THUMP! THUMP!

In Gotham, a noise like that could mean several things. The first thought that came to their mind was the obvious—a home invasion, some unlucky bastard choosing the wrong house to prey upon.

The nearby clock spelled out 3:04 AM in smug, angry red. Still way too early to be up, or too late to be asleep. Worse still was the sudden silence following the noise, as if the intruder(s) were suddenly being cautious.

They snatched the baseball bat from beside the bed, fingers curling around the cold metal for comfort. Then they crept closer to the kitchen, ready to potentially confront one of Gotham’s finest.

The lights flickered on, blinding the mystery intruder.

“AH—”

Cassandra startled, almost dropping the drink in her hands. The tiny pearls popped and swirled in the tea’s surface, the brown sugar mixing with the milk.

She was standing in front of your open fridge, her suit bathed in its’ soft blue glow. The metal bat in her friend’s hands loosened as recognition hit, finally clattering to the floor with a dull thud.

“Hi,” she said, lifting the plastic cup. “Got you boba.”

She smiled sheepishly, like breaking in at 3 AM was perfectly normal behaviour. Gone was her usual full-face black cowl; her raven hair falling in a soft wave around her face, but the black-and-yellow suit splattered with blood—was that hers?— said she’d come over straight from patrol.

“Brown sugar, I remember,” she added, letting the fridge slam shut. The smell of human food made her nose wrinkle.

“I have my own.”

It was now tradition for her to pop by unannounced after patrols. It started months ago now, when she’d rescued them, and they’d proposed going out for bubble tea. Sure, then, they hadn’t known her as Cassandra—just Batgirl. They’d rambled in between her silences, either from the awkward tension or the adrenaline she’d guessed. All she knew was that she enjoyed this human’s company.

Babs suggested using an ice breaker. Something about making more friends?

So, she showed up on their doorstep with drinks from Bat-Time Tea, a Gothamite vigilante-themed bubble tea store that had popped up, and waited patiently to be invited in. After the first time, she kept coming back to them like a stray cat. Cass was silently pleased when they went as far as buying her a custom welcome mat, allowing her to stay anytime without a verbal invitation.

She stepped closer without hesitation, pressing it into their hands. Her own bubble tea—a specialty made by Alfred—sat innocently on their kitchen table. Right beside an open medical kit, and a soaked crimson-tinted kitchen towel.