Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.
Kim waved as her father's car pulled out of the dorm parking lot and headed for home. Her father waved once from behind the wheel, her mother until they were out of sight, Jim and Tim not at all. Kim was both sad and happy to see them go. Sad because she really did miss them, even the Tweebs, happy because she and Ron could now relax around Kara. It was surprising, how much effort it took to pretend that Kara was an ordinary teenager. Kim had had to bite her tongue more than once to avoid mentioning something that would have given the game away, and she was sure Ron had as well.
"Thank God that's over," Kim said, relief evident in her voice as the three of them returned to the apartment.
"I thought you were happy to see them?" Kara asked, looking a bit puzzled.
"Oh, I was," Kim assured her. "It's just that this place is really too small for seven people." She gestured at the small apartment. It was a mess. Since there wasn't enough room in the kitchen, with its miniscule dining area, for all of them, they'd eaten their supper in the living room. Plates, cups, silverware, and various and sundry debris were scattered everywhere. Kim's mother had offered assistance in cleaning up, but Kim had demurred, mostly for the sake of getting her brothers out before they destroyed the apartment.
"It's going to take forever to clean this up," Kim sighed.
Kara scoffed. "You guys cooked and hosted. I'll handle the cleanup." Before Kim could say a word Kara blurred into motion. Kim blinked. The living room was suddenly as neat as a pin. She turned, just in time to see Kara putting the last of the dishes away.
"Show off," Kim chided with a smile.
Kara just grinned.
Ron glanced at the clock and spoke up. "It's only seven. No point in heading uptown before nine, so what do you guys want to do until then?" The plan was for the three of them to hit some of the more popular student watering holes in Redding's uptown district and dance the night away. Most of the bars and nightclubs would allow nineteen-year-olds in, even if they wouldn't serve them alcoholic beverages. Not that Ron was all that keen on drinking. He'd tried beer, wine and spirits before, at home with his parents' permission, and he saw nothing special or exciting about any of them. Kim was fond of red wine, but she only drank it with dinner, and never more than one glass. Kara had made her own position clear the first time she'd come to visit and Kim had offered her a drink.
"Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Martha let me have a glass of champagne last New Year's Eve, and it went right to my head. So no booze for me. Can you imagine the potential disaster a drunk Supergirl could be?" She'd shuddered. It was a pretty terrifying prospect, Ron had to agree.
"Well, actually," Kara said, "I have something I want to talk to you guys about. A proposition, if you will."
Kim and Ron shared a look and took seats on the couch. Kara took a chair from the small table in the kitchen, turned it around and straddled it. The look she gave Kim and Ron was completely serious.
"No doubt you're aware that the Justice League has expanded enormously in the last couple of years." That was an understatement if ever Kim had heard one. Originally of just seven members, the League's ranks had grown thirty-fold. True, many of the new members carried associate status, like Kara did, or were part-timers and reservists, but still...
"That being the case, and in line with our goal of being 'more proactive' as Superman put it, the League is trying to cooperate more with other organizations, like Interpol, the CIA..."
"Global Justice," Kim offered, and Kara smiled and nodded. "So what does that have to do with us?" Kim went on, gesturing at herself and Ron.
"Well, the League has invited, or is going to invite, these various organizations to assign liaison officers to the League. Now, I've been talking with the younger members, and we think it would be nice if at least some of those liaisons were our own age."
"So?" Ron asked, a touch of excitement coloring his voice.
"So, if it's ok with you two, I'm going to ask Superman to ask for you guys by name, when he invites GJ to appoint its liaison."
"And just what would our duties as 'liaisons' include?" Kim struggled to keep the excitement out of her own voice.
"Oh, you know, " Kara said offhandedly, "Visiting the Watchtower on a regular basis, attending a few meetings, going on the odd mission, that sort of thing."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "And what about the League's liaison to Global Justice?"
Kara assumed an expression of saintly innocence. "It may take a bit of wheedling, but I think I have a better than average shot."
Felix Faust swore as he picked himself up from the filthy floor of the temple. He had attempted to remove the monkey statue from its place and had been thrown back rather violently, slamming into the wall of the central chamber and sliding to the floor, stunned.
"What's wrong?' DNAmy squeaked fearfully. She was cowering in the corridor that led toward the entrance to the temple.
"The statue has warding spells on it," Faust grumbled. She gave him a blank look, and he sighed.
"It's protected by magic. I can't touch it, not just yet anyway. I'll have to figure out a way to break or bypass the wards before I can move it."
DNAmy looked like she was about to cry. Faust moved to comfort her, if only because he found her crying fits annoying.
"Now, now, dear lady. Patience. I'll get the statue, rest assured. It's only a matter of time."
DNAmy sniffled, but the threatened tears didn't come.
"What do we do in the meantime?"
Faust smiled. "In the meantime, we return to my home. From there, you begin your preparations for the return of your true love, while I discover the means to accomplish my part of the task." Faust glanced at the guide. The man spoke no English, at least as far as Faust knew, and so was merely watching expectantly while he and DNAmy conversed. Fate must have been smiling on the guide. Because of Faust's inability to touch the statue, the man would avoid being sacrificed to release Monkey Fist's spirit from the idol. Pity. Oh well. There were plenty of suitable victims around Faust's home. The wizard drew a black stone from a pocket and spoke a few words. The stone flickered briefly.
"Now what are you doing?" DNAmy asked curiously.
"Marking this location, so I can teleport back, instead of repeating that dreadful hike through the jungle."
"That sounds convenient," DNAmy smiled.
"It is," Faust allowed. "Now, madam, if you will..." Faust put an arm around her shoulders and began gesturing with his free hand. DNAmy watched as symbols that bore a strong resemblance to runes sprang into existence in the air and swirled around them. A bright white light flashed. The guide blinked. He was alone.
Ron was having a great time. The Shanti, the club they were in, was hopping, as usual for a Saturday night. When Ron wasn't dancing with Kara, or Kim, or both of them, he was guarding their table while they took turns around the crowded dance floor with various guys. Ron felt slight twinges of jealousy every time Kara took a new partner, but suppressed them. After all, it wasn't like they were going steady or anything. He didn't date exclusively, and she didn't either. Besides, she was going home with him at the end of the night, so what if she smiled at the guy she was dancing with at the moment? More surprising were the twinges of jealousy that sprang up when Kim danced with someone else. Ron shook himself. He was being silly, he knew. It wasn't right for him to feel possessive of Kim. She was his best friend, to be sure, and he loved her dearly, but that didn't give him an exclusive claim on her time, especially since sex wasn't a factor in their relationship. Kim had as much right as he did to take her physical pleasure with any man she wanted to, even the slick, Latino-looking dude who had his hands on her ass at the moment and...
Ron shook himself again. 'Amp down, Ron' he told himself. 'You're not Kim's Dad, so stop thinking like he does.' He was rescued from pursuing his thoughts any further by Kara, who returned to the table and favored him with a dazzling smile. He felt a flush of pleasure and smiled back.
His pleasure didn't last, however. A guy, maybe in his early twenties and looking a bit addled, staggered up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey baby, want to dance?" The guy's words were so slurred that Ron had trouble understanding him. A flicker of annoyance crossed Kara's face. She turned and said, politely, "No, thank you."
The guy frowned. "You've danced with every other guy in the place, why not me?"
Kara's smile became forced. "Because I want to sit down right now," she said, brushing the guy's hand off her shoulder.
"Look, honey," the guy growled, "I want to dance with you." Kara sighed.
"I'm taking into account the fact you're obviously drunk," Kara said firmly but politely, "and so probably don't realize exactly what you're doing. Allow me to repeat myself: I do not want to dance with you. Please leave."
The guy scowled. A second fellow appeared behind him, just as glassy eyed as the first. Apparently the new arrival was a friend, and had been watching, because he joined in.
"'S'matter, bitch, my friend not good enough for ya?"
Kara turned and stood up. Ron did so as well. Not to intervene. Kara certainly didn't need his help to deal with these two idiots. Well, not to intervene directly. Ron climbed up on his chair and started trying to catch the eye of a bouncer he knew, to head off trouble before things got out of hand.
"I don't like being addressed as 'bitch'," Kara said icily. The second guy grinned wickedly. "Ya don', huh? H'bout slut? Or maybe, whore?"
Ron noticed that Kim had noticed what was going on, and started toward the table. She looked like she was going jump into the confrontation, but Ron stopped her with a gesture. Kim came around the table to join him, a questioning look on her face. Ron leaned over and whispered in her ear.
"You throw so much as one punch in here, Kim, and you'll be banned permanently, no matter what the provocation. Let the staff handle it."
He nodded toward two large men in identical tee shirts emblazoned with the Shanti's logo and the word Security who were approaching. The first guy grabbed Kara's wrist and made to drag her onto the dance floor. By his expression he must have been surprised as hell when her deceptively slender frame didn't budge. He tried again, as deliberately as he could manage in his intoxicated state, but had no more luck.
"What the hell? Are you glued to the damn floor or something?"
"Or something," Kara sneered. Ron didn't know what Kara might have said or done next, because the bouncers arrived. The one he knew, a guy named Charlie, was a second string offensive lineman for the school football team.
He stood six feet seven inches tall and weighed a good three hundred and fifty pounds. His companion was almost as big. Charlie's hand, which was so large it looked like it could completely cover the first guy's face, settled instead onto his shoulder. The guy froze, looking askance at the massive paw before turning to regard the mountain of muscle and sinew behind him. He managed a weak chuckle, then Charlie spoke.
"These guys bugging you, miss?"
Kara visibly relaxed. "Yes. They wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."
Charlie nodded once at Ron, then turned to the people at the next table.
"Is that right?" he asked. The table in question had two couples at it, all of whom nodded in the affirmative.
Charlie smiled and addressed the two men. "That's all for you two, then." Without another word, he and his associate dragged the protesting men away.
"That's why I don't drink," Kara said, gesturing after them. "Not only would I hate to act like that in public, but if I'd been drinking tonight, who knows what would have happened?"
Kim nodded. She could have, and would have, knocked both guys silly. Kara could have killed them with a flick of her little finger, or incinerated them for that matter.
"I'm glad you held back," Kim said, then snorted with laughter. "If those guys had known just who they messing with they'd probably have wet themselves."
"Maybe," Kara allowed, "Although they were so plastered it might not have made any difference. As it was though, I didn't have a lot of options." She dug into her purse and pulled out a small cylinder. "I couldn't use this, not in a crowded area, and hitting them was pretty much out of the question, since I didn't want to hurt them."
Kim took the cylinder and examined it.
"You actually carry pepper spray?"
Kara nodded. "For show," she explained. "Same thing with the whistle," she added, holding up her key ring as well. "One of my friends at college freaked out when she found out I didn't have either one, and insisted I get some. I figured that even if I didn't need them, carrying them would help me fit in."
Kim awoke at sunrise, as usual. Throwing back her covers she rolled out of bed, pausing only to remove her earplugs and pull on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt before heading for the kitchen to start breakfast. They'd left the Shanti shortly after the incident with the drunks, in no small part because the crowd was starting to get heavy with people in a similar state. Arriving home, Kim had retired immediately after bidding Ron and Kara good night. Her earplugs had gone in at once. Kara wasn't as vocal as some of the girls Ron brought home, but she made a fair amount of noise, and the walls were thin.
On her way to the kitchen Kim paused at the door to Ron's room. She listened, and heard nothing. Quietly, she turned the knob and opened it a crack. Kara was lying in Ron's arms, her head resting on his chest. They looked sound asleep. Kim turned away, fighting a sudden stab of jealousy. The notion that she was jealous of Kara flitted briefly through Kim's mind before she summarily dismissed it. She was jealous of Ron for getting laid last night. That was it. Yes. That was definitely it.