The front porch of the Gordon residence was usually a quiet place, a dim street light usually lit it up, and birds or bats would take camp out there every now and then but tonight, tonight it had our main man lying on his back and Barbara Gordon currently sweating through her purple spandex.
"Okay... okay, Babs. You've fought Bane or tried to. You've survived a five-story drop. You can... grunt... move one skinny teenager... uungh... across a wooden threshold!"
She was currently attempting the infamous ankle drag. She had Izuku by his sneakers, leaning back with her entire body weight. She was making progress—about two inches every ten seconds—until she reached the door frame. She gave one massive, final heave.
THUD. CRUNCH.
"Oh, no," Barbara whispered.
She turned around. Izuku's body had moved, but his head had somehow managed to wedge itself perfectly between the heavy oak door and the door frame. Because the door was on a spring-loaded hinge, it was currently trying to close itself, effectively using the unconscious boy's skull as a doorstop.
"Hey mystery boy! Wake up and be less wide!" she hissed, though he remained blissfully dead to the world.
She spent the next three minutes performing a frantic dance of bracing the door with her shoulder while trying to wiggle his head out without causing permanent brain damage. "I'm so sorry! You saved my life, and I'm literally squishing your brains! I'm the worst! I'm a villain! I'm a door-based villain!"
Finally, with a sound like a suction cup popping, his head came free. She tumbled backward into the dark hallway, pulling him in with her.
"That was amateur hour," she told herself, standing up and wiping sweat from her brow. "I'm a martial artist. I have leverage."
She bent down, grabbed Izuku's limp arm, and tried to hoist him onto her shoulders. For a second, it worked. She stood up, feeling like a champion. She took one step.
Gravity, however, remembered that Izuku Midoriya was approximately 80% dense muscle.
Barbra:"Wait, wait, wait—"
Barbara's knees buckled. Her center of gravity didn't just shift; it vanished. She let out a muffled "Oof!" as she face-planted directly into the hallway carpet. Izuku landed directly on top of her, his weight pinning her down like a human weighted blanket.
"I can't... breathe..." she muffled into the rug. "You... are... so... heavy! What do they feed you? Lead? Are you made of lead?"
She spent another minute wiggling out from under him like a beetle on its back.
At this point, Izuku was lying face-down in the hallway, his posterior pointed toward the ceiling in a truly undignified position. Barbara looked at him, then at the stairs, then back at him.
"I'm sorry, but you're a 'shove-only' item now."
She got behind him, put her hands on his lower back, and started pushing him like a stubborn piece of furniture. It wasn't graceful. It wasn't heroic. It looked like she was trying to hide a giant, green-haired rug.
Barbra:" Wow, you...Ugh...have a really firm...butt !
Shove. Slide. Shove. Slide.
Finally, she got him past the coat rack and into the kitchen area.
Barbara stood in the dark kitchen, leaning against the counter. She grabbed a glass, filled it with tap water, and downed it in one go.
"I did it," she whispered, a smug grin forming on her face. "I am the boss. I am the shadow. I am the greatest hero Gotham has ever seen. Batman couldn't have moved that body better himself. I'm a mastermind, fficient. I'm—"
She paused. The adrenaline started to dip, and reality started to seep in.
"I'm... carrying an unconscious, green-haired boy into my house," she whispered, her eyes widening. "In the middle of the night. While my dad—the POLICE COMMISSIONER—is out looking for criminals."
She looked down at Izuku, who was still face-down on the linoleum.
"Oh my god, I'm a kidnapper! I kidnapped a meta-human! Dad is going to lock me in Blackgate! I'm going to have a roommate named 'The Cannibal' and we're going to fight over the top bunk!"
She started pacing in a circle, her hands on her head.
"Why did I bring him here? I should have taken him to a hospital! But wait, he looks Japanese! They'd probably call someone from the government to arrest him and deport him! Okay, so I saved him from the state police. But I'm a stranger! He's a stranger! This is a boy! In my house! For the first time ever! And he's not even conscious to appreciate my room decor!"
"Uuuuurgh..."
Barbara froze. Every hair on her neck stood up.
Behind her, Izuku had shifted. His head turned to the side, and a low, pained groan escaped his lips. His eyes fluttered, just barely beginning to open.
"Where... am..." he mumbled, his voice raspy.
Barbara didn't think. She didn't plan. Her survival instinct, honed by years of watching her dad's vintage horror films, kicked into overdrive.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
She let out a high-pitched, glass-shattering scream. Her hand shot out to the counter, grabbing the first heavy object it touched—a cast-iron frying pan left out from dinner.
CLANG!
It was the most perfect, resonant sound Barbara had ever heard. It sounded like a cathedral bell being struck by the hunchback or notre dame. The pan connected squarely with Izuku's cheek.
His eyes, which had just barely opened, rolled right back into his head. He let out one final, soft "Ugh..." before his face hit the floor again.
Silence returned to the kitchen.
Barbara stood over him, clutching the handle of the frying pan with both hands, her heart thumping like a drum.
Barbara: "Oh... oh no. I just killed my hero. I killed the green lightning boy with a skillet."
She poked his nose with the edge of the pan. He didn't move. She leaned down, checking his pulse. It was still there—strong and steady.
"Okay. He's fine. He's just... doubly-unconscious now."
She stood up, looking at the frying pan. The moonlight caught the oily surface of the iron. It felt balanced. It felt right. She gave it a little experimental swing.
Woosh.
"You know..." she whispered, a giggle bubbling up. "This is actually a really good weapon. It's got reach. It's got blunt force. It's... the Bat-Pan."
She held the pan up to her face, posing in the dark.
"Well done, Batgirl," she said, her voice dropping three octaves into a gravelly, brooding imitation of Batman. "You and the Bat-Pan have saved Gotham from the green-haired menace. Truly, your skills are unparalleled."
She switched back to her normal voice, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and acting all shy. "Oh, Batman! Please, you're too much! I'm just doing my part to keep the streets clean!"
Back to the Batman voice, she pointed the pan at an imaginary villain. "No, Batgirl. You are more than a sidekick. You are a partner. Please... take this honorary Batarang. Also, you're the boss of the Cave now. I'm going on vacation to Florida."
"Oh, Batman! If you insist! I'll make sure to keep the Bat-Mobile waxed!"
She was mid-twirl, holding the frying pan like a sword, when a sudden flash of light cut through the kitchen window.
Vroooooom.
Headlights. A car was pulling into the driveway.
Barbara's soul nearly left her body.
"DAD!!
The terror that filled Barbara in that moment was greater than anything Bane could have ever made her feel. This was The Commissioner. This was the man who could spot a lie from a mile away and had a literal jail cell key on his belt. Who threatened even a 3-year-old boy whom she hung out with when she was in preschool.
"MOVE! BABS, MOVE!"
She lunged for Izuku's ankles. She didn't have time for leverage or safety. She became a machine of pure, panicked strength. She dragged him toward the stairs just as she heard the car door slam outside.
"Okay, okay... up we go!"
She started backing up the stairs, pulling him by the legs.
THUMP.
Izuku's head hit the first step.
"Sorry!"
THUMP.
The second step.
"My bad!"
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
It sounded like someone was dropping a bowling ball down a flight of stairs in slow motion. Every step was a new "Ouch" that Barbara felt in her soul. By the time they reached the landing, she was pretty sure Izuku's hero name was going to have to be 'Concussion-Man.'
She heard the jingle of keys at the front door.
"No, no, no, no!"
She did a frantic power-slide across the upstairs hallway, dragging Izuku's limp body like a sack of potatoes. She reached her bedroom door, grabbed the handle, and threw it open.
Click. Creak...
The front door downstairs opened.
"Barbara? You awake, pumpkin?" Jim Gordon's voice echoed up the stairs.
Barbara didn't answer. She couldn't answer because she was currently shoved halfway into her room, trying to tuck Izuku's arm inside. She slammed her bedroom door shut and leaned against it, gasping for air.
"I'm going to die," she whispered. "This is the end of the Gordon line."
She looked around her room. It was a mess—tech parts, half-finished projects, and her Batgirl gear was currently... still on her body.
"CRAP!"
She heard her dad's heavy footsteps on the stairs.
"Barbara? I saw the light in the kitchen. Everything okay?"
"YES!" she yelled through the door, her voice cracking like a middle-schooler's. "I'M JUST... DOING CALISTHENICS! IN THE DARK! FOR HEALTH!"
"Calisthenics?" Jim asked from the hallway. "At two in the morning?"
"IT'S A NEW TREND, DAD! IT'S CALLED 'NIGHT-SWEATS'! GO AWAY!"
She started spinning in a circle. What did she do with a body? Where do you hide a boy? The bed? No, too obvious. Under the bed? No, he's too thick.
The cabinet.
Her large, walk-in storage cabinet where she kept her spare tech and old winter coats.
She lunged for Izuku, grabbing him under the armpits and dragging him toward the cabinet. She opened the doors and literally punted him inside. He hit the back wall with a soft oomph, his legs tangling with a box of old circuit boards.
"Stay! Stay like a good boy!"
Now, the costume.
She started ripping at the Velcro and zippers of her Batgirl suit. She was hopping on one foot, trying to pull the purple spandex off her left leg, while simultaneously trying to find her pajamas.
"Barbara? I'm coming in to say goodnight," Jim said, his hand touching the doorknob.
"NO! WAIT! I'M NAKED!"
The footsteps stopped. "Oh. Right. Sorry. Give me a second."
"TEN SECONDS, DAD! I'M... I'M PUTTING ON A VERY COMPLEX ONESIE!"
Barbara kicked her suit into the corner of the cabinet. She grabbed a pair of baggy pajama pants and started hopping around, trying to shove her legs in. She got one leg in, but the other got caught in the waistband.
She started wobbling. "Whoa—whoa—"
She crashed into her desk, sending a jar of pens flying.
"Barbara? What was that?"
"I FELL! I FELL BECAUSE I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT SLEEP!"
She finally got the pants up, threw on an oversized t-shirt, and shoved the last of her Bat-gear into the cabinet with her foot. She slammed the cabinet doors shut, jumped onto her bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin just as the bedroom door opened.
Jim Gordon stepped into the room. He looked exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair was a mess, and he had the look of a man who had spent the night staring into the abyss of Gotham's soul.
He looked at Barbara, who was sitting perfectly upright in bed, sweating profusely, with her hair looking like a bird's nest.
"You look... intense," Jim said, leaning against the doorframe.
"I just really love fitness, Dad," Barbara said, giving him a 'cool' thumbs up that looked incredibly forced. "The Night-Sweats method. It's all about the... pores. Closing the pores. Or opening them. One of those."
Jim sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Look, honey, I'm sorry I had to run out like that. Things got... complicated at the Wayne Lab. Scarecrow, Bane... it was a mess. A witness said some kid apparently took down Bane, but we lost him in the chaos. The Batman is brooding more than usual, which is saying something."
Barbara's heart hammered. "A kid? Wow. Crazy. Gotham, right? Anyway, sleep is good—"
"I felt bad about leaving you with no dinner," Jim interrupted, a small smile finally appearing on his face. "So, I was thinking... I'm going to head down the road to El Taco Hut. You want the usual? Two 'Explosivo' Burritos with extra guac?"
Barbara's eyes lit up despite her terror. "El Taco Hut? Really?"
"Yeah. My treat. You've been a good sport tonight, pumpkin. I know I'm not around as much as I should be."
"Dad, you're the best," Barbara said, and for a moment, she actually meant it. "I'd love some burritos. Like, a lot."
"Alright. I'll be back in twenty minutes. Try to... stop exercising? You're going to vibrate out of the room at this rate."
"You got it, Commissioner!"
Jim smiled, blew her a kiss, and closed the door. She heard his footsteps go down the stairs, the front door open and close, and finally, the sound of his car pulling away.
Barbara sat in the silence for a full minute. She let out a breath so long it felt like she was deflating.
"I am a genius," she whispered to the empty room. "I am a tactical mastermind. I hid a meta-human, changed clothes, and secured a burrito delivery all in under ten minutes. Batman should be taking notes. I'm not a sidekick. I'm the director of operations."
She hopped out of bed, feeling like she was walking on air. She walked over to the cabinet.
"Okay, mystery boy. The coast is clear. Let's get you some water and—"
She reached for the handles.
What Barbara had forgotten was that she had shoved a 165-pound boy into a cabinet filled with slippery winter coats and smooth plastic boxes. She had also forgotten that she had left him in a very precarious, upright-leaning position.
As soon as her fingers unlatched the doors, the pressure of a hundred-plus pounds of hero-muscle did what physics demanded.
CREEEEAK—SLAM!
The doors flew open.
Izuku didn't just wake up; he toppled. He fell forward like a felled redwood tree.
"Wait—no—!"
Barbara didn't have time to move. Izuku's unconscious body slammed directly into her, his head landing right on her shoulder and his weight driving her back onto the floor.
THUMP.
Barbara lay on her back, pinned once again to her own carpet by the green-haired boy.
"Ow..." she groaned, staring up at her ceiling fan. "My ribs... my dignity..."
Izuku's head shifted on her shoulder, his hair tickling her nose. He let out a soft, sleepy mumble. "...All Might... 5 more minutes... so tired..."
Barbara sighed, closing her eyes. "You have no idea, kid. You have no idea."
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