When Spidey Met Batgirl

Bottom line: she had no reason to trust him. Except that he kept begging her to trust him.

After he finally convinced her to let him fix her costume -- she'd gotten him to turn his head and cover his eyes with one hand while he webbed her a fresh layer of modesty -- he insisted on walking her back to the Batcycle she'd left behind when Killer Moth had nabbed her.

"Trust me," he said. "I just want to make sure you get back to it safely. It's the least I can do."

Batgirl put aside how unbelievably patronizing that had been when she decided that, considering what he'd put her through, he kind of owed her. And when she realized that the Moth's hideout was clear across town from where he'd gotten the drop on her, Spider-Man suggested swinging over there. "It'll be a lot faster," he said. "And fun. Trust me."

She agreed to give it a try, but that hadn't meant that she trusted him. How could she after what he'd done?

Hearing the wail of a siren below them, Batgirl opened her eyes. She wished she hadn't. They were swinging some forty stories above Grand Avenue, and as she warily eyed the ground, she spotted a fire engine streaking directly beneath in the opposite direction. At the end of their arc, Spider-Man suddenly twisted around, causing Batgirl to lose her grip.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted in a brief moment of freefall before he snagged her around the waist and fired a web-line. "You're going the wrong way!" she said, desperately clutching his torso.

"Looks like a huge fire," Spider-Man said, swinging to keep pace with the firetruck below. Batgirl scanned ahead and saw a column of smoke billowing off in the distance.

"Leave it to the professionals," she said. "I checked the police ban. Firefly's still locked up at Blackgate. It isn't arson. It's just a tenement fire."

"They might need help," he insisted.

"We don't do that!" Batgirl told him. And it was true. In all the training and protocol she'd received from Batman, he'd never said anything about firefighting. There'd been extensive lectures on recognizing signs of arson and defending against flamethrower attacks, but nothing about actually battling the blaze. "What are you going to do? Punch the flames out?"

Spider-Man landed on a nearby rooftop. "Look, lady," he said, setting her down. "I'm sorry if this kind of thing is outside your comfort zone, but I don't have the luxury to pick and choose when and how I'm going to help when I'm needed. I might be able to get the fire hoses in higher places than the department's ladders can reach. If they think I'm just going to get in the way, then that's fine. If you're in a hurry to get back, go on without me. If you want to stay here, I'll swing back when I'm done. But I've got to do something."

He didn't even wait for her to respond. He just jumped off the roof like he was diving into a pool and then swung away.

She couldn't believe it. She couldn't believehim! She couldn't believe he'd justleft her there! She couldn't believe he'dinsisted on giving her a lift! She couldn't believe he'dforced her to let himweb her! She couldn't believe he'dcum in his pants with her on top of him! And most of all, she couldn't believe he'd had the nerve in the first place to... to...save her!

"Oh god, Barbara," she said once she realized how angry she was -- once she realized why. She was mad at the guy because he had stopped Killer Moth. She was mad because she had needed help. Sure, she'd been a few seconds away from breaking free when Spider-Man had shown up, but it would have been a few seconds too late. She wouldn't have been able to stop Moth before he had... before he'd...

She was mad because in that moment, despite everything she'd told herself about her independence and determination, she'd needed someone's help. She was mad at Spider-Man for being that someone, and that wasn't right.

As she made her way after him, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, however, she conceded that she was well within her right to be mad about him cumming.

*

Without Batgirl on his back --literally on his back, constantlycomplaining -- Spider-Man had been able to cover more ground. He actually beat the fire truck to the burning building. Figuring they'd be able to get to the lower floors without too many problems, he decided to start at the top and work his way down.

Considering how crazy his day had been, Spider-Man was almost grateful to have a nice, simple fire to deal with. It seemed like he'd spent the majority of his night trying to get Batgirl to stop screaming at him. But no matter what he did, or how hard he tried, she justhated him. It was like dealing with J. Jonah Jameson. A younger, shorter, and unbearably sexier version of Jameson, but just as stubbornly determined not to trust him. But as he swiftly but carefully made his way through the top floor of the ten-story tenement, smothering flames with his webbing where exits were blocked by fire, and carrying out victims when he came across them, he was completely focused on the job at hand... for the most part.

Every once in a while, his mind drifted back to the feeling of Batgirl's arms wrapped around him as they swung through the night sky. But no sooner would he start to muse on this than his spider-sense would alert him to a falling flaming beam, or he'd hear the hacking cough of some poor, trapped tenant and all thought of the way Batgirl's web-covered breasts felt pressed to his back or the strawberry scent of her hair would vanish.

By the time two more fire engines had arrived, Spider-Man had cleared the top three floors, and he was having a much harder time fighting off the intoxicating distraction of her. Exhausted from running all over the building and having taken in a bit too much smoke, he found himself lost in the inferno on the seventh floor corridor. As he slumped against the wall, hacking and coughing all the way down, he could swear he saw some shimmering vision of Batgirl coming toward him through the flames. Then he passed out from lack of oxygen.

When he came to, she'd pulled his mask up over his mouth and pressed her soft lips to his while she blew air into his lungs, the faintest trace of her tongue against his. Once she'd completely revived him, he realized she'd carried him out of the building to the safety of a rooftop adjacent to the blaze.

"I thought you didn't do fires," he muttered, pulling his mask back down over his chin.

"First time for everything, right?" she said with a smile.

*

"You need a ride somewhere?" Batgirl asked once they'd finally made it to the alley where she'd left her bike.

"No, thanks," Spidey said. "I kind of prefer the webs. Speaking of which, you might, uh, need another coat."

"What do you mean?" she asked, bewildered. In response, he just pointed toward her chest, where the patchwork web job he'd spun to cover her breasts had thinned into translucent wisps. Looking down, Batgirl could just make out the faint shape of her nipples through the increasingly sheer gossamer strands. "I thought it had gotten chilly out here," she remarked.

"It's a biodegradable formula," Spider-Man explained. "Only lasts about an hour. Less in extreme heat. Let me touch it up a bit?"

She nodded her consent, but it proved more difficult than advertised as a double tap to the trigger on his palm produced a flaccid puff of gas rather than that all too familiarThwip!

"What's the problem?" Batgirl asked, pulling her cape over her deteriorating attire.

"Out of web-fluid," Spider-Man replied, pulling his gloves down to expose his wrist-mounted webshooters.

"Great!" she said. "What am I supposed to do? Ride home naked?"

"Don't worry, I've got more," he said, lifting the hem of his shirt, exposing a belt where he had spare web-cartridges clipped. Batgirl's gaze fell onto his six pack abs, glimpsing the dark brown curls of his happy trail as he replenished his web supply.

"All set," he said once he'd finished. "And before this becomes a whole thing, let me just turn my head now..."

"Oh, just do it," Batgirl said, sweeping her cape away and holding her arms behind her back. By this point, the webbing had completely dissolved. She stood before him exposed, her nipples stiff from the cool spring night. "I trust you," she whispered.

To his credit, Spider-Man only hesitated slightly before swathing her once more. After he'd done so, the two of them stood staring at each other in silence. It was Batgirl who spoke first. "I think I'm ready to call it a night," she said. "You sure I can't drop you somewhere?"

Spider-Man paused to think it over. He was down to the last of his webbing, and on the way from the fire Batgirl had told him that Batman was out of town. And from the way she'd descibed the Dark Knight, Spidey doubted Batman would have been too keen on posing for a nice candid glossy even if hewas in Gotham City at the moment. So considering Peter's whole photo scheme had gone bust and he still hadn't figured out how to make it back home where he could make more web-fluid, he probably couldn't afford to swing around a strange city any more than he absolutely had to. Especially when he had no idea where he was going.

"Sure," he answered. "Why not?"

"Okay then," Batgirl smiled, climbing onto the Batcycle. "Where are you staying?"

Spidey climbed onto the bike behind her, careful to keep a respectful distance between them. He was stumped. He really hadn't thought things through that far. He'd pretty much been making things up as he went along all day -- on something like 38-hours without sleep at that point. He still didn't have the cash for a ticket home, so there was no way he could afford a hotel room. Not even at one of the East End flophouses they'd passed on the way to the alley.

"I don't suppose you know a nice homeless shelter in the area?" he asked casually.

Batgirl turned on her seat to look at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"At least partially," he replied.

"You want to try your luck at a Gotham homeless shelter?" she asked. "Do your spider-powers include non-stabbability?"

"I don't have a lot of options," Spider-Man sighed. "This trip wasn't exactly planned."

Batgirl didn't say anything for a moment. She seemed to be making a decision. "Turn your mask around," she said.

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm taking you back to my place and I don't want you to know where it is," she said, pulling a helmet over her head.

"Your place, huh?" Spidey asked.

"Oh, wipe that smirk off your face," she said. "There's a spare bedroom. I'm just offering you a place to spend the night."

"What makes you think I'm smirking?" he asked, pulling his headgear around so that the eyes were on the back of his head. "After all, this mask covers my whole face."

"Oh, I can tell," she assured him, starting up the Batcycle. "Now hold on."

*

It was a twenty minute bike ride from the East End to the house in Gotham Heights James Gordon shared with his daughter. Fifteen if you didn't hit all the lights or you stunt drove down the stairs of the Finger Street Subway Station and took the B line tunnel all the way to the Gotham Heights stop.

It took the new Batgirl/Spider-Man team-up about forty-five minutes. They made a few stops on the way. First it was an attempted carjacking near Robinson Park. Shortly after that, it was teenage punks taking a crowbar to an ATM -- Spider-Man didn't even turn his mask back around to deal with that one, essentially fighting the crowbar bearer blind while Batgirl rounded up his accomplices. And then there was that particularly vicious gang fight they broke up outside of Miller's Pub, in which Spidey'd cracked a joke about the absurd hair-styling of one of the Ghost Dragon gangsters that still had Batgirl giggling as they left the scene.

All things considered, they made pretty good time. They hadn't even actually stopped for that purse-snatcher at the intersection of Infantino and Ditko. Spider-Man just kind of threw his arm out at the perfect moment to clothesline the thug as they went on their way.

It was a little after two when they stashed the Batcycle in its usual hiding place, an abandoned auto shop four blocks from the Gordon home, and it took another ten minutes for Batgirl to lead the practically blindfolded Spider-Man along her secret, shadowy route to the house. She decided to risk going through the back door rather than climbing the trellis to her bedroom.

"Stay here," she said once they entered. "And don't touch that mask." She left him standing in the kitchen while she ran through the house, collecting any and all of the family photos and personal documents strewn about in plain sight.

Barbara realized just how crazy this was. Did she really think she could invite this guy into her house and still maintain her secret identity?

She had to give it a shot.

Stashing everything she'd found in her bedroom, Batgirl made a quick detour to her dad's closet on the way back to the kitchen. Just last week she told Jim to clear out what he didn't want any more for Goodwill. It was a good thing he hadn't listened.

"Okay, you can turn the mask around," she told him. "I figured you'd want to shower and change clothes."

"Thanks," Spider-Man said, taking the outfit she offered him. "GCPD, huh?" he said, appraising the logo on the tee-shirt and sweatpants. "So your boyfriend's a cop?"

"Something like that," she said with a sly smile. "Bathroom's upstairs on the left. Leave your costume outside the door and I can run it through the wash."

CHAPTER SEVEN: Home Alone

Alone in an unfamiliar bathroom and lathering up with a stranger's soap, Peter's mind kept coming back to Betty Brant.

When she broke up with him three weeks back, Betty told him it was because they were going in different directions. "I just don't want to stand in your way," she said.

"I'm just going to ESU, Bets," he'd tried to explain. "Nothing's changing! I'm still going to live with my aunt! Still working for the paper!"

"You're going to college, Peter," she said. "You're going to experience so many new things... Meet so many new people... I just don't want you to miss out on all that because you think you have to stay with me."

There was no changing her mind, and in the end, Peter had convinced himself that she probably knew best. Despite the fact that he was actually two months older than she was, Peter had always thought of Betty as a sophisticated older woman. She'd been working at theBugle since she was fifteen, taking over her mother's job as Jonah's assistant when Mrs. Brant had gotten sick. It was Betty who took care of her now, paying the bills and keeping the family finances in order. Sure, Peter tried to help Aunt May with money whenever he could, but May was still the head of the household. Hell, she'd pretty much been in charge even when Uncle Ben was alive. But Betty was running her life on her own terms, and Peter couldn't help but admire that and look up to her.

But it wasn't the break-up that preoccupied Peter as he showered. It was the memory of his first time with Betty that kept coming back to him.

It had only happened maybe a month before they broke up. He'd taken her out to dinner and a late night movie to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Peter had insisted on walking her home, and they were about a block away from her apartment when a man stumbled out of a nearby bar and threw up on Peter's sweater.

"Shorry 'bout that, buddy," the drunk slurred, wiping his mouth before unloading again, this time into a gutter.

"Don't worry about it," Peter muttered. "Typical Parker luck."

"Come on," Betty said, dragging him into the lobby of her building. "We'll get you cleaned up."

"I don't know, Bets," he said. "It's really pretty late."

She just pushed him into the elevator.

"We have to be quiet," Betty whispered as they entered her apartment. "My mother should be asleep, but there'll be hell to pay if she wakes up and finds you here."

She led him down to the bathroom. "Give me that shirt and get in the shower," she instructed. "I'll see what I can do."

"You can burn it for all I care," he said, handing her the foul, besotted sweater.

"Probably for the best," she agreed before disappearing down the hall.

Peter uneasily undressed and climbed into the shower. He had never been in Betty's bathroom before. It was only the third time he'd been in her apartment. She rarely let him pick her up for a date, insisting on meeting him somewhere. Peter suspected this had something to do with her mother's condition. Now to find himself not only in her apartment, but naked, too?

Up to that point, their relationship hadn't been very physical. There were several reasons for that. Peter's bashfulness was part of it. He really cared for Betty and the last thing he wanted was to give her the impression he was only after one thing. And then there was the fact that between her mom and his aunt, they rarely got any private time alone together. And, of course, there were the many demands of Peter's second life to contend with.

Being Spider-Man is always going to get in the way, Peter realized. And almost as if to prove the point, his spider-sense flared.

He almost slipped and fell when it happened. He -- of all people -- almostslipped! That's how surprised he was. What danger could he be in at Betty's apartment? Could one of Spider-Man's enemies have discovered his identity and followed him?

Peter's hands were balled into fists when the shower curtain fluttered open and a lithe, naked female form slipped in before him. "Easy, Peter, it's just me," Betty said. "Were you expecting a fight or something?"

"Betty!" Peter cried. "What are you doing?!"

"Shush," she whispered. "If momis awake, I don't need her to hear two showers run. We're just going to have to share."

"Gotcha," Peter gulped in response. And just like that, he found himself looking at a naked woman in the flesh for the first time in his life.

Betty squeezed past him to stand under the spray of the water. He silently watched her soap herself up, drinking in the sight of her slender waist and perky tits capped with their puffy brown nipples. His first live, nude girl. She turned away from him to rinse off, and Peter's eyes drifted from the slope of her shoulders down past the outlines of her breasts to the smooth curves of her shapely ass.

"Would you help me wash my back?" she asked, timidly looking over her shoulder at him. Peter took the soap from her and started to scrub her soft, slick skin. "You have strong hands," she said, turning slightly toward him, causing Peter's sudsy fingers to catch the side of her breast. It felt incredible.She felt incredible. Part of him was sure this was it. This was their moment. But another part of him, a naive, uncertain part of him, kept telling him he was wrong. That the only reason Betty was standing so close and exposed was because she was just a sweet girl who didn't want to wake her mother. And still a third, rapidly swelling part of him knew exactly what he wanted, rising in steady, pulsing steps to graze the crack of her ass.

Betty gasped when she felt his dick brush against her, and Peter backed away in embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he started to say, as she turned to face him. "I didn't mean to --"

His apology cut itself off as she took his growing erection in hand.

"It's okay, Peter," she said huskily, squeezing him gently.

Peter sucked in a shallow breath as she started to stroke him. The tug of her trembling fingers on his cock was amazing -- the promise of it palpable -- but Peter couldn't help himself. He had to be sure.