Disclaimer: I don't own Justice League or any of the characters in this fic – WB and DC do.

In the Spirit

Just One Little Drink

Terry McGinnis stepped into the crowded club, and thinned his eyes as he tried vainly to spot Dana and Max. The old man hadn't been happy about his plan to have a yuletide night on the town, but Terry had never paid much attention to him when it came to teenage matters. Especially teenage matters that involved Dana in a particularly enticing Santa Claus themed outfit.

"Terry!"

The teenager turned his head to see said girlfriend waving to him from across the crowded dance floor. He smiled and waved back, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face as he approached.

"Hey Ter," Max said, giving him a little salute as he saw her. He nodded a greeting and wrapped his arms around Dana's waist.

"Hello, Mrs Claus. Is your husband around?"

Dana smiled, tucking some jet black hair behind her ear. "I think he's busy this time of year."

Terry leaned forward and kissed his girlfriend.

It was going to be good night.

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The communicator beeped, and Terry looked around in irritation for the source of the high pitched noise.

"What the hell…?" he managed, looking around the table for the noise. He looked over at Max and Dana, who had gone to get some more drinks. He grinned. Dana was so cute when she was tipsy. But he had made sure to limit himself.

He wasn't drunk.

No way.

"No way," he said loudly, shaking his head vehemently.

"'No way' what, Ter?" Max asked, sitting down next to him. She swayed slightly as she sat, reflecting her drunken state.

Terry grinned. "I said, there's no way that I'm drunk. Not like you, anyway."

Max looked incredibly offended, and slapped her chest with her hand. "I am not drunk, Mr McGinnis. You are, and… and what's that beeping?"

Terry looked clueless for a moment, then remembered that something was beeping. "Oh yeah! There's something beeping."

"I know," Max said, shaking her head at him. "I want to know where it's coming from."

Terry waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure it's nothing important. I'd remember what it was if it was."

"If it was what?"

"Important, stupid."

"Oh yeah. Right," Max said, nodding. She frowned. "Wait, I'm not stupid."

"Oh yeah? Well look who's Batman?"

Max put her finger to her lips as she giggled. "Quiet Ter! There are people who don't like Batman!"

Terry laughed and put his finger to his lips too. "Okay," he whispered. He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "That's what it is!"

"What what is?"

"The beeping thing! It's the Batman… phone," he said, struggling for the right words.

Max giggled. "You mean…" she sniggered," the Bat-phone?"

Terry frowned. "Don't call it that. That makes it sound all stupid. I am Batman, you know. I could kick your butt if I wanted."

"Yeah, right."

"Yeah, right," Terry said challengingly. The beeping continued.

"You gonna answer that?" Max asked, pointing at the communicator.

Terry sighed. "I guess." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his communicator. He pushed the receive button.

"Yeah?"

"Jewellery store robbery. Police are in pursuit. I'm sending the car, since you took so long answering."

"Ah, shut up. It's very loud in here."

"McGinnis? Are you all right?"

Terry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

"McGinn-" Terry pushed the off button, cutting off his mentor in mid-sentence.

Ooo, he won't like that.

Shut up, Terry.

Make me, Terry.

"Terry? What is it?" Max inquired, interrupting Terry's mental battle.

"Batman stuff. I gotta go."

"What? Now? But you're drunk."

"I am so not."

Max laughed. "You so are."

"Well so are you!"

"Yeah, but I'm not Batman!"

"Yeah, well… you're stupid. I'm outta here. Tell Dana I'll be back later, 'kay?"

He stood, and Max grabbed his arm. "No you don't, McGinnis. You're telling her, not me."

"Fine," Terry said, shaking his hand free of Max's grasp and sticking out his tongue. He walked over to Dana, who was still at the bar waiting for her drink.

God, she looks so good tonight. Stupid Batman stuff!

He leaned on the bar next to her. "Hey babe. Sorry, but I've gotta split. Old man Wayne stuff."

Her shoulders slumped. "Why am I not surprised?"

He raised his hands defensively. "I'll be back in like half an hour! I'll call you when I get back into the City, okay?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Just half an hour?"

"Just half an hour."

She smiled and nodded. "Okay, but hurry back, okay? Mr Claus could come back any time."

Terry smiled and kissed her goodbye before running out the club.

She's so cute when she's tipsy. Batman sucks.

He turned the corner into a concealed alleyway and got changed into the costume beneath his clothing. After rolling his clothes up into a ball, he flew up into the air and landed on the roof of the building. He looked down at the buttons on his utility belt.

Now which one calls the Bat… uh… car?

He pushed one button, and something began flashing on his visual display.

911 dialled.

Terry pushed the button again rapidly, and the text disappeared. Terry let out a sigh of relief. He didn't need an angry Commissioner Gordon on his case. He pushed another button, and the words homing signal activated appeared on his visual display. He smiled and waited.

And waited.

He sat down, legs crossed, and rested his head on his hand.

"C'mon…"

He heard the whine of the Batmobile approaching and jumped to his feet. It hovered overhead and Terry jumped up. He reached out with his arms, grunting with effort. He fell to the ground unceremoniously on his behind, and winced in pain.

"Oww…" he muttered, rubbing the wounded muscle gingerly.

"What the…" he mumbled, trying to remember how to get into the Batmobile.

He snapped his fingers. He jumped and activated the rockets, shooting up into the opened hatch beneath the hovering vehicle. The hatch closed behind him, and his head slammed into the top of the cockpit. He yelped in pain.

Rockets! Forgot to turn off the rockets.

Terry turned them off and landed on the chair. He let out a deep breath.

"Okay…" he said, rubbing his hand together before taking the controls. "Let's go." The Batmobile lurched forward, and Terry's head banged on the windshield in front of him.

"Ow! Stupid car…" he let out another deep breath. "Okay, let's try again…"

"McGinnis?"

Terry looked up in alarm. "Hello?"

"McGinnis… what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing! Just let me…" he struggled with the controls, and Batmobile launched ahead, "…get there and do my stuff."

There was a pause. "I think you should head back, McGinnis."

"Ah shaddup," Terry said quickly, terminating the connection. "Stupid old coot…"

Half an hour. C'mon McGinnis, you can do this.

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Terry brought the Batmobile over the offending van, which was doing its best to swerve and dodge the following police vehicles. He opened the hatch and prepared to jump down.

Woah… that van's really swerving… a lot.

Terry was hit by a wave of dizziness.

Ooo… that's not good.

He paused.

Just do it. If you wait, they might get away.

Good idea, Terry.

Thank you, Terry.

Terry leapt down and landed on the floating van, using his claws to get a grip on the trailer. He slid back on the trailer, and, despite his best efforts, ended up dangling off the side of the trailer. In direct sight of the door mirrors of the van.

"Oh… crap!" Terry said loudly through gritted teeth.

I know! I'll use the rockets!

He activated the rockets and was thrust forward. Unfortunately, Terry's clawed hands were still embedded in the trailer, and Terry was sent flipping forward onto his back.

Ow…

He deactivated the rockets. The van trailer span slightly through his blurry vision, and Terry began to feel a bit queasy.

I think I'll just crawl the rest of the way.

He began pulling himself towards the cab of the van only for a passenger of the cab to climb out and scramble to the top of the trailer. He pulled out a laser rifle and took aim. Terry's eyes widened slightly.

Oh crap.

He fired, and Terry retracted his claws and jumped forward, avoiding the laser bolt. He threw a Batarang at the criminal, only for it get caught in the wind coming the other way, sending it back towards Terry. He landed and ducked the Batarang. He turned back to look at the Batarang as it flew away.

Ah, crap.

He turned to see the criminal slamming his rifle into his face. Terry reeled from the blow, and turned back to see him taking aim with his rifle once again. Terry kicked the gun from his hands, and followed it up with a punch to the chin. A particularly sloppy punch to the chin that came nowhere near hitting his opponent. It sailed past the criminals' face, who responded with a blow of his own. Terry stumbled back, and felt even queasier.

"Oooh…"

Terry don't feel too good.

The criminal came in for another blow, and Terry placed a well aimed fist to his face, knocking him out cold. He tied him up and attached him to the trailer with his grappling hook. He stepped forward, and was about to attack the driver when the van took another sudden turn.

And so did Terry's stomach. He put his hands on his belly and moaned.

Shouldn't have had those tequila shooters…

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Terry sat on the sidelines, waiting for the queasiness to go away while he watched the police erect a crime scene line and dissuade passer-by's from becoming too interested in the scene of the crash. One of the policemen walked over to him, an evidence bag in his hand, full of a yellowy green liquid.

"Nice stuff you've got here. It stuck to his windshield like glue. What is it?"

Terry grimaced. "Special formula," he mumbled, tenderly rubbing his stomach. He checked the time on his visual display as the policeman walked away, and saw that it had taken an hour to bring down the van.

Dana would not be happy.

He tried not to think about it. Another police car landed, and a man in an overcoat ran over to the van, asking about his jewellery. The police assured him that it was fine, and pointed over at Batman. The man ran over to him, and began shaking his hand profusely.

"Thank you thank you. This store is my life. I don't know what I'd do without it."

Terry waved a hand. "It was nothing. Just part of the job."

"Nonsense. I want to reward you. Take any item of jewellery you want."

Terry shook his head. "No, I couldn't."

The man nodded, grinning. "Yes, yes, you could. Just think of it as a Christmas present."

Terry was about refuse again, when the words 'Christmas present' became lodged in his mind. He sighed.

"All right. How about…"

What would Dana like?

"… a necklace?"

The man nodded, smiling. He walked back over to the remains of the van and walked into the trailer. He emerged a few seconds later and walked over to Terry, a velvet case held delicately in his hands.

"Will this do?" he said, opening the case to reveal the necklace inside.

Terry looked at it. It was breathtaking.

Just like Dana.

Terry nodded, smiling beneath his mask. "It's perfect."

He pushed a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile hovered overhead. He shook hands with the man.

"Thanks."

"You're thanking me? You superheroes are a strange bunch, you know that?"

Terry grinned. "You have no idea."

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"Half an hour, huh?"

Terry's smile remained, despite Dana's 'I will kill Terry McGinnis' look.

"I know, and I'm sorry. It just took longer than I thought."

"What did Mr Wayne want, anyway?"

Terry paused for a moment. "He wanted me to give you something from him to say sorry."

Dana raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Before you say anything, this was all my idea. Wayne only paid for it."

Dana smiled slightly. "Well, that depends on what it is."

Terry pulled out the velvet case and opened it. Dana gasped.

"Terry…" she said, her breath taken away by the jewellery.

Terry smiled. "I thought you'd like it."

Dana nodded.

"You want to put it on?"

Dana nodded.

Terry walked around behind her and put the necklace on, lifting her hair so he could wrap it around her delicate neck. She turned to face him and kissed him long and hard. Terry's body melted around his skeleton, drooping slightly. He wrapped his arms around her waist and the two slowly realised that they needed oxygen to live. He put his forehead against hers.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs Claus."

"Merry Christmas, Mr McGinnis."

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Bruce sat in Wayne Manor, reading the newspaper as the sun rose through the window. He sipped at the cup of coffee, enjoying the taste of the hot liquid as it travelled down his throat. The coffee almost burst forth as Bruce choked in shock from what he saw on the newspaper. The headline read:

Drunkenness: Batman's Newest Weapon!

Below it was a picture of Terry vomiting on to the windshield of the jewel thief's van. Bruce shook his head and grumbled. Ace looked up at him with a slight whine, as though predicting the rage that would soon occur. He sighed.

I.

Hate.

Teenagers.

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(A/N: Something a bit more cheery and disgusting, but Terry's a teenager; you can't expect him not to get drunk around Christmas time at least once.

So what'd you think? Review!)