Chapter Text
Barbara had always loved Dinah and Oliver’s house, perched at the end of a quiet, snow-choked street on Gotham’s northern edge. It was warm, in that lived-in, slightly chaotic way that smelled of coffee, cedarwood, and the faintest hint of Oliver’s cologne and Dinah’s floral shampoo. Every corner was filled with mismatched furniture, guitar cases, half-finished knitting projects, and the faint hum of the old heating system rattling comfortingly in the walls.
She was curled up in an oversized chair by the bay window, thick wool socks on her feet, a blanket draped over her legs. Outside, the snow fell thick and slow, covering the world in quiet, the trees bending under its weight. The streetlights glowed softly through the curtain of snow, and for a moment, Barbara felt like she was living inside a snow globe.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, pulling her back to the warm light of the living room.
Dick: Just saw a kid at the center do a flip that would put me to shame. Thought you’d appreciate that. 😅
She bit her lip, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.
Babs: And did you tell him that you’re still the best in Gotham? 😏
Dick: I tried but he just laughed and called me “Old Man Grayson.”
She laughed out loud, clutching the phone to her chest for a second before replying.
Babs: You are kind of old. (I’m kidding, please don’t pout.)
Dick: I never pout. (I totally pout.)
Barbara’s fingers hovered over the screen, her heart doing that annoying, giddy flutter it hadn’t done in years. She let out a soft breath, leaning her head back against the chair, closing her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel it—this warm, nervous, teenage feeling she hadn’t let herself touch in so long.
She felt young again.
And it terrified her.
“Who’s got you smiling like a cat who ate the canary?”
Barbara’s eyes snapped open to see Dinah leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, her growing belly rounding beneath the soft sweater she wore, her blond hair pulled into a messy bun. Her blue eyes sparkled with teasing warmth.
Barbara rolled her eyes, trying to hide the smile, but it was too late.
“No one,” Barbara muttered, turning her phone screen off and tucking it under her thigh.
Dinah snorted, walking over and sinking into the couch across from her, groaning as she tried to find a comfortable position. “That’s a lie. You’re glowing.”
“I am not glowing,” Barbara protested, heat rushing to her cheeks.
“Oh, you absolutely are,” Dinah smirked, kicking her socked feet up onto the coffee table. “Is it him?”
Barbara froze, her lips parting. “I...”
“Oh my god, it is,” Dinah crowed, eyes lighting up with victory.
“Dinah,” Barbara warned, but she was already giggling, the laughter bright in the cozy room.
“Who’s glowing?” came Oliver’s voice from the kitchen, followed by the clang of a pot as he rummaged for something. He appeared in the doorway, a wooden spoon in his hand, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that read Star City Marathon 2012.
“No one,” Barbara said quickly.
“Oh, it’s Dick, isn’t it?” Oliver grinned, ignoring her glare as he leaned against the wall, spoon still in hand.
“Oliver!” Barbara groaned, sinking deeper into the chair, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
“Oh, come on, Babs, it’s cute,” Dinah teased, tossing a pillow at Oliver, who caught it with a grin. “She’s been texting him all morning, making that face.”
“What face?” Barbara demanded.
“That stupid smile face,” Dinah mimicked, pulling her lips into an exaggerated, dreamy grin, fluttering her lashes.
“I do not look like that,” Barbara protested, but even as she said it, she felt the smile pulling at her lips again, unstoppable, traitorous.
“You kinda do,” Oliver chuckled, sitting down on the arm of Dinah’s couch, ruffling her hair. “I haven’t seen you look this happy since college.”
Barbara’s chest tightened, and she looked down, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “It’s just… he’s just…”
“Dick Grayson,” Dinah finished softly, her teasing replaced by warmth, her hand reaching out to squeeze Barbara’s knee. “You’ve always had a soft spot for him.”
Barbara swallowed, blinking rapidly, the weight of it all catching up with her. The past week had felt like waking up from a long, restless sleep, seeing Dick again, the way he looked at her like she was still the girl he’d fallen in love with, the way he made her feel.
“Yeah,” Barbara whispered. “I guess I have.”
Dinah’s hand stayed on her knee, grounding, steady. “And does he make you happy?”
Barbara looked up, meeting Dinah’s gentle, searching eyes. She thought about the way Dick had stood outside her window, the way he had held her as she cried, the way he had stayed.
“Yes,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Yeah, he does.”
Oliver let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, hell, Babs. If that guy can get through the Great Wall of Jim Gordon, I’ll buy him a beer.”
Barbara laughed, the sound sharp and wet, tears filling her eyes. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”
Dinah smirked, leaning back against Oliver’s legs, her hand still on Barbara’s knee. “You deserve this, Babs. You deserve to be happy.”
Barbara nodded, wiping at her eyes, letting the tears fall because she was tired of holding them back, tired of pretending she wasn’t scared, tired of pretending she didn’t want this.
Her phone buzzed again in her hand, and she looked down.
Dick: Snow’s letting up. Festival’s going to look beautiful tonight. Want to see it with me? 🩵
The butterflies exploded in her stomach, and she let out a breathy, helpless laugh, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
Babs: Yeah. I’d like that.
Dinah grinned, leaning over to peek at the screen. “Oh, that’s so a date.”
“It’s not a date,” Barbara said, but she couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop the warmth flooding her chest.
“It’s a date,” Oliver confirmed, pointing the spoon at her like a judge delivering a verdict.
Barbara shook her head, clutching the phone to her chest, letting herself laugh, letting herself feel, letting herself be happy for just a moment in this quiet, snow-blanketed world.
And as the snow fell outside and Dinah and Oliver bickered playfully in the kitchen, Barbara let herself close her eyes, letting the butterflies dance in her stomach, letting herself be young again, letting herself hope.
The ice rink was behind them now, left behind with its music and laughter and twinkling string lights. Barbara and Dick walked side by side through Robinson Park, their skates traded for boots crunching gently through fresh snow. It was quiet here, away from the hum of the festival, the city’s glow softened by drifting flakes and the hush of a world blanketed in white.
Barbara’s gloved hand brushed his once, twice, then stayed, their knuckles nudging with each step. It wasn’t quite holding hands, but it was something. A small warmth against the cold.
They didn’t say much at first. They just breathed in the crisp air, watched their breath mingle in faint clouds. Their footprints trailed behind them, twin lines carving through the untouched snow.
Dick was the first to break the hush. His voice was soft, careful in the hush of the trees.
“How’s your dad today?”
Barbara let out a slow sigh, the cold making it fog in the dark. “Tired. Quiet. I think he’s trying to pretend it’s not real. Sometimes he just sits there, staring at the TV, but I don’t think he’s watching it.”
Dick nodded, his jaw tightening a fraction. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, on the way the moonlight turned the snow silver. “You told him about… us?”
She huffed a small laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. He did that dad thing, you know, the grumpy ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ routine. Then he said… he just wants me to be happy.” She paused. “He knows he doesn’t have much time. He said two years. Maybe.”
Dick stopped walking, just for a moment, and turned to her. His breath came out in a soft plume. “I’m so sorry, Babs.”
She shrugged helplessly. “It’s not your fault. Life’s just… cruel sometimes.”
He reached out then, gloved fingers brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. She leaned into the touch without thinking. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them felt right under the quiet of the snowfall.
“Do you ever think about them?” she asked softly. “Your parents.”
He dropped his hand, looking past her at the heavy branches above them, snow bending the boughs low. His eyes were so blue under the night sky. “Yeah,” he said. His voice was rougher now, the edge of old hurt peeking through. “I remember… after. The nights in the orphanage before Bruce took me in. It was so cold. So empty. There were other kids, but… you can be surrounded by people and still feel like you’re in the middle of nowhere.”
She felt it then, that old ache for the boy he’d been—so young, so soft-hearted, thrown into a world that never made room for softness. She reached out, her fingers slipping into his, gloved palm pressed to his knuckles. They stood there for a heartbeat, just breathing each other in, two people older and more bruised than when they’d first found each other all those years ago.
Dick dipped his head closer. Their foreheads brushed. Close enough she could feel the warmth of him even through all the cold.
“Babs…” he murmured.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“I...” He hesitated, and she tilted her chin up, just enough that their noses touched. It would be so easy to close the gap, to lose herself in him the way she’d done so long ago.
But before either of them could decide, the silence shattered.
A thwack of snow hit Dick square in the back of the head. He jerked forward, startled, and Barbara yelped as another snowball clipped her shoulder.
“What the?” Dick spun around just in time to catch another one in the chest. Snow exploded across his coat, and behind the nearest tree came a chorus of triumphant cackling.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Barbara sputtered, but she was already laughing, ducking behind Dick as another snowball soared past her ear.
Emerging from the shadows like a gang of overgrown children, Jason, Tim, Damian, Stephanie, and Cassandra came whooping down the snowy path, arms full of hastily packed snowballs, faces flushed and grins wicked.
“Ambush!” Jason shouted gleefully, launching another snowball that splattered across Dick’s shoulder. “Operation Cockblock is a go!”
“Jason!” Dick barked, arms flailing as he shielded Barbara behind him like some gallant human snow shield. “You absolute menace”
Tim was doubled over laughing, already rolling another snowball. “You should’ve seen your face, Babs! Perfect.”
Damian, ever the tactician, nailed Dick square in the ribs with a precision shot. “Your situational awareness is embarrassing, Grayson,” he said primly, packing another snowball with ruthless efficiency.
“Stand down, demon spawn!” Dick tried to twist, but Barbara squealed, ducking behind him as Steph and Cass flanked them from the other side.
“Oh, don’t you hide behind him, Babs!” Steph hollered, cackling as she lobbed a snowball high, Dick caught it with his side. “You’re in this too!”
“Oh my god, I hate all of you!” Dick yelped, shoving Barbara behind him again as he took another hit to the chest. Snow flew everywhere, into his hair, down his collar, cold and wet and unstoppable.
“Don’t just stand there, Dickhead, fight back!” Jason crowed.
“I can’t... I’m protecting her!” Dick shouted back, throwing a useless handful of snow in Jason’s direction. It missed by a mile.
Barbara was breathless with laughter now, curled behind him like they were kids again hiding from the world, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She peeked over his shoulder, meeting his exasperated, snow-dusted grin.
“Some protector you are...” she teased.
“Oh, you wanna help me, Gordon?” Dick asked, eyes gleaming, hair full of snow. “Grab some ammo!”
She ducked out from behind him, scooping a fistful of snow, and hurled it at Jason. It caught him in the chest, earning a yelp and a bark of laughter.
“Oh, it’s on now!” Jason bellowed, and the war descended into chaos, snow flying, laughter echoing through the park, the world turned into a cold, glittering battlefield.
And in the middle of it all, Barbara looked at Dick, his hair dusted white, his grin crooked and boyish and so heartbreakingly familiar—and felt the warmth bloom again in her chest, soft and stubborn as spring beneath all this snow.
She didn’t know where any of this was going. Didn’t know how much time they really had. But right now—here, in the chaos and the cold, with Dick Grayson shielding her from the worst of the world, she let herself believe in the possibility of something good.
And that was enough.
They made their way out of the park like a ragtag caravan of laughter and shivering bodies, snow in their hair, snow down their collars, snow packed in every fold of their clothes. Barbara couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so… light. So alive.
“Okay, everyone pile in,” Jason announced as he unlocked the back of his beat-up Jeep, tossing the snow-covered siblings inside. “Next stop, cocoa!”
“We’re dripping wet, Todd,” Damian complained as he shook snow out of his gloves, managing to look murderous even with a flurry of white stuck in his hair.
“Aw, don’t worry, Demon Spawn, cocoa will fix that bad attitude,” Jason teased, ruffling Damian’s hair until the younger boy swatted at him with a gloved hand.
Barbara laughed, breathless, as she wiped melting snow from her eyelashes, and caught Dick’s eye as he pulled open the passenger door for her.
“You good?” he asked, grinning, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair a mess of wet strands sticking to his forehead.
She grinned back, heart flipping in her chest. “I’m good.”
They ended up at a small, wood-paneled coffee shop near the edge of the festival, the windows fogged with steam, the air thick with the scent of chocolate and cinnamon. They took over a corner, boots kicked off, coats draped on chairs, the brothers bickering as they lined up for cocoa and stacks of whipped cream.
“Extra marshmallows,” Steph told the barista with the gravity of a surgeon making an incision. “Extra.”
Tim leaned over to Barbara, voice low. “She’s not joking, by the way. Last time they gave her too few, and she threatened to—”
“I did not threaten anyone, Timothy,” Steph interjected from across the counter.
“You threatened to hex them,” Tim deadpanned, earning a swat to the back of his head.
Dick just stood there, snow still melting in his hair, looking at Barbara like she was the only person in the room. She flushed under his gaze and looked away, suddenly aware of how her hair was tangled and how her scarf was crooked.
She felt… giddy.
Like she was seventeen again.
They settled at the table, cups steaming, laughter rising around them.
“So…” Jason smirked, leaning back in his chair, “was that your first date or just your first publicly ambushed date?”
“Oh my god,” Dick groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Jason, don’t—”
“I mean, we were very stealthy,” Tim added helpfully. “Followed your location like pros. Well, Steph’s idea, but I—”
“Tim!” Dick’s head shot up, eyes wide. “You tracked us?”
“Steph tracked you,” Tim corrected, pointing at his girlfriend. “I just provided snacks.”
“I regret nothing,” Steph said proudly, sipping her cocoa, whipped cream sticking to her nose.
Cassandra, perched beside Jason, signed something with a sly grin.
“She says, ‘You looked cute shielding her from snowballs,’” Tim translated, deadpan.
Dick turned bright red. “That’s it. I’m disowning all of you.”
Barbara laughed so hard she nearly spilled her cocoa, leaning into Dick’s side, and for a moment everything felt easy.
Maybe too easy.
Outside, the snow had slowed, heavy flakes drifting lazily in the streetlights. They all spilled back out onto the sidewalk, reluctant to let the night end.
“Hey Babs,” Jason called from behind them, “just a heads up, he snores.”
Dick turned, scandalized. “Jason!”
“Loudly,” Jason added with a wink.
“Oh, I bet,” Barbara shot back, smirking, “I’ll bring earplugs.”
Steph let out a whoop, high-fiving Barbara as Dick groaned.
They were halfway down the block when Barbara stopped walking, her eyes glinting with mischief. She bent down, scooped up a perfect fistful of snow, and before Dick could process what was happening, she shoved it down the back of his shirt.
The shriek he let out was ungodly.
“BARBARA!” he yelped, jerking away, snow falling from under his coat as he flailed. “YOU—TR—THAT WAS—”
“Traitor?” she finished sweetly, laughing as she danced away from him.
“Oh, you’re dead, Gordon!”
Before she could escape, he lunged, sweeping her off her feet and dropping her into a soft drift of snow by the sidewalk. She squealed, half laughing, half shrieking, as the cold soaked into her jeans.
“Oh, this means war!” she shouted, grabbing snow and smearing it across his hair as he bent down to try to pin her.
They ended up rolling, giggling, snow flying around them, Dick’s gloves skimming across her waist as she tried to wrestle him down. Her hair fell in her face, cheeks flushed and bright, eyes sparkling in the cold.
Finally, she managed to straddle him, pinning his wrists above his head in the snow, breathless and triumphant.
“Ha!” she exclaimed, triumphant.
He was laughing, chest shaking under her, cheeks bright red from the cold, hair damp and sticking up in all directions, blue eyes soft and warm as they looked up at her.
Barbara froze. In that moment, something shifted. It was him, all of him, beneath her, laughing, alive, here, and her, strong enough to hold him there, alive too, feeling like she could breathe again. Her breath caught. Her mind spun, not with fear, but with the spark of something new.
What if…
What if she wrote again? Really wrote, something about snow, about laughter, about this aching, fragile, beautiful moment of a snowy night and a boy she had loved once, maybe still loved, maybe would always love.
The seed of a story pressed into her, gentle and insistent, like the snowflakes melting on her hair. She didn’t tell him. Not yet. But she leaned down, pressing her forehead to his, letting her eyes flutter shut. Their breaths mingled, warm and white in the cold. Dick’s laughter quieted, his smile softening, his eyes dipping to her lips.
“Babs…” he whispered.
“Yeah?” she whispered back.
“Traitor,” he breathed, but he was smiling.
She dipped down and kissed him softly, a brief, trembling press of lips, nothing wild, nothing rushed, just testing the water, finding the temperature, letting herself feel it.
She pulled back slowly, eyes opening to find him looking at her like she was the only thing in the world. And for a moment, she let herself believe she could have this. All of it. Later, when they finally stood, brushing snow from their coats and hair, Dick’s brothers and Steph whistled from across the street, catcalling and hooting.
“Finally!” Jason crowed.
“About time,” Tim muttered, shaking his head.
Damian just rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”
“Shut up, all of you!” Dick called back, but he was grinning so hard it hurt.
Barbara was grinning too. She felt young again. Like she was seventeen, in love, and unafraid.
As they walked away, hand in hand, she glanced back at the snow behind them, the scattered footprints, the place where she had pinned him down and kissed him, where she had felt the spark return. That’s where the story begins, she thought. Not just theirs, but hers. And as they disappeared into the snowy night, she made herself a promise: She would write again.