chapter 8

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"Where's Wondy?" Flash asked as he sat down at the table.

"She has a date." Shayera grinned, despite the fact she was talking to Flash.

Flash fell over dramatically clutching his heart. "How could she do this to me?"

"Why are you complaining? You have Linda." J'onn put an Oreo into his mouth.

John was concentrating at the task at hand. "Well I don't like this one bit."

Shayera looked at him stunned.

"John, are you saying you care that she's dating Bruce Wayne?"

"No. I'm saying we need five people. Four just ain't right."

"Bruce Wayne?" Flash sputtered. "Is she after his money?" He smirked. "That's why I'd date him."

Shayera rolled her eyes and wished she had her mace.

"Hurry up John." Shayera glanced at Flash. "Now. Before I hit him."

"Shayera, you know we are not allowed to use weapons or powers here," J'onn stated before eating another Oreo.

John complied.

Everyone busied themselves for a few seconds but all faces remained impassive.

"I wish Wondy was here. She can't keep a straight face no matter what," Flash spoke up, breaking the silence.

"Ladies first."

Shayera beamed gratitude at John.

"Flash, do you have any sixes?"

Flash grinned gleefully.

"Go fish!"

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Diana could smell his aftershave and knew Bruce had returned. She could sense him directly behind her. But he didn't move or say a word, so neither did she. Her pulse was throbbing and she attempted slow, deep breaths. She closed her eyes in anticipation of his voice or touch.

Instead, she heard him take a step closer, still behind her. Her heart pounded inversely with the slowing of her breaths. Her skin tingled as every sense heightened. She held her breath completely, waiting.

More soft sounds of movement and she could tell he was in front of her. She could feel his breath inches from her face. She felt his hand against her cheek, and the slide of his fingers into her hair.

She opened her eyes and stiffened, as did he at the sound of Alfred's cough. Bruce was on his feet and Diana had turned around.

"Excuse me. Miss Diana, Master Bruce, dinner is ready."

"Thank you Alfred."

Bruce extended a hand to Diana and helped her up. She noticed he was smiling. She hoped her face wasn't too flushed.

In the dining room, Alfred nodded stood behind a chair waiting for her. Bruce went over to him and said in a hushed tone, "I remembered," as he pulled out her chair.

"Of course you did, sir," Alfred replied dryly.

"I can pull out my own chair," Diana protested.

"Not while I'm in this house, madam," Alfred retorted.

Diana frowned but sat as Bruce gently slid her chair in.

It was a long table, but instead of sitting at the ends, they sat opposite each other on the long sides, with minimal distance between them.

They just sat there, occasionally catching the other's glance before looking away. Diana thanked Hera when Alfred brought out the soup.

She looked at its orange color for a moment, as did Bruce.

"Alfred, what is this?"

"Cream of carrot soup with fresh ginger, sir. You've had it before."

"Did I like it?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred answered in his dry tone.

Diana was laughing at him before Alfred got out of the door.

"What?" but he was grinning back.

"You," she managed, unable to suppress a smile. She shook her head.

Conversation was easier between them after that ice-breaker. He was surprised to learn she enjoyed Edna St. Vincent Millay's poetry and actually read the Harry Potter books. She was amused to discover he was a fan of old kung fu movies. Between the both of them, they spoke several languages.

By the time Alfred brought out the pan seared duck breast with cassis compote, accompanied by roasted winter vegetables with rosemary and calamata olives, they were debating the merits of reality television shows. Once again, Bruce asked Alfred what they were eating. Diana's ears perked up at "olives."

"That's about as close to Greek cooking as Alfred gets."

"Then maybe next time, I should have you over for dinner."

"Authentic Greek cuisine? I'd like that."

"Well, Themysciran anyway," she shrugged.

"Well, I look forward to it."

She was delighted he accepted, until she realized she couldn't roast a pig on a spit in her apartment.

After dinner, they sat in companionable silence. She was drinking coffee and he was sipping tea, specifically Lapsang Souchong, another fact that amused her.

"Why?"

"Well, I've tried it. It tasted like the exhaust from the Javelin."

He grinned and asked, "And how do you know what that tastes like?"

"Occasionally, I fly too close to the engines," she replied in all seriousness.

He looked at her and started laughing, a sound she had never heard from him and started grinning herself.

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