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"Dick thinks we're sleeping together", Garfield announces casually, flopping himself down on the couch next to Bette. She barely looks up from her textbook, flicking through it with more interest than she gives most things. "I think he tried to give me the shovel talk."
She snorts in amusement as she turns the page. "And how did it go?"
"Terribly", he groans, thinking back to what might be his worst team-up yet. "He didn't believe me when I said we were just friends."
"I'll talk to him", Bette promises and he feels some kind of hope start to grow. Maybe Nightwing won't kill him after all. "Once my exams are over and I can finally breathe."
"I don't get what you're worried about", Matt says, a plate of nachos put down on the coffee table as a peace offering. "You've got this in the bag."
"Maybe, but, like, what if I don't? What if I fail? What if I become that girl who flunked out of college because she was too stupid and now her dreams of becoming a doctor are basically dead and she'll have to go skulking home and it'll be the worst experience in, like, the history of the universe?"
Gar blinks. "I don't think that's gonna happen."
"But you don't know it won't!"
"Yeah, we do", Matt says, barely giving the conversation an ounce of attention. "You're the smart one of this group."
"I find that doubtful."
"We could go on patrol", Gar suggests. "Take your mind off things."
If looks could kill, he swears he'd be six feet under. "I can't go on patrol. I have way too much study to do."
"You're not helping yourself by getting worked up about it", he counters. "Just take a break, punch some bad guys, jump off a few buildings. You know you wanna."
"What I want is to pass this stupid exam", she says, brow furrowed in frustration. "I mean, like, why does it have to be so hard?"
"Because you decided to go for medicine instead of something like Arts?"
She glares at him. "I like medicine. I wanna be a doctor."
"And you're gonna be the best doctor ever", he says, nodding his head. "Probably gonna be patching up heroes a lot of the time but ━━"
"If you even think about bleeding out on my couch again, I will leave you for dead."
"Harsh."
"You're the one that decided my white couch was a good place to rest when you were wounded."
"Blood loss made me make bad decisions."
"Excuses, excuses", she says, tossing her book over the sofa and onto the ground with a heavy thunk. "I think my brain is gonna, like, melt."
"Not much to melt", Matt mutters under his breath.
Bette lets out a huff of a laugh, curling herself up next to Gar. Her lips are puckered into a pout, and she's watching the screen with a blank expression, the kind she gets when she's thinking and doesn't want to be thinking.
It's weird that he knows her face for that. If you'd told him eight months ago that Bette Kane, Flamebird, was going to be one of his best friends, would become like family to him, he would've laughed in your face. The idea is ridiculous, should be ridiculous, and he knows most people think it is.
But most people don't know her. Most people don't take the time to see that beneath the glitz and the glamour, there's a person. An amazing person, might he add.
"I really don't want to repeat this year", she mumbles. "And I really, really don't wanna tell B that I failed."
"You're not going to fail", Garfield says firmly. "You're way too smart for that."
"Don't really feel smart."
"Punching people would probably make you feel better."
"Probably", she agrees, "But my brain feels like goo."
"Then take the night off", he says. "Get some sleep ━━ and actually sleep, not that -hour-and-I'm-fine Bat thing you do."
"I have coffee, I don't need sleep."
"I will break your coffee machine", Matt vows, "unless you start getting actual sleep."
Bette narrows her eyes, scowling at both of them. "I can't believe you're, like, ganging up on me!"
"We wouldn't gang up on you if you got proper sleep."
"You would. You totally would. You're both jealous of my natural beauty."
"Bette", Matt deadpans, "everyone is jealous of that."
She beams, brighter than the sun. "Yeah. Yeah, they are."
"But your beauty would be improved if you got some sleep", he continues, and Gar has to stifle a laugh as her grin drops and turns into a frown.
"If I go to sleep", she says, "I can't call 'Wing. He'll think Gar's sleeping with me and spend every waking moment plotting his demise."
"No, he won't. He knows you can handle yourself."
She pauses, and Gar does not like the evil smile that takes hold of her frown. "You're right. You are. I agree that Nightwing is emotionally mature enough to leave whatever delusion he's convinced himself of alone, but, like do you really think Batman is? He can be kinda overprotective sometimes..."
Matt pales. "You're joking. Gar, she's joking, right?"
"I am praying to every single cosmic deity that the Titans have ever fought that she is."
Bette cackles, like the supervillain she secretly is. "I'm not joking. You think a shovel talk from Nightwing is bad? B's will be worse in every way imaginable ━━ and he'll probably dangle you off a roof while he's doing it."
Gar nods solemnly, noting the malicious gleam in her eyes. He always knew that she was evil (well, no, he didn't, but if anyone asks, he absolutely did), but she's not the only one who can pull the Batman card.
"What d'you think he'd say when he finds out you haven't been sleeping?" He asks. "Wait ━━ what do you think Agent A would say?"
Her already pale skin goes a shocking white. "You wouldn't dare."
"I'll get Nightwing to tell him", he threatens. "You know I will."
"You, Garfield Logan", she glowers, "are an unrepentant monster."
"Yeah, but you love me."
"I hate you", she sulks. "So much."
"Impossible. I'm too adorable and you're too tired to muster up hatred."
"I can muster up enough hatred of the fact you're right."
"You'd be able mustering a lot more if you slept", Matt says, offering up his hand. "C'mon, milady. Allow me to show you to your bed chambers."
"Friendly reminder that I carry a taser with me at all times", Bette grumbles as she takes his hand.
"We have all, at this point, learned that from personal experience."
"Sometimes, I worry that you forget."
"Like you'd let us", Gar says. "Get some sleep, Bette. I promise I won't let the city burn down in your absence."
"You say that..."
There's an argument on the tip of his tongue, but Matt starts to drag her away before he can say anything. Probably for the best; even with her make-up on, Bette still looks seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion.
He hates it when she pushes herself this hard. Which, admittedly, is most of the time, most of her life. He just wasn't there to see it, to coax her to bed with nachos and threats of her cousin. Just like everyone else, he'd written her off as a wannabe hero, some dumb kid that would get bored of it all and retire.
He's glad that he, that all of them, were wrong about her. He likes having her here in LA with him, likes the way she'll make the worst puns imaginable, fire off quips even faster than her punches. He loves getting a fresh start in LA, having her and Matt caught up in the middle of it. He likes having her as his perpetually exhausted roommate, even if the whole place smells like coffee, and he trips over scattered textbooks and tennis rackets if he isn't careful.
It's all worth it, when he gets to see her smile, when all the walls come tumbling down and the real Bette shines through. The one that can quote every episode of The Grey Ghost word for word, who knows more about Sailor Moon than Matt does, who looks him in the eyes and tells him that Rita Farr would be proud of him.
He loves the real Bette. He just wishes that she had some comprehension of how much sleep normal humans need to function.