Disclaimer:  All characters belong to DC/Time Warner and are used without
permission and not for profit.  This spin on the Bat Universe (i.e. the
"Potatoverse") belongs to Smitty, who graciously has allowed me to play.

Time frame: current continuity + 5.  In the Potatoverse, this is 3 years
after Babs and Dick got married and 4 years after Bruce and Dinah began not
sleeping with one another (see "Holiday (Drop) Inns" by Smitty).  It occurs
after the events of "Objects in the Rearview Mirror are Closer than They
Appear," but before the events of "Coming Home," both also by Smitty.

Thank yous to Smitty and everyone involved in the Potato project.

This story is rated R for some language and adult situations.

***

Spin Cycle: A Patato Fic
by Chicago (chicago_haven@yahoo.com)

***

Part One:  "Handled"

***

"So wait," Dinah said as she dashed through the rubble.  "I thought
this was supposed to be his big weekend off."

"It *was*," Babs grumbled.  "First time in *months* he's had 2 days
off in a row.  Go right."

        Dinah veered into the jungle, swiftly finding the hidden path.
"So what happened?"

"Should be a stele up ahead-"

"A what?"

"Carved rock, standing on one -"

"Got it.  Now what?"

"Left toward the cliff face."

Dinah looked skeptically at the dense undergrowth.  "You say so."

"Now - they're honing in on your trail."

"Easy for you to say," Dinah muttered, diving through brush - and
into a cave.  "Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Shh.  Lay low."

Dinah obeyed as the sounds of pursuit bypassed her position.  "So
what happened?" she whispered.

"He was home for five minutes - *five minutes* - and the phone  rings."

"Work?" Dinah asked sympathetically.

Babs snorted.  "Worse.  Gotham."

"You aren't serious."

"As a heart attack.  Hush for a minute."

Dinah waited, almost holding her breath, as more deliberate searching sounds 
rattled the brush near her hide out.

"Okay," Babs finally said, "they're moving off.  Give 'em another
minute or two and I'll get you out of there."

"Okay.  So he's in Gotham still?"

"Far as I know.  He called at 4 a.m. to say he was crashing at the
Clocktower and the case wasn't done."

"Not done?  So old Pointy Ears is working tonight, eh?"

"Dinah!  At least *pretend* you care more about my wrecked weekend
than your standing date with the Grinch."

"Sorry," Dinah apologized.

"Yeah, right.  Now, move to the back of the cave.  There should be some 
carvings."

"Ew.  Yeah, I see 'em.  Ugly."

"Great.  Now find something handle shaped on the carving."

Dinah searched the rather explicit figures sculpted into the stone and 
giggled.  "Found it!"

Babs paused.  "What's so funny?"

"Let's just say it's something neither of us are getting tonight,"
Dinah answered.

"Nice.  'Cuz that's what you need to grab and pull while pushing on the -"  
There was a vaguely embarrassed paused.

"You're reading off an instruction sheet, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Whose cave is this?"

"At this point, I don't *want* to know.  Just pull on the - handle
- while pushing on 'the other head.'" Babs instructed.

Dinah closed her eyes, fighting back a laugh.  "That's really what
it says?"

"Yep."

"Okay, here goes."  Dinah grabbed hold of the lewd carving as
directed and pushed.  A distinct click was heard and a rumbling and
squealing of gears as a faux stone wall pivoted into a passageway.

"Ugh.  Need some WD 40 down here," Dinah remarked.

"Why do you think I made you wait?  It's an old set up."

"Will the equipment still work?"

Babs chuckled.  "Oh yeah.  You're just using a forgotten back door.
And it's on a timer, so get moving."

"Aye, aye, captain," Dinah replied, slipping thought the revealed
passage into a - crawlspace?  "Um - Oracle?"

"What, you thought a forgotten, unguarded back door would lead
into the main corridor of this state of the art facility?  Just a sec.
Okay, there's a removable panel 10 feet to your right.  Your other right."

"Thanks, Mom," Dinah muttered, switching directions.

"Hold on while I create a distraction."

Dinah waited as a muffled boom brought much hustle and then silence.

"Go!"

Dinah slid the panel open and stepped into a red lit hall.

"Left!" Babs ordered.

Dinah obeyed, following three more turns before entering a
spacious hangar.  She let out a low, appreciative whistle.  "This *is*
state of the art.  Why is security so lax?"

"It's not.  Shifts are changing and they were getting a delivery,
and I know their system.  And you are going to take the black one on the
landing platform."

Dinah snuck swiftly across the hangar.  "The delivery vehicle?"

"You know it."

"It looks like a fancy prototype."

"It is."

"Babs!  They aren't going to just let me -"

"Just follow my lead, BC.  Get in that bird while my diversion holds."

Dinah slipped into the belly of the stealth craft.  "Babs, I
liberate this they are so going to be on my tail-"

"We're not liberating anything, Dinah.  We're borrowing from
Daddy."  There was an evil tone in Babs' voice.

"Daddy?  What-?"  Dinah broke off as she settled into the cockpit.
There, emblazoned on the control panel, was a familiar, stylized "W."

"Oh no," she groaned.

"Book it, Canary, the troops are coming home."

With a heavy sigh, Dinah engaged the engine and taxied out,
skimming off over the jungle canopy.  "He's not going to be happy."

"Then we're even, 'cuz I'm not - drat!"

"What?"

"Doorbell.  Hold on."

There was a pause, during which Dinah had time to realize she was
totally unpursued.  She hoped no one lost their job over this one.

"Dinah, you in the clear?" Babs finally came back.

"Yeah, I guess.  I don't -"

"Good, 'cuz I gotta go."

"What?  Why?"

"Washing machine repairman."

"What?"

"Washing machine broke this morning and Dick's not around to fix
it, so-"

"You called a repairman?"

"He's cute."

"You're married."

"Your point?"

"Babs!" Dinah spluttered, but the line had gone dead.  She stared
out at the air space around her as she engaged the autopilot back to
Gotham, wondering what had possessed her partner.

***

"Yes, yes, I heard you, Lucius."

Batman was in the Batcave, accepting a call from his panicked CEO.

"Of course I'm calm, Lucius.  I arranged it."

On the huge monitor stretching in front of him, a tracing module
noted an object moving  on a path toward Gotham from South America.

"Didn't we talk about this?  I could've sworn - oh, that's right,
I had to cancel that meeting for a golf date.... I know, Lucius, I know.
Next time I plan to test security by highjacking my own prototypes,  you'll
be the first to know."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at his employer and friend.  Batman typed
a code into his computer, which suddenly produced the word "Bru-cie,"  in
coy, pouty tones.

"Sorry, Lucius, I gotta go.  Yeah, sorry about that.  Bye."

Batman handed the receiver back to Alfred.  "Dick was right.  This
*is* a good plan."

***

Part Two:  "The Repairman"

***

Babs glanced up in irritation as the doorbell rang.  A man with a
Whalers baseball cap pulled low over his eyes stood at her front door
wearing a tan duck workman's jacket and heavy duty denim jeans.  He held up
an ID toward the camera.  "Repairman," he mumbled.

She cursed silently.  She had totally forgotten that she called the
repair service for the washing machine.  Just one more reason to be totally
annoyed at Bruce.  If he hadn't needed Dick in Gotham, Dick would have been
home when the washer died, still half full of water.  He could have pulled
the cumbersome machine from the wall and opened the valve that would drain
the tank.  But no, he had to be in Gotham.

She regarded the man in her camera's view finder suspiciously. "You
wanna look into the camera, mister?" she asked.

The repairman looked up lazily, fixing his eyes on the camera lens.
Babs smiled appreciatively.  Under that hat was a fine young face.  And it
matched his ID.

"Okay, Mr. Grishijo, I'll be there in a minute."

She took her line to Dinah off mute.  ""Dinah, you in the clear?"

"Yeah, I guess.  I don't -"

Babs cut her off.  "Good, 'cuz I gotta go."

"What?  Why?"

She smiled to herself.  "Washing machine repairman."

"What?"  Dinah sounded totally disbelieving.

"Washing machine broke this morning and Dick's not around to fix
it, so-"

"You called a repairman?"

Babs considered the man casually hanging out on her front porch,
waiting for her to let him in.  "He's cute."

"You're married."

Babs couldn't resist.  "Your point?"

"Babs!"  She severed the connection.  Let Dinah stew on that in her
stolen Wayne Enterprises prototype for a while.  Then she wheeled out of
her workroom and carefully secured the lock.  No sense tempting fate.
Finally, she went to the front door.

The repairman seemed quite content on her front porch, showing no
sign of impatience through the peephole when Babs checked one more time
before unlocking the door.  "Probably paid by the hour," Babs thought to
herself, as the final lock clicked open.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Grishijo-"

"Please, Miss, it's just Rico.  Mr. Grishijo is my dad.  And you
can't be too careful these days, woman living alone and all.  I keep trying
to explain that to my sister."

Babs managed not to smile, although she was impressed by this man's
easy charm.  "Oh, I don't live alone, Mr. Gr - Rico."

Rico glanced at her hand, noting the ring.  "Oops, my mistake.
Don't get many married women calling for this kind of repair.  Husbands
take care of it, y'know."

"Yeah, I know.  Unfortunately my husband's out of town."

"Ain't that the way it goes?"  Rico picked up the toolbox that had
been sitting at his feet.  "Which way to the machine?"

Babs shook herself.  "Right.  Follow me."  She led the way through
the kitchen to the utility room, where the stalled washer sat.

"Ooh, boy, one of those front loading jobs," Rico remarked when he
saw her laundry set up.

She managed a little laugh.  "Well, it's a little hard for me to
reach into a top loader."

Rico turned to inspect her with a frank and open look.  "Yeah, I
can see where it would be, at that.  Huh.  Never considered that.  Guess I
should learn to take less for granted.  But I can see the problem.  Break
the seal on this and you're in water up to yer knees."

"Learned that the hard way a few years back," Babs admitted with a
laugh, enjoying Rico's matter of fact attitude.

"Touch of the Irish impatience?" Rico asked.  "Scooch back there a
bit, Miss."

Babs complied as she chuckled.  "Yeah, a bit.  I lived in an upper
floor apartment then, too."

"Oh, your neighbors musta loved you."

"And how," Babs agreed, watching as Rico slid a hand behind the
machine and pulled it easily from the wall.  Even his heavy duck jacket
could not hide the ripple of the muscles in his arms and back.  Nice.

"You got a basin or something - I'm sorry, I couldn't read your
name on the work order."

"Barbara," Babs replied.  "Just call me Barbara."

Rico smiled, flashing perfect teeth.  "Okay, Barbara.  You got
something I could use to catch the water in here?"

"Afraid not.  Dick - that's my husband - usually runs a hose to the
kitchen sink or out the back."

"Ah, I see.  He's threaded the release valve even.  Handy, isn't he?"

"He's good to have around," Babs agreed amiably.  "The hose should
be in the cabinet to your left."

Rico opened the door to the small supply closet and found the hose.
"'S'a little cold to leave the backdoor open, so I'll just run this to the
sink I guess."

"Works for me."  Babs watched as Rico squatted down to attach the
hose to the back of the washer, appreciating the way he filled out his
jeans.  Now that, she thought, was a damn fine ass, and she was in a
position to know.

Rico glanced up at her and gave her a little smile.  "I'll just run
this hose over there now, Barbara," he said as she blushed.  "You wanna
open the valve when I get there?  The vise grips are already set."

"I got it," Babs replied, wheeling in to grab the handle of the
tool.  Inexplicably, Dinah's earlier experience with a "handle" came to
mind, and her blush increased.

"Go ahead," Rico called, and Babs opened the valve and wheeled back
out of the way.

Rico returned and resumed his squat at the back of the appliance.
"We'll just get this water out, rescue your laundry, and see what's causing
the old machine fits.  Um - you weren't washing - delicates - were you?"

Babs laughed.  "No, no - just towels and sheets."

Rico gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.  "I had some lady about
deck me for unloading her machine once 'cuz I was handlin' her bras," he
explained.

"I see," Babs replied, her eyes twinkling.

"Okay, let's get this open then," Rico said, moving back to the
front of the washer.  "Can you hand me that laundry basket?"

Babs complied as Rico opened the machine door.  He paused before he
reached into the washer to strip off his jacket.

Underneath it, he wore a muscle shirt.  A well fitting muscle
shirt.  And his eyes once again caught Babs' stare.  A little grin settled
on his face, but he said nothing as he began ringing towels in the washer
and then dumping them into the laundry basket at his feet.

Babs couldn't help it.  The motion of wringing laundry served to
send ripples through his well defined arms.  The tattoo on his right bicep
- an Orthodox cross - danced as he moved.  When he leaned forward, she
caught a glimpse of a half moon scar on his shoulder, peeking out past the
fabric of his shirt, but that little flaw served only to heighten the
beauty of his body.  Yummy, she thought.

Half way through the heavy towels, Rico leaned back and removed his
hat, running his hand through thick, dark hair.  "That's hard work," he
remarked.

She nodded sympathetically.  "Yes.  Y'know, if you can just shift a
little so I can get by, I can get you something to drink."

Rico smiled and moved.  "That's mighty kind of you, Barbara."

Babs wheeled forward to the kitchen, her hand *inadvertently*
brushing his thigh as she squeezed by him.  As she thought - as muscled as
the rest of him.

She dug in the refrigerator for some sparkling water and poured two
glasses, which she set on a tray and balanced across her knees.  Then she
returned to the utility room where Rico had just removed the final sheet
and dropped it - wrung almost dry - on top of the rest of her laundry.  He
accepted the glass she offered with a grateful smile.  "Thanks, Barbara,"
he said.

He drained the glass in two long swallows, then set it on top of
the washing machine as he poked his head back into the open door.  "Miss
Barbara!" he exclaimed, leaning back to look at her again.  "What have you
been washing in here - rocks?"

"Oh, no, just the usual stuff," she demurred, offering him a coy
smile and taking a sip of her water.

Rico gave her a longer look.  "Usual, eh?" he remarked.  "Sounds
like 'usual' around here would be pretty interesting judging by the state
of this washer."

"You don't say," Babs remarked mildly.  "Can I take that glass for
you?"

She wheeled forward as Rico reached up.  Their hands met on the
glass as she leaned over him, and suddenly they were face to face.  "Oh!"
Babs began, starting to excuse herself, but before she could speak,
"Rico's" lips found hers in a sweet kiss that quickly turned deeper.  Babs
did not back away.

After a moment, his hands were around her body, and as he pulled
his lips from hers, he tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair from her
face.  His voice assumed an entirely new timbre, familiar tones, as he
said, "Really, Mrs. Grayson.  What would your husband say?"

She smiled, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.  "I don't know,
Mr. "Grishijo"?  What would you say?"

"Rico Grishijo" grinned and leaned into her arms again, kissing her
more deeply.  "You don't mind if I leave the laundry?" he joked when he
pulled back for air.

"What laundry?" she breathed.

There was that infectious smile again.  He caught her more firmly
in his arms, circling her waist and slipping a hand beneath her legs,
suddenly  lifting her and pushing her chair back with his foot.  She
gasped, startled, but he stilled any protest she might have made with a
kiss as he raised her to the top of the washing machine and settled her on
it.

The qualm she felt at her loss of independence was quickly replaced
by the rare thrill of leaning *down* to kiss her lover.  She let her lips
leave his to brush kisses across his cheeks and nose and eyes, laughing
happily as he turned his face toward her caresses.

"I love your laugh, Barbara," he said in "Rico" tones, kissing her
again as she blushed.  He trailed whisper soft kisses down her throat as
she leaned into the circle of his arm.  His strong hand stretched between
her shoulder blades to support her and hold her close.  As his kisses
dipped below her collar bone, she tangled her fingers through his hair,
gazing fondly on his unruly waves.  "You have hat hair," she observed.

She felt his lips curve into a smile against her breastbone.
"Professional hazard," he said, his breath tickling her into another laugh.

He leaned his face up again to meet her dancing eyes.  The hand
that did not support her was on the top button of her shirt, undoing it
surely but with a wicked slowness.  Her breath caught as he let a finger
brush the top of her breast as his hand went to the second button.  "Oh,
Dick-"

"Rico," he corrected with a wolfish grin.  "Unless you'd like to go
to the bedroom?" She closed her eyes, keeping one hand on his head but 
grasping the shoulder of his shirt in her other fist.  "Bedroom," she 
whispered.

"As you wish," he replied, scooping her down from her perch.

***

Later, in air heavy with the heat of their bodies and the smell of sweat,
Babs began to laugh and plant kisses on her lover's smiling face.  "Welcome
home, honey," she teased. "How was your day?"

Dick laughed and returned her playful nips and kisses.  "Darling,
you don't know the half of it.  I went to fix this lady's washer-"

"You slept with her, didn't you?" Babs accused, laughing harder.

"She was so beautiful.  What else could I do?" Dick returned,
snuggling deeper into her embrace.

"You save some for your wife?" she purred suggestively, loving the
feel of his broad chest against hers.  She chuckled as Dick started,
looking up into her eyes.  His expression was questioning, hopeful.  She
let the wicked gleam in her eyes speak for her.

"Well," he hedged, clearly teasing.  "The washer is still broken."

She smiled.  "Oh, I'm sure it's just a problem with the spin cycle.
You can fix it tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Tomorrow?"

"You think I'm letting you out of here before then?" she replied,
once again brushing her lips against his, pulling him into a kiss.  Oracle
could wait - Barbara Gordon Grayson had a date with her husband.

***

Part Three:  "The Prototype"

***

In no time, Dinah was crossing into American air space.  She
admired the speed and elegance of her getaway vehicle.  Under other
circumstances - but no, she was getting this back to where it belonged
without the slightest ding or scratch, hopefully without anyone noticing
her.  She glanced nervously at the computer displaying her ETA.  She was
going to need Oracle very soon.

As if on cue, her comlink chimed.  "Your washing machine fixed?"
she asked sarcastically, more than slightly annoyed at her partner's long
silence.

Instead of Babs, though, the Oracle voice answered her.  "I'm
sending a flight plan to your navigational computer now."

"Oracle?  What's your deal?  *You're* the one who ditched *me*!"

"Oracle out."  The transmission was abruptly cut.

"Oh no, girlfriend," Dinah fumed.  "We've talked about this
before."  She reactivated her link to Oracle, waiting impatiently for an
answer.  When it came, it was not what she expected.

"The Oracle system is presently off line.  If this is an emergency
situation, please speak the word "help" into-"

"Help?" Dinah questioned aloud in disbelief, then gasped when she
heard the click of a transferring line.  She immediately slammed her link
closed.  "Damn!" she muttered.  There were two places where Oracle calls
were forwarded, which meant Dinah might just have inadvertently delivered
herself into the hands of the very man she was hoping to avoid.  "Please
let me have hung up quickly enough," she prayed.

No such luck - her earring was chiming again.

"Black Canary," she answered evenly.

"Status, Canary."  Familiar cold tones.  Why couldn't the JLA have
picked up, she agonized.  But she kept her tone level.

"Mission completed and heading home, Batman."

"I received a distress call forwarded from Oracle.  The voice
analyzer links it to you."

"Oops.  False alarm.  I was looking for Babs and must've
accidentally tripped it.  Sorry for gumming up the lines."

"You need help?"

"Um.  Negative.  All okay here."

"Canary, I show you coming into American air space at high speed.
Are you under your own power?"

Damn damn damn!  He thought she was trying to send him a coded message.

"All okay here, Batman, really.  No problems.  Everything's hunky
dory."

"I'm sending a rendezvous team."

"Negative!  No, no!  Everything's fine.  I tripped the emergency
signal by accident!"

"Is your signal being monitored?"  He was determined to solve this
riddle.

"No, not so far as I know.  Bats, really-"

"You're making good time."  His tone was more conversational now.
What - she had been calling him Batman!  She slapped her forehead.  Too
respectful - of course he'd expect something wrong.

But now he had noticed her pace.  There weren't many aircraft that
could travel this quickly.  She thought fast.  "Uh, yeah.  Got the JSA
cruiser out of storage-"

"Canary."  His tone was wary again.  "I still show the JSA cruiser
safely mothballed."

She cursed silently.  "Of course," she lied glibly.  "Oracle and I
are testing some new blocking software, seeing if we can jumble the JLA
inventory system."

"Oracle hasn't mentioned such software."

She forced a laugh.  "You're not the only one with secrets, Mr. Bat."

"Interesting.  What did you set up on site to confuse the video
feed?  There's no obvious looping on the tape."

"Oh, um, I just taped a photo of the cruiser over the camera lens."

"All of the cameras?"

Oh shit.  "Bats, can you hold on?  I've got to deal with some
turbulence."

Dinah muted Batman's signal and desperately cut to another
frequency, once again trying to connect to Oracle.  Babs *had* to get her
out of this one.

"Pick up, pick up," she muttered urgently.

"The Oracle system is presently off - "

Dinah slammed the connection closed in frustration.  "Dammit, how
long does it take to fix a washer anyway?" she cursed.

"Excuse me?"

Damn!  She had unmuted her signal to Batman when she had closed the
other frequency.  "Just having some problems with the control console,
sorry."

"Canary, are you sure everything is okay?"

"It's just been a long mission.  Everything is fine."

"If you're in trouble and can't talk freely, tell me what you had
for lunch."

"What I had - Bats, everything is FINE."

Lunch?  What was up with that?

"I show you coming up to Gotham fast.  Forward your landing site to
me and I'll have someone meet you."

"Negative.  Oracle's got me taken care of."  Dinah hoped.  "You
know how she feels about you interfering."

"Oracle's off line.  I'm mapping your potential landing zones from
your trajectory."

"You're working tonight, right?"

"Yes."

"Then take care of your Gotham.  Let me take care of me.  Canary out."

Dinah sighed heavily, scrubbing her face with her hands.   He was
suspicious.  Suspicious Bat was never good.  Thank god he was stuck in
Gotham, she thought, turning her attention to her flight plan.

She was supposed to land at a JLA site in upstate Gotham, usable to
her only because of this plane's VTOL capability.  She'd have to trust that
Babs would have a plan to get the jet back to Wayne Enterprises with some
plausible excuse and get Dinah far away from the scene of the crime.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, although she tried twice
more to contact Oracle with no success.  Babs hadn't been serious about
flirting with the repairman, had she?  Dinah shook off the thought as she
focused on her landing.

There was someone waiting on the edge of the landing pad, and Dinah
nearly cheered.  Babs hadn't left her high and dry!  She scampered quickly
from the plane, wanting to be as far away from it as possible as quickly as
possible.  Then she froze.

He was wearing a three piece Armani.  Expensive shoes.  A tasteful
tie.  Cufflinks.  And a hint of a smile.  Dinah flashed back to the call
from Oracle sending her the coordinates.  Not Babs.  Oracle.  He had set
her up.  That whole conversation over the comlink...

"You BASTARD!" she yelled.  "How dare you!?"

He crossed to her easily, reaching for her.  "I thought you'd be
happy to see me."  His face wore a smug expression, but Dinah's slap
quickly fixed that.

"I can't believe you!  You probably even set up that cave, too, you
jerk!"

"Cave?"  He held his hand to his cheek where her fingers had left
their stinging mark.  He sounded genuinely mystified.

"Oh, don't play Mr. Wayne innocent on me, Bats.  With the handle?
I don't even want to know where you got that idea.  And then -"

He caught her arm and pulled him to her, stopping her words with a
kiss.

She flipped him over her shoulder.  "You think you can get out of
this with kisses?   I don't think so.  You've crossed a line, buddy, and-"

His leg had snaked out, dropping her hard to the tarmac.  "Oops,"
he said, rolling on top of her.

"I'm NOT kidding!" she objected, twisting free and flipping him
back down in the process.  "This is NOT funny, Bats."

He was still smiling, although the suit was already looking like it
would be beyond repair.  "So when were you going to tell me you stole my
prototype?  Lucius has been breathing down my neck-"

"I don't care.  You played me!  You just don't-"

He was sitting up again and had caught her wrist.  "You're
beautiful when you're angry."

She snorted, pulling away from him and standing.  "Knock it off, Bats."

He smiled again, this time wrapping his arms around her legs and
pulling her down again.  "Bats isn't here," he pointed out.

"Fine!" she said, setting her hands against his chest to push him
away.  "Knock it off, Mr. Wayne!"

She twisted free of him, and he rolled on the tarmac to take his
fall.  The seams on the Armani were starting to part.  He found his feet
again, once more reaching for her.

"Dinah-"

She threw him again, and this time he landed with a sound of
tearing fabric.  "See what you made me do!" she cried, watching as he
simply peeled of his ruined suit coat and vest and tie. She found herself
biting her lip and watching as he unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt,
slipped his cufflinks into his pants pocket, and rolled up his sleeves.  He
glanced up at her from his seat on the ground, still with that faint smile
haunting his face.

Then suddenly he had tackled her to the tarmac, taking the brunt of
her fall with his arms.  "Are you going to yell at me all night, Ms.
Lance?" he asked.

"If that's what it takes," she spat back, squirming to get out from
under him.  He was so infuriating, with his little smile and his soft
aftershave and the way his muscles showed even through the tailored shirt.
She shook herself and managed to shift their balance to her advantage,
flipping so that he was underneath her.

He caught her legs in his hands as they flipped, effectively
holding her on top of him. His hands were strong and warm on her thighs.
She shook that thought off.  "Let GO, Bruce."

And he did.  Let go and let her stand up and move away.  Then he
stood up himself, dusting off his pants.  His arms showed road rash from
spilling her to the ground and the knee of his pants had torn.  He turned
his attention to the prototype cooling on the landing pad.  "Beautiful,
isn't it?" he remarked.

Dinah gave him a puzzled look, but he wasn't looking at her.
"Fast," she said.

"Sleek."

"Powerful."

"Elegant."

"We're not talking about the plane, are we, Bruce?"

Now he turned to her, his aggravating half smile lighting into a
rare grin.  "Nope."

She stared at him for a moment.  Bruce Wayne.  Head of Wayne
Enterprises.  Secretly the Batman.  Standing there.  Smiling.  Smiling at
*her*.  She did the only sensible thing she could.  She tackled him.

As she bore him to the ground, he reached his arms around her,
pulling her up to meet his mouth.  "Does this mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

She kissed him fiercely, tongue warring with his, lips bruisingly
pressed against his.  She ripped her face away, pleased that he had to gasp
for breath.  "Not even close," she replied.

***

Martian Manhunter frowned at the data coming into the Watchtower
computers and opened a comlink.  "Aquaman, why haven't you landed?  Is
there a problem with the landing site?"

"Damn straight there is!" Aquaman answered irately.  "Mr.
Sanctimonious-but-the-rules-don't-apply-to-me down there has taken over the
landing pad."

J'onn repressed the urge to sigh, suspecting the answer but asking
anyway:  "Who?"

"Batman," Aquaman spat.

Of course.  J'onn made a quick check of the logs, wondering if
perhaps he had missed something when he had advised Aquaman to land at the
site in upstate Gotham.  There was no note indicating Batman's intention to
use the landing pad.  He spoke again into the link.  "Batman, are you
reading me?"

There was an uncharacteristic pause before Batman's distinctive
growl came over the line.  "Yes, J'onn, I'm here."

"Batman, I do not show a landing plan logged for you."

Another hesitation - slight, but enough for J'onn to notice.  Then
two clipped words and sudden silence on the line:  "Oracle call."

"Oracle -?" J'onn puzzled, noticing that Oracle was still off-line.
Batman had not suggested that he had planned to cover for the JLA's
information guru.  There was an emergency call logged earlier in the day,
but no indication of any action taken or required.  Something was not right.

Concerned, J'onn reached telepathically to his teammate's mind -
and pulled back, startled.  It wasn't the first time he'd inadvertently
caught a fellow member of the JLA in a - compromising - position, but
Batman?  And Black Canary.  Interesting.  But not something to puzzle out
with Aquaman still hanging on the open comlink.

"Aquaman, I'm rerouting you," Martian Manhunter said tersely into
the link.

"What?  You're letting Batman -"

J'onn cut him off.  "He was answering a distress call from the
Oracle system when he allowed the craft to land.  Standard Operating
Procedure."

"But-"  Aquaman's tone of outrage spoke volumes.

"I'm beaming you your new coordinates."  A signal light on the
Watchtower console blinked off, indicating that Batman had closed his link.
Or Dinah had.  J'onn allowed himself the faintest wistful smile as he
redirected Aquaman to another landing site.  Aggravating as it was, it was
nice to have a crisis that was about love for a change.

***

Part Four:  "Catching Up"

***

Babs ran out of excuses to avoid it.  Or rather, Dick hadn't left
her many excuses.  After they had wrecked the kitchen over a sensual meal,
Dick had insisted they clean up together.  That had taken a bit longer than
it normally would have, but in the end, the kitchen was spotless.  As was
the bedroom - Dick had thrown Babs' last load of laundry into the dryer and
then together they had changed all the linens.  Of course, the dirty sheets
and towels sat piled on the still broken washer...

She thought for a moment that she might need to tidy the living
room, but no - Dick had not only put the furniture back in order, but had
left the room sparklingly neat.  She sighed.  The man himself was gone -
out on his jumplines or the Wingcycle, probably heading into Gotham.  Even
if she just wanted to talk to him, she'd have to enter The Room.  Oracle
Central Control.  Oracle Central with its 24 hours plus of unanswered
messages.  She stared at the door for a long moment.

She decided to make tea.

Twenty minutes later she was back at the door again, the tea tray
across her knees.

She noticed that she forgot to get some cookies.

While she was getting the cookies, she realized that the coffee
canister was almost empty and went to the pantry to get a new bag to refill
it.  Once there she figured she really should start a grocery list.

A half hour later, she was back where she started.

She sighed, steeled her determination, and threw open the door.

The room was, of course, exactly as she had left it.  "Rico's"
interruption had dragged her away without any attempt to tidy up - papers
were still scattered, a coffee cup and a plate of half eaten biscotti sat
on one desk.  She wrinkled her nose at the disarray.  She couldn't work in
this.

She was just finishing the last of the filing she had been putting
off for a month when the Oracle comlink chimed.  She picked it up.

"Oracle."

"She lives!  Be still my heart!  I thought I would have to hunt
down washing machine repairmen looking for your murderer!"

"Ha ha.  Hi, Dinah."  Settling into her workstation, Babs punched
up the message display, calling up only emergencies first.  There was only
one...

"Of course, *you* left me abandoned in the field-"

Babs snorted.  "You were in the clear.  And it looks like someone
took care of your 'emergency.'"

"You set me up!  Admit it - you were working with him the whole time!"

"Working with - Dinah, what are you talking about?"  Babs tapped
into the regular message queue and groaned.

"Babs?"

"57 messages!  Can't ANYONE in the superhero community do anything
for themselves anymore?  That's more than two an hour."

"Barely," Dinah muttered.

"So I take it since I'm talking to you that you managed to find a
place to land your ride."

"And I figure since you spent the last day off line, you got your
washer fixed."

Babs felt herself blush.  "Umm - no.  Man, it must be finals week.
I've got five messages from Impulse alone."

"Babs!  How could your washer not be fixed?  You didn't -"

"Why do I have a *memo* from Kyle Raynor?"

"Visual on.  Babs, what happened with the repairman?"

"'To all JLA members.'  Since when did the JLA start sending out
*memos*."

"Quit dodging the question, Babs."

Babs glanced over at the monitor, then turned more fully to the
screen.  "Rocky Road?" she asked.  "Did you and Bruce have a fight?"

Dinah took a big scoop of ice cream and waved her spoon
admonishingly at the screen.  "I'm not sleeping with Bruce.  Besides, if we
did, it's all your fault."

"My fault?  Wait - this memo is regarding landing pad protocols.
Dinah, what did you do?"

"You're not changing the subject on me, girlfriend.  What happened
to your repairman?"

"Hmm?  Oh, I slept with him.  This is nuts.  '...recommend we adopt
a formal of policy of logging all activity at launching and landing pads,
including emergency -'"

"You WHAT?  Babs!  You - what - does Dick -?"

"You know.  The old in-out.  He was hot.  Dinah, does this memo
have anything to do with your little emergency call?"

"Uh-uhn.  Not getting off that easy.  Babs, you LOVE Dick.  You
didn't just -"  Dinah's voice trailed off as she registered Babs' smug grin
over the video feed.  "You're messing with me, aren't you?"

"Maybe.  Maybe not.  Now are you going to explain why I have a memo
from JLA outlining landing notification procedures for Oracle emergencies,
or do I have to open the 'urgent' message from Aquaman?"

"He sent you a message?" Dinah squeaked.

"Two, actually.  The second one is the 'urgent' one - probably
impatient that I didn't reply to the first one right away. Ah, and here's
one from Batman."

"Batman doesn't send email."

"Generally not," Babs agreed.  "But these are mostly voice
messages.  I've got a transcription program so I can deal with them in
writing while I'm doing things like talking to you.  Wonder what he had to
say?"

"Um - don't open it?"

Babs arched an eyebrow.  "Excuse me?"

"Don't.  Please.  We were just playing around..."

"You were playing around with Batman?"

"No.  I mean, yes.  Don't open it."

"Oh, but now I'm dying of curiosity."

"Babs!   Fine, we had a little - adventure."

"Ooh, adventure.  This sounds juicy."

"And how," Dinah agreed, her voice warm and distant.

"Spill."

Dinah gave her partner a penetrating look.  "Answer me one question
first - you were messing with me about the repairman, right?"

"I'm going to open this message, Dinah."

"Fine.   You knew he was covering your calls, didn't you?"

Babs looked genuinely surprised.  "Actually, no.  I figured the
Watchtower would cover.  Then again, I also believed Batman and Nightwing
were working on a case in Gotham."

"Oh, so Nightwing had the night off, too?"

"Maybe," Babs hedged.

"Did you have a threesome with the repairman?"

Babs laughed.  "*That* could have been interesting.  But no, we
didn't have a threesome - just a nice duo."

"Dynamic?"

"Ha.  You were saying about your adventure?"

"Well, our *friend* with the ears took over your lines and rerouted
me -"

"To the JLA landing pad in upstate Gotham.  Sneaky."

"Downright underhanded.  He's such a bastard, you know.  He *knew*
I had stolen that prototype, and he played dumb - right until he showed up
to meet me in high Bruce Wayne fashion."

"Ooh.  Three piece suit and briefcase?"

"Armani - but no brief case.  And not much left of the Armani."

"Dinah!"

"I was royally pissed at him.  He had it coming."

"What did you do?"

Dinah's smile grew distant.  "What didn't we do?" she remarked.

Babs leaned forward, picking up a cookie to nibble on.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  Man, he's got a body on him."

"Bit stocky for my taste."

"Well, you've got the junior model.  But - y'know, I really loved
Ollie.  I really did.  But even Ollie - I don't know.  Batman is the most
sexually exciting guy I've ever slept with - or he would be, if I were
sleeping with him, which of course I'm not."

Babs chuckled.  "Of course not, Dinah.  He make you scream?"

Dinah's smirked.  "Maybe.  But he screamed first."

"Oh really?"

"And he's the one trying hard to walk normally tonight."

Babs gasped.  "What did you do to him?"

"Let's just say we wrestled, and he didn't have kevlar on for a
change."

"Not that he normally would, since you're not sleeping with him."

"Of course."

There was a moment's pause in the conversation as both women
drifted into their own thoughts.

"Babs?"

"Yeah?"

"He really is a good guy.  Under it all.  I mean, he's
*impossible*, but -"

"I know."

"Yeah."

Dinah cleared her throat suddenly.  "So how was your weekend?" she
asked briskly.

"Oh, you know.  The usual.  Bonked the repairman, trashed the
house, ate dinner off my lover's chest-"

Dinah narrowed her eyes.  "You're not kidding are you?"

"Would I kid?" Babs asked innocently, although a sudden laugh
betrayed her.

"Okay," Dinah said, watching Babs' image on her monitor closely,
"I'll bite.  What was your weekend lover's name?  Raoul?"

"Rico."

"Rico?"  Dinah started laughing.  "Oh, that's good.  And his last
name?"

"Grishijo."

Dinah laughed harder.  "Oh, that's priceless.  He come up with that
himself?"

"Unless *your* lover helped him, which I would rather not think about."

"Nah - Bruce wouldn't come up with that.  So he didn't have to stay
in Gotham, after all."

"Nope.  I had him all to myself."

"And you only stayed offline for a day?"

Babs chuckled.  "Well, good thing I came back when I did, or the
JLA would be checking repairman credentials in Bludhaven."

Dinah snorted.  "They're too busy writing memos."

"Poor Kyle.  He so got put up to that by Aquaman, didn't he?"

"Probably.  So did you really eat dinner off his chest?"

"Aquaman's?  Ew."

"NO!  Geez, Babs, that's not even funny.  Gross.  Ick.  Oh, now
I've got this horrible image-"

"Serves you right.  But in answer to your question, yeah, I did."

"Sounds messy."

"Yeah."  Now it was Babs turn for a distant smile.

Dinah sat back in her chair and took another bite of ice cream,
studying her partner's expression.  "You really love him," she observed.

"Of course!  He's -"

"I mean, not in that fuddy duddy married way.  You *love* him.
You're still *in love* with him."

"Sex and love don't end with marriage, Dinah."

"Oh, I know.  But still - it's sweet."

Babs shrugged, but her face had a pleased glow.  "He's a great guy."

"And he's found a great woman.  Even if she does leave her partner
high and dry."

"Hey, I'd say I left you right where you wanted to be, Miss 'I made
Batman scream.'"

"Touché," Dinah replied, raising another spoon of ice cream in a
mock toast.

Babs mirrored the gesture with her cookie.  "To hot wet lovin',"
she joked.

"That lasts a lifetime," Dinah returned, shoveling her ice cream
into her mouth.  She grinned happily and saw the same expression mirrored
on her partner's face.  "We need weekends off more often," she commented.

"Absolutely," Babs agreed.  "Absolutely."

***

Part Five:  "Debriefing"

***

The gentlest stirring of the air was the only sign that Nightwing
had dropped down onto the next gargoyle.  From the corner of his eye,
Batman could see him silhouetted against the night sky, a still form in an
easy crouch.  If a person didn't know what to look for, Nightwing would
appear to be part of the building.

He lasted twenty-three minutes before his natural impatience got
the better of him.  He shifted.  Batman smiled internally.  He was still
the master.

Another fifty minutes passed in silence, interrupted only by the
hum of traffic and the commingled chatter of radios and televisions from
open apartment windows below.  Then Batman heard Nightwing say softly, "Go
ahead, Oracle."

For a moment, Batman wondered what it would be like to have a lover
call during a stake out.  He shut down that line of thought.

"No, I didn't check.  A memo, you say?"  Nightwing sounded puzzled.
"Why is the JLA sending out memos?"

Batman remained still and silent.

"What's Kyle's problem?  I know he's read the playbook - oh.
Aquaman.  Well, he's always had this 'my way or the highway' attitude."

Batman didn't have to hear Barbara's response - he could guess it
from Nightwing's chuckle.

"Touché... Oh, really?  Do tell."

Batman could guess what she was saying there as well.

There was another chuckle from Nightwing, then a murmured comment
too low for Batman to hear.  His next words were in a normal tone.  "Yeah,
you'd better get that ... You promise?"  He laughed again.  "I'm holding
you to that.  Nightwing out."

The silence would be over,  Batman knew.  Nightwing might be able
to hold his tongue a few minutes more, but they both knew this stakeout was
a sham, and in the absence of danger, Dick had always been a chatterbox.
He'd been a chatterbox in the PRESENCE of danger as well - all those
horrible puns...

"Hear you found a place to cool your jets."

"Get that laundry done?" Batman countered.

There was a warm laugh in Nightwing's tone.  "Got *something* done."

"Good weekend then?"  Batman spared a glance at his companion,
noticed that he was now almost lounging on his gargoyle, a picture of
comfortable contentment.

"Better than good.  Better than a truffle elf..."

Batman actually turned, despite his protesting muscles.  "You've
HAD a truffle elf?" he asked in disbelief.

He could see the smug smile on Nightwing's face even in the dim
light.  "Hey," he said, "I'm married."

Batman gave Nightwing a hard stare, than turned back to his
previous pose.  He didn't expect Nightwing's next words.

"Looking a little stiff, there, Big Guy.  Rough landing?"

Batman felt the corner of his lips twitch up for a second, but he
fought it.  Too late - Nightwing had seen.

"Oh, ho!  The plan worked, then!"

"It was a good plan," Batman acknowledged.

"Told you Babs wouldn't be able to resist the opportunity to get
back at you."

"I don't think Tim appreciated being stuck in South America - or
the tongue lashing he took from Lucius.  We had to fly him back on a
commercial airline."

"He still doesn't know about you and Dinah, does he?"

"There is no me and Dinah."

"Right."

There was a silence between them for a long moment.  Below them,
the neighborhood was settling toward sleep.

"She has a mean left hook."

"Oh?" Nightwing encouraged.

"Yeah."  Batman rubbed his jaw to emphasize the point.

"She's quite a lady."

"She's more than that.  She's - " Batman's voice trailed off.

"I know what you mean," Nightwing said softly.

Another silence settled as each man sat wrapped in his own thoughts.

"Dick?"

"Yeah, Bruce?"

"When you decided -"

"It was just right.  Right for both of us.  It hasn't been easy,
but I think it's been better this way."

"Rather than continuing on -?"

"Hey, I didn't relish the idea of waking up to Jim Gordon's police
issue revolver one morning."  Dick's tone was light, and for a moment,
Bruce wondered how he did that - let pleasant memories erase - or at least
ease - the pain of loss.

Another television shut off, leaving a single radio audible in the
night.  The DJs mellow tones drifted up to them, words occasionally lost in
the passing of a car below.  "... last taste of summer ... -dnight
dedication hour ... Gotham night for lovers ..."

"Hard to get WGTM in the 'Haven," Dick mused idly.  "Only comes
through on clear nights."

"Dinah complains that it won't come in in the Cave."

Dick's chuckle floated lightly on the night air.  "Nothing does.  I
always had to bring tapes down."

"... for this ..." the DJ droned on, "... -ngsteen, going out to
the boys on the night shift  ... central control..."

As the first bars of music drifted up, Bruce almost missed Dick's
quiet words.  "It's okay to love her, Bruce."

He kept his face to the city, settling back into his stillness.  If
a person didn't know what to look for, Batman would appear to be part of
the building.  If a person didn't know what to listen for, his answer to
his partner would be lost in the sounds of the Gotham night.

"I know."

-fin-