to code names was bound to rush into a wall really fast, Batman's grimness and displeasure if he was to learn that his Robin was dating the local Super.
It's going to be difficult enough dating a normal guy who won't make an issue out of the fact that his girlfriend's got a dick. Attempting to date Superboy would be secret identity suicide.
Maybe she's thought about it a little. She needs to have answers for when Dick or Oracle rib her. For some reason, they both find it amusing to try and make her-- not really uncomfortable, she doesn't think that's their goal, but they enjoy poking at the personal at the least expectable moment.
Of course, thinking about Dick or Oracle and how she dislikes the lack of boundaries when she's with Young Justice is a massive no don't. It feels like a severe violation of a moral code of some sort. Best to shelve it.
“Right,” Cissie hiccups. “Pleeeenty of experience. I can just imagine.”
“I do too have experience!” His insistence, of course, only makes everyone else laugh harder. “Just ask me one question, go on, do it. I choose truth, go on, ask, I dare you to ask me!”
“That's okay, Superboy. I'm sure we all know as much about you and this subject as we want. Thank you for sharing.”
“Oh! Oh, let's talk about you, Miss Stick In The Mud. You date, or would a boyfriend be too much of an imposition on your time?” It casts a cold; between his tone and the reference to when she'd called attention to the fact that she couldn't exactly slip out of Gotham whenever she wanted, his anger is impossible to miss. She's a bit sorry, she didn't mean to hurt him.
But he's still looking at her, expectant and mutinous.
“Hey,” Secret starts, then drifts, unsure of what to say.
“It's not Robin's turn, she doesn't have to answer,” Impulse pips up, his head darting into tilts as he looks from Robin to Superboy and back, like he's watching a ping-pong match.
They don't know anything about her. She hasn't told them her name, whether she has siblings or not. She's pretty sure Wondergirl's got theories about her, and she knows Arrowette has opinions about Batman and her, though she's not aware yet of what they are. She could lie to them, and they would never know it, and it would not make her any less their teammate, and she would not think worse of either them or herself.
“Sure,” she says. She attempts to make her smile sweet. “I'm dating Impulse. Your non-existent harem was getting crowded.”
“Yay!” There's a gush of wind brushing against her, and lips pecking lightly on her cheek, and then Impulse's back in his place across from her before anyone else had the time to react. “I'mdatingRobin.” The ash tracks he's left on the ground, she notices, spell G♥ me!
She blinks.
“O-kay,” Cissie says slowly. “Please tell me you were joking about the harem thing.”
Even Secret looks concerned.
4.
Journal,
Today I skipped school, my girlfriend took me to meet the scary mentor (again), I was fed tuna sandwiches and tea, and I'm not sure how but I ended up in a Robin costume.
And I woke up a girl.
Batman's looking at Steve in that unfriendly way that would make Steve believe he totally knows what Steve's thinking if it wasn't Batman's normal expression, or what little can be made of it, every time he comes across Steve. And in this case, well, frankly, Steve refuses to be daunted. As far as he's concerned, he's totally allowed to think up imaginary entries in his journal while he's being given the hairy eyeball by the big guy.
There's a minute narrowing of the bat lenses, and Steve cringes in his little old sneakers converted into Spoiler boots for the occasion. Okay, so the sex-change had no effect whatsoever on how really fucking scary Steve thinks Batman can be.
Journal: whatever way Batgirl and Oracle have of not being totally terrified of the big boss? Turns out it's not the ovaries after all.
Which is kind of a shame, because here Steve is with his new boobs praying that his not-a-dick is going to protect him, like, an invisible vagina shield, he would not be picky. But no, nothing, just the Bat Stare of Disapproval, like he's one second away from sending Steve to bed. Bad Spoiler, no protecting the innocents for you!
Cass smiles at him like she can hear what he's thinking and yeah, she? Probably can. Cass is more awesome than Batman like that. Meanwhile Batman is still looking at Steve like he suspects him of having lost his dick on purpose.
Don't get him wrong: it's not that Steve's opposed to girls' bodies, it's that he woke up and found his dick missing. That's the kind of hijinks that sounds hilarious when it happens to the JLA and Steve hears about it from three steps removed, through Oracle's allusions of paint-stripping irony. Not so much when it happens to him, even if he's dealing. He already had the world's most decaffeinated freak-out in the morning, and since then he's dealing.
Mostly by thinking about other things and trusting into Batman's brain to figure out what happened and how to fix it, but he figures he's allowed that, as well.
“He should be Robin,” Cass says.
Steve loves her, but sometimes he does not know how her mind works.
Batman's eyes may or may not flick to Cass, who knows with these damn lenses, but he doesn't turn away from Steve. Who's having the world's quietest heart attack.
“Something happened to Robin?” he asks. He doesn't know Robin's real name; it's like an empty space in that sentence.
Batman looks like he's bitten into a particularly sour lemon. Which is another expression Steve's accustomed to seeing on his face, for given values of 'expression' or 'face', so Steve clings to that proof that he didn't wake in a parallel universe. That was his first coherent thought after he was done pinching himself this morning. “Nothing happened. Batgirl?”
“Robin's with the Titans,” she persists. “Steve should be Robin.”
Steve sort of considers being the kind of guy who'd interrupt the scene and say he doesn't wanna be Robin.
Only he wouldn't turn down being Robin. Even if it's just for the night. Even if tomorrow everything has slotted back into place and things go back to normal and Batman doesn't want him in his Cave anymore. Even if it's just for as long as he's a girl, or something, and fuck but Steve hadn't imagined he might find a reason he wouldn't want to get his dick back too soon.
Steve's been a costumed crime-fighter long enough to admit that he's fantasized about being Robin. A lot. Even if Batman's kind of a jerk.
Cass knows, of course. There's not a lot you can hide from Cass, Steve supposes, and he's never tried to hide that. When he's with Cass, flying through the city on decel-lines with Batgirl, it feels like he imagines being Robin to feel. Not like the grim boy who is Robin, but-- Robin. Like how he imagines Robin is, from patching up tales and rumors of the hero community and perps.
Not that his daydream's gonna matter a lot. Batman is not convinced. It's not like Cass has been forthcoming with the justifications either, so Steve can kind of see where he's coming from. It's not every time he finds himself in agreement with Batman either, or at least not when it comes to what Steve ought to do. That's one for the 'alternate universe' theory.
Cass makes a frustrated noise. Steve doesn't need crazy body language reading skills to know that Batman and he are both radiating, like, tsunamis of skepticism.
She straightens from where she's lounging (it looks like a lounge, even if Steve knows more than well enough she could kick his ass fifteen ways from Sunday from that position) against the Batcomputer and points at the area of the Cave Steve knows better than to even entertain fantasies of ever asking about.
He leans forwards all the same, a reflex to follow the line of her finger, and also an excuse to look at somewhere else than the table where Batman's been making him feel like a guinea pig for the past three hours. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Batman-- stilling, or tensing, and then turn his head in that direction.
The Case is displayed in such a manner that the only way to ignore it is to have one's back turned on it, or someone blocking the view, and it's better lit than any other part of the Cave. If Steve strained his eyes, he could make out what's written on the golden plaque. He's too busy kicking himself for not adding two and two before. The second Robin, the dead one. The girl. Next to Steve, Batman is very still.
“Robin,” Cass says. It sounds like something obvious to her. The costume in the Case might fit Steve, like this.
5.
The computer screens cast greenish lighting over the Cave, cutting raw edges on masses of darkness. Regan will not let herself be intimidated. This is her birthright.
All of this - the Cave, the cowl, everything - belongs to her. It's been appropriated by people who have no right to it, certainly no more rights than she does, and if she wants to come over to the Cave, it's nothing but what she's entitled to.
She has to keep on repeating the logic to herself like a mantra. Grayson doesn't know she's gone, and, more importantly, the Cave is Oracle's now. Regan overheard Grayson and Oracle fighting about it over the intercom.
She had to come. She's the Bat's daughter. No-one has as much right to her mother's heritage as she does. Not even Oracle.
Not even--
“Regan.” The voice seems to come out of nowhere, echoes against the Cave's edges, too sudden for Regan to hide her startle. “Does Dixie know you're here?”
If she's been spotted, no use in trying to conceal herself. That was stupid anyway. She should've known her mother would've had installed perfect surveillance over the Cave and Oracle knew how to use it. Trying to maintain a believable game face, Regan steps into the neon lights.
Oracle is there, in front of the computer. If she'd entered the Cave without trying to avoid being seen, she couldn't have missed him. He turns his wheelchair a few degrees as she comes closer - damn, she didn't think she was making that much noise. But then again, it makes sense that Oracle is good. Almost as good as Regan's mother.
“Well?” he repeats.
“No,” Regan says shortly, evading eye-contact. She doesn't know what else to say, so she cuts herself short before she says anything incriminating. Out of all of them and with Cain gone, Oracle is the toughest competition to the title of heir. Oracle inherited the Cave, didn't he? And the only reason he didn't inherit the name as well is because of his legs.
Grayson's excellent, but Oracle is the eldest son.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Oracle rolling his eyes behind his glasses and sighing. He half-turns on the chair, types something that she's too far away to read. “Come into my parlor...” she hears him grind under his breath. “God.”
“What,” she immediately demands. First lesson of survival: always be on top of the situation. That means, don't let anything take you by surprise. That means, know things. There, too, Regan is at a disadvantage. He's Oracle.
The glance he sends her is so dismissive for a moment she can hear her grandfather. “Nothing. Private joke, don't worry about it. So, you didn't tell me why you turned up in my belfry.”
Regan frowns. “What?”
“Bats live in belfries. It's another private joke, ask Dixie about it,” he clarifies when he sees the explanation didn't make any sense to her. It's always so difficult to have a discussion with these people. With their references and their short-cuts they seem to expect her to already know. If possible, it makes Regan feel like even more of an alien than their rules about not killing. “Why are you here?”
This is the part of the conversation she'd wished to deflect, and the main reason she tried not to be caught. A futile hope, she's well aware. Sooner or later, Oracle would've realized she'd accessed his files, if even she'd been able to break his securities, but-- she had to try. Even if it was impossible, she had to try. Where else could the impossible become possible if not in Gotham, in her mother's Cave?
“Either tell me or leave, but stop wasting my time, I'm busy.”
“With Brown,” Regan mumbles.
The sharpness of this glance makes her curse herself for not biting her tongue. “Is that jealousy I hear? Yes, Regan, with Stan. And half a dozen other heroes who depend on me, and I'm not in the mood for baby-sitting.”
From the little Regan's known him, Oracle is like this, brisk and impatient. He's different with Grayson, but not as much as how different Grayson is with him.
She can relate.
She shuffles her feet. Oracle's turned back to his monitor; it makes thinking and moving easier, though she knows better than to believe he's genuinely not keeping an eye or an ear on her. It gives her a moment to reach her decision.
“It's about Cain.” Admitting it wrings her heart in her throat. The shadows of the Cave seem shallower, all of a sudden, their protection dwindling; and the costume she's wearing feels as fake as the one she put together by herself months ago.
“What about him?”
“Is he- is he coming back?”
There. She said it.
Her heart is beating in her ears loud enough that she's amazed Oracle doesn't pick up on it. She said it. Her throat's dry.
“...I don't know,” Oracle finally says. “Maybe.”
It's not the answer Regan hoped for. But she knew there were no chances she'd get that one. She's lucky that Oracle's not pushing to demand why she's asking, that he seems lost in thoughts of his own, and then one of his partners-- or agents-- calls for his help on the intercom, and the moment is dispelled. (It's not Brown.)
She leaves before he can pry more. She doesn't want him to know that she's afraid Cain will return, one day, and take the Bat's heritage for himself. She's heard about him, from Grayson and, and other people. He's the best fighter they have. Regan may be Brenda Wayne's daughter, Cain is the perfect son. It is impossible for a daughter to be as valuable as a son; this is one lesson she's grateful for her grandfather to have made certain she'll never forget.
She can't give up. Everything she's learned about her mother goes toward proving that impossible isn't a notion that holds much weight with the Bat. Regan's mother is the only person to have ever stood up to Regan's grandfather as an equal.
She just has to be like her mother.