When Spidey Met Batgirl

"Would it be terribly inappropriate if I kissed you right now?" he asked pensively.

"No," Betty just barely whispered with a teasing smile before he seized her hips and pulled her body toward his.

Later, after the long, hot shower went cold... after Peter had silently carried her into her bedroom... after they'd explored each other into the wee small hours... Betty confessed that she knew what was going to happen between them the second she'd ushered him into the building.

"I guess I owe that drunk jerk my thanks," Peter said as she snuggled close.

"I guess we both do," she giggled, lazily tracing a finger along his chest. "I had no idea you were so fit," she said softly, stunned by the firmness of his pectorals.

Peter tensed. And not because Betty had just pinched his nipple. No, that playful little pinch and the way she was sliding her thigh against his -- both of them still slick with her juices -- felt wonderful. What was bothering him now was the same thing that always bothered him when he was with her, and the same thing, he now realized, that had always kept them from doing this before... He hadn't wanted to sleep with her while he was still lying to her about who he was. Not when she didn't know he was Spider-Man.

"Seriously, Peter," Betty said, sliding her hand down to his stomach and his rock hard abs. "When do you find the time to exercise so rigorously?"

"I'm always running around, you know, taking pictures," he croaked. "Keeping track of Spider-Man... Dodging supervillains... It's a real workout, all right."

"Oh, you're so brave," she giggled, kissing his cheek. He felt her breath on his ear as she whispered, "I love you, Peter Parker."

"I love you too," he told her. And he meant it. Of course he did. And right then, he was ready to tell her everything. He had to. He'd spent so much of his life without any friends, just his aunt and uncle. He'd been so lucky to find Betty. So lucky to be with her now, and he couldn't imagine he'd ever find anybody who'd ever love him besides her. He could tell her the truth. Maybe they could even get married.

Before he could say another word, she kissed him, softly. "I love you," she said at the end, "but you've got to go. Now. Before my mom wakes up."

So he dressed and left as quietly as he'd come in, while Betty cleaned up and got ready for another hectic day at theBugle. He told himself he'd tell her later, but then life just went on. It was school and the late night patrols and begging Jameson for every cent he could get to help Aunt May with the bills. And the handful of occasions he was alone with Betty, the time never felt quite right. It never felt as right as that night she'd invited him into her shower. And before he knew it, it was over between them.

Nearly two months after than marvelous night, finding himself in a strikingly similar situation, Peter couldn't help but wonder... Was that why Batgirl had invited him to stay? Was that why he'd accepted?

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he heard the floor boards creaking out in the hallway. It had to be Batgirl. Was she just coming for the laundry, or was she coming for something else?

The answer became apparent when she started banging on the door. "Hey!" she shouted. "Don't use up all the hot water!"

*

Snatching up the costume Spider-Man had left carefully folded at the door, Batgirl made her way down to the basement. She hadn't done someone else's laundry for years. Not since the days she'd run a load for her father every week back in high school. He'd learned to fend for himself after she went to college, and she hadn't seen any need to resume the arrangement when she moved back in.

Once she made it to the washing machine, she took a moment to look the costume over before setting the wash. She could tell from the untidy stitching that could have only come from hand sowing that it was homemade. It was still impressive work. She recalled the difficulty she had putting her first costume together and how grateful she was when Batman started providing her with suits along with state-of-the-art crime fighting gear. She wondered how Spider-Man had managed the full head mask, but couldn't seem to find it. Had she dropped it on the way from the bathroom?

Her appraisal of the bright red and blue costume continued until she came to the thick, crusty stain on the crotch.

Her anger had faded over the hours since it had happened and now as Batgirl looked back on the intimate accident that had passed between them, she couldn't repress a smile. He'd lost control. She had made him completely lose control. And despite herself, she felt oddly flattered. Flattered and maybe even a little turned on...

"You're being stupid, Barbara," she muttered to herself, tossing the costume into the washer and setting it for a thorough delicate cycle. She headed upstairs where she found Spider-Man in the kitchen, poking around the refrigerator. He was wearing her father's hand-me-downs... and his mask.

Her first thought was that he looked pretty goofy like that. Her second was the realization that he hadn't trusted her with his true face. Well of course he hadn't. Why would he? The real question was why had she expected him to? Had she actually planned to trust him with hers?

"Hope you don't mind," he said when he saw her. "I haven't eaten all day."

"Uh, no," she told him. "Go ahead. Stay away from the curry, though. That's mine."

"Will do," he replied with a little salute.

"I'm just going to shower," she told him. "Um, make yourself at home."

*

I've made a huge mistake.

The thought kept repeating itself in her mind throughout her long, hot shower. She'd made ahuge mistake.

What did she really know about this Spider-Man? He seemed smart, morally dedicated, and he had a cute butt... or so it seemed. Well, no, hedefinitely had a cute butt, but what did that really tell her about him? She'd been fighting crime for thirteen months. She'd been fighting crime with Batman's approval for about three. If there was one thing she should have learned by now, she should have learned to trust no one. Least of all meta-humans she'd just met who wore a full body stocking.

Why the hell had she brought this stranger into her home?

Spider-Man could be up to anything while she was in here. He could be robbing them blind, traipsing through her father's personal things. Hell, he could be on the other side of the bathroom door, staring in at her with his spider-vision or whatever.

No. If he'd wanted to take advantage of her, he'd certainly had his chance earlier.

Worst case scenario, he'd figure out who she was. Batman and Robin were still in the clear. The only person who'd pay for her mistake would be her. And probably her father. It'd be hard for the new commissioner to explain that he had no idea his daughter was operating as a vigilante with his police force... even if it was true. His political enemies would roast him alive.

She just didn't want to think about it anymore.

When she'd stripped down to shower, most of the webbing that had covered her had dissolved, but there were still a few stubborn, sticky traces left. She'd been able to remove what was left on her breasts with a little vigorous scrubbing, but she had considerable difficulty with the gummy wisps in her public hair. In the half-hour she spent carefully cleaning herself -- all the while debating whether it'd just be easier to shave it all off -- she worked out the hard truth of why she'd invited Spider-Man to stay.

She didn't want to be alone tonight.

Once she'd finished in the shower, she faced another dilemma: what was she going to wear? She usually slept in a loose t-shirt and her old gym shorts, but with this strange man in the house, that didn't seem like a good idea. She dug through her closet for one of the many pairs of two-piece, plaid pajama sets her father had been giving her every Christmas since she was twelve. That just left her pondering headgear. She wanted to conceal her identity. She really did. But was she actually going to walk around with her cowl on all night?

What choice did she have?

After going down to the basement to set his costume out to dry, she made her way to the living room, decked out in plaid flannel shirtsleeves and her bat-mask. She found him on the couch watching something on PBS and eating reheated lasagna with his mask pulled up over his mouth.

She realized just how ridiculous this was and made a command decision.

"Okay, how's this for a deal?" she asked him. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

CHAPTER EIGHT: Unmasked At Last

After no small amount of discussion and debate -- including four or five rounds of rock-paper-scissors and one thumb-war -- they eventually agreed to both unmask at the same time on the count of three.

They each braced themselves for a shock. Barbara acknowledged the likelihood that Spider-Man covered his whole face for a very good, scarred and hairy reason, just as Peter had taken into account the fact that Batgirl's flaming red mane was probably a wig connected to her cowl as a diversion to protect her identity. But neither of them had considered the possibility that they'd recognize the face beneath.

"You're hottie librarian?!" Peter said.

"You're weird nervous nerd?!" Barbara gasped.

"Did you just call me 'weird nervous nerd'?"

"Did you actually just say 'hottie librarian'?"

"At least mine was kind of a compliment," Peter mumbled.

"Well, look at you!" Barbara said. "You're a kid! How old are you anyway?"

"I'm twenty-five," Peter lied, but she just laughed. And laughed. "Okay, I'm twenty-one," he told her.

"Right," she chortled. "And I'm sure you've got a driver's license tucked away somewhere to prove it, McLovin."

"I'll be nineteen next year," he admitted. Barbara had been wrong before. Hewasn't older than Dick.

"So tonight I got my first teenage sidekick," she giggled. "Batgirl's really coming up in the world."

"If anything, you weremy sidekick," Peter muttered. "I've been doing this for years. You said the real Batman's only been letting you do this for about three months."

"I've been at this for more than a year," Barbara said. "And I haven't been sidekick age my entire career. Why didn't you join the Teen Titans?"

"Those posers?" he asked. "And give up my bad boy loner mystique?"

"What bad boy loner mystique?" she asked. "You handle fire fights."

"You thought I was a bad guy when we first met, didn't you?"

She didn't really have a smart remark for that. "Well, maybe when I met you as Spider-Man," she confessed. "But I never considered Weird Nervous Nerd a threat."

"My name is--" he started to tell her before she stopped him.

"No," she said. "No real names."

"So you want me to call you Batgirl?" he asked.

"Why not, Spider-Man?" she replied. Peter couldn't really argue with her. Nobody knew about his other life, and he knew there was a good reason for that. Still, he'd felt that maybe he'd be safe confiding his secret. Just this once. And he didn't know how comfortable he felt with the idea of someone calling him Spider-Man when he was out of uniform. His life had become a delicate balancing act between his two identities, and he wasn't all that gung ho to go tipping the scales in the wallcrawler's favor...

Despite the continued use of their codenames, unmasking cemented the intimacy forged between them by the events of the night. Barbara reheated her curry and joined Peter in the living room, where he'd switched from a repeat of "Nova" to a late night creature feature.

"So how does a kid from New York end up bouncing around the Gotham waterfront?" she asked. "I mean, it's not like you can web-swing across 100 miles of Jersey swampland."

"I wish it was that easy," Peter said. "I'd be home right now."

"What happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he said.

"Try me."

"A sixty-three year old man flapped his arms really hard and flew me here."

"You're right," she said. "I don't believe you."

"Typical Par -- uh, Spidey luck," he told her. "This type of thing happens to me all the time. Ever since I got these powers, my life has been too stupid to live."

This early in her career, Barbara hadn't encountered too many other costumed adventurers, but she always heard about the New York City superheroes. Word around the JLA was that the vast majority of them were neurotic messes, constantly complaining about all type of day-to-day problemseverybody had. Bills, day jobs, balancing their personal lives. And apparently, no two of them could be on the same street without some stupid misunderstanding that led to a fight. She'd always assumed Black Canary and Green Arrow were just pulling her leg, hazing the new kid. But here she was, sitting next to a guy who'd been gifted with powers and abilities beyond anything she could imagine, and he found some way to look at it all as a curse.

"Why do it, then?" she asked him. "If being Spider-Man's such a pain in the ass, why bother?"

"Because with great power comes great responsibility," he said. "Does that sound stupid?"

Barbara thought about it. "Not stupid, no," she said. "Maybe a little corny, though."

"Maybe," he conceded.

"So... how'd you get this 'great power' anyway?" she asked.

"I was bitten by a radioactive spider," he told her.

"Fine," she sighed. "Keep your stupid secrets, Spider-Man."

"I told you," he said. "Too stupid to live."

They sat quietly for a bit, watching a fake plastic Fin Fang Foom wrestle a rubber Swamp Thing in black and white on TV.

"So," Peter said finally, "you do have a boyfriend, right?"

"I live with someone," she said, deciding not to lie to him if she didn't have to.

"Do you... love him?" he asked pensively. He wasn't even sure why.

"More than anything," she said.

"Does he know what you do? At night? With the cute little short cape?"

"No," Barbara admitted.

"So, it isn't Batman then?"

"Batman?" she guffawed. "No, I'm not dating Batman. He's a little intense for me... What about you? Is there a Spider-Woman back home nobody knows about?"

"There was," he told her. "It didn't really work out. I'm not sure if it really ever had a chance of working out. And not just because my life's a mess. I'm not exactly a hit with the ladies."

"That'll change when you get to college," Barbara assured him.

"Right," he deadpanned. "I'm going to step foot on campus and end up with a supermodel someday."

"I trusted you, so you trust me," she said. "College will change things. It did for me."

"You?" Peter laughed. "I have a hard time believing that guys wouldn't give you the time of day in high school."

"Please," Barbara said. "I was a total geek back then. I was spending my Saturday nights at the library long before I started working there. I was a bit of a late bloomer."

"Well you certainly bloomed," Peter murmured.

"I'm trying really hard to consider that little line more sweet than lame," she informed him. "But I make no promises."

"I just appreciate the effort."

When they finished eating, Peter took their plates into the kitchen to wash them.

"You don't have to do that," Barbara told him.

"Yes I do," he said. "My au-- uh, mom would never forgive me."

"Well at least let me dry," she said, standing beside him with a dish towel. "Momma's boy, huh? That explains things."

"Like what things?" he asked.

"Like why you're not like the other barely legal boy I know," she said, looking him right in the eye.

It was a look she hadn't given him before. She'd looked at him in so many ways that night that Peter could recognize. She'd seen him as a threat, she'd looked at him like he was some scumbag, and just a few minutes ago, when they'd been on the couch together, she'd looked at him like he was some stupid kid. But the look she was giving him now was one of genuine affection. And she was standing so close, so enticing. Those bright blue eyes. Those freckles on her nose. Those entreating full lips.

Peter leaned toward her but she turned her head and the kiss landed somewhere in her scarlet tresses.

"Sorry," he said, pulling back from the beguiling scent of her hair. He'd pushed things too far. "I just thought..."

"It's okay," she told him, blushing slightly as she dried the last plate. "It's late. I should show you to the guest room."

"Right," Peter said. "That'd be great."

They ascended the stairs in awkward silence.

"This is you," she said, pushing the door to his room open for him. "I'm just across the hall if you..." She stopped herself. If he what? "I'm just across the hall."

"Batgirl?"

She almost laughed when he called her that. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

Looking into his eyes, she could see that he meant it. "I know you are, Spider-Man," she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek before retreating into her bedroom. "Good night,"

Peter watched her door close before retiring to the guest room for a long awaited rest.

CHAPTER NINE: Amazing Adult Fantasy

Peter was too keyed up to sleep.

The whole last day had been like some surreal dream. There was no way he could have guessed that a fight with the Vulture would have ended up with him sleeping across the hall from the sexiest woman he'd ever met.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He saw the way she'd been when he'd met her as Batgirl. He saw the girlish swell of her breasts -- they weren't melons as much as oranges... or maybe tangerines -- blessed with pretty pink nipples, hanging out of her tattered costume. He saw the fire in her eyes as she surged toward him on the attack, and he couldn't help but feel the erotic charge from the lingering memory.

This night had probably warped him forever. It'd feed his sick, twisted sexual fantasies for the rest of his life.

There was no way Peter was going to drift off anytime soon, and when he restlessly opened his eyes, he could clearly see the reason why. Lying on his back, he had a perfect view of the tent in the bed sheets his erection was making. If he wanted to get any sleep, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

*

Lying awake in her bed, Barbara decided to check herself out.

The rough nature of her night-life had a tendency to leave her with a few cuts and bruises in the morning. She'd learned the hard way that it was best to know what injuries she might need to hide or explain to her father ahead of time. She'd kind of gotten out of the habit of doing so since he'd left town, but he'd be coming back tomorrow.

Besides. For some reason, she just couldn't sleep.

She unbuttoned her pajama top to check the bruise from that elbow she'd taken to the tit the night before. It was slightly less noticeable, but she saw that between the adhesive of Spider-Man's webbing and the forceful scouring she'd done to remove it, her breasts had been rubbed raw in places. Running her hands lower down her torso, she felt a nick on her belly from Killer Moth's rushed slicing of her costume. It was only the one tiny, hairline cut, and she knew how lucky she was to have been bound and at the mercy of that feeble goofball instead of someone really dangerous like Mr. Freeze or Two-Face or the goddamn Joker. How lucky she was that Killer Moth had been stopped when he had.

But it hadn't just been luck, had it?

Spider-Man had tried to kiss her tonight and she hadn't let him. She had a dozen good reasons why not: She felt vulnerable. She didn't really know him. He was too young and she'd started down that road with Robin and it'd only been a problem ever since. And she didn't want him to think she felt beholden to him, because she wasn't.She was not. But despite all of those good, logical, an even righteous reasons, she still felt this strange pull toward him. And it was that irrational attraction more than anything -- or rather her fear of it -- that had really caused her to stop him.