conflict and compromise / barbara gordon

well spent month

Two weeks was a good deal, she reflected. With two weeks, Batman would finally be back on the streets preparing for the next barrage of blackmail, and she had more free time. 

Free time that she was going to spend well, she thought, looking down at the girl curled on her couch, head of wild black hair on her lap.

She felt Wenlock move under her, hands shifting, grabbing onto whatever clothing or body parts they could and clambering upwards to put them eye to eye.

"Morning beautiful," she smiled at the grumbling noises coming out of the girl, reaching out a hand to brush dark strands of hair out of Wenlock's eyes, "You need a haircut."

She watched as the dark-haired girl paused, reaching for her glasses and squinting to take in her surroundings, before blushing a bright red, "I'll get it fixed at some point," they muttered, absentmindedly flicking at the ends of their hair, which were starting to reach down to their shoulder blades. She sighed deeply, burying her head in the crook of Barbara's neck, "How long was I asleep?"

"Around four hours," Barbara hummed, she nuzzled into the top of Wenlock's head, inhaling the scent of wisteria from her shampoo.

"So you lied when you said morning," Wenlock pouted at her, and Barbara had to withhold an awww, at the sight.

"Well, I guess I'll start making dinner," Wenlock rose out of Barbara's arms, walking into the kitchen to begin rummaging through her depressingly empty shelves.

Barbara paused on the couch for a second, taking in Wenlock's slim figure in her oversized t-shirt and sleeping shorts. Frowning, she took a mental note to sign Wenlock up for self defence classes, in her current state, Wenlock probably couldn't take anyone in Gotham in a fight.

She crept up behind Wenlock, bare feet silent on the cool ceramic floor. Her hands snaking under Wenlock's arms as she buried her face in the dark curtain of hair, murmuring sweet thanks and praises. She felt Wenlock turn, lifting her arms to let Wenlock fully face her, they were facing each other now, with Barbara slowly moving her head upwards towards to face Wenlock.

In the months since their relationship had begun, they had taken many steps very quickly. It was natural, she thought, the way they moved with each other, the way they talked to each other. She had barely dug into their background to find out what the girl was into, but instead of it being Barbara pining for Wenlock it seemed like a mutual exchange, that Wenlock was willing to learn and adapt to Barbara's habits. But there was one step they hadn't taken, she though, and Wenlock's lips looked too appetizing that night to not take it.

Her lips brushed against Wenlock's chin, tracing upwards before moving away. Barbara looked up at Wenlock's brown eyes.

"Please, just say the word," she murmured staring at her reflection in those dilated eyes, feeling herself be swallowed by their expanding ink-like darkness.

"Yes."

She surged upwards, pushing Wenlock onto the counter in a controlled motion. As her soft lips met the dry surface of Wenlock's, she paused, internally grinning, to lick them, before going back in. Wenlock was delicate, a rare flower, and her kisses reflected that, Barbara thought. This was serene, an intoxicating feeling that she was already addicted to. She became distinctly aware of her hands, one cupping Wenlock's face, and the other on her waist, as the girl shifted. Felt the feeling of both of Wenlock's hands on her head, slim fingers working deftly through her hair, releasing strands from her ponytail that fell around her.

When they broke away, Barbara stayed silent, staring up at Wenlock's eyes, waiting. And then Wenlock broke into laughter, a high and loud sound that resonated around the apartment. Barbara smiled in return, breaking into her own chuckles.

"I can't believe I waited this long for that."

"Disappointed?"

"Extremely, I expected fireworks and sparkles," Wenlock frowned, barely noticeable under her glowing red face, "and my lips were dry."

Barbara hummed, "I fixed that didn't I?"

"Still embarrassing," Wenlock leaned down from the counter, putting them almost forehead to forehead, "Plus, you're like, experienced or whatever, feels like I should have practiced or something."

"I would have been extremely offended if you practiced and gave your first real kiss to someone else."

"I tried, but I couldn't find any redheads that tall in my area," Wenlock laughed, giving Barbara a peck on the forehead before turning back to her cooking.

Barbara stepped back, years of Batgirling and Oracle work had her basically useless in a kitchen. Watching from the dining table, it was almost comedic, if someone had told her just six months ago that she would be living in a situation this domestic, she would have laughed that person out of Gotham. But this girl, she thought, looking at Wenlock sifting through her fridge, had made it happen, and she would be damned if she let her go.