Diana Prince walked briskly through the ancient hallways of the old Wayne manor. She was careful in her steps, as the flooring was weak in places. The roof had deteriorated and the walls were crumbling with neglect. But she knew it was all about to change, and soon.
Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth stood just past the doorway to the main hall, discussing the renovation plans. The former's voice boomed, "Big round table. Six chairs."
His enthusiasm was catching. "But room for more," she reminded him.
"But room for more," he agreed. She chanced a sideways glance at the billionaire. For the first time since they had met, for once, he seemed genuinely untroubled. Perhaps being in his ancestral home, with the prospect of rebuilding, had made him not put up his usual walls. It felt different from the Bruce she was used to, but at the same time it gladdened her.
She cleared her throat. "So, we actually made it through the night."
He didn't understand what she meant. He replied with a slight frown, "For now. We don't know when the next enemy is coming."
"That's not it," she shook her head at him. "I mean, we made it through the night. And… yes."
He turned to her, confused. "…yes?"
"Yes, I would like to try it. Certainly not forever, but maybe for a weekend or two." She smiled innocently. "What you told me earlier, right before we fought Steppenwolf. If we make it through the night, I could stay in the shadows, and dress up as a bat. You won't even sue."
Off to the side, Alfred started coughing uncontrollably. From all the dust, he explained after calming down.
First things first. She needed a bat dress.
She politely asked if he could lend her one. She tactfully did not point out she had noticed him put on his poker face when he uncharacteristically agreed.
Off to the batcave they went.
The most logical bat dress choice was to use one of the bat girls'. Out of Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown, the Gordon girl had the body type closest to hers. Alfred was kind enough to dig up Barbara's least used suit.
Diana awkwardly stepped out from the armory-slash-changing-room to meet the waiting Bruce. She told him sadly, "It doesn't fit. Hips and chest are," she inhaled, "too tight." She turned around to show him the open zipper at her back. He noticed her lack of bra straps but wisely decided not to pursue his train of thought.
Alfred arrived carrying the next costume candidate. It was her own armor, now in trademark Batman black. Diana crossed her arms, understandably annoyed. "Alfred, how could you? Please return it to the way it was."
"This isn't your armor. It's just a copy."
"Oh." She stepped into the armory and tried it on. She stepped out of the armory to show it to the men. "Ooh. Fits great." She wiggled her arms, then skipped in place to test the armor's movements. "Feels like my regular one. Plus it's pretty goth. But it doesn't look very much like a bat."
"Very good," said Alfred, as he handed her the next one. Back into the armory she went.
She exited with a glare. The suit was one piece, black, shiny, skin-tight spandex. With pointy ears. "This is a catsuit, not a batsuit."
"Not quite," Bruce clarified. "You see, cats have rounder ears, and don't forget the tail—"
She again crossed her arms in annoyance. "Bruce, you have got to be kidding me."
He sensed impending violence. "Yes. Yes, I am. Here." He handed her the last bundle, including a hairnet with a set of hairpins. "Put your hair up under the cowl."
When Diana stepped out from the changing room, she looked like the Batman. The full-body suit in black and gray was androgynous, with care not to emphasize feminine features, and the cape was slightly padded at the shoulders. Even from a close distance, as long as she was not literally in front of the enemy's face, she could pass as a younger him. "This is much better," she commented. Despite the unisex cut, it fit her like a glove.
She wanted to know, "By the way, I am simply curious. Your reputation of being 'crazy prepared' precedes you, but this is just ridiculous. How have you been able to come up with these armors so quickly?"
Bruce deadpanned, "Alfred."
The butler actually sputtered. "Wait, don't blame me. Fine. I admit it. I sewed them." He raised his hands. "I overheard you talking. One can dream."
"And how did you get my measurements?"
It was Alfred's turn to point fingers. "He used a caliper. On your old war photo." Bruce managed to keep his poker face in position. Alfred continued, "You didn't think he returned it to you without scrutinizing it first, did you?"
Alfred excused himself to attend to the afternoon household chores. Diana turned to Bruce, "Okay. Now what?"
"I haven't thought that far. I never expected you to actually take me up on it."
"Alfred did," she pointed out.
"Alfred dreams."
The silence turned awkward. Diana broke it, "Do I go up a building, and sorta just glare at the city? Just kidding," she added on seeing his expression. "I know that's not what you really do. The Batman brings criminals to justice. But you've been lying low recently, haven't you?"
"I've been laying low for several years, until Superman."
"Oh."
"You already know this. Since Clark's death, crime has spiked up and I was forced out of retirement. Now he's back, and now that our league is getting publicity, I expect crime to drop again. It'll take a while, however. I do have several cases I'm working on at the moment." He sighed. After a pause, he asked, "Do you want to start now?"
"I suppose there's nothing like the present. Today is Friday with the weekend coming up, and I have some free time," Diana replied thoughtfully. "I'm not wanted at the Louvre until Monday."
"How about you take one of the easier cases? Come on," He gestured for her to follow him to his primary computer. He offered her a seat, which she refused, citing the suit. He sat down, then typed up a command that brought up several files onto the monitors. "Read them, then pick one."
She shook her head. "I don't want one of your rigged cases that you use to throw people off your trail. And you don't need to test me. Give me the one with the playground monster sightings."
Apparently, she had already been into his files. The details of that particular case were stored in a private folder. He palmed his face. "Remember we discussed those millions I spent in security?"
"You get what you pay for," she shrugged. Then she leaned closer to him to admit, "If it makes you feel better, I couldn't crack the ones you personally secured. I doubt I ever could."
He thought about it. It did make him feel better.