"Fore!" Harley called out as she swung.
Pam rolled her eyes. "You know you don't have to say that every time, right? It's supposed to be used to warn someone if they're in the path of the ball." She used her own club to point downrange. "There's no one there."
"Hmm…" Harley mulled that over as she watched her shot land. "OK, I see your 'it's unnecessary' and I raise you an 'it's fun!'."
"And that's the point of the sport, is it not?" Selina prompted.
"This isn't a sport," Pam argued. "This is an activity for wealthy senior citizens with too much free time on their hands."
"Right," Bruce agreed, lining up his shot. "Which is why we're here."
"Yeah, congrats on still being hot, Pam," Selina leaned against the cart to watch Bruce's stroke. "The rest of us have to get our kicks in somehow. We tried living vicariously through our kids already, and it's exhausting, frankly."
"You don't have a kid, Selina," Pam reminded her.
"Oh, sure I do," the brunette laughed. "And he's sticking it to your daughter."
"Selina Kyle, I swear—,"
"—man," Selina sighed happily. "If I could go back to all of our arguments, all the times you just royally pissed me off, and know that someday I'd be standing here with the knowledge that my kid's dick—,"
"—I swear to Gaia I'll kill you, Selina. Right here. Right now. I will bury you under this goddamn golf course," Pam warned. "And you're not Damian's Mother. Talia is."
"Oh yeah?" Selina laughed. "Then where is she, huh? Help me out here, Bruce. Where's Talia?"
"Not he—,"
"—not here, that's right." Selina placed her ball on the tee. "She relinquished her parental rights when she dropped that asshole on our doorstep, so…" she drove a shot down the course, passing Bruce's ball and rolling onto the putting green. "To the victor go the spoils."
"You hate Damian," Pam reminded her.
Selina shrugged, filing her club back into her bag. "I have it on good authority you're not a huge fan of Jo's right now either; that doesn't take away your genetic contribution to her. Nor does my complicated relationship with Damian void the signature that made him legally mine."
"Look at us, Pam," Bruce smiled from the driver's seat as they piled into the golf cart. "40 years ago you were binding me and gagging me and leaving me to suffocate…and now…"
"Go ahead," the redhead sat forward "Make a BDSM joke about our children. I dare you."
"Maybe we could tell them they're siblings," Harley suggested as Bruce pulled away. "Tell them Bruce and I had an illicit affair, and that I just told her she was yours to make things less complicated."
"Mm…" Pam narrowed her eyes, thinking on that. "A couple of glaring issues with that idea: 1) I very much doubt I would have stayed with you if you'd cheated on me and been knocked up by Bruce 17 years into our marriage. 2) Jo looks a lot like you and me and absolutely nothing like Bruce. 3) she dreams my memories, and 4) I don't fucking think so."
"Alright, fine, so there are some plot holes," Harley admitted. "I'll get back to the drawing board."
"Or—and I know this sounds crazy—," Selina began. "How about you just suck it up, Buttercup? Quit making your kid's relationship about you, maybe?"
"OK, hey," Harley stepped in, "to be fair, we're pretty sure Jo entered into a 3-year relationship that ended pretty damn terribly just to spite us."
"Indeed," Bruce acknowledged. "And it's not like you taught her there are consequences to her actions, so history is doomed to repeat itself."
"You know what, Bruce?" Ivy moved forward in the back seat, resting her hands on his shoulders. "I did what I had to do," she hissed into his ear. "And you can report me to The League if you want to act like you would have handled it any differently had it been one of your children holding the crowbar."
"Aww!" Harley interrupted the suddenly tense moment by opening a text message. "Look, Duke's wearing the Robin pajamas." She excitedly held her phone up for everyone to see. "I'm surprised Karen even let that thing into her house," Harley chuckled. "She hates that costume."
"Well, perhaps if Duke ends up a Robin, she can improve the design," Bruce grumbled, noticeable salt in his tone.
/
"Alright, I'm leaving," Karen announced, her gym bag slung over her shoulder. "I pumped, so there's milk in the fridge for when he gets hungry, but you have to combine it with that formula your Mother gave us. Two-to-one, you know the drill."
"Got it," Anthony confirmed from where he was laying on the rug next to Duke, the two of them rapt, watching the portable mobile spin above them.
"Can you…"
"Send you a picture of him to look at when you get there?" Anthony guessed. "Absolutely. And one at 5 minute intervals afterwards to tide you over during your rest periods?"
"Thank you, yes." Karen breathed a sigh of relief.
"You don't have to get back in the swing of things so soon, you know," Anthony reminded her. "You just had a baby."
"Yes, five months ago." Karen confirmed. "And they'll expect me to be back in fighting shape when I return from my maternity leave next month. If I'm not ready, they'll put me down in the lab, and as much as I enjoy working on other people's suits, I'd like to get back to using mine."
"I understand," Anthony told her, pulling himself up and walking over to kiss her on the cheek, grabbing her water bottle off the counter once he did. "Did you need this?"
"Oh, shit, thanks," she bonked herself on the forehead with it before slipping it into her bag. "It's a wonder that anything's in the right place in this house given my brain's working at—like—30% capacity."
"Hey, you've got an awesome excuse, though." Anthony reminded her with a grin. "He's 16lbs and shits green into his diaper."
"Right, speaking of which—," she opened the door, turning quickly to give him a proper kiss before stepping outside, "—he smells terrible, you should probably check on that."
She was in her car before Anthony could think up a response other than "ugh", but he did manage to flip her the bird as she pulled away.
Sighing, he shut the door. "It's just you and me tonight, Little Man. You, me and stinky diapers."
Duke reached his hand up to bat at the mobile.
"I know, right?" Anthony grinned. "That's my kind of party."
/
"Dat ass, tho!"
Damian faltered under the weight on his back, startled at Jo's exclamation. "Fuck off," he gritted, beginning another rep.
"No, really," Jo sat down on a bench behind him. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Dick was your father."
"Please leave me alone," he grunted as he pushed up out of the hole.
"Oh, come on," Jo laughed. "That's scrotum weight, right there. If you can't squat 225 with a distraction, you ain't shit."
"You—can't—squat 225 at all," Damian reminded her, attempting to maintain his concentration. "This is a burn-out set, get off my back."
"OK, well, first off," Jo got up to lean against the squat rack. "I can absolutely squat 225, and secondly, this is how women feel in the gym every goddamn day." She slapped him on the butt. "Gotta learn to deal with routine perversities."
With a final grunt of exertion, Damian re-racked the bar. "Shouldn't you be out chasing that lead rather than fucking up my leg workout?"
"Nah, Carrie's on that. She'll let me know when he's ready. In the meantime…" Jo smirked, trailing her finger from Damian's clavicle down his chest. "I'm bored. Come play with m—," she gagged, stopping her sentence in its tracks. "Sorry—too gross, not worth the reference."
"What?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry…" They both turned to find that Karen had just stepped through the doorway. "Am I interrupting something?"
"What?" Jo immediately shoved Damian away from her. "You mean between me and this jagweed? I don't think so."
Damian rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows we're dating, Jolene."
"We're not dating, we're sleeping together." Jo set the record straight. "Totally different. Right, Karen?"
"Um…well…I thought Anthony and I were just sleeping together…and now he's waiting at home with our baby, so…"
"OK, well, you're no fucking help," Jo turned her back on her. "Take me on a date, then you can say we're dating."
"I don't want to take you on a date, and you don't want to go on one," Damian reminded her.
"Well ya never fuckin' know, maybe I changed my mind," Jo spat.
"You did?" Damian seemed genuinely surprised.
"No, I said 'maybe'," Jo sneered. "Why? Did you—change your mind? Or whatever…"
"I—no, uh…no, I didn't." Damian's attempt at a definitive response was fairly unconvincing. "No, I don't want to date you because I don't want to go on a date, and I don't love you either because…I don't."
"Riiiggghhhttt…." Karen said slowly, glancing back and forth between them. "So…this is clearly a super comfortable situation and all, but umm…I was going to work legs, so…can I clear the weights? Or…are you…"
"Yeah, fine." Damian said quickly, moving back to the rack and pulling the clips off the bar. "I was done."
"Awesome," Karen nodded awkwardly…and just kept nodding until somebody took the hint.
"I should—go!" Jo said suddenly. "Because I have a job to do. So…you look great, Karen, by the way. I can see why my brother is into you."
Damian and Karen cocked their heads in unison.
"Sorry—that was really weird," Jo admitted. "I'm Batgirl. I have to go."
/
"No, you have to keep your hands up," Anthony laughed, straightening his son's fingers. "Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker's—Duke! Come on, man! Focus up."
The boy had balled his hands into fists and had his right one back in his mouth before Anthony could finish the verse.
"Come on, D." Anthony repeated, shaking his head, but powerless against the smile that spread across his face as he watched his son's leg kick out haphazardly. "You're cute, but try to focus here, alright?"
Duke rolled his head to the side and trained his green eyes on the lamp in the corner, quietly examining it with the degree of awe one might feel watching a sunset.
Anthony followed his gaze, snorting before looking back at him. "Yeah, Buddy, I feel you. Lights are pretty awesome." He laid down next to the baby on the couch, nodding back over at it. "Edison didn't actually invent it; you know—the lightbulb. Really, Edison was approached by a German precision mechanic named Heinrich Gobel who'd put together a functional lightbulb back in 1854…" Anthony glanced down to see Duke hadn't dropped his gaze yet, so he continued. "And Edison, in effect, told him his invention was dumb—or, more specifically—that he saw no use for it. So anyway, Edison saw the design, innovated it by adding the carbonized bamboo filament, and…voila! Edison invented the lightbulb."
Duke lolled his head back, looking up at Anthony now with the same degree of wonder he employed looking at the light.
"That's right," Anthony nodded, "I can talk. That's pretty awesome too. And if you think that's cool…" he spread his fingers out in front of Duke's face and slowly changed his skin color from green to a more civilian-appropriate pink, earning a beaming smile from his son.
"I know, I know," Anthony laughed. "That'll have to tide you over until I figure out some dad jokes."
/
Does this fatass seriously think he can outrun me?
"I suggest you pump the brakes," Jo called after him as the man huffed and puffed around the corner.
She knew these rooftops like the back of her hand…or like the aesthetic lines of Damian's—oh my god, shut the fuck up, Jo!
Pulling herself up onto the next level by reaching a swift hand out and letting her momentum do the rest, she kicked upwards, yanking herself over the railing and contined her pursuit.
Jo could see him below her now, moving slower with each step, his feet landing heavily on the slick, wet metal of the roof.
"Idiot," she mumbled, launching off of her perch and landing just in front of him. "Boo."
He stumbled backwards, the fear in his eyes evident even in the dark and through the rain.
And then…he slipped. Well…he started to slip, Jo helped him seal the deal by kicking his legs out from under him, and he slid quickly down the roof, screaming—panicked—as he fell over the side, saving himself from certain death by grabbing hold of the gutter.
"Help me!" he pleaded.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you can't go from shooting at me, to running from me, to asking for my help just like that, alright?" Jo plopped down on her butt, dangling her feet over the ledge. She knew he wouldn't grab for her because he was clearly having trouble holding himself up with two arms, let alone one. "I've got some questions that need answering. Your answers will determine whether or not I'm in a helpful mood."
"What do you want?!" he yelled, his eyes wide with fear.
"Simple: I want to know where Bane's holed up." Jo told him, kicking her feet playfully, her whimsical body language establishing a bizarre juxtaposition accompanied by her menacing appearance.
"I don't know Bane! I don't know anything about him!"
"Are you lookin' to go splat, buddy?" Jo asked, slamming her first down only an inch away from where he was gripping the gutter. "I know you were the go-between for Bane and Franz." When his only response was a whimper, she pushed down on the gutter and a sickening creak sounded out. "Not sure your hand-hold's gonna be around much longer," she pointed out. "It's now or never."
"OK! Look, he's—there's an island in the bay," the man stammered. "It's remote—he bought out the estate—that's where he lives. I've been there! I can show you! Just—you just have to let me up. I'll take you there! Please, I've got kids!"
"And where are your kids?" Jo asked.
"What?"
"Your children—your son and your daughter," Jo reiterated. "Where are they?"
"How did you know—,"
"—where are your children?!" Jo roared, her question sounding even more threatening through her voice modulator.
"Ahh—with their Mother!" the man told her, still holding on for dear life. "She—she's got full custody!"
Jo kicked him in the side. "Why? Tell me the truth."
"Because she's a crazy bitch! What do you care?!"
Jo sighed, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, 'Crazy Bitch' was not on the board." She used her gloved fingers to trace lazy circles on his knuckles. "Actually, the answer I was looking for is 'I beat their Mother within an inch of her life, and she had the good sense to finally leave me'. But…we can't all be winners," Jo shrugged before lifting her leg up and slamming her boot down on the gutter, tearing it away from the building and sending the man plummeting to his death.
"Mmm whatcha say…" she sang as she watched him become street pizza.
/
"Bigly?" Pam raised an eyebrow. "That's not a word, Harleen."
"Sure it is," the blonde giggled, taking a sip of her wine. "And I get triple the points too. That's a big amount of points. I scored bigly."
"You sound—absolutely ridiculous," Pam held in a laugh, picking up her phone.
"Hey, no phones on Scrabble night! You know the rule," Harley complained.
"I'm looking it up," Pam smacked her wife's hand down as she tried to reach for the phone. "I'm not going to forfeit these points just because you told me to. There are rules to this game." She felt stupid even typing "bigly" into a google search.
"It's a word," Harley confidently assured, getting up to pour her another glass of sparkling water. Looking back from the fridge, she grinned at the disappointed look on Pam's face as she stared at her phone. "It's a word."
Pam groaned, locking her the screen and tossing it back onto the table. "It's a word—but!" she added before Harley could celebrate. "It has been banished, evidently. So, while you do, technically, win the argument, your victory is hollow and you should be ashamed."
"Then thank goodness my days of stringent morality are behind me," Harley snickered, sitting back down at the table and sliding Pam's glass over to her. "That's Jo's job now."
"Oh, yes," Pam chuckled, raising her glass. "And our daughter is nothing if not stringently moral."
Harley raised her glass as well. "To the erosion of the Bat-family's moral compass."
"And to Jo and Damian," Pam piggybacked. "The thought that triggers my gag reflex almost as quickly as the word 'bigly' and those who employ it in their everyday vocabulary."
Harley happily clinked their glasses together. "Cheers."
