Author's note: Hey folks, I hope you all had a great holiday season! Still trying to get back on track with my life and with writing, but with WW84 getting closer, I'm more and more determined to hopefully speed things up with thins story :)
Barry had asked them all once whose powers they'd choose if they could switch with someone in the League, or with whom they would like to trade with for a little while.
They were having dinner at the lake house, a few nights before Waller had called Bruce in for the meeting and the avalanche of events that Steve's return had caused was set into motion, and the mood was easy and relaxed, the conversations flowing smoothly. Even Bruce had cracked a smile or two, which, at the time, had felt like an achievement. Diana hadn't commented on it, though. Ever since the night when he had kissed her at the charity gala, their relationship had felt odd. Not awkward, but more like a ticking bomb about to go off, and she chose to tread carefully so as not to set it off with a careless step.
Barry's question had perked them all up. Alfred had paused his conversation with Victor and Arthur had looked up from his plate. A heated debate ensued, and Clark, who was not even present at the table, seemed to be a strong contestant for the most desirable powers. Even Alfred had weighed in, despite normally staying out of this sort of discussion, much to Diana's amusement – she would never have pegged him for someone who would want to join the ranks of the superheroes, knowing what he did about Bruce's lifestyle, and openly disapproving of certain parts of it.
Suggestions and speculations had been tossed around, with a bet or two placed on hypothetical scenarios. Bruce hadn't appreciated his wealth being the deciding factor for at least a few of them, and Arthur had claimed that he would never have relinquished his trident.
Diana had stayed out of the debate, perfectly content with who she was. Instead, she had watched them with a quiet pleasure and affection, allowing their words to float past her, grateful beyond words for these people who had found their way into her life. It was rare luck, she thought then, to be this blessed, this lucky. How rare and how wonderful it was to find kinship this deep, and after the years she had spent on her own, there was nothing that she treasured more.
But that was a couple of months ago, and if someone asked her now, she would probably gladly trade her sword and her lasso and everything that came along with them for Barry's ability to run through time so she could go back to the moment shortly before dawn when she had woken up, warm and drowsy, and ridiculously comfortable despite having barely moved for hours. Still pressed into Steve's body, her head was on his chest that was rising and falling slowly as he breathed. Content.
Back to the moment before her phone had started to buzz somewhere in the pocket of her jacket. She had never gotten around to checking it the previous night, first thinking that Steve was heading to Gotham and not wanting to speak to anyone else, and then having him back and not needing to do it. Before she saw Bruce's name flashing on the screen and found some seriously bad news waiting for her. Before she knew that he had already sent his jet for them, knowing that she would want to return to Gotham immediately. Back to the moment when the world was still and her heart was at peace.
There was no trace of peace left in her now. Instead, she was pacing the length of the cabin of Bruce's business jet; too restless to sit still, too wired to be able to think clearly. The jet was spacious enough, made to comfortably accommodate at least a dozen people, but it made Diana feel claustrophobic and trapped nonetheless, uneasy in the confined space where she could do nothing but wait.
She paused by the screen mounted on the wall that was showing the map of their route and estimated time remaining, the seconds ticking away far too slowly for her liking. Her fingers clenched into fists. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcing her hands to relax.
"You're worried," Steve spoke, walking over to her.
He ran his palm back and forth over the small of her back and Diana leaned into his touch, soothed despite herself. Despite the storm of her inner turmoil.
He had spent the past hour making a nice show of pretending to read a magazine he had found in the business lounge, but she could feel his restlessness, too, throbbing in his veins and making the air around them charged with anticipation and unease.
She, at least, knew what they were dealing with. He didn't, and she knew it left him disoriented.
"I am," she didn't argue.
"Well, at least you're here." He tucked a strand of hair that had escaped the loose twist behind her ear. "I thought Pierre was going to tie you up and hold you hostage."
Diana smiled, unable to help it. "I think he would have, if it crossed his mind to try."
She hadn't yet told Steve – who had spent the morning packing and calling Alfred about the footage reconstruction – that there had been a brief moment after she had broken the news to Pierre when she had thought that he was going to have a stroke. Diana was fully aware that her assistant was perfectly capable of handling the opening of the upcoming exhibition, but when a sudden 'family emergency' came up, he had looked like she was throwing him under a bus.
She took pity on him (all while wishing with all her heart that the catering and the RSVPs that had not been received yet were an epitome of her concerns) and promised him that he could call her anytime. Something that she knew she was going to regret, perhaps. Probably very soon.
Steve let out a small laugh and shook his head. "I bet he would have loved that. Did he blame me?"
"On the inside, maybe," she conceded.
He caught her gaze and held it.
"Okay, so… if it's not work, what is it?"
She should have known that playing casual wasn't going to fly with him. He was too damn perceptive for his own good.
Diana rubbed her forehead.
"The gauntlet," she admitted. "That it went missing a few days before Lex Luthor escaped from the prison… It can't be a coincidence, Steve."
Steve's brows knitted together, his fingers flexed almost imperceptibly, still anchored on the small of her back.
"Wait, you think he has something to do with it?" he asked. "But he was in that place—"
"The Arkham Asylum."
"Yeah."
"It's a psychiatric hospital, and… truth be told, I doubt that people like him ever need to do the dirty work themselves."
Lex Luthor might have been thinking that he was a man ahead of his time - a visionary and a dreamer with ambitions larger than life itself - but Diana had spent a century dealing with men exactly like him. Drunk on power and greedy for more, never satisfied with what they had. Half the time it was not even about the money, but about control. About submission. She knew that they seldom learned from their mistakes or wrongdoings, blinded by their egos, and if her brief acquaintance with Lex was any indication, it was not likely that escape was his end goal.
If she was right – and she hoped with all her might that she was not – and it was Lex who had orchestrated the break-in, then they were up against something horrific. It wouldn't be just the power that the Claw of Horus could offer that he was after, but revenge – against her, Bruce, Clark. Waller, perhaps. Everyone who had gotten in the way the first time around, landing him in the Arkham Asylum in the first place. Men like him were fueled by their own wretched idea of justice.
She stepped away from Steve, trying not to think just yet of how cunning someone wounded and wronged might feel. Or how their instinct would likely be to hit where it would hurt the most. And Bruce was right, Steve was her weakness. If Lex was to come after them, he would come for the person she loved more than anything else in the world, with or without the gauntlet. But she couldn't think about it just yet. Not when her head was starting to feel like it was about to explode.
"Diana," Steve called, still standing right where she had left him.
She looked up at him.
He looked worried but not about himself. He was worried about her, which was absurd, but she understood it. Worried about the people who might end up being collateral damage in the games of a madman. But his face was open, earnest, his heart hers for the taking, and the look on his face made something clench fiercely inside of her.
Diana thought of the promises they had made to one other, whispered into flushed skin between hasty kisses, in the moments when they had meant every word that they spoke. Promises to love forever and to never, ever, leave.
She moved to him. "I might be wrong," she said, clinging to the sliver of hope that still lived in the back of her mind.
Lex Luthor was a man she could handle. Lex Luthor as a superhuman with an endless source of power? Quite frankly, that was something that Diana didn't want to imagine.
Steve nodded but he didn't reach for her, even though she knew he wanted to. Instead, he slid his hands into the pockets of his pants. Diana tried not to look too disappointed.
"But?" he prompted her. "I feel like there's a but coming."
She sighed.
"You saw his name on the documents we got from Darrell Quinn," she reminded him. "I asked Lois to have a closer look." She couldn't help but smile when his brows arched in approval, wishing she had told him about this sooner, but it had never felt significant before. "It appears that Lex has been involved with Quinn for years, mostly charity and sponsorship, but other things too."
"Didn't you think that Quinn wasn't involved?" Steve frowned a little, two faint lines creasing his forehead.
She nodded. "I still do."
"But you think that Lex used him," Steve finished and rubbed his neck, catching on. "Makes sense, actually."
"What?" It was Diana's turn to furrow her brow in confusion.
"When he was arrested after that incident with…"
"Doomsday."
"Right. His assets had to have been seized," he explained. "Darrell Quinn said that the painting you recognized was a gift. It's probably not unreasonable to assume that if Lex saw his eventual downfall coming, he would create a safety cushion of sorts. Long-term insurance, if you please. I don't doubt that he has a bank account or a few that Waller never got her hands on, but also with his physical assets—say, he gave away some of his most valued possessions planning to come back and collect them later. No one would suspect a man who willingly donated those items of stealing them back. Or reclaiming them some other way."
Diana listened to him, his voice measured and sure. He couldn't know any of that for sure, but his theory was solid and seemingly well-thought through. She wondered if this was what he had spent the past couple of hours pondering, which, in turn, made her wonder what else was on his mind.
To her, Steve was, first and foremost, the man that she loved, the one who made her feel cherished and adored and treasured beyond anything she had ever experienced. The man who made her smile without even trying, who made her laugh, who knew everything there was to know about her and still accepted her without judgement or prejudices. Which made it easy to forget sometimes that he was also a spy, had been since before Diana knew him. A spy with a sharp mind who could keep cool and analytical under pressure. Who, not yet knowing much of the world he'd been shoved into by Amanda Waller, was more than likely to offer an opinion none of them would think of simply by thinking outside of the box.
By playing her games, Waller, in all probability, had given the League the best person to work with.
And if that wasn't a definition of irony, Diana didn't know what was.
"I wouldn't peg him for someone who thinks through the consequences of his actions," she murmured.
Steve shrugged. "Haven't met the guy, but if he was smart enough to cook up a whole new monster from scratch, he would probably be smart enough to consider the possibility of failing. And taking some precautions."
"I wouldn't necessarily call it from scratch ."
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
And Steve was right. Lex was resourceful. If he wanted to get his hands on the Claw of Horus, he would find a way and someone greedy enough to do it for him. Up until this moment, Diana had been certain that the gauntlet was still in Europe, maybe even in Paris, in the possession of someone who might not even know what to do with it. She had assumed that it wouldn't be easy to transport something like that unnoticed by the authorities. But here she and Steve were, on a private plane. They could have fit a lot more than a war bracelet here if needed be.
That certainly complicated things.
There must have been something on her face, more concern than she had thought she was showing, because Steve stepped toward her, crowding her space. So close that she could feel his heart beating without even touching him.
Diana was the first to reach for him, palms sliding flat up his chest. She was still not used to having him back. Even several weeks later, it still felt raw and new, stealing her breath away and making her pulse stutter when she least expected it, making it hard to focus on anything else. When the time came, and the fight became inevitable, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't be a distraction in a battle - never had been - but he was now, and she loved it. Loved the closeness and the way he watched her, giving her time to open up and come to him on her own terms. Ever the patient one.
She moved her hand to rest on the back of his neck and then, unable to resist the urge, leaned forward and kissed him the way she had wanted to kiss him that morning, in the soft light when she had first awoken. The way she would have kissed him if Bruce's call hadn't pulled her out of the haze of contentment and into the harsh reality.
He responded eagerly, without hesitation, his tongue slipping between her parted lips, making her yearn for so much more. Need lurched through her, the suddenness and intensity of it making Diana's breath hitch. Her fingers curled over a fistful of his shirt, a low hum of approval forming in the back of her throat. She shivered when one of Steve's hands slipped under the hem of her blouse, pressing into her skin and making her heartbeat stutter once more.
He was the first to draw back, breathless, his chest heaving. He kissed her cheekbone, her temple, his fingers flexing on her skin.
"For what it's worth, you still have me," he breathed, only half-joking.
"It's worth a lot," Diana said, her fingers fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Her eyes flicked toward the map on the screen next to them. "We move so slowly it's maddening," she muttered.
Steve followed her gaze, his fingers still anchored on the base of her spine beneath her shirt, moving along her skin back and forth.
"Would it be faster if you flew?"
She turned to him, confused for a moment. "Oh, you mean—Maybe," she admitted, and smiled. "But probably colder." Steve arched an eyebrow at her, and she added, "For you."
He chuckled. "We should try that sometime. Skip the passport control lines and all that."
Diana scratched her nails through his hair at the nape of his neck. She rested her forehead to his. "Two weeks. Less than two weeks was all we've got, and we're right back to where we started."
He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger. "We've had it worse," he reminded her, although it hardly sounded like an enviable achievement.
"We've had it better, too," Diana countered. "What was our best streak?"
"A few months," Steve murmured. "Remember Greece?"
"I do."
In his opinion, Greece was the closest thing to Themyscira to exist in his world, and so he had taken her there to see if he was right. Diana had loved it, the history hanging in the air and filtering through every crack in the old walls; cobbled streets and the food that somewhat reminded her of home, even though it felt like a dream now. She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that they had, in fact, had some time to themselves once. Enough of it for them to find their balance again.
Steve cleared his throat. "We've got some time now," he noted matter-of-factly.
Diana tilted her head, her lips twitching as she pressed them together around a smile.
"I don't think Bruce would appreciate if we…" she trailed off, an eyebrow arched.
"Well, we could, ah… play Go Fish or Charades for the next four hours," he conceded smoothly.
She laughed. "Charades?"
"Hey, the British Intelligence didn't pick me to be their spy for nothing," he protested, offended by her amusement.
"They picked you because you're good at Charades," she echoed, skeptical.
"No, not because I'm good at—" Steve huffed and rubbed his eyes. "You know what? Never mind."
He let go of her and stepped away, but Diana's hand darted to curl around his wrist. She drew him back to her, fingers burying in his hair, turning his face to hers until his eyes were all she could see. His gaze dropped down to her month. She watched him drag it up to meet her gaze once more, and not without effort, too. Could see the heat in his eyes that made her shiver.
"I didn't say no," she whispered.
Steve kissed her then, sure and purposeful. And suddenly, nothing was funny anymore.
"Come with me," he murmured against her lips.
He twined his fingers with hers and took one step toward the couch lining one wall of the cabin, and then another.
This time, Diana followed him without protest.
xoox
Gotham, 2017
It was Alfred who answered the door after one of Wayne's chauffeurs brought them to the lake house at close to 2 in the morning. Steve stared at Alfred's dark-blue robe and slippers, realizing that in all of his time there, he had never seen Bruce's butler wearing anything but pristine, perfectly tailored suits and pressed shirts. Quite frankly, he wouldn't have been surprised if Alfred wore them to bed as well. It was absurd, of course, but the robe did catch him off-guard.
"Ms. Prince," the older man said when Diana stepped into the foyer. "It's good to have you back."
"It's good to be back," Diana smiled at him. "Did we wake you? It's late, I'm sorry. Perhaps, we should have gone to a hotel—"
"Nonsense," Alfred stopped her with a shake of his head. "It is no bother at all. And we're always happy to have you. Your old room is at your disposal for as long as you need it."
She nodded and squeezed his arm. "Thank you, Alfred. For the plane, and the car."
A black limousine had been waiting for them on the tarmac when they had landed an hour ago, sleek and shiny like it had never encountered a puddle in its life. Steve had whistled quietly under his breath as he followed Diana down the steps and towards it, shoulders hunched against the angry wind that had greeted them the moment the door opened. No one could accuse Bruce Wayne of not being classy.
"You're welcome. The jet was Master Wayne's idea," Alfred pointed out, but his features softened.
"I will make sure to thank him," Diana promised. "Is he around?"
The butler shook his head. "Patrolling. He should be back soon." Alfred's eyes moved past her shoulder and fixed on Steve who had set his bag on the floor near Diana's suitcase and closed the front door behind them. "Captain Trevor."
Steve flashed a smile at him, surprised by the amount of comfortable familiarity of the moment. Diana… Diana was home, so to speak, but it had been a while since anyone else knew him for who he really was. Not since the last of his war friends had died. And Steve realized that he had missed it, the simple reassurance of being recognized and accepted. Maybe Bruce wasn't his biggest fan and maybe Alfred's loyalty lay with the man he had raised, but it was not nothing. For all Steve knew, this was the start.
"Alfred," he greeted. "Good to see you."
Alfred nodded. "How was the flight?" he asked.
"It was…" Steve started and faltered.
It wasn't curiosity. It was the small talk that people tended to play into because social conventions dictated so, but he still felt the back of his neck grow hot. He doubted that Bruce's butler wanted to know just how spectacular a good chunk of said trip was, exactly.
It was, hands down, the best flight Steve could think of, and not only because the pilot had let him mess around with the controls before they took off, when Steve's curiosity had gotten the best of him.
He cleared his throat and busied himself with unnecessarily rearranging their scant three-bag luggage.
"Good," he muttered in a voice that he hoped passed at least somewhat for even. "Yeah, it was good."
He ignored Diana's knowing smirk, praying to all gods that Alfred didn't notice it.
All three of them turned around when Barry shuffled out of the kitchen, dressed in a Superman t-shirt and red sweatpants, a bowl of… cereal? in hands. Steve's lips twitched and he pressed them together.
Barry's face lit up the second he spotted them.
"Hey, Di," he smiled as he skidded to a halt.
One didn't need to be good at reading people to see how much the Flash adored her. And that the feeling was very much mutual.
"Hello, Barry." Diana stepped toward him and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. She ran her hand up and down his arm. "I missed you."
And maybe it was just the light in the foyer but Steve would have sworn that he saw Barry blush a pretty deep shade of red. He bit his lip to resist the urge to ask her to go easy on the affection, lest she send poor speedster into cardiac arrest.
"I bet," Barry grinned. "But I missed you, too." He showed a spoonful of food into his mouth and glanced past her. "Hey, Steve."
Steve gave him a small wave.
"Did Clark lend you this?" He gestured at Barry and the giant S spread across his chest.
The young man glanced down at his outfit. "Nah," he grunted around a mouthful of his snack. Chewed. Swallowed. Looked down again, his eyebrows pulled together. "I don't think it's his size," he added, completely missing the joke. His eyes darted between Steve and Diana. "Sorry we interrupted your honeymoon."
Steve felt the heat creep up his cheeks. "It wasn't—" he pinched the bridge of his nose. "It wasn't a—a honeymoon." He turned to Diana for help but she only raised an eyebrow at him, curious to see where he was going.
If only he knew...
"Either way, you probably kept busy," Barry noted dismissively. And then it was his turn to turn scarlet once more, his eyes widening in horror when he realized what they were talking about, and in Diana's presence, no less. "I didn't mean it like…" he stammered hastily.
"So, have you moved in?" Steve asked quickly, in an attempt to direct the conversation elsewhere and save them all from this honest-to-god nightmare.
"Huh?" Barry blinked at him.
Steve gestured vaguely around and shrugged.
"Oh, here, no," Barry shook his head. "But Bruce's never around," he explained eagerly. "And Alfred is lonely."
He even moved closer to Alfred for good measure and added some artful sympathy to his gaze.
"I am certainly not," Alfred said, turning to the young man. "We spoke about this, Master Allen."
"It's okay, Alfred," Barry patted him on the shoulder. "We all get lonely now and then, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not…" Alfred started but stopped abruptly and resigned to merely rubbing the corners of his eyes. Evidently, they had had this conversation before and he was not inclined to go there again. He glanced at the bowl in Barry's hands instead. "Late dinner or early breakfast?" he inquired.
"A midnight snack," Barry grinned. "I'm a growing boy."
Diana laughed. "You sure are."
Alfred turned to Steve, clearly choosing to ignore Barry from then on. "About our earlier discussion, Captain," he began, and Steve felt his smile slip. "I started the process, but it might take some time."
Steve glanced at Diana whose brows creased ever so slightly.
He turned back to the older man. "Thank you, Alfred, I really appreciate it," he said sincerely.
"Wait, what process?" Barry piped up, his eyes darting between the three of them.
Diana shook her head. "Tomorrow," she promised.
Barry's puzzled expression remained intact but he didn't argue.
Alfred nodded. "It is quite late indeed," he said.
"Alfred, do you think I should—" she began, glancing toward the staircase leading to the Batcave.
"No," he said decisively. "If there was an issue, we'd know. Master Wayne should be back soon. I think what we all need is to get some rest. You have had a long day, Ms. Prince, and based on our past experience with Master Luthor, our hands might be full in the near future."
Diana's eyes flicked to Steve briefly. "Yes, that might be best," she agreed.
"I will see you in the morning," Alfred said, his tone allowing no room for argument.
"No, really, what process?" Steve heard Barry ask in a loud whisper as he followed Diana down the hallway.
Her room was dark and quiet, illuminated by nothing but the faint glow of the perimeter lights filtering through thin curtains on the glass wall overlooking the lake. This far away, out of the reach of the city lights, the blackness outside was nearly all-consuming.
It took them a total of ten minutes to get ready for bed as they moved easily around one another, following their familiar routines.
Stripped down to his boxers, Steve slid under the covers that were soft and crisp and clean. Egyptian cotton, if he was not mistaken. But they didn't smell like Diana's sheets, and it made him miss Paris something fierce. He exhaled slowly when his head touched the pillow, the relief of being able to lie down almost overwhelming. Diana pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall in a black waterfall down her back, and climbed into the bed from the other side. She rolled onto her side to face him, her eyes moving over his features, but didn't move any closer.
Steve turned his head to look at her, taking in as much of her features as he could make out in near-complete darkness.
"That's too far away," he whispered, longing for her to the point of an ache in his bones.
His hand fell on the pillow between them, palm up, and Diana reached for it, weaving her fingers through his.
"It still feels so new," she murmured softly. "I've known you for a century, Steve, and it still feels like it only has just started."
He considered her words.
"Do you think it would've been different if I—if we had stayed together?" he asked.
"No," she replied immediately and without hesitation. "It would have always felt this way."
He wanted to ask her if she was worried about Lex being on the run and maybe cooking up another monster in some bunker. Or about Bruce being out there alone and if her suggestion to go join him was because there was strength in numbers and they all needed that more than anything else right now. That, and maybe a miracle. He wanted to say that he was sorry that she had to miss the event at the museum that he knew was really important to her, because his people kept screwing up.
Instead, he said, "It's always felt like that to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
"I wouldn't have it any other way, either," Diana smiled.
Steve ran his thumb over her knuckles. "You think it's ever going to wear off?"
She squeezed his fingers and shook her head a little. "Not even after a thousand years."
He tugged lightly at the knot of their hands and whispered, "C'mere."
She didn't resist this time, moving across the mattress and into his embrace. Not even after a thousand years … He felt his lips curl into a smile. This was the kind of sentiment that he rarely allowed himself to feel, or speak out loud, for that matter. But coming from her, it made him wonder absently how a century of his life on this Earth could feel like such a long time, but a thousand years with her somehow didn't seem like quite enough.
Arm wrapped around Diana, her hand resting on his sternum, Steve pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing in the fresh scent of linen and soap clinging to them after the shower they had shared. He allowed his eyes to drop shut, his body and senses soothed by her presence, and her heartbeat thumping against his skin.
"Diana?"
"Hm?"
"D'you think you could get me a good deal on a Wonder Woman shirt or something?" he asked quietly.
Her quiet laughter was the last thing he heard before he drifted to sleep.
xoox
Even after all his years as Batman, Bruce had yet to decide what nights were worse – those that left him battered and bruised and beaten up within an inch of his life, or those that felt like a complete waste of time on account of nothing happening in the city. Not even some petty robbery to make pulling on his suit worth it.
Although most of the time, either scenario was a decent enough distraction to keep his mind from straying where Bruce didn't want it to be. All his life, he knew exactly what he wanted, and how to get it. His response to the proverbial Money can't buy happiness had always been Everything has a price . And almost everything had, indeed . And, truth be told, happiness hardly had a fixed definition. And then, his arrogance had been shattered by a man who should have been dead for a hundred years and the look on Diana's face when he walked into Amanda Waller's office.
She had never promised him anything and Bruce wasn't delusional enough to think that they really had a long-term shot at anything substantial. The League aside, they lived in two different worlds and if he was honest with himself, he was not likely to put more effort into their relationship - had it ever happened - than in any of those that came before it.
Yet, willingly or unwillingly, he wanted her, and he was quite certain that Diana was very much aware of it. And if her long-lost Captain hadn't made a surprise appearance, Bruce was more or less sure that something would have happened between them eventually. Maybe.
How foolish he was to assume .
As it was, she was in Paris catching up on years of something he wasn't even sure could be defined with words, while Bruce spent most of his nights perched of some roof like a gargoyle, trying oh so very hard not to picture what she and Steve Trevor were engaged in, exactly, and knowing that he would quite possibly sell his very soul without thinking twice if only it allowed him to swap places with that man. To be on the receiving end of her smiles and the casual brush of her hand whenever they were close enough to touch.
Ridiculously, when the news of Lex's escape broke out last night, followed by a detailed report on the injuries sustained by the Arkham guards that got in his way, it felt almost like a relief. Or it would have, if only it wasn't for a pin-prickling sensation that Bruce couldn't quite shake off. Like someone was watching his every step, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see who it was, and it made him even more paranoid and anxious. He backtracked once, twice, until he knew he wasn't being followed, yet the feeling persisted.
By the time the Batmobile had finally rolled into the garage, it was close to 3 in the morning and Bruce's earlier alertness had morphed into weariness that was pressing down on him like a pile of bricks. The one thing he wanted at that moment was to wash off the rubbery scent of the Batsuit from his skin and fall into bed for twelve hours, hoping for a dreamless sleep.
He killed the engine, plunging the cavernous space into a nearly uncomfortable silence. He lifted the door and climbed out of his car, choosing to ignore the tightness in his back, his hand reaching to pull his cowl off, finding it oddly suffocating tonight.
The lights were dimmed in the house for the night; however, when he looked up, he saw Alfred walking down the stairs. Halfway down, he stopped when he spotted Bruce.
"Thought I heard you come in, Master Wayne," Alfred said, his voice carrying across the distance between them, clear under the high ceiling.
Bruce ran his hand over his hair, not certain if it was helping to smooth it down or making it worse. Not that it mattered, strictly speaking.
"You shouldn't have stayed up," he noted, heading towards one of the workstations to turn the alarm back on.
Steve Trevor had upgraded it before he and Diana had left for France a couple of weeks ago, and as much as Bruce hated to admit it, the man clearly knew what he was doing. But even so, it felt flimsy somehow, in the face of a maniac with a flair for dramatics and a taste for petty vengeance running around Gotham. He wasn't scared of Lex Luthor and his antics, but he didn't trust the man who had stopped at nothing before, and probably wasn't going to start using his brain now.
Still, there was a certain satisfaction in seeing the indicators on the screen go from red to green. Somehow, even the tightness in his chest eased.
Alfred slid his hands into the pockets of his robe. "I wasn't planning to," he said evenly in a voice that spoke volumes of his attitude towards Bruce's life choices. "But Ms. Prince has arrived."
Bruce, who was in the process of taking off his gloves, paused halfway into the task. He didn't look up.
"I see."
"Together with Captain Trevor," Alfred added.
Bruce nodded.
Of course. They were a package deal now and he might as well get used to it, but there still was a pang of disappointment in his chest. A reminder of losing something that he never even had.
Maybe that was the problem, he thought absently. Not knowing how it could have or would have worked out if only they had a chance to give it a try. Maybe he would have cared less if he had already taken Diana to bed and his yearning for her had been satisfied. Maybe he wouldn't have cared at all if he wasn't left wondering, and knowing that he would never know for sure.
At the very least, he could pretend that this line of thinking made sense.
Slowly, he pulled his gloves off and dropped them onto the nearest desk.
"Any luck tonight, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked, knowing not to push.
Bruce shook his head. "No, but I didn't exactly expect to run into him in a corner store. He is probably holed up somewhere, lying in wait."
"You'd look ridiculous in a corner store wearing this." The older man gestured at Bruce's bat suit with a wide swipe of his hand.
Bruce's lips twitched.
"But who's to say I don't know how to make an entrance?"
"I don't think anyone has ever said that," Alfred pointed out. "Master Stone will be coming in in the morning," he added. "Have you spoken with Master Kent?"
"No," Bruce started towards him. "But seeing as how our last encounter with Lex ended for him, I'm sure he knows what's going on here." One last glance over his shoulder, and he turned off the lights, plunging the Batcave into a semi-darkness dispersed only by the glow of a few screens. "Is Barry here?"
Alfred nodded. "Yes, and on account of that, our pantry is empty."
"You're not really worried about food, are you, Alfred?"
The older man looked seriously at him when Bruce paused a few steps below him. "No. I am worried about Master Luthor's intentions towards all of you. It's like you said, Master Wayne, your last run-in wasn't something to be desired for. It stands to reason that he might try harder this time."
Now that Lex knew what he was up against, Bruce finished in his mind.
Alfred was right, but he chose not to say it out loud.
xoox
Steve woke up at the crack of dawn, his head heavy and his eyes full of sand. He couldn't have been asleep for more than several hours, and it felt like he'd only drifted off minutes ago. The day outside the massive window was grey and gloomy, wisps of fog crawling along the surface of the lake and the low overcast clouds promised rain, or maybe even snow later in the day. Even looking at the trees swaying in the frigid wind outside made him shiver.
He blinked blearily and rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn as he rolled onto his back. He reached for Diana on the other side of the bed with the intention of tucking her into the curve of his body and hopefully falling asleep for another hour or two. However, the spot next to him was empty, the sheets cold.
Steve blinked his eyes open properly, his mind alert. He frowned and lifted his head, craning his neck to look around the room that was half-drowning in the early-morning shadows.
For a brief moment, he hoped that maybe Diana was in the bathroom, about to return and crawl back into his arms. That plan, however, shattered before his eyes when he spotted her standing by the dresser wearing black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, fastening the strap of her own watch around her wrist.
For a moment, Steve found himself transfixed, his eyes moving over her body, so familiar in just about every way he could think of and yet something he was not likely to ever get used to, or take for granted, for that matter.
Since when did she wear a watch? Yes, she used to wear his, he remembered, but this was different. This was the woman who didn't think that letting a small thing tell her what to do, or when. He wondered what had caused the change, a quick jolt of regret flaring up in his chest over missing it.
And then she turned to him, perhaps noticing him staring at her in the mirror, and smiled. And just like that, everything else melted away.
"Steve."
He liked that. Liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, familiar and a little possessive.
"You gotta stop doing that," Steve murmured sleepily.
He had a long and pretty detailed list of things that he strongly detested. Like lukewarm coffee and cold showers and mosquitoes, and everything he had to go through in boot camp – like 5 am wake-up calls and 10-mile runs. However, waking up without Diana in bed next to him was pretty close to the top of it. Steve had had 67 years' worth of mornings without her. Frankly, he'd be perfectly fine with it never happening again for as long as he breathed.
He ran a hand over his face, desperate to clear the web of weariness still clinging to his brain. "What's going on?" he asked, alarmed momentarily by the possibility of something having gone terribly wrong while they were sleeping.
"Nothing." Diana shook her head, her voice soft, easy. She walked over to the bed and knelt before it, leaning closer to him. "I have an errand to run."
Steve's eyebrow quirked. "No," he shook his head, feeling his mouth curve into a grin. "You have to take your clothes off and come back here." He patted the spot next to him with his hand for good measure.
She bit back a smile and reached over to sweep her fingers through his hair. "Sleep. I'll be back before breakfast."
He felt his brows knit together. "What's so urgent that it needs to be done before breakfast?"
"I'll tell you later," she promised.
"Or… you could tell me now."
Her hand slipped down to curl over his cheek, her eyes found his. "Do you trust me, Steve?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation. Always .
She smiled softly. "Then sleep. I will explain when I'm back."
Steve nodded. And then once more. If it was something serious, she would have told him, he reasoned.
Diana leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you," she whispered into his skin.
He thought of how easy it would have been to wrap his arms around her and pull her into bed with him, to bury his face into the curve of her neck and feel the flutter of her pulse against his cheek. There were comfort and familiarity and devotion to every touch they had shared, and in the light of the storm heading their way, he craved nothing more than to hold on to the sliver of normalcy while they still had it.
But then she was pulling away from him and standing up, and he found himself missing her terribly even before she had left the room. When the door closed behind Diana, he thought absently about getting out of the bed and following her. Surely, she wouldn't have minded him running errands with her, whatever that might be at 7 in the bloody morning. He blinked, watching the door. And then again, slower, his eyelids heavy, and by the time one of Bruce's cars rolled out of the garage with a soft purr, he was already fast asleep.
xoox
Amanda Waller was scared. Really and truly, down to her bones, terrified. She was not used to the feeling, and putting the predicament that she had found herself in aside, the feeling stirred uneasiness in the pit of her stomach.
In all of her time as the Director of A.R.G.U.S., she had made plenty of mistakes, from small miscalculations that went unnoticed to missteps that had led to her graceless downfall in the eyes of her superiors. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, the Suicide Squad fiasco hadn't been the worst idea she had ever had, and truth be told, given some time, she could think of stories far more impressive than what had unfolded in Midway City when all hell broke loose. It was just the most recent of said bad ideas. Or at least, it had been, until the attention of the press had switched to whatever went down in S.T.A.R. Labs. Now, it was only a matter of time before someone decided to point their finger in her direction for lack of a better idea.
And it wasn't even her fault, for God's sake. For once, she could claim with the clear consciousness that she had nothing to do with whatever had happened to those ex-soldiers. Yet, it had happened in her city, right under her nose, and she'd be damned if she would let any information leak to the press, because if it did, there was no coming back from it. They would eat her alive.
Well, the good thing was that Waller knew exactly how to patch up all of her wrongdoings and get back in the good graces of her superiors again. If she brought in the Justice League, if she was the one to get them to cooperate with the government voluntarily and willingly and on their own accord – more or less, at least – she knew that many of her faults and missteps would be forgiven and forgotten. After the Capitol building collapsed around Superman, the public had been getting exponentially more and more anxious about having superheroes on the loose. Superheroes who were just as likely to destroy them, as they were to save them.
And frankly, she had seen enough to not trust Batman and his merry company not to screw it all up. The only thing that distinguished him from Joker and his like was some flimsy sense of morality that Waller didn't believe could hold in the face of real threats. She couldn't afford for the League to turn on the world the first chance they got, and she didn't trust them to keep maintaining their integrity when choosing the dark side was so easy.
Her first mistake with that task was that she had assumed, naively so, that it would be an easy one to accomplish. That the promise of good publicity and thinly veiled threats were going to do magic and pave her way straight to their eager cooperation. She thought that dangling Steve Trevor – who was blatantly breaking his agreement with her, damn it – in front of Wonder Woman's face would make Waller a hero in the other woman's eyes.
She should have known better.
And, as of right now, she could expertly acknowledge that her second mistake was underestimating them.
Which was how Amanda Waller had ended up being pinned against the door of her office at the A.R.G.U.S. headquarters, with Diana Prince's hand around her throat and her world blurring around the edges from fear and shortness of breath.
There were not many days in the past two decades when Waller had wished she had stayed in bed and let the world keep on spinning, but today was starting to look like a strong contestant for the top spot, climbing with each passing moment.
It wasn't often that she was scared, and on the rare moments when a twinge of fear would make itself known in the pit of her stomach, she knew how not to show it. Not to express any sign of vulnerability lest she give the other party an upper hand, a weak spot for an attack. But quite frankly, she couldn't care less for the pretences now.
It had started out with a phone call she had received from Bruce Wayne an hour ago, asking for an audience. Against her better judgement, Waller got curious. He rarely wanted anything from her, and he never asked , in the past, and that should have been her first clue. The second one, one that she shouldn't have ignored, had been the switched-off alarm system when she had entered the building, but she had foolishly written it off to not being the first person at work for once, and, to be completely honest, Waller was too happy to have spent the night in her own bed and not at her desk to care.
In retrospect, she shouldn't have been surprised to find none other than Diana Prince in her office – inside of her office – when she pushed the door open, the order for her assistant to go get her coffee, pronto , already on the tip of her tongue. Earlier, when her alarm didn't go off, and her coffee maker didn't start as programmed - and when it did, she managed to spill the cup of what was meant to make her day better on her beige pantsuit, Amanda Waller chose not to expect much from the day.
So far, it seemed to be delivering splendidly.
Diana, who had been standing by the window and watching the traffic flow outside, turned around when Waller walked in.
"We need to talk," she said.
Just like that. The tone of her voice – like she assumed that Waller was there to dance to her tune, no questions asked, and maybe even curtsey a little – made Waller's hackles stand on end.
"How did you get here?" she asked, choosing to forgo the pleasantries.
"If you want to keep people out, you might want to consider a better security system," Diana responded evenly.
She looked different in regular clothes, Waller noted absently. Unusual, when you knew what to look for. When you had already seen what she was capable of and knew what was hiding behind the façade. Waller was far more used to blurry images of red and blue armour rimmed with gold than the flesh and blood person with sharp eyes and regal posture. Much like the last time they had met, Waller almost expected Diana to be, well, more .
(In the future, she would know to never make that mistake again.)
An eyebrow arched, Waller studied her guest for a moment. "Alright, let's talk," she agreed, choosing to cut straight to the chase. She had a long day ahead of her and whatever this was, she wasn't sure she wanted to deal with it, period, so the sooner she got the conversation out of the way, the sooner she would be able to contact the security department and have someone fired for letting a stranger break into her office in broad daylight. "Do you have a specific topic in mind or just the general state of current affairs?"
Diana regarded her for a few moments, as if surprised to meet no resistance. Amanda Waller – 1, Wonder Woman – 0. Not that anyone was keeping score.
"I believe we have some things to discuss," Diana said.
"Then you should have called and made an appointment, like everyone else."
"I believe I did."
And maybe it was the early hour and the lack of proper sleep, but Waller could have sworn that there was a smile in the other woman's voice even though her expression betrayed little emotion.
She couldn't help but wonder how it worked between her and Steve Trevor, the whole relationship thing. Did it work? Waller found it hard to imagine it, to imagine the person standing before her being anything but the woman who could tear down buildings with her bare hands and create sonic blasts with her magical gauntlets, whatever that was all about. She could hardly see Diana as anything human, let alone anything… well, in love.
"I wasn't expecting you. If I remember correctly, it was Mr. Wayne who requested the meeting."
"Bruce is busy," Diana shrugged.
Waller walked over to her desk and set her purse down. Diana unnerved her. She was a wild card, more so than the rest of them. Loyal and noble and all things perfect, she was the least likely to be swayed into being under someone's control, especially the US government, Waller suspected. What Diana might need to discuss with the Director of A.R.G.U.S. was a mystery, and no matter how much Waller tried to guess, her mind kept coming up blank.
Which left her even more frustrated than the whole break-in situation, and the latter was bad enough.
"You don't seem like the kind of person who runs his errands," Waller noted.
"I'm not," Diana responded. "The call was a favour."
Waller didn't say anything, choosing to merely stare at her. Her stares tended to have a spectacular effect, making her subordinates fidget and squirm under her heavy scrutiny. Making it possible for her to ask questions and obtain information without having to say a word.
Diana Prince didn't appear to be affected.
"The S.T.A.R. Labs," Diana began, nonetheless, when another moment had passed, but Waller had still said nothing. "Was it you?"
"Which part?"
"Did you authorize the project to make those people into—"
"Someone like you?" Waller offered helpfully. "No, I did not."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care." She could feel the mother of all headaches starting to build in the back of her skull, and her workday hadn't even started officially yet. Wouldn't for another hour. "Go ask Cyborg. He's the one who's been lurking in our system for the past two weeks."
Would it be too unprofessional to pull out the bottle of bourbon that she kept hidden in the bottom drawer of her desk and pout herself a glass at 8 in the morning? A cup of coffee would also do, but it didn't seem like it was an option.
Waller's lips twitched a little when she saw that Diana had raised a curious eyebrow at her, clearly impressed. "What? You thought we wouldn't notice systematic data breaches? Give me some credit, Ms. Prince…" She paused. "Is that what I'm supposed to call you, or do you prefer Wonder Woman?"
"I don't care what you call me," Diana said, her voice cold. "You want us to trust you, but you give us nothing to trust. I have no reason to believe a single word you say, not after everything you've had done, Director."
Waller pursed her lips together, studying her. Interesting how the whole League was under Wonder Woman's heel without seemingly giving a damn about it. Interesting how Diana didn't seem to care much for it one way or another, either. Was she really fine with Wayne's leadership? Waller couldn't imagine that, not from what she knew about Bruce and his less than pleasant personality. Couldn't see someone like Diana Prince take orders from him. Or was it because her priorities lay elsewhere?
"I told you the truth, I have no idea what else you want from me."
"Nothing." Diana squared her shoulders and folded her arms over her chest. "We don't need anything from you. In fact, we don't need you ."
"You do, I'm afraid," Waller pointed out. "The world is scared of you more than not. How long do you think it will take them to go for torches and pitchforks if I stop putting out the fires you leave in your wake?"
"That is not true," Diana shook her head.
Waller let out a short laugh that came out as a humourless bark, sharp and grating even to her own ears. Oddly loud in the near-empty building. "They denounced Superman, don't you remember?" She paused. "But of course, you don't, because you weren't here." Another pause as she watched Diana's brows pull together. "People are scared of what they don't understand, and they may not know how much you help, exactly. How much you do for them even when they can see it. But they sure as hell see how much havoc you all could wreck for no reason other than waking up on the wrong side of the bed."
"How can you want to be a leader when you have no faith in your own people?"
"And you have too much of it," Waller countered. "For someone who is not even one of them. You don't know the first thing about accountability. But if you choose to live in this world, you should learn to play by its rules."
For a moment, it felt like someone had turned off the sound around them. The room was so quiet and so completely still as they sized each other up across the ten feet of space, that even the traffic noise outside faded into the background until there was nothing left. Just the charged air and palpable hostility.
"The League will never agree to your terms, and you know that," Diana was the first to speak.
"They will if you ask nicely."
"Why would I do it?"
"Because none of you wants to be feared, believe me." Waller tilted her head. "And I can make it happen, should I choose to do so. Have you ever considered that?"
Diana frowned.
"What's in it for you? What do you gain from fear?"
"Let's just say, I have nothing to lose." Waller shrugged. "Unlike you, Ms. Prince." She paused, feeling a flutter of smug satisfaction in her chest when she managed to find a thread to grab onto. "How is that war pilot of yours doing?"
It wasn't a threat, per se, but it wasn't an idle warning either.
Waller did, in fact, have little to lose, if only because she didn't trust them either. Didn't trust them not to turn on each other and destroy everyone around them in the process.
Yet, she still didn't expect what happened next – didn't expect Diana's body to move at lightning speed, slamming into her and throwing her against the door with a dull thud that made the stars explode before Waller's eyes. Didn't expect Wonder Woman's hand to close around her throat, allowing just enough air to pass, but barely so. Didn't expect her legs to kick against the air, not able to touch the floor, or Diana's eyes to bore into her, barely contained rage burning in them hotter than fire.
Which brought her to a moment of striking realization – she was never going to underestimate any of them again.
And then, there came the burning when something Waller couldn't see curled around her wrists, holding them together. Struggling for breath, she could swear she saw a faint glow light up Diana's face, but she didn't know if she could trust her own eyes. Not… like this.
Panic came when her lungs started to scream for a proper inhale. Her eyes widened in fear. Being at the complete mercy of this woman, not being able to look down, sent her heart into a wild sprint. She tried to swallow, tried to-
"What…" she started, terrified.
"The Lasso of Hestia compels you to tell the truth." Diana's voice was low and measured, but Waller could see how much effort she was putting into it, into keeping it from raising, and it terrified her beyond anything she'd ever experienced. "Tell me, are you behind the experiment in the S.T.A.R. Labs?"
"No," Waller croaked and licked her dry lips. "I'm not, I swear."
After a moment, Diana loosened her grip enough for Waller's feet to find the floor again, but she didn't let go. "Do you know who it was?"
"No," Waller repeated.
"What about Steve Trevor?"
Waller stared at her, thrown off. "I'm sorry?"
"How did you find him?"
Each moment of hesitation resulted in waves of searing pain that throbbed in her wrists and spread up her arms. So hot…
"Tell me," Diana demanded, watching Waller struggle with words.
"Lex Luthor," Waller rasped, at last, wincing. The pain lessened the moment she started speaking, but still there, still burning. "You were under surveillance for a while. Several years." Shit, she couldn't, shouldn't, spill that. Yet, she couldn't not say it. "Lex Luthor had… had the footage of you, information. When he got arrested, we seized the files. Everything he had owned. There was a photograph, a scan of a picture taken during World War I, of you and four men." She swallowed, watching disgust and disbelief flash over Diana's face. But not surprise.
"We checked and found out that two of them were dead, but the other two…" The burning, the buzzing in her ears were making it hard to think straight. "The Native American was impossible to track down, the facial recognition scans came up with nothing, but the other one, Steve Trevor… There was no death certificate, he simply disappeared." Waller was breathing fast now, half-horrified and half-mesmerized by her inability to hold back. "And then a match came up, he was caught on a CCTV camera in Madrid six months ago." She swallowed again. "He had forged documents, a fake birth certificate. Driver's licence. But it was him."
The man had created a whole life for himself from scratch, and if Waller hadn't been busy fighting her wars with the petty criminals of Gotham and struggling to keep her own position afloat, she would probably have taken a moment to admire it. Sincerely.
"You know the rest."
Diana stepped back, and it took Waller all of her strength and willpower not to collapse on the floor. She leaned heavily against the door, her wrists still bound and the furious storm in Diana's eyes still raging in full force.
"Why is he of interest to you?"
"He's not. He wasn't ," she couldn't help but amend herself. "I wanted Bruce Wayne to cooperate." She winced again, willing the pain away. "And you, all of you."
"Wasn't?" Diana echoed, disregarding the second half of her statement.
"I want to know how he lived," Waller blurted out and grimaced.
"Stay away from him." Diana's voice was low and dangerous and every bit as terrifying as the entire encounter.
Yet, something flared up inside of Waller as well. Frustration. The unfairness of this all. She was, after all, only trying to keep her city safe. Trying to do what was best for everyone. They were on the same side, she and the League. They fought the same battle.
"He and I have a contract. He owes me," she said, raising her chin and looking Diana square in the eyes even though it terrified her to do so. "He is a military man, like it or not. I could have him court-martialed for insubordination."
Diana moved toward her and Waller sucked in her breath instinctively, pressing her back hard against the door and trying to ignore the knob that dug painfully into her side.
"If you come after him… if you come after any of them, I will destroy you."
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise. And one that Diana fully intended to keep, too. Waller could see it in her eyes, and she knew not to mistake it for a bluff.
She felt the lasso fall from her wrists, which meant the end of the conversation, she presumed. The burning subsided instantly, and when she dared to glance down, expecting to see welts on her wrists, her skin appeared to be unmarked.
"You can't protect them forever," Waller said, regaining her own will again, as anger welled up in her chest, just as burning as that damned rope had been moments ago.
"I don't need to protect them forever," Diana said evenly, never breaking eye contact. "I only need to protect them once."
That was—well, that was a threat.
"You're not a murderer."
The words were out of Waller's mouth before she knew to stop them, and that was when she saw just how much she had underestimated Diana Prince. Wonder Woman was a protector, always had been, but she was also a warrior who had killed before, and would do it again, and again, for as long as she walked this Earth, to save those who needed saving. But, prior to this moment, it had seldom been personal. And Waller's tactical mistake was making it so.
Diana stepped around her, reaching for the doorknob when Waller moved unsteadily out of her way, relieved. But Diana paused, halfway out of the door. She turned her head slightly to the side without actually looking back.
"Don't make me one."
xoox
Steve woke up with a start a couple of hours later, his face buried in Diana's pillow and his mind slightly less hazy than before.
It took him a moment to realize where he was – Bruce's lake house, not Diana's apartment in Paris – the memory of the previous night slightly blurred around the edges. And then another moment to remember her leaving earlier, and the smile on her lips that he wanted to kiss senseless until she forgot her own name.
He rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. A shuddered exhale tumbled out of his chest. The day outside was no more inviting than it had been hours ago, and Steve felt goosebumps prickle his skin.
Diana promised to be back before breakfast. He wasn't sure what that meant, exactly, but his watch read 9.30 and he figured that he might as well go check if she was here. Their bags appeared to be unpacked, his clothes neatly stacked on top of the dresser for Steve to put them away. He smiled, glowing warmth blossoming in his chest. She had to have done it before she left.
The house was quiet when he finally emerged from the bedroom fifteen minutes later. The lounge was empty, and so was the deck, which, given the weather conditions, was not at all surprising. Steve peeked into Bruce's study through the half-open door, but no one was there, either. He chose to take it as a good sign – if the world was indeed falling to pieces there would surely be more commotion. Last time he checked, it was a rather busy ordeal.
Steve headed to the kitchen next, thinking that Barry or Alfred might be there, although interested mostly in finding coffee, and maybe food. Yesterday on the plane, they were a bit too preoccupied to eat, and too tired to do it afterwards, and now the delicious smells wafting from there combined with the promise of an actual breakfast made his stomach grumble.
However, it was not Barry or Alfred but Bruce who he found standing by the coffee maker, waiting patiently for it to work its magic. Bruce who looked up before Steve could reconsider and maybe step back into the hallway and come back later, which made for an impossible escape.
There was an odd sort of energy between them, had been since the day he had moved into Diana's room. Not hostility, per se, but for a guy who had a poker face fused to his skin, Bruce appeared to be astonishingly transparent when it came to his feelings for Diana. And while Steve knew that she loved him and that she wanted to be with him, it was of little help against the territorial possessiveness that was, in all probability, ingrained into his very DNA and that started to simmer just beneath his skin in an instant.
That, and Steve suspected that Bruce now felt the way he did when he thought that she and Batman were together.
Needless to say, it didn't bode well for proper team bonding. Steve wished that he knew how he was supposed to have a relationship with the man owning the house where he was sleeping with the woman said man was quite probably in love with. The very same man who wasn't, Steve imagined, very happy to have him there.
"Morning," Bruce said.
If he had ignored him, Steve would have pretended that he forgot his phone in the bedroom and escaped the heavy uncomfortable silence that was bound to wedge itself between them. As it was, he had no choice but to walk into the kitchen and nod his own hello.
"Coffee?" Bruce asked, and, all things considered, it was the closest to a peace offering that had ever been spoken between them.
Steve nodded, "That'd be great, thanks."
Without another word, Bruce reached for a second cup.
"I'm sorry we have to interrupt your—"
Steve thought that he was probably going to go up in flames if Bruce said honeymoon . There were entirely too many people on this planet – and in the house, for that matter – who were way too aware of his private life.
"—trip," Bruce finished.
To busy himself, Steve poked into one of the drawers, looking for a teaspoon. "Well, to be fair, I wasn't really doing much of anything, and Diana wouldn't have come if she didn't think that it was necessary."
Bruce nodded. The coffeemaker beeped and turned off. He poured two cups, and handed one to Steve, black and strong. If Barry was here, he'd add half a carton of milk to his own cup, which never failed to make Alfred raise an eyebrow and make a dry comment about how that wasn't a respectable way to drink coffee. How it was practically an insult to coffee. But Steve preferred his the way Bruce did, apparently. The kind of stuff that could burn right through the lining of his stomach.
He sipped the coffee, allowing himself to study the man standing a few feet away from him. Now, they didn't know each other well enough for Steve to make any kind of assumptions, but during the brief time that had passed since he had met Bruce, he had never seen him look less than impeccable.
Right now, though, Bruce's eyes were bloodshot, his hair rumpled and a shadow of stubble was gracing his cheeks that were normally clean-shaved. If Steve had to guess, he'd say that it had been a while since Bruce had a decent night's sleep. He had always struck Steve as a man who knew the value of his comfort, and if Lex's escape was the reason behind his haggard looks, then maybe they were in more trouble than Steve realized.
Either way, it was not good.
"Long night?" Steve asked, unable to resist the urge, and gestured at Bruce's wrinkled shirt when the other man arched his eyebrows quizzically.
"You could say that," Bruce muttered, but didn't elaborate. Instead, he gave Steve a speculative once-over as if weighing something in his mind. And said when he made the decision, "There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about, Captain."
"Steve is good," Steve offered.
Bruce hesitated, seemingly surprised. Then nodded and set his cup on the counter.
"You asked me a question and I don't believe I have answered," he started, hand running over his face. "In addition to being a public servant, Amanda Waller is also the Director of the Advanced Research Group Uniting Super-Humans."
He paused, allowing the information to sink in.
Steve froze. "A.R.G.U.S."
Bruce nodded. "Yes. It operates under the jurisdiction of Homeland Security and is more discreet than… Waller's day job. Essentially, A.R.G.U.S. is a covert sub-branch of the US military meant to oversee the activities of metahumans. That is, to say that they do anything and everything to contain and cover up things classified as superhuman. They were essentially in charge of the Suicide Squad, for however long that lasted."
"So, when you saw me and asked if this was about A.R.G.U.S.—"
"After her little club of psychopaths had fallen apart and before she had found you, Waller had approached me regarding supervision over the Justice League, on the government level." Bruce ran his hand over his hair. "Naturally, I told her to go to hell."
"Naturally," Steve muttered and Bruce's lips twitched.
"She is right, to a degree. The world is scared of everyone who is different. They wanted to launch Clark into space when they first found out who he was, and maybe it wasn't entirely unreasonable. You weren't here when he came back—" from the dead . "He was confused, disoriented. He was out of control. If something ever makes him forget who he is again, god only knows what consequences we would face. Amanda Waller doesn't trust the League, and maybe it's not uncalled for, but I don't trust her, either." He grimaced with mild disgust. "However, ever since the Suicide Squad, she has been trying to find some sort of middle ground, a way for us to cooperate that would make her intervening look like assistance. Someone to oversee us who is not her. Someone we would trust."
"Like a liaison," Steve breathed.
"Yes," Bruce agreed. "Someone impartial but who we could all trust. Someone with enough experience and insight and an ability to think outside the box."
"You think she was going to have me do it?"
"I thought so. Maybe still do."
"She never mentioned any of that," Steve countered. "And I am not impartial. If anything, I am the opposite of that."
He thought of Diana. Thought of how there was nothing he wouldn't do for her, nothing he would stop at to help her, or to be with her. He was, perhaps, as far away from being impartial as anyone could ever be.
"Maybe so, but you're loyal. You have a military background. You were a spy, for god's sake." Bruce let out a long breath. "Well, I don't need to tell you all that. Waller hit a jackpot with you."
Steve's brows pulled together as he tried to make sense of all the information coming his way faster than he was able to process it. "Why are you telling me this now?"
On the other side of the counter, Bruce turned to him and splayed his palms over the cool marble surface.
"Because I don't think she is done with you. This might be something to look out for if she tries to manipulate you and it wouldn't be fair if she had the upper hand."
"Does Diana know?"
"She knows what A.R.G.U.S. is. But not my speculations, no." Bruce shook his head. "I might be wrong."
"But you don't think you are."
It wasn't a question.
Still, Bruce considered his words before responding. "I think that's what I'd do if I was in Waller's shoes. And she is smart."
Steve rubbed his forehead. "Well… Thank you. For telling me this."
Bruce nodded. He looked like he was about to add something else, and Steve wondered what that might possibly be, but then his gaze shifted past Steve's shoulder and he clamped his mouth shut, his whole face closing off instantly. Steve turned around just as Diana walked into the kitchen. His heart skipped a beat when her features softened the second she spotted him.
"Hey," Steve breathed.
"Thought I'd find you here." Diana smiled. She glanced past him. "Bruce."
Bruce gave her a small jerk of his chin.
"Coffee?" Steve offered, and she nodded.
She didn't kiss him the way she would have if they were alone, but when she moved past him, her hand brushed habitually over the small of his back and, frankly, he'd take that. The gesture was easy and natural and almost like an afterthought, and so much more intimate than any other display of affection could be in given circumstances.
So much so that Bruce looked away, albeit subtly.
"So, how'd it go?" he asked after the minute it took Diana to fix her own drink.
Steve glanced at him, puzzled, and turned to Diana, who gave Bruce a measured look that he couldn't quite read, before her gaze found his once more.
"I went to see Amanda Waller," she explained.
Steve stared at her, his jaw slack. "You what?"
An errand, he thought. He assumed it had something to do with picking up the bread for breakfast or dry-cleaning – things that the word errand usually implied. Not a crack-of-dawn meeting with the head of the American intelligence assigned to deal with superhumans.
He felt his brows furrow, questions bumping around in his head.
"She had nothing to do with what had happened at the S.T.A.R. Labs," Diana added after a few moments.
"She told you that?" One of Bruce's eyebrows quirked skeptically. "I mean she does have a great track record with being honest," he noted flatly.
Steve glanced into his empty cup.
"I don't think she had a choice," he muttered.
"She did not," Diana admitted. She sipped her coffee. "Thank you for making the call," she added, looking at Bruce. "She would never have met with me without full security present otherwise."
Bruce shook his head. "She's not scared of you."
Diana levelled him with a look. "Yes, she is. And she has every reason to be."
He frowned. "I thought she was supposed to be on our side."
"There aren't any other sides left, Bruce."
Steve watched the exchange like it was a ping pong match, wondering what exactly he was missing in this conversation.
He would ask Diana later. He had learned a long time ago to respect her choices and boundaries, and right now, her demeanour didn't invite a conversation. She didn't owe him anything, regardless of their relationship. If she saw a need to meet with Amanda Waller, he was fine with it. Bruce's involvement didn't bother him either, but there was something that she wasn't telling them about what had gone down between her and Waller. He knew how to recognize unsaid words, and the sense of foreboding that they had left was nearly all-consuming.
But that was something to worry about later. Right now, he didn't like the tense line of her shoulders and the charged air between them. So he moved to stand close enough to her to practically feel her proximity with his skin. Diana turned her head slightly to the side, acknowledging his presence.
"You need to eat," Steve said quietly.
Tension seemed to seep out of her body immediately. Maybe not all, maybe less than he would have preferred, but the change was instant and his own heartbeat evened out in response.
"You shouldn't have done it," Bruce muttered under his breath.
"Who shouldn't have done what?" Barry asked, shuffling into the kitchen. "Man, do we have to do this so early?"
"It's almost 10 in the morning," Steve pointed out, amused and glad for the distraction.
"Well, I had a late night," Barry countered.
"You didn't have to," Alfred noted, following him.
Before Barry could respond, there was a blur of movement and a dull thud outside, and then Clark was standing on the patio, his cape swaying around his calves. He rapped his knuckles on the glass door and Bruce moved to open it.
"Front door not good enough for you?" he asked as Clark stepped past him into the kitchen, bringing the smell of cold and rain with him, droplets of water clinging to his hair.
"Where's the fun in that?" Clark grinned.
Diane smiled at him. "Clark."
He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. "Funny how we never meet for something like barbecue."
She laughed. "We should start doing that."
Greetings and handshakes were exchanged, while idle news was tossed around the spacious room. Alfred moved on to start making breakfast and Barry inevitably gravitated towards the fridge as well. It took him a whole of two minutes to remember something.
"Hey, Clark!" he called out from across the kitchen and pointed fondly at his pyjama shirt sporting the bright yellow S on the front. "We match!"
Bruce groaned. "Just don't wear that on missions," he muttered.
"No one's gonna see it under the suit," Barry objected.
"You're just jealous," Clark said offhandedly to Bruce.
Bruce glowered at him. "Like there's anything to be jealous of," he shook his head.
Diana's hand brushed against Steve's and he turned to her, his hand reaching for hers to squeeze her fingers briefly. He wanted the others to leave, wanted to be alone with her and have her tell him what had caused the frown that she wasn't able to hide, even though she was trying. Wanted to hold her face between his hands and tell her how much he loved her over and over again until his throat was raw. Wanted… more because when she had told him yesterday that all of this was happening too soon, too fast, he didn't quite get it. He was feeling it now, familiar vertigo that he couldn't stop.
But Barry was saying something, and Clark was replying, and Alfred was asking him to please be careful with his cape near the stove, and there was so much normalcy to it even though there was nothing normal about them being here that it left Steve's mind reeling. He craved it more than anything, even in the moments when he couldn't help but feel like everything was falling apart around them.
"I love you," Steve mouthed soundlessly, making a smile brighter than the sun break across Diana's face.
"I saw that," Barry said, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. He wiggled between Steve and Diana to duck into a cupboard beneath the counter. "Stop it." He glanced up at them in turns. "You make the rest of us feel inadequate."
"Your singleness is your own doing, Mr. Allen," Alfred reminded him without much sympathy.
Diana pressed a hand to her mouth to stop the laughter bubbling in her chest from spilling.
Barry stood up and turned to Clark. "See what I have to deal with?"
"You know how phones work," Bruce pointed out. "You're glued to one most of the time."
"Leave him alone." Diana moved towards Barry and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "Come on, let's help Alfred."
"No need, I assure you. The last time I was foolish enough to accept it, it didn't go well," Alfred said dryly.
"I promise to not… speed anything up," Barry assured him quickly.
Diana glanced at Steve and winked. His lips curved into a smirk. Yeah, he'd prefer to be in Paris now, in her kitchen and with Diana wearing nothing but his shirt, and the sunlight tangled in her hair and hours of uninterrupted time stretching before them. But, if this was their second best option, he was going to take it gladly.
The doorbell rang when they were almost finished, plates empty and stomachs full.
"Must be Mr. Stone," Alfred said and started to get up.
"I'll get it," Clark rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway before Alfred could protest.
A few moments later, he came back, followed by Victor whose metallic body was hidden under a pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitted college hoodie. Had it not been for the glowing red eye, he wouldn't have looked that much different from the rest of them.
Diana stood up. "Victor, it's good to see you." She took his face in her hand and gave him a critical look. "You look good."
He grinned. "For a dead guy, yeah."
She laughed and leaned in for a hug.
"And the fun is over," Barry muttered, shoving his second helping of eggs into his mouth.
Victor flipped him off behind Diana's back.
Clark pressed his lips together around a smile.
"We're not here to have fun," Bruce said, looking at the speedster over the rim of his cup.
"And that," Barry pointed his fork at him, "is exactly what your problem is, Bruce. You don't know how to have fun."
"Well, if we're all done—" Alfred started, standing up, undoubtedly itching to kick them all out of the kitchen in order to bring it back to its surgically pristine state.
He was cut off by a ping from Bruce's phone.
Bruce pulled it out of the pocket of his pants, everyone's eyes on him as his brows knitted together.
"Sir?"
"It's the security footage from Paris," Bruce muttered and Steve looked up from his second cup of coffee, his stomach tightening momentarily. He glanced at Diana, but her own eyes were trained on Bruce as well. "It's been decoded—"
He stood up abruptly and swore colourfully under his breath, his grip on his phone so tight that his knuckles had turned white.
The room went completely silent save for the soft hum of the fridge.
Alfred leaned forward to look at the screen over Bruce's shoulder. Head tilted slightly, he arched an eyebrow curiously.
"I didn't know Ms. Kyle was still in business."
A/N: Welp, this was one action-packed chapter, and I hope you liked it. The closer we get to the end, the less reluctant I am to finish this fic, it's been such a big part of my life these past two years, but... oh well.
Comments, feedback or general yelling are always much appreciated :)