Babs is not a happy camper, folks.

I don't own, please don't sue
Rated R for Bab's no good very bad language.

Bad Bat. VERY Bad Bat (1/1)


Can I tell you what pisses me off? Well, a lot of things piss me off. The fact that my carpet is shedding, apparently. That pisses me off. The fact that no matter when you call Dick, it's a bad time and he has to call you back. That pisses me off. The thing that pisses me off the most though, is the fact that people with capes and tights just freely come and go through my apartment, as if I were a bus station. THAT REALLY PISSES ME OFF. Why, you ask? I spend millions of dollars putting up state-of-the-art security specifically designed not to keep the bad guys out (although it does that too) but to alert me when the Bat feels like dropping in, and none of those stupid costumed people can take a freaking hint. Dick I don't mind. I like seeing him. Cassandra doesn't come unless it's important, and we used to be room mates, so whatever. She can come. Tim's a drain, but he's a sweetheart. It annoys me that no one knows how to use a freaking door bell, but that's not the part that really pisses me off. It's the Bat. It's ALWAYS the Bat. He thinks that your home is just some kind of place to pass through. That he can come in whenever you're off-duty, he can come in when you're sleeping, wake you up and ask you questions, he can come in while you're busy helping your best friend break into a Latin American prison and bug you, he can basically come in whenever the hell he feels like.

Take tonight for instance. Nothing was happening. It was four in the morning. Dick was already in bed, Tim was already in bed, Dinah was safely tucked away in her corner of the world doing whatever it is that she does there (or whoever, as the case may be-hey, its not my business to pry), so this girlfriend is turning in. Right? Right. Wrong.

I take a nice hot shower. You know, the kind that's so hot your skin's red when you come out and you almost ICH from the heat. Perfect. I use the new apple soap I just got. Dick seems to like it, and I like him liking it because it's awful nice when he goes sniffing all of me (well, its kind of weird, but its nice too). And I go back to my bedroom to get dressed. I put on 'The final song of the night' as I call it, and I play it LOUD. Princes of the Universe by Queen didn't seem particularly appropriate, nor did it connect in any way to my life, but it was there, I was there, and I was having a good ol' time looking for something cute to wear to bed. Why was I concerned, you ask? Because a certain Former Boy Wonder was expected in the morning, and knowing him, he'd purposely get here before I woke, just to be a little prick and probably wake me up by scaring me or something. It was best to wear something incredibly sexy under my big blankets this way when he saw me he dropped over and drooled a little bit before getting on with business.

So. Anyways. Back to Final Song of the Night and tossing silk clothing onto my bed.

He swears to God he knocked, and maybe he did, I couldn't hear. The stereo was up to 10. For a frigging detective, he's a dense male idiot. Door closed equals don't come in. So what's Bats do? He flings the door open. And yep, you guessed it, kids. I'm topless.

"What the fuck!" I screamed. The little bastard had gotten past my defenses entirely this time. Not ONE alarm set off. I'd just upgraded them last week.

The door closed again. I threw on a t-shirt (one of Dick's I might add. That ought to give him something to think about). "That's it, you're DEAD!" I screamed. "You're so fucking dead, Batman."

I expected him to be gone when I exited my bedroom, but that little rat-bastard had the audacity to STAY! Whatever the hell he wanted must be pretty fucking important for him to suck down his embarrassment and stick around.

"I need you to recall Black Canary," was all he had to say for himself.

I scowled the scowl of the pissed off Bat. "Get your own dates," I told him.

"I need you to recall Black Canary."

"You're a fucking broken record, Bruce."

"I don't have time. Recall Black Canary."

"Recall her yourself, asshole." Yeah, Oracle was in a bad mood, kids.

"She wont listen to me."

"What do you need her for?"

"I can't tell you."

"Then no fucking recall, asshole."

He tried to make that Bat-frown thing that usually made bad guys wet themselves. All it did was make me even FURTHER pissed off. "Fine. Bane is in Gotham."

"You are NOT using my partner as bait."

"Did I say bait?"

"Bruce, I know the way that sick little mind of yours works."

"I just need her in the city."

"Get the hell out of my house."

"I own this building."

"Good. Then you won't mind when I shove the entire thing up your ass. Pointy end first."

I pointed to the window. "OUT."

And fast as that, the Bat was gone.

My first move? I called Dick and woke him up. "Ung?" was what I got by way of hello.

"Do you want to know what that stupid, idiotic asshole father of yours did?"

"No, but I have a feeling I'm going to hear whether I want to or not."

"SHUT UP. That Fuck-face opened my bedroom door while I was changing."

"He did WHAT?" it was good to hear someone having a little righteous indignation on my behalf. "Like, what the hell was he doing?"

"He's your father, YOU tell ME."

"I don't PRETEND to understand him."

"Look, you just tell that shit-head that if he sets foot in or around my apartment again, I'm going to FRY him. And don't put it past me. I'm redoing the security, and it's all going to be Bat-oriented lethal killing devices. Just deliver THAT message."

Seething, I hung up. Batman was a dead man.