DISCLAIMER: The Justice League of America
characters are the property of DC Comics. The story contents are the creation
and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2006 by Djinn. This story is Rated
PG-13.
When Amazons Attack
by Djinn
"Batman! Oh, thank God, you're here!" The bouncer, who towered above Bruce and
outweighed him by a good hundred pounds, looked like he was ready to cry.
"Where is she?"
"In the VIP room. Please, sir.
Don't hurt me."
Bruce realized he had a firm hold of the man's collar, was twisting it. "How did she get in this state?"
"It was a new drink in
her honor. Themysciran Ice Tea. No one told her it wasn't just tea."
"What else was in
it?"
The man winced.
Bruce tightened his hold. "What else?"
"Absinthe?" He squeaked out the final syllable.
Bruce threw him across the
room, striding into the bar, cursing under his breath. Mother-freakin' absinthe? Diana couldn't tell that wasn't something out
of the ordinary?
"Hey, everyone! Look who's here." Diana threw back a glass mug of greenish
brown liquid.
"Everyone" seemed
to be a strange mix of celebrities and others who looked like they'd been flung
into their present seating arrangements.
One rock-and-roll type was hanging over the slow-moving ceiling fan,
making an "I'm about to hurl" tour of the room.
Bruce moved out of the line
of fire. "Diana?"
She walked over to him,
crashing down heavily with each footstep.
A supermodel barely got out of the way.
"Look who it
is." Diana punched him in the solar
plexus with her index finger.
But for the magic of Kevlar,
Bruce would have been doubled over. He
was pretty sure she'd meant that as a love tap.
He grabbed her hands before she could do it again. "Let's go home, Princess."
He was praying to God that
she'd remember not to call him by his name.
"You think I'm
drunk." She leaned in, her breath
smelling like wormwood and spice had taken the Nestea plunge--it wasn't a good
mix.
"You are drunk, Wonder
Woman."
"Well, yes. But in the morning I won't be. And you'll still be dour as hell." She giggled.
A high-pitched, girly sound he'd have bet money she could not make.
"Let's go."
"Kareena. Where is she?"
The supermodel she'd nearly
stepped on started to crawl away. Diana
laughed and snatched her up. "There
you are." She carried the six-foot
tall--most of it legs--woman as if she was a sack of groceries. "It's okay, he likes pretty women,
too."
"Not that this isn't a
fantasy come to life, but lets put the nice supermodel down and get out of here."
Kareena nodded frantically--Diana appeared to be holding on a little too
tightly.
Diana made a noise of disgust
and let go. The woman landed on her
feet--never underestimate the utility of walking a slick catwalk in four-inch
Blahniks. Bruce wondered if he should
incorporate it into his training regimen.
Kareen leaned forward,
sticking a card down the bodice of Diana's uniform. "If you're ever, you know, not wasted
off your ass?"
"Ooh. She gave me her card." Diana pushed it farther down.
Bruce tried not to watch.
Kareena glanced at him. "Do you want one?"
He was pretty sure he'd met
up with her a few times as Bruce, but what the hell. Supermodels didn't grow on trees. He took the card from her.
"Let's go," he
said, trying to put his best Batman growl into the order.
Diana followed until they got
to the pinball machines. "Oh,
wait. I want to play."
"I have pinball in the
Batcave." It was a total lie. But she didn't know that.
"But you don't have
Themyssssssss..." She frowned. "Themysssss... That ice tea stuff. You know, my home is really hard to say. I need to come up with another name for
it."
"I'm sure you'll be able
to say it just fine once you're sober again."
"I'm not drunk,
Br--" She clapped her hand over her
mouth, eyes wide as she giggled again in what was becoming a really annoying
laugh. "Oops. I almost blew it."
Bruce wondered how hard he'd
have to punch her to knock her out. And
just how badly she'd make him pay for it if she woke up still drunk. He opted for cool subterfuge.
"Look! Was that the Cheetah?" He pointed vaguely in the direction of "out
of the bar."
"I've got
her!" Diana took off, flying
low. Her form was great, but her aim
seemed suspect. She flew right into the
doorjamb and fell like a downed tree, making the bar--and probably neighboring
restaurants--tremble.
Bruce hurried to her, picking
her up with a groan. Damned muscle mass.
He turned to look at the
crowd. "You will all forget this
ever happened."
Kareena pouted.
"Except maybe you."
Then he was gone. Like the wind. The wind trying to carry six-feet of solid
muscle while navigating through a crowded bar where no one seemed to want to
get out of the way. He finally propped Diana
up against the wall, snatched a smoke bomb from his belt, and lobbed it onto
the dance floor. Once he saw a path
start to clear, he grabbed her and ran.
He saw that someone had put a
flyer on the Batmobile window--he could have a new career in direct sales. Right.
He dumped Diana into the passenger seat and strapped her in. Then he tore the flyer up into little pieces
and let them go.
"That's
littering." Diana was watching him,
her head lolling from side to side.
"Oh, I don't feel so good."
He vaulted over the hood,
just managed to get the door back open, her belt undone, and her head pointed
the right way before she started to vomit.
And vomit.
And vomit.
"Oh, yeah. This is that dream date I've been fantasizing
about for so long."
She finally stopped, and he handed
her a sanitary wipe he pulled from his utility belt. She looked at it, then up at him.
"Don't even start with
me, Diana."
She started to say something,
then just wiped her mouth off and took the water he fished out from behind the
seat.
"You're going to be
dehydrated."
"I'm going to destroy
every crop of tea I can find." She
belched, then held her hand to her mouth.
"Once I can see straight again."
"That wasn't just tea,
you dimwit."
"What did you just call
me?" She looked like she was about
to hit him, then winced. "Ow,"
she said, digging Kareena's card from her cleavage.
Bruce indulged himself by
watching the extraction.
"This is that pretty
blonde girl, isn't it? Go back and get
her, Bruce."
"She said to look her up
when you're sober."
"Party
pooper." Diana threw the card into
the street.
"You'll regret
that."
"I regret lots of
things."
She held her hand over her
mouth, blew out, and took a whiff.
"Oh my goddess, that's heinous.
Do you have a Bat-breath-mint in that belt of yours?"
He dug one out for her, then
popped another in his mouth. At her
look, he said, "Crouching in the shadows is no excuse for bad
breath."
"Right. You probably own stock in these." She buckled herself back in as he got in the
car. "Let's hit the road,
Jeeves." Again the giggle.
Bruce had heard nails on
chalkboard that hurt his ears less.
"Diana, please stop giggling."
"Fine." She reached down, put the car in gear. Which would have been a mess if the car had
actually been turned on. "Vroooom,
vroooom." She leaned toward him, her
body seemingly boneless, supported only by the seatbelt. "Your car sucks."
He started to laugh. "Just wait."
"My dead grandmother can
run faster than this car goes."
"Do you even have a dead
grandmother?" He started the car,
pulled out.
"I think so. But even if not, it's a great saying, don't
you think?" She sighed. "So many great sayings in English. Themys....
My language is really boring.
'Hand me the larger sword, please.'
But English--I mean, where else do you get to say, 'Bite me!'?"
"You have a
point."
"I do. I love it here, Bruce." She ran her hand over his leg. "I love so many things about being
here."
"Yes, and they love
you." He moved her hand off his leg
and headed toward home. "Why are
you in Gotham, Diana?"
"It's my birthday."
"No, it's not. Your birthday's in a month."
She blew hard, a mocking
little sound. "That's what I tell
people. I don't want complete strangers
wishing me happy birthday on my real day.
I celebrate that with those I care about."
"Like Kareena?"
She got very quiet. He thought maybe she'd passed out and glanced
over at her. She was staring at him, her
mouth set in a trembly little pout.
"No," she
said. "Not Kareena."
"Someone else in that
bar, then?"
She shook her head.
"Then, who?"
"You." She looked down. "Only you're always so mean to me. I kind of...chickened out halfway to your
house."
"And decided to get
rollicking drunk?"
"They said it was ice
tea." She blinked back tears, and
he wished the giggle would come back.
He hated it when she
cried. Hated what it did to him. What it made him want to do for her--with
her.
"I didn't mean to get
drunk." She wiped at her eyes. "I didn't know they'd call you."
"Okay." He glanced at her, saw that she was staring
out the window. "I'm not mean to
you."
"Are, too."
"Am not." He held up a hand when she started her
comeback. They were descending into new
lows. "Why do you think I'm
mean?"
"Every time you let me
in just a little, you have to be sharp and grim. Just to get me to retreat again."
"Maybe I don't want
you."
There was a long
silence. Then she whapped him hard
across the chest. "You lying sack
of shit. Everyone wants me."
"Lying sack of
shit? Is that really superhero speak?"
"I love that one. The closest we come in my language is 'offal
bucket.'"
"How tragic."
"And hey! You're just changing the subject. I may be drunk, but I can still track a
conversation. I'm a warrior, you
know?"
"It's a little hard to
forget that." He was still trying
to get his breath back from her whap.
"Why are you so
mean?"
"I just am."
"Bruce. Please. Tell me." She had that tone that he found hard to
resist.
He resisted anyway. Then he felt the lasso drop over his head.
"Bruce?" At least she didn't tighten it.
"Because I can't afford
to care about you. People I care about
end up getting hurt." There, he'd
said it. With luck, she'd have forgotten
it once she sobered up.
She pulled the lasso off
him. "That's so sad."
Was she going to cry
again? He glanced over, was relieved to
see she was dry eyed and staring out the window.
"I can fly home,"
she finally said.
"State you're in, you'll
get tangled up in some power lines."
"Call Kal. He'll escort me home."
"State you're in, you'll
get tangled up in him."
He expected her to get mad. But she
laughed softly.
"State I'm in, Bruce, I
could get tangled up in you."
"That would be taking
advantage."
"And you'd never do
that." She made her voice very low
and disapproving.
He realized she was mocking
him. "Why don't you pass out or
something?"
"Amazons metabolize
alcohol very quickly, Bruce. I'll be
sober soon."
"Great."
"Then I can fly
home."
"Good."
"Or...?"
"Diana."
"Now who's the party
pooper?" She grew quiet, just
stared out the window as the Batmobile ate up the miles to the Batcave.
As he pulled in, he saw
Alfred waiting. The old man saw Diana
and his smile grew broader. "Miss
Diana. I was hoping you'd stop by. Happy birthday!"
Bruce stared at Diana. "He knows it's your birthday?"
She shrugged.
"Why does he know and I
don't?"
She shrugged again and went
to hug Alfred.
Alfred wrinkled his
nose. "Oh, my, Miss. Been indulging, have you?"
"I didn't mean to. Don't ever let me have Themysciran Ice Tea,
okay?"
"It's a deal." Alfred leaned in, as if it was just the two
of them. "I'll make coffee."
"Thanks."
As Alfred left, Bruce said,
"Does Clark know it's your birthday?"
She gave him a look. Muttered something that he imagined was the
Themysciran version of sack o'shit.
"Damn it, Diana."
She was already halfway up the stairs.
Still weaving a bit, but no longer half as inebriated. "It's okay. Stay down in the Cave with your little
gizmos. I'm sure they'll love you
back."
He stood there a minute. Then he raced up, caught her on the top
step. "You love me?"
"I didn't say
that."
"You sort of did."
"Yes, Kal
knows." She started to cry, which
made the mean way she'd just said that hurt a bit less.
"Then why aren't you
with Kal?"
"Because I'm here. Like an idiot. Banging my head against the Bat-wall."
"Well, maybe you should
stop?"
"Maybe I
should." She grabbed him, and for a
second, he thought she was going to throw him off the staircase, but then she
spun and slammed him into the door to the changing room. The door, sensing motion, slid open, and they
fell through it and to the ground. She
landed on top of him.
The outer door opened, and
Alfred looked down at them. "Your
coffee is ready. Would you like me to serve
it in there?"
"No, we don't goddamned
want you to serve it in here."
"Very well." Alfred seemed to be fighting to keep his face
straight. "Miss Diana. Do you require any assistance?"
"Nope. I'm good." She stared down at Bruce, as if daring him to
contradict her.
"We're fine, old
man. Go back to your crosswords or
whatever it is you do when you aren't tormenting me."
"As you wish,
sir." The door closed gently.
"Where were we?"
Diana asked.
Bruce rolled her, knew she was letting him because she gave up the higher
ground far too easily. He stared down at
her.
"Aren't you going to
wish me happy birthday?" Her voice
was very soft, her eyes even more so.
"Happy birthday." And he kissed her.
It was just supposed to be a
little kiss. A touching of lips between
friends. Her arms were not supposed to
twine around his neck. His mouth was not
supposed to open. His tongue was not
supposed to go searching for hers.
Apparently the plan was not
made clear to any part of him but his brain.
She moaned and deepened the
kiss.
He was suddenly heartily glad
his body had a mind of its own.
They finally pulled away, and
she looked aroused and sleepy--a deadly mix as far as he was concerned. He wanted to protect her and hold her and
screw the living hell out of her.
"Was that my
present?" She ran her fingers
through his hair, causing shivers wherever she touched. "Or was that just part of it?"
"Diana."
She shut him up by kissing
him, somehow managed to push him off her and get them both to their feet before
she pulled away.
He felt a pang of
tenderness. He knew it was weakness to
feel it. He knew she'd become a
target.
He then remembered she was
damned near invulnerable.
Maybe this would be
okay?
His mind said no; the rest of
his body overruled it. His heart
provided the tiebreaker. Smiling at her,
he saw her seem to relax.
He opened the door and
smelled the aroma of something good and probably sinfully sweet. Diana smiled, and it was the most beautiful
smile he'd ever seen.
"Alfred's baking you a
birthday cake."
"He's a nice
man." She leaned in, kissing him
tenderly. "You could be a nice man,
too, if you'd try."
"You don't like me
because I'm a nice man." He stroked
her hair back, marveling at how soft it was.
"Well, that's
true." She cuddled against him,
and he heard her yawn.
"You're tired."
"I'll be
okay." But she yawned again.
He walked them to the couch,
sat and pulled her down to cuddle in his arms.
"Sleep for a while. I'll
wake you when the cake's done."
"He better not guess my
age right. All those candles will burn
down your pretty, pretty house."
He laughed. "I'll tell him to be careful."
"Okay." And then she was out.
She snored and she drooled a
little.
He found it charming--he was
so gone.
FIN