Fic: Fangirl (Birds of Prey)
Jul. 18th, 2008 09:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Fangirl
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Babs/Dinah
Word Count: 1,993
Timeline: Takes place after Batgirl: Year One. The relevant scans.
Summary: Batgirl really wishes her idol would stop being so patronizing and so much better than her and so hot in fishnets.
Barbara Gordon would get her ass, in the words of her generation, handed to her any number of times throughout her life. There was the obvious times when she ran into an Amazo or a Deathstroke. Then there was her time as Oracle, when she’d had the bright idea of escrima sticking it to Cass. Then there was Dinah, who handed her the first ass of her career.
Batgirl landed on the exercise mat, bleeding from a cut on her lip and staring up at the ceiling. There was a light up there, which an annoying blonde head quickly eclipsed.
“You feeling alright there, kiddo?”
No. You just somersaulted me off my feet and threw me down like an empty beer can. Stop calling me kiddo, I’m a grown woman. And what’s with the fishnet stockings anyway?
“I’m fine,” Batgirl said, eschewing Black Canary’s help in getting up.
It wasn’t like the chippie was that much older than her. Sure, her boobs were bigger, but Barbara’s were filled out too. And maybe she didn’t have a mother in the JSA, but her dad was a police commissioner and freakin’ Batman had given her training. Obviously, not the heavy-duty “don’t get your ass kicked by a woman in fishnet stockings” stuff, but how to ride an elevated train while blindfolded and other useful life skills.
“Do you know how I beat you?”
“Do tell,” Batgirl replied, instantly regretting it. She had to snap at her idol, who was just trying to help teach her. Way to be grateful, Babsy. “I mean, no, I don’t.”
“You need to concentrate harder. Empty your mind of other thoughts… your cat, your dry cleaning, that cute boy that smiled at you on the subway… and just think about what you want. Then go after it.” Dinah took up her fighting stance, the one that put her sex appeal to its best use: A good look down her cleavage, hips swung out, legs apart… Not that it had any effect on a female fighter, like Barbara. But she took note of it. For later. “Ready?”
“Actually, I think I left the oven on.”
Dinah chuckled good-naturedly. Sensei had a sense of humor. Who knew? The girl who wore hot pants for a living knew how to have fun.
Batgirl tried to remember every lesson Batman had ever given her in martial arts. Against people like Black Canary, her black belt seemed less than useless. She needed the hardcore street fighting techniques that Batman had imprinted on her in bruises.
They clashed. Black Canary started it out with a high kick that could’ve been a pin-up, she showed so much gams. Batgirl ducked under it, into a sliding kick that knocked Black Canary’s one non-kicking leg out from under her. Black Canary somersaulted in mid-air and landed on all fours, then lunged at Batgirl, spearing her in the midsection. The two of them landed past the exercise mat, on the hard metal floor of the JLA satellite. In no time flat, Black Canary had Batgirl pinned down flat on her back. Hands pinned to the floor, thighs straddling her waist to keep her legs a non-issue.
Batgirl made her best attempt to spontaneously develop a Canary Cry. The war cry seemed to amuse Black Canary more than anything else. She thrust her pelvis upward, trying to throw Black Canary off, but all it did was jostle her up and down. The Canary smiled.
“You mind teaching that move to Green Arrow?”
With a lurching horror, Batgirl realized which parts of their anatomy were touching when she did that. Great. Second date and I’m already dry-humping her. Meeting! Second meeting!
Batgirl tried to sit up and give Black Canary a headbutt, but Black Canary pushed her back down. Batgirl threw herself back against the floor, scissoring her legs up to shin-kick Black Canary in the back of the head. That threw her forward and the two of them toppled over each other. Somehow Batgirl got an arm around Black Canary’s throat. She was feeling pretty good about that, having a chokehold on the JLA’s resident action figure with kung-fu grip, but then she realized that Black Canary’s struggling was just an excuse to work her way back to the exercise mat.
Here we go again she thought as Black Canary grabbed her by the cape and threw Batgirl over her shoulder. She landed flat on her back and waited to stop seeing stars.
“That looked like it hurt.”
Why did all the good superheroes have to be either control freaks or smug, self-righteous prigs? Why couldn’t she ever have a team-up with Superman? He seemed nice. ‘Hey, Big Blue, I’ll take care of the problem with this Batarang!’ ‘Good work, Batgirl!’
“I think you landed on your head. Doesn’t look like a concussion.” She sounded wryly amused by it. Head trauma = surefire hilarity. “You just lie there, okay? The disorientation should pass in a second.”
Black Canary… as smug as Robin. Well, okay, no one was as smug as Robin. And Barbara had always liked that she didn’t apologize for her looks or her skill… in fact, she flaunted them. But damn, could she just shut up for once?
Barbara was trying to sit up… she’d landed all wrong, no duh… and Black Canary was kneeling next to her, helping her sit up. Barbara was grateful for the assistance, not that she would ever say so.
“Thanks.”
More than once or twice or forty times. Batman wouldn’t have helped her up and Robin probably would’ve used the opportunity to pull her into a smooch.
“Was it like this for you?” Barbara asked. “When you started out?”
“Probably not as bad as you have it, Gotham being what it is. But yeah, Wildcat let me have it a few times. And the O-Sensei wasn’t a teddy bear either.”
Black Canary’s hands found Barbara’s back and for a moment Batgirl was alarmed, thinking it was another attack. Then she recognized it for a massage and relaxed. So, the great and mighty Black Canary had a heart. Wonders never ceased.
“But the hardest part was living up to my mom. God, you’re tenser than a spring… you know my mom was the original Black Canary, right?”
“Yeah. You talked about that in an interview with Time.”
“Oh, I have a secret admirer, huh?” Black Canary rubbed harder.
“I read a lot,” Barbara said defensively. “You do this for everyone you fight?”
“There’s a reason the men line up to get the crap stomped out of them. Nah, I’m taking it easy on you.”
“And now I’m imagining what it will look like when I meet someone who doesn’t take it easy on me. Probably a big red smear on the pavement…”
“Oh, stop. You were pretty good there. Actually laid a hand on me, and that’s not easy to do. Plenty of people never get that far with me.”
And suddenly we’re either flirting or she wasn’t around for the invention of the double entrende. “Uhh… so, where do you think I went wrong?”
Black Canary circled around to in front of Batgirl, where she rubbed at the lines of her cowl. It turned her tension headache into mush. Barbara exhaled gently. She could forgive even Robin the chauvinism if he gave massages half this good.
“You worry too much. About what other people think of you, whether you’re good enough…”
“I think it’s pretty obvious that’s something I should worry about.”
Black Canary sighed. “Have you ever had a moment where you just let go?”
“Yeah.”
“What was it like?”
“I jumped off a building.”
Black Canary’s face dropped.
“Oh, no, I mean Batman saved me!”
Black Canary’s face dropped further.
“I mean, I was testing out a grappling line but it had no give so it would’ve ripped my arms off but Batman saved me and then he gave me this de-cel cord which works much better…” Barbara stopped to take a deep breath. “But just then, I felt invincible.”
Black Canary nodded. “Cool.”
“Yeah. Very cool.”
They kissed. Barbara was pretty sure she started it, was pretty sure it was her gloved hand in blonde hair like she could feel anything other than the leather of the gloves. But she also thought it was Black Canary who kissed her back. A real kiss, like Robin had given her. Not the fumbling, awkward kisses of the boys she’d dated or the matronly pecks that had passed between her family at Christmas, but something that made her instantly understand all the swooning and breathy little sighs and goofy smiles in all the old romance movies she religiously devoured. Then Black Canary was gone and oh my god I just kissed the Black Canary. Black Canary the woman. I just kissed another woman and Jesus Christ, is that the king of all spaz attacks or what? Stupid, stupid, stupid…
Barbara stood, leaving Black Canary lying on the exercise mat, lips still parted.
“Oh God! I’m so sorry, that was an accident, I thought I was someone else… I mean, I thought you were someone else! You’re not gay! I mean, I’m not gay! I don’t know about you, but… I gotta go.”
She took off and Black Canary never saw Batgirl again.
***
“You will never believe what I found,” Barbara said as she rolled into the living room, a thick leather-bound book and a shoebox on her lap.
Dinah held up a finger, shushing her.
“And the theme ingredient will be…” the TV paused dramatically and Dinah inched forward in her seat. “Summer corn!”
Dinah snarled and switched it off. “They never have anything interesting these days. After they asked us for a crate of Daxamite spices…” She scooted over to give Barbara room on the couch. “So what is it?”
“Old autographs. Most of them are just from that trip to Disneyland I took when I was twelve… hey, there’s Princess Jasmine’s autograph… but look.”
She held up a Polaroid of Batgirl and Black Canary shaking hands, Dinah’s superhero signature scrawled over the lower half.
“I remember this!” Dinah cried. “You were bugging everyone to took our picture.”
“Not everyone…”
“You ran up to Superman, asked him to take our picture… you did the cutest double-take.” Dinah made a dopey face: “’I just asked Superman to take my picture?’”
“I didn’t sound like that. And he did, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s nice like that.”
“In fact, I think this is the first time we kissed.”
“No, I remember that one. Blockbuster’s sub, near drowning, ‘call me Barbara’.”
“I thought you were giving me mouth-to-mouth,” Barbara laughed. “But no, photographic memory. You agreed to give me some lessons…”
“I dropped you on your head a lot. Man, I was a bitch.” Dinah’s smile prompted a sound slug on the arm.
“We kissed, remember?”
Dinah bit her lower lip. “No, not really. All I remember is this crazed fan jamming her tongue down my… oh my god, that was you?”
This time, Dinah caught the punch before it hit her shoulder.
“Mock if you will, this is going in the scrapbook.”
Barbara paged through the early sightings of a ‘Batwoman’ and a crushed flower and a headline about the JSA’s reunion being marred by a Wizard attacking. Finally she found a spot and slipped the autographed photo into it. ‘First kiss,’ she wrote next to it.
“Whoa. Your scrapbook is actually a book full of scrap. I would’ve expected… you know… The Matrix. Walk through your holographic memories, take a tour.”
Barbara slammed the book shut. “Some things are better the old-fashioned way.”
“Like… cybersex versus the real thing,” Dinah reasoned as Barbara cuddled into her.
The redhead felt out a part in the pages and opened the scrapbook to it. “Now, let’s have a retrospective on Dinah Lance: The Headband Years.”
Really, Barbara was just asking for a merciless tickle-attack there.
Fandom: Birds of Prey
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Babs/Dinah
Word Count: 1,993
Timeline: Takes place after Batgirl: Year One. The relevant scans.
Summary: Batgirl really wishes her idol would stop being so patronizing and so much better than her and so hot in fishnets.
Barbara Gordon would get her ass, in the words of her generation, handed to her any number of times throughout her life. There was the obvious times when she ran into an Amazo or a Deathstroke. Then there was her time as Oracle, when she’d had the bright idea of escrima sticking it to Cass. Then there was Dinah, who handed her the first ass of her career.
Batgirl landed on the exercise mat, bleeding from a cut on her lip and staring up at the ceiling. There was a light up there, which an annoying blonde head quickly eclipsed.
“You feeling alright there, kiddo?”
No. You just somersaulted me off my feet and threw me down like an empty beer can. Stop calling me kiddo, I’m a grown woman. And what’s with the fishnet stockings anyway?
“I’m fine,” Batgirl said, eschewing Black Canary’s help in getting up.
It wasn’t like the chippie was that much older than her. Sure, her boobs were bigger, but Barbara’s were filled out too. And maybe she didn’t have a mother in the JSA, but her dad was a police commissioner and freakin’ Batman had given her training. Obviously, not the heavy-duty “don’t get your ass kicked by a woman in fishnet stockings” stuff, but how to ride an elevated train while blindfolded and other useful life skills.
“Do you know how I beat you?”
“Do tell,” Batgirl replied, instantly regretting it. She had to snap at her idol, who was just trying to help teach her. Way to be grateful, Babsy. “I mean, no, I don’t.”
“You need to concentrate harder. Empty your mind of other thoughts… your cat, your dry cleaning, that cute boy that smiled at you on the subway… and just think about what you want. Then go after it.” Dinah took up her fighting stance, the one that put her sex appeal to its best use: A good look down her cleavage, hips swung out, legs apart… Not that it had any effect on a female fighter, like Barbara. But she took note of it. For later. “Ready?”
“Actually, I think I left the oven on.”
Dinah chuckled good-naturedly. Sensei had a sense of humor. Who knew? The girl who wore hot pants for a living knew how to have fun.
Batgirl tried to remember every lesson Batman had ever given her in martial arts. Against people like Black Canary, her black belt seemed less than useless. She needed the hardcore street fighting techniques that Batman had imprinted on her in bruises.
They clashed. Black Canary started it out with a high kick that could’ve been a pin-up, she showed so much gams. Batgirl ducked under it, into a sliding kick that knocked Black Canary’s one non-kicking leg out from under her. Black Canary somersaulted in mid-air and landed on all fours, then lunged at Batgirl, spearing her in the midsection. The two of them landed past the exercise mat, on the hard metal floor of the JLA satellite. In no time flat, Black Canary had Batgirl pinned down flat on her back. Hands pinned to the floor, thighs straddling her waist to keep her legs a non-issue.
Batgirl made her best attempt to spontaneously develop a Canary Cry. The war cry seemed to amuse Black Canary more than anything else. She thrust her pelvis upward, trying to throw Black Canary off, but all it did was jostle her up and down. The Canary smiled.
“You mind teaching that move to Green Arrow?”
With a lurching horror, Batgirl realized which parts of their anatomy were touching when she did that. Great. Second date and I’m already dry-humping her. Meeting! Second meeting!
Batgirl tried to sit up and give Black Canary a headbutt, but Black Canary pushed her back down. Batgirl threw herself back against the floor, scissoring her legs up to shin-kick Black Canary in the back of the head. That threw her forward and the two of them toppled over each other. Somehow Batgirl got an arm around Black Canary’s throat. She was feeling pretty good about that, having a chokehold on the JLA’s resident action figure with kung-fu grip, but then she realized that Black Canary’s struggling was just an excuse to work her way back to the exercise mat.
Here we go again she thought as Black Canary grabbed her by the cape and threw Batgirl over her shoulder. She landed flat on her back and waited to stop seeing stars.
“That looked like it hurt.”
Why did all the good superheroes have to be either control freaks or smug, self-righteous prigs? Why couldn’t she ever have a team-up with Superman? He seemed nice. ‘Hey, Big Blue, I’ll take care of the problem with this Batarang!’ ‘Good work, Batgirl!’
“I think you landed on your head. Doesn’t look like a concussion.” She sounded wryly amused by it. Head trauma = surefire hilarity. “You just lie there, okay? The disorientation should pass in a second.”
Black Canary… as smug as Robin. Well, okay, no one was as smug as Robin. And Barbara had always liked that she didn’t apologize for her looks or her skill… in fact, she flaunted them. But damn, could she just shut up for once?
Barbara was trying to sit up… she’d landed all wrong, no duh… and Black Canary was kneeling next to her, helping her sit up. Barbara was grateful for the assistance, not that she would ever say so.
“Thanks.”
More than once or twice or forty times. Batman wouldn’t have helped her up and Robin probably would’ve used the opportunity to pull her into a smooch.
“Was it like this for you?” Barbara asked. “When you started out?”
“Probably not as bad as you have it, Gotham being what it is. But yeah, Wildcat let me have it a few times. And the O-Sensei wasn’t a teddy bear either.”
Black Canary’s hands found Barbara’s back and for a moment Batgirl was alarmed, thinking it was another attack. Then she recognized it for a massage and relaxed. So, the great and mighty Black Canary had a heart. Wonders never ceased.
“But the hardest part was living up to my mom. God, you’re tenser than a spring… you know my mom was the original Black Canary, right?”
“Yeah. You talked about that in an interview with Time.”
“Oh, I have a secret admirer, huh?” Black Canary rubbed harder.
“I read a lot,” Barbara said defensively. “You do this for everyone you fight?”
“There’s a reason the men line up to get the crap stomped out of them. Nah, I’m taking it easy on you.”
“And now I’m imagining what it will look like when I meet someone who doesn’t take it easy on me. Probably a big red smear on the pavement…”
“Oh, stop. You were pretty good there. Actually laid a hand on me, and that’s not easy to do. Plenty of people never get that far with me.”
And suddenly we’re either flirting or she wasn’t around for the invention of the double entrende. “Uhh… so, where do you think I went wrong?”
Black Canary circled around to in front of Batgirl, where she rubbed at the lines of her cowl. It turned her tension headache into mush. Barbara exhaled gently. She could forgive even Robin the chauvinism if he gave massages half this good.
“You worry too much. About what other people think of you, whether you’re good enough…”
“I think it’s pretty obvious that’s something I should worry about.”
Black Canary sighed. “Have you ever had a moment where you just let go?”
“Yeah.”
“What was it like?”
“I jumped off a building.”
Black Canary’s face dropped.
“Oh, no, I mean Batman saved me!”
Black Canary’s face dropped further.
“I mean, I was testing out a grappling line but it had no give so it would’ve ripped my arms off but Batman saved me and then he gave me this de-cel cord which works much better…” Barbara stopped to take a deep breath. “But just then, I felt invincible.”
Black Canary nodded. “Cool.”
“Yeah. Very cool.”
They kissed. Barbara was pretty sure she started it, was pretty sure it was her gloved hand in blonde hair like she could feel anything other than the leather of the gloves. But she also thought it was Black Canary who kissed her back. A real kiss, like Robin had given her. Not the fumbling, awkward kisses of the boys she’d dated or the matronly pecks that had passed between her family at Christmas, but something that made her instantly understand all the swooning and breathy little sighs and goofy smiles in all the old romance movies she religiously devoured. Then Black Canary was gone and oh my god I just kissed the Black Canary. Black Canary the woman. I just kissed another woman and Jesus Christ, is that the king of all spaz attacks or what? Stupid, stupid, stupid…
Barbara stood, leaving Black Canary lying on the exercise mat, lips still parted.
“Oh God! I’m so sorry, that was an accident, I thought I was someone else… I mean, I thought you were someone else! You’re not gay! I mean, I’m not gay! I don’t know about you, but… I gotta go.”
She took off and Black Canary never saw Batgirl again.
***
“You will never believe what I found,” Barbara said as she rolled into the living room, a thick leather-bound book and a shoebox on her lap.
Dinah held up a finger, shushing her.
“And the theme ingredient will be…” the TV paused dramatically and Dinah inched forward in her seat. “Summer corn!”
Dinah snarled and switched it off. “They never have anything interesting these days. After they asked us for a crate of Daxamite spices…” She scooted over to give Barbara room on the couch. “So what is it?”
“Old autographs. Most of them are just from that trip to Disneyland I took when I was twelve… hey, there’s Princess Jasmine’s autograph… but look.”
She held up a Polaroid of Batgirl and Black Canary shaking hands, Dinah’s superhero signature scrawled over the lower half.
“I remember this!” Dinah cried. “You were bugging everyone to took our picture.”
“Not everyone…”
“You ran up to Superman, asked him to take our picture… you did the cutest double-take.” Dinah made a dopey face: “’I just asked Superman to take my picture?’”
“I didn’t sound like that. And he did, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s nice like that.”
“In fact, I think this is the first time we kissed.”
“No, I remember that one. Blockbuster’s sub, near drowning, ‘call me Barbara’.”
“I thought you were giving me mouth-to-mouth,” Barbara laughed. “But no, photographic memory. You agreed to give me some lessons…”
“I dropped you on your head a lot. Man, I was a bitch.” Dinah’s smile prompted a sound slug on the arm.
“We kissed, remember?”
Dinah bit her lower lip. “No, not really. All I remember is this crazed fan jamming her tongue down my… oh my god, that was you?”
This time, Dinah caught the punch before it hit her shoulder.
“Mock if you will, this is going in the scrapbook.”
Barbara paged through the early sightings of a ‘Batwoman’ and a crushed flower and a headline about the JSA’s reunion being marred by a Wizard attacking. Finally she found a spot and slipped the autographed photo into it. ‘First kiss,’ she wrote next to it.
“Whoa. Your scrapbook is actually a book full of scrap. I would’ve expected… you know… The Matrix. Walk through your holographic memories, take a tour.”
Barbara slammed the book shut. “Some things are better the old-fashioned way.”
“Like… cybersex versus the real thing,” Dinah reasoned as Barbara cuddled into her.
The redhead felt out a part in the pages and opened the scrapbook to it. “Now, let’s have a retrospective on Dinah Lance: The Headband Years.”
Really, Barbara was just asking for a merciless tickle-attack there.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-07-18 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-18 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-07-21 03:47 am (UTC)I really like this, their first kiss there is so sweet and Dinah giving Babs a hard time. Excellent work!~
no subject
Date: 2008-07-22 10:30 am (UTC)