Welcome to my entry for Day 17 of the WonderBat Holiday 2018 event: Ice Skating.

If you've read Paris, this is the 'incident at the lake' that Bruce refers to.

December 10. Wayne Residence. 14:12.

The chilling air bites my skin as I make my way down the familiar walkway, towards the door of the man who has been on my mind for the past few days. Bruce and I have always had an attraction towards each other, since that night I first saw him in person at Luthor's party, when I had stolen his flash drive containing the encrypted photo of me taken a century ago. Even before I had seen him in person, I knew he was an attractive man, after all, his photo had been plastered in nearly every magazine for years; people wanted to know what the Prince of Gotham was doing every hour of the day, who he was dating, what was his next move. Bruce lived in the spotlight. I, however, had tried to stay hidden in the shadows for decades, never wanting to be seen, never wanting my secret to be outed. But when I saw Bruce there at Luthor's, I knew I was in trouble. He was mesmerizing. Sure, he was attractive, this I already knew, but something about the way he looked at everyone, something hidden in his eyes, made me realize maybe we weren't so different after all. I soon found myself wanting to know more about him, which is why I stopped to glance his way, before driving off with his drive, knowing if he was the man I thought him to be, he would find me in no time. He didn't disappoint when he had come up behind me at that benefit, demanding his drive back. I knew then that my life would never be the same.

I continue to walk towards Bruce's front door, a small smile on my face as I recount the times I have made this walk before. After fighting Doomsday together, after finding the others and bringing Clark back, Bruce and I have, admittedly, grown closer together. I find his friendship is one of the most rewarding ones I have had, however lately I have been wondering if there is more that is possible between us. Yes, we have flirted in the past, and I have more than enjoyed the playful banter that he is all too willing to participate in. But I want more.

Since Steve, there is no one I have felt this way for, and I would be a fool not to go after what my heart desires. Granted, I am still skeptical, not wanting to get hurt again, especially since Bruce is always so quick to jump into the line of fire, but it is what I love about him that could potentially be his downfall. He is brave, he is willing to put himself in danger to fight for what he knows is right. He is a warrior through and through, as am I - so why does the thought of telling him how I feel make my heart feel like it has no room in my chest.

I quickly pull the cell phone from my jean's back pocket, pulling the scarf tighter around my neck as I unlock the screen and begin to dial Bruce's number. I let the phone ring once, before I place it to my ear, the anxiety in my chest rising with each unanswered ring. Finally, as I am about to turn around and head back to my car, the ringing stops, and is quickly replaced by the voice I have become all too familiar with.

"Hello?" he asks into the phone, and I wonder if I have caught him at a bad time.

"Hi," is all I can say, my head swirling at the thought that maybe he is entertaining someone else and I have interrupted his day. "Are you busy?"

"Diana," he says, and I swear I can hear the smile on his face; it brings a smile to my own face. "No, no. I just didn't look at the phone before I answered," he explains, and I find myself nodding at his explanation, even though he cannot see it.

I finish my journey up his walkway, stopping on the step in front of the door to his lakeside home, my smile turning into a grin as I say, "Good. I actually need your help with something." I ring the doorbell and I hear it echo throughout the house, as well as through his end of the call.

Bruce chuckles and grunts into the phone, before he drops something inside. "Do you need Bruce Wayne's help? Or are you asking for someone else's help?" he asks.

I chuckle and shake my head. I can hear him making his way to the door and decide I will answer when he opens the door. It only takes a few moments for the front door to open, but I am completely in shock when I look up to see Bruce standing there, not because he flashes me that devious smirk that makes me weak at the knees, but because he is standing there in nothing more than a pair of sweats. His bare chest, which has immediately reacted to the cold wind outside, is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and I once again wonder if I have caught him at a bad time. "Did I interrupt something?" I ask, hoping he can't hear the jealousy that I have tried to hide.

Bruce shakes his head, pulls the phone from his ear, and ends our call, before he shoves the phone into his pocket. He watches as I return the phone to my back pocket, before he moves aside, allowing me in, and shuts the door. "Just finished a work out downstairs," he says, and I nod, letting my eyes wander down his chest, down the firm lines of his muscles, gently biting my bottom lip as the images that have played out in my dreams begin to evade my thoughts. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head gently, trying to rid the thoughts that are fighting to be heard. "Nothing, I just need your help with something."

Bruce is quiet for a moment, tilting his head to try and discern why I am truly here, before he nods. "Can I shower and change really quickly?" he asks.

I give him a small nod and he turns to walk down the hallway, leaving me to gather my thoughts. I did come with a favor to ask, but seeing Bruce shirtless has left me flustered. Hopefully things will pan out as I hoped.

It isn't long before Bruce walks out of his room, showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck. His feet are covered in dark socks and when he sits on a stool besides me, I can't help but give him a grin. "You never answered my question," he says, turning to lean against the breakfast bar besides him.

"Bruce Wayne," I say, giving him a wink. "I need Bruce Wayne's help." He nods and I pull up the pairs of skates that have been resting by my feet, the pairs I ran out to grab from my car when he had showered. "I've never learned, and the lake's frozen over. Thought maybe I could get a private lesson."

Bruce raises an eyebrow and glances over my body, and I can swear I see a hint of a smirk forming on his face. "What makes you think I know how to ice skate?" he asks. He grabs an apple from the bowl on the breakfast bar and takes a bite, trying to avoid my eyes as I narrow them in his direction.

"I know you do," I state. "And besides, you owe me for helping you with that break-in last week."

Bruce takes another bite from the apple in his hand, continuing to chew as he remembers that night when I had stumbled upon Batman fighting a gang of thieves. I had come to Gotham to help Bruce go over a few designs for the renovations of his old family home, however when Alfred had called telling me Batman had intercepted a silent alarm, I had decided to help. "I was capable of stopping them myself," he says, and he lets out a grumble when I raise an eyebrow, challenging what he has just stated. "Fine," he says, accepting the challenge. "Let's go."

He slips on a pair of boots and walks to the front door, knowing I will follow him, before he opens the door and steps outside, reaching inside one last time to grab his coat, a scarf, and another sweater. "We'll go to the north end of the lake," he says, pulling on his coat. He quickly ties the scarf around his neck, stuffing it into his coat, before he turns to look at me, watching as I shut his front door. "The ice is always thicker."

I nod and follow Bruce down the walkway, past my car, and towards the lake. We walk in silence, content in watching the snow that has begun to fall, covering the path with a fresh layer of powder as we continue to walk. Bruce gently reaches down and grabs the skates from my hand, offering me a quick smile, silently asking me to let him have them. I let them go, letting him have the skates, before I shove my hand into my jacket pocket.

When we make it down to the lake, Bruce silently grabs my hand and leads me down an unmarked path, down a small staircase that takes us to the edge of the frozen lake. He doesn't turn to look at me, which I am grateful for, as the blush now on my cheeks would greatly give away how much I enjoy having his hand in mine. "There's a bench over here," he says, pulling me a bit farther. He quickly releases my hand, stopping in front of what I assume is the bench he had mentioned moments prior, before he wipes the snow that has piled onto the bench onto the ground. "Here," he says, throwing the sweater onto the bench, covering the cold marble. He takes a seat on the edge of the sweater and pulls off his boots, motioning for me to sit besides him, before he hands me the pair of skates.

I take a seat next to Bruce, grateful that his planning ahead has at least spared my butt from being both cold and wet, and pull off my own boots, before I yank on the skates, tighten the laces, and lean back, watching as Bruce finishes tying his own laces. He stands up, turns, and offers me his hand once more. I take it, a shiver running down my spine when I feel how ice cold his skin is; I suppose that is what happens when you clear off snow with your bare hands. He leads me down to the lake, carefully side stepping, until he reaches the edge of the ice that was once the lake we walked along months ago, discussing Steppenwolf.

He releases my hand, silently telling me to hold still, before he steps onto the lake, testing the strength of the ice. When he is content that the ice will hold, he turns to face me, offering me a smile as he holds out his hand.

I take a step onto the ice, trying to hide the surprise in my eyes when my foot wobbles a bit, and I quickly place my other foot onto the ice, hoping for some stability. I am an Amazon, I have been fighting for Man for over a century; I will not let a frozen lake humiliate me, especially in front of Bruce. Bruce tries to hide a chuckle and shakes his head, before he raises his other hand, holding both out to me, offering me a helping hand.

I reach out towards Bruce, ready to grab his hand, when he moves backward, a sly smile on his face as he watches me stumble forward. My arms jut out to my sides as I try to stabilize myself once more, and when I am sure I am not going to fall over, I shoot Bruce a glare. "Sorry," he says, sliding up to me. "I promise to not do that again."

He gives me a wink and grabs my wrist. He places a hand on my lower back and gives me a small push, forcing me to glide along the ice. "Bruce," I hiss, as I feel my legs begin to wobble once more. "This was not what I had in mind," I say.

"What did you have in mind?" he asks. "This?" He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers. Again I can feel his ice cold fingers against my heated skin and I shiver.

I give Bruce a smirk, trying to hide the smile I want to display when I look at our joined hands. He does this on purpose, and as much as I don't mind it, I want to know he enjoys this as much as I do.

He begins to move his feet, one at a time, letting the blade under his skate dig into the ice below us. He watches as I mimic his movements, nodding as I soon get the hang of what to do. "Good," he whispers, before he lets go of my hand, letting me skate alone for the first time.

My heart pounds as I continue to move, my feet gliding along the top of the lake, a smile on my face when I realize how much steadier I feel when I hear Bruce come up besides me. I take a moment to glance over at the man skating with me. He has a small smile on his face, and although he is not staring directly at me, I can tell he is watching me. His eyes follow my feet, his smile growing when I place my hands in my jacket's pocket, no longer feeling the need to keep them out to steady myself.

"You sure you've never skated before?" Bruce asks, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

I risk a glance towards him, a grin on my face as I watch how effortless he moves. "I'm a fast learner," I quip, and I can't help but notice the smile on his face as he shakes his head slightly. We continue to skate side by side, falling into a silent rhythm as we move along the lake. There are a few jokes shared between the two of us, a few moments of conversation revolving around the team, and Bruce shares the latest ideas for the renovations to the old Wayne Manor. Over the last year I have realized this, the casual conversations, the playful repartee, the sly smiles and hidden stares - these are all the things I have come to crave. Whenever I leave Gotham, whenever Bruce leaves Paris, I feel lonely, and that is something I've been for far too long.

"So, Christmas," I begin, nudging Bruce's shoulder with my own. "What does the infamous Bruce Wayne have planned this year?"

Bruce shrugs. "The same thing as last year, I suppose," he replies. "Dinner with Alfred, maybe patrol." He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

I give Bruce a small shrug. "I think we should have a Christmas dinner," I turn and narrow my eyes, "With everyone."

He gives me a crooked smile. "You've been to my house, that's too small."

"And I've been to your house in Paris," she says, "And don't act like we can't all make it there." Again Bruce stares at me, unsure of what else to say. "And before you say no, I would just like to add, I haven't had a dinner with all my friends in nearly a century."

I give Bruce a devious smile and I can see it in his face: there is no way he can say no to me now. "Fine," he says. "Consider it your Christmas gift."

I turn to look at Bruce, wanting to thank him for agreeing to this, when my right skate clips the edge of the lake. My leg wobbles and I feel myself falling back. Bruce grabs my hand, trying to stop me from falling into the snow, but he forgets I am stronger than him, and he comes crashing into the snow along with me, falling on top of my body as I land in the snow.

Bruce wipes the snow from off my face, worried I have hurt myself, when I begin to laugh, unable to hide the embarrassment of falling. It isn't long before Bruce is chuckling along with me, his chest hitting mine with each laugh that escapes his lips. "Are you okay?" he finally asks, looking down at me.

His eyes meet mine and I give him a small nod, unable to speak. This is the closest we have been and the temptation to kiss him is becoming too much as I continue to stare into those beautiful hazel eyes. Such a stark contrast to the blue eyes of Steve, and I can't help but wonder why I've never truly noticed how Bruce's eyes are so telling, despite all he's been through.

Bruce traces the tip of one of his fingers along my hairline, down my cheek and to my chin, all the while still staring into my eyes. I am unable to look away as he hooks his finger under my chin and lifts it, and although I know what is coming next, know we should at least talk about it, the heart beating loudly in my chest makes me unable to concentrate on anything else. Before I know it, Bruce's lips are on mine, and I gladly welcome them.

My eyes close and I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, keeping him close. He responds by placing one hand on my hip, the other trailing from my chin to my cheek, keeping him right where he wants me, as his lips continue to frantically move against my own. Bruce gently runs his tongue against my lower lip and I open my mouth, letting out a small gasp when I feel his tongue run along mine in an attempt to deepen the kiss. I can feel his hand gripping my hip tighter, and suddenly I no longer care that I am laying in the snow, getting my clothes wet. I only care about getting closer to Bruce, trying to find a way to have his hands discover more of my body.

One of my hands moves from behind his neck to his shoulder, pulling him closer. "Bruce," I whisper, unable to help his name from falling out of my mouth. I mean it as encouragement, wanting him to continue, wanting to see where this will go, but when Bruce freezes on top of me, I know he hasn't taken it as such.

He pulls his lips from mine and I open my eyes to see him staring at me, his eyes wide as he realizes what he has just done. "Sorry," he mumbles, moving back until he is seated besides me.

I only sit up without a word and run my hand down my face, unable to believe what has just happened. We sit in silence for a few moments, both of us trying to collect our thoughts. Bruce eventually turns to face me and says, "We should head back," before he takes a seat on the bench and pulls off his skates and replaces them with his boots.

I follow suit, taking a seat on the bench and tugging off my skates, pulling on my boots, before I follow Bruce back to his house. I know there is no way we will talk about this. Bruce will pretend nothing has happened, and if I mention anything, he will ignore it. I only hope what has happened won't ruin the Christmas dinner we have planned out moments before.

When we make it to Bruce's house, I stop by my car, unlocking the trunk to throw the skates inside, before I make my way to the driver's door, where Bruce has stopped. I know what he is going to say, so I decide to make a statement before he does. "I should get going," I say. I watch as he nods, attempting to give me a small smile, but his eyes don't meet mine. "Thanks for teaching me, Bruce," I say, opening the door and slipping into the seat. I wait a moment, hoping Bruce will stop me, tell me to get out of the car, but when he doesn't, I only slam the door shut, start the engine, and drive off, hoping what has just happened won't ruin our friendship.

My hands grip the steering wheel tightly and I become well aware that my jeans and hair are wet, but I don't care. I only want to go to my hotel, relax with a bottle of wine, and try to figure out what went wrong. As I drive towards the hotel, I shake my head, deciding if Bruce isn't going to acknowledge the feelings I now know he harbors for me, than neither will I. My only hope is Bruce will realize that kiss wasn't a mistake.

I pull up to the front of my hotel when my phone begins to beep from in my pocket. I quickly pull it out, placing the car in park, as the valet comes over to help me out, before I give him a small nod. I walk into the hotel, trying to ignore the name that pops up on my screen, but curiosity gets the best of me as I walk into the elevator. I open the text message, my eyebrow raising when I see what Bruce has to say. December 24. 6:00 PM. Paris.

I shove my phone back into my pocket as the elevator dings, signaling I have reached the floor my room is located on, and a small smile graces my lips. I walk into my room, quickly shedding my damp clothes as I head towards the bathroom. I have two weeks to figure out how to get Bruce to accept what has happened, and if I don't get him to admit he cares for me more than a friend by then, I will drop it. I only hope I'm not wrong.

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