"What happened last night?" Barbara asked, the strong scent of coffee and morning rain filling her senses. She carefully opened her eyes, her lashes fluttering awake. An unsympathetic ray of light beamed through the open window, making her head angry.

"Shall I start with the keg stand or when you tried to start a fight with a guy in a leprechaun suit?"

Barbara winced. "Oh god, neither."

Warily keeping an eye on Jason, Barbara lifted the cup of coffee up to her lips. The apartment was dirty–walls covered with a fine layer of dust, floors carpeted in an evergreen, it was cheap. But it had a feel of a home. The room was open, the blinds drawn, and the leather couch she laid on smelled of vodka and cigarettes.

"Suck it up, cause that's not an option," Jason said, the corner of his mouth perked up. He sat across from her, his leg draped idly over the arm of an old weathered chair, which looked to have seen a better day.

"Why are doing this to me, Jason?" Barbara asked, her mind racing as she attempted to make a timeline of the night before. With her head still in a fog, it felt like she was putting a puzzle together with half of the pieces missing.

An airy chuckle erupted from Jason. "Because it's fun to see you bats squirm."

"Just get on with it Jason."

"Fine, well it really started when …"

Barbara Gordon walked in, and that's when my night changed. It was St. Patrick's day, the official get drunk and eat corned beef and cabbage day. Not everyone celebrated the food, but many really liked the drinking portion of the holiday, and Barbara was no different.

She strolled into the bar, her heels crescendoing with every step that she took, she looked like a queen walking into a bar full of peasants. Her red hair bounced back and forth across her freckled shoulders, an air of confidence and joy radiating off her beautiful smile. The bar stool gave out a sharp hiss as I turned in the chair to get a better look at her.

"Three shamrock shooters and one black velvet please," Babara ordered from the bartender, taking a set in the bar stool next to me. Her phone buzzed against the counter, ignoring its pleas in favor of watching the game of Keno on the screen above her.

I gently nudge her side with my elbow in an attempt to get her attention. Barbara jumps in her chair slightly, her heart skipping a beat because of the surprise. "Hey, Barbie I didn't think I would be seeing you on this side of town."

"Jason, sorry I didn't see you there," she said, sheepishly, one hand pressed across her heart and the other laying over mine for a reassuring comfort. "I am here because of a date, or at least I was. The asshat bailed on me, so now I'm here to have some fun."

"Damn, he's an idiot. I don't know who in their right mind would stand up Barbara Gordon," I said, audaciously. My hand tipped away from her's, grabbing up the glass of beer in my hand, whirling the liquid around before finishing off the last swallow. I shook my head, the idea of a man standing up Babs was ridiculous, I couldn't imagine what was going through his head when he did it. Her smile was enough to make most men want to give her the world.

She smiled softly in my direction, but her attention was soon taken up by the shots that arrived in front of her. "Here, you take one," Babs said, sliding one of the shamrock shooters in front of me.

"You know I can't say no to free drinks," I laugh, taking up the small drink in my hand, shooting it down with a swing of beer as a chaser. The warm liquid burns as it falls down my throat. Before I knew it Barbara had already finished off the two remaining shots and was now taking small sips from the black velvet cocktail in her hand.

"So what are you doing here Jason?" Barbara asked, ordering another drink from the bartender.

"Well, I just got off patrol and I thought I could use a drink. I totally forgot it was St. Patrick day," I said, tapping my heavy fingers along the jutted board of the counter. "Though it's fun seeing people make fools of themselves." I gesture over to a group of college kids all gathered around a large keg of beer. There was a party going on in the back of the bar, and considering that the bars reputability wasn't the best, it meant that pretty much everything went.

Barbara's lips rose in a wicked smile, as she tugged on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. "We should go over there, it looks like fun."

The alcohol could be smelt dripping off her breath, she wasn't completely drunk yet, but she was tipsy, to say the least. Her decision-making skills were impaired enough for her to think that going over to the frat boys with the kegger was a good idea, which was enough for me to follow after her just to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

"Babs, I don't think this is a good idea," I said, cynically. Quickly hopping off the stool, I rush over to grab her hand which she yanks away from mine.

"Don't you usually tell me to have more fun? Don't you tell me to take some more risks?" Barbara says, hands placed firmly on her hips as she turns to face me. "Come on Jason, it will be fun."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure I've never said that," I mutter, trying to convince her not to go over to them, but it seems that her better judgment is not in command of her at the moment. She strutted over to the men, hips swaying to the rhythm of cool jazz music coming from the speakers.

"Hey, boys. I'm Babs, and this is Jason," she tells the group, her voice low as she smiles to each of them. I mentally go over every option in my head. I want to get her out of here, maybe back to her house or back to the manor, anywhere is better than here. However, I knew if I tried I'd end up with a black eye, so that was not an option right now.

When her eyes fall to the keg, she smiles with a giddy delight. "Who wants to see me do a keg stand?"

"Not me," I say, pulling at her arm one more time, receiving an icy glare from her. The other boys cheer, agreeing to be a part of her little antics. Damn, when did I turn into Bruce?

Barbara ignores every one of my pleas, continuing to allow two of the boys to pick her up, and hold her over the keg as she drank until she ran out of breath. When they sat her back on the ground, her body wobbled back and forth, her balance almost shot.

"Come on Barbie, let's get going," I said.

Babs nodded her head in agreement, lacing one of her arms around my shoulder so I could help her walk back to my apartment. I would have walked her back to her own, but she was in no shape to walk the few extra blocks.

We walk along the city streets, steering clear of any short cuts through the alleyways or anywhere that isn't lit by the fluorescence blaze of a lamp. The smell of sulfur and midnight dew caught my sense in a whirl as soon as I stepped out of the bar. Barbara's motions were unsteady and wobbly at best, she could barely hold herself up as we walked. I consider picking her up for a moment, but I wasn't sure how she would react.

A whistle erupted out of one of the darkened alleyway, causing Barbara to stop walking for a moment to snarl at the man. "You want to say that to my face?"

She slipped her hand away from around my shoulder, marching over to the man. When he walks out of the darkness, I notice that the man in only a drunkard dressed like a happy green leprechaun. Nothing could match the fury of Babs in that moment, anger burned in her gaze, her hands clenched just looking at him.

"I would love to sweetheart," the man chirps without a clue of what's coming to him. I don't even try to stop Barbara as her fist digs into the side of the man's jaw, causing him to stumble back a few paces. "Damn, man control your girlfriend. She's crazy." He holds tight to his jaw, as blood drips down from his cheek. Barbara begins to go in for another hit, knocking him practically unconscious this time.

"Maybe you shouldn't objectify women, man," I say to the leprechaun. Barbara paces over to me, wiping the blood from her knuckles onto my sweatshirt. "Okay, I think you've had enough," I state. Her balance shifts side to side, her face contorting in pain, as though she is going to be ill. "My place is close by. Do you want me to carry you?" I ask, holding onto her hand.

"Yes please," she answers, nodding her head.

I pick her up gently in my arms, making sure that she is comfortable enough so that she won't be sick. Once we get inside, I begin to make a bed for her on the couch, it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. I bring her over a few aspirins and glass of water, setting it on the table beside her.

"Jason," Barbara mutters, softly. "I'm glad that asshat didn't show up tonight." She wraps herself up in one of the blankets, draping her lazily across the couch. I walk up to her, picking up her feet to make a spot for me to sit.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, because I preferred being on a date with you instead," she said, her eyes drawing heavy with sleep. "I think I might love you. Is that weird?"

Barbara leans towards me, her lips brushing softly against my own. She peppers a chaste kiss along my jaw before I pull away from her embrace. I didn't want to get too attached if by chance she didn't feel the same way when she is sober.

"No, it's not," I said, walking towards the door to my bedroom, shutting off the lights behind me