The Batman was grumpy. Grumpy even for him. Not because of the Joker, or Penguin, or even Nightwing, but because absolutely nothing was happening on his patrol. No crimes, no nefariously complicated plots to take over Gotham, not even a convenience store robbery. No excuse to keep him out. He would have no choice but to return to the Batcave.

"Tonight of all nights," he grumbled, brooding on a rooftop, searching desperately for some sign of trouble to postpone his return home. Where she would undoubtedly be waiting. He stood up with a sigh. Best to head back, or she would come looking for him. The last thing he needed was for people to see the caped crusader, defender of Gotham, the Dark Knight, being dragged home by the cape like a 4 year old. Dick would never let him live it down.

He took the longest possible route back to the Batcave, but the Batmobile was so fast it hardly made any difference. He tried to think up excuses on the way back (roads blocked? traffic jam? ran out of gas?), but even he, the world's greatest detective, was stumped.

"The best thing I can do is head straight to the bat computer and look busy. Not that she'll buy it…"

The Batmobile burst into the cave and stopped smoothly on its parking spot. He jumped out and walked as menacingly as he could towards the computer hub, aware of the eyes of all three of his proteges on him as they pretended to continue training. Dick and Barbara were sparring (rather unconvincingly), and Tim was practicing with the training robot. Dick had been spending more and more time at the Batcave lately. Their relationship was still a little rocky, but it was improving, mostly thanks to Diana. She'd helped Dick understand what Bruce was trying (and completely failing) to communicate, and vice versa. They started spending more time together, and Bruce was really enjoying it, a fact that he tried to communicate to Dick. And though his communication skills were never very great, Dick seemed to get the message, and even return the sentiment. Though Bruce knew he was here for a different reason tonight. His adopted son was here for the show.

Dick and Barbara finished their match and walked over to the console. "So," said Dick, leaning on the back of the Batman's chair, "Hiding down here, huh?" Bruce ignored him, very involved in the complicated series of numbers on the screen. Dick and Barbara exchanged knowing smirks. "She's going to find you," said Dick, "You're not getting out of this one. In fact-" he glanced at the descending elevator, " I think she's here." Barbara patted his shoulder sympathetically, and they returned to the sparring area.

The elevator doors opened revealing a slightly smirky Alfred. "Miss Diana is here to see you, Master Bruce," he said.

"Tell her I'm busy, Alfred."

"I'm afraid that's not possible sir, as Miss Diana accompanied me on the lift."

At this, Alfred stepped aside and a frustrated Amazon emerged from the elevator. She was wearing dark jeans and a long-sleeved, light blue-green shirt with her hair in a ponytail. "Bruce! It's time to go! Aren't you dressed yet?" she asked, literally gliding over to him to glare down at him with her arms crossed and an accusatory expression on her face.

"I've been busy," he said, still staring at the screen.

"Liar," she said, rolling her eyes. "I know absolutely nothing's been happening in Gotham tonight. You're not getting out of this."

He finally turned to face her. "You do remember what happened last time we tried to do something for Clark's birthday, right? He and I got attacked by a plant, and you almost got flattened by an alien. Plus, I might be needed here," he concluded, throwing a batglare at her. To the batkids' amazement (and amusement) however, she held her ground, completely unfazed.

"That was only once, and we were alone in the Fortress of Solitude. We'll be in Metropolis this time, having a normal time, relaxing at Clark's apartment. Clark's promised not to open any suspicious presents without getting them looked at first. And as for Gotham-" here she glanced at the batclan "That's why Dick's here, for extra support. I think the three of them can handle it."

"Of course we can, Diana! You kids go have fun," said Dick, grinning. Here, Bruce shot him a look that clearly meant "traitor," and then returned his gaze to Diana, amping up the intensity of his bat glare.

"Diana, you know I don't like these things."

"Too bad," she shrugged, "You're going." She pointed to the room where he kept some "Bruce Wayne" clothes for emergencies. "Now, go get dressed and grab your gift for Clark."

At this, Bruce amped up the intensity of his glare to a whole new level. Even Dick, Barbara, and Tim, who were more used to his various glares and general moodiness, were taken slightly aback. Diana, however, returned the glare and continued to point towards the room. They remained like that for a few seconds, in a competition of wills, waiting to see who would blink first. Finally, Bruce sighed. "Fine," he said, rising angrily and storming towards the door. "Good," said Diana, smiling.

Dick, Barbara, and Tim were stunned. Nobody bossed the Batman around like that! She didn't even flinch! And he actually gave in. But the show wasn't over. Diana chatted with the three batkids while Bruce changed. He emerged in a few minutes wearing a severe white button-down tucked into khakis. "Fine," he grumbled, "I'm ready."

Diana looked appalled. "Bruce, you're going to your best friend's for his birthday, not a Wayne Enterprises business meeting. Either change the shirt or the pants," she said waving him toward the door.

The other three were aghast, mouths hanging open. She was dead. She was so dead. They were sure of it. They froze, anticipating the fireworks, but they were surprised again. Bruce just rolled his eyes and went back into the room. "And untuck the shirt!" Diana called after him. He raised a hand in acknowledgment. But what the batkids saw that Diana didn't was a little smirk on his face as he left the room. They quickly exchanged a series of looks and a lot of raised eyebrows. He had done that on purpose! At first they thought he was just stalling, but that didn't fit the smirk. He knew his wardrobe would annoy her, and was messing with her! They barely had time to process this astounding realization, when Bruce re-emerged. He'd kept the khakis, but was instead wearing a light blue, well tailored button-down, untucked, with the sleeves rolled casually to the elbows. Diana blushed slightly as he emerged. He looked good, and he knew it. Dick didn't miss the small smile of satisfaction at Diana's reaction on Bruce's face. But he soon resumed his affected air of exasperation.

"I'm ready," he said, grabbing Clark's gift. "If the fashion police approve," he glanced at Diana.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled as she affirmed that she did approve of his choice. He smiled teasingly as he offered her his arm to escort her to the elevator. They said good-bye to the stunned batclan and ascended in the elevator.

They stood there, momentarily stunned by the weird behavior they just witnessed. The only time they saw Bruce more out of his normal broodiness was when he had his billionaire playboy act on.

"I told you so!" Barbara said triumphantly, breaking the silence. "He's totally crazy about her."

"I'll admit, that was pretty weird," said Dick, "But I'm still not sure he likes her that much."

Tim looked over at the computer. "Hey! We can use the security cameras to spy on them!" He looked over at Batgirl. "You think you can make it so he won't know we were checking up on him?"

"No problem," she said, cracking her knuckles and heading over to the computer. They soon had a view of the two of them entering the massive garage. They bypassed all of billionaire Bruce Wayne's signature cars and headed straight for an old black Dodge Challenger in the back. No one knew that Bruce Wayne owned such a car. The public saw him as a showy billionaire, with only the latest, flashiest, most expensive cars. Bruce kept his dad's old Challenger around so he could go for a drive without being attacked by the press. He and Dick used to throw on some old jeans and t-shirts and baseball caps and go for a drive whenever their playboy billionaire or nighttime vigilante lives got to be too much. They'd occasionally stop for ice cream or go to a local park to shoot some hoops. Those times were some of Dick's best memories. They watched Bruce and Diana head towards the car. Diana looked wistfully at the car, running her fingers along the door. Bruce watched her do this, walked to the passenger side, and tossed her the keys. Her whole face seemed to light up and she happily bounced into the driver's seat. Dick, Barbara, and Tim nearly had heart attacks out of shock.

"No. Way," said Dick, "He's letting her drive the convertible. He never lets anyone drive the convertible."

"I told you!" said a still stunned Barbara. "He so likes her." She stuck out her hand in Nightwing's general direction, not taking her eyes off the screen, "Pay up."
"He won't even let me drive the convertible!" pouted Tim as Nightwing shuffled through his wallet for a 20.

Barbara rolled her eyes. "You don't even have your permit, Tim."

"So? He lets me drive motorcycles and swing from buildings and fight insane criminals every night! It seems like driving a car would be a lot safer than any of that. He won't let me near it, but he hands the keys to a woman who didn't know cars existed until a few years ago."

"He must really like her," said Dick, shaking his head.

"Yeah," said Barbara, "Too bad everyone knows it but him."