Mistletoe and Holly

"Clark, what have I told you? You need to eat more—you always look so thin when you come back to us."

"Aw, Ma," Clark blushed as his broad shoulders took up the whole doorway.

Pa Kent pulled the Man of Steel into a bear hug.

"Hey, Son, where's your friend this time?" the older man asked as he pulled away.

"J'onn?" Clark adjusted his glasses back into place. "Well, I heard Diana wanted to make some plans with him—help him connect more with Earth."

"What is this, assimilate the aliens season?" Pa Kent laughed. "Didn't you tell me you had to practically force that hawk one to take the time off?"

"Yeah, Shayera's a handful sometimes, but it'll be good for her to get out."

"What I'm wondering is why J'onn couldn't spend the holiday with us again," Ma Kent raised a finger to her cheek in question.

"Well, maybe he needs to see another side of it . . . maybe discover it together with Diana. I'm not sure what she's done for this season in the past, but I do know she's probably still new at it."

"As long as he's not alone, I'm sure he'll be fine then," Ma Kent smiled. "Now come in from the cold; I don't want you catching sick."

"When's Kara coming back, Son?" Pa Kent put a hand upon Clark's shoulder as they stepped into the living room.

"She's on the same leave schedule as Question, Captain Atom, Hawk and Dove, and some others. They don't get off until next week."

"It's lucky she'll be here the week of Christmas," Ma said, taking her boy's coat and hanging it on the rack. "And at the same time as that dashing captain," her eyes sparkled, and one could almost see the cogs turning behind the gleam. "Yes, she's lucky all right."

Clark looked a little perturbed. "Uh, yeah . . . speaking of which, Ma, since Kara's not going to be here until next week, I was wondering if you would mind if I went to celebrate this week with some of my friends. Then I can come back and we can celebrate together with Kara here."

Pa shrugged and looked at Ma for confirmation.

"I don't see anything wrong with it, dear. I'm sure your 'friends' will be very happy to be with you," she gave that same cog-turning look.

"Ma, what are you—"

"Well, there's no reason you have to start off right away. Let's get you to the kitchen and have you eat something." For a small lady, she had a very strong grip as she led one of the greatest heroes of all time by the arm. "I won't have my boy be a sack of bones."

"Alfred, I said no visitors."

The cave echoed gloomily the gruff voice. His hands clasped together, resting elbows on the consul of the giant computer, the scowl on his face was less than inviting.

"You did, sir. However, I must say that she was most insistent."

The Dark Knight's head turned with the word 'she'.

"And I thought it prudent to permit her, as I'm fairly sure you'd like your art and weapons collections intact for the upcoming banquet." The faithful man stepped aside to reveal Diana, princess of the Amazons, in a suede jacket and slacks.

"So when's the official restraining order? Or are you just going to avoid me forever?" She crossed her arms irritably. Alfred took the oncoming hostility as his cue to exit.

"What makes you think you're special? I avoid everybody."

"Well that's a nasty habit."

"I'm a nasty person."

"I wouldn't have to come by here unannounced if you would pick up your phone every once in a while."

"What do you want here, anyway?" his tone was exasperated. He knew the argument would continue if the subject remained unchanged, and with his current lack of sleep from the Penguin's heist last night, he did not feel in the mood.

"It's J'onn."

"I thought you made him mingle with the people of Earth."

"That's just it. I think this whole holiday season makes it even harder for him to connect with the people. He needs help."

Batman turned back to his monitor, projecting the headlines of the Penguin's capture.

"Your help."

"Why mine? You're help enough."

"In case you've forgotten, I haven't really been briefed much on how the holiday works in the past. I saw how the monitors worked. I saw how the doors to the living quarters worked. I saw how the utility—"

"All right," he lifted himself from the chair with his hands on the consul. "I get it, you can't teach him on your own. So why not get Superman to?"

Diana shrugged. "I figured that he actually spent the holiday with his loved ones and I wouldn't want to intrude."

"So you intrude on m—"

"But I know that you're not doing anything."

"I actually do have a few appointments I need to attend," he looked at her sternly.

"We won't take up all of your time," She responded, turning in a motion that indicated that he should follow. "We just need you to show us some of the things that make this Christmas time so . . . 'merry', is it?"

Batman moved like a peeved shadow behind her. "Why didn't he come to ask with you?"

"I told him not to," she said as they both stepped up the stairs. "I knew you would be your usual charming self, and no one needs to be exposed to that unless absolutely necessary."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

They walked out from behind the grandfather clock to see a sandy-haired man with a lean face sitting in a large and comfortable armchair, obviously enjoying a pastry with his tea.

"Plus Alfred said he made tarts. Who knew J'onn had a sweet tooth?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"You should know better than to whisper around a telepath," Batman whispered back.

"Santa Flash is back, guys!"

A crowd of children rushed toward the red-suited hero, jumping up and down in excitement. "Yeah!" "All right!" "Flash!" they cheered at random.

The leader of the orphanage simply smiled from the side of the room at the sight.

Flash laughed, a little overwhelmed by his favourite fans' onslaught. "Okay, okay, settle down, guys; you'll scare my friend."

"Brought a friend?" "Friend?" "Is he weird-looking like last time?"

"No, she's not weird-looking. You guys have probably seen her sometimes on TV, y' know." Flash winked toward the doorway, "You can come out now. They won't bite."

Shayera stepped cautiously into the room, feeling a little naked without her mace. Being the target of all the little stares, including the worried look of the orphanage leader, made her decidedly uncomfortable, and she lifted one arm across herself defensively. The stunned silence of the room did not ease her anxiety.

"Angel," a little Asian girl finally said in wonder. "Are you an angel?"

"No she's not! She's Hawkgirl!" a dark boy beside her shouted enthusiastically. "She kicks butt!"

A little blond boy in the back said quietly, "But I heard she was bad."

"No she's not, Davey!" the dark boy shouted again. "She's on the Justice League like Flash. That means she's good!"

"But on TV they said—"

"Hold on, guys," Flashed stepped in. "Rudy's right. She's with me, so she's good, okay? I promise."

This seemed to ease the children and Shayera gave Wally a look of relief, quickly followed by a look that clearly said, 'I told you so.'

Wally shrugged it off with efficacious charm before turning back to the children. "All right, so what have you kids been up to?"

"Snowflakes!" they shouted in unison. Before Shayera could look confused, a little girl unfolded a piece of paper punctured with holes of every shape. "Look how pretty!" the girl beamed.

"Wow!" Flash smiled, bending down to eye-level with the girl. "That is pretty cool."

"Come make some with us, Flash!" another child shouted happily.

"Hey, hey, hold on. You guys haven't even told me what present you want!"

Shayera looked at him. "Present?"

"I'll explain it when I get back," he said to her. "What's it gonna be this year, guys?"

I can't believe he left me alone here, Shayera scowled mentally. 'Stay here, keep the kids company. I'll be back in a fl-' okay, now I know this is too much time with him. I'm even thinking bad puns.

"No, no, you're doing it all wrong!" the Asian girl, whom Shayera had found to be named Kim, chastised. "If you cut it that way, it won't work."

Much to her chagrin, when Shayera pulled the paper that was to be her own snowflake open, it fell to pieces.

Kim sighed. "Told you." She picked up another piece of paper and started folding it. "Watch what I do."

For some reason, it did not seem as demeaning as she thought it would be to get lessons from a child.

"See, if you cut it on that fold, the thing won't stay together."

Shayera looked up at the familiar voice to see a nonchalantly grinning Flash sitting across from her at the crafts table.

"He's back!" Kim yelled excitedly.

A crowd of children gathered round the hero jumping up and down expectantly. Shayera remained in her seat, contemplating the triangularly folded piece of paper.

Even here . . . even children know about it. She balanced the paper between her first two fingers. What am I doing here? I should be back at the—hey! She suddenly felt her head squashed down by a large hand.

"Quit looking so down in the dumps. You'll upset the kids," Flash mussed her hair. He backed away at the death glare she targeted upon him.

"Hey, easy now."

Considering her situation, Shayera forced herself to calm down. "What did you get them?"

"Some bunch of wires and gears covered in a soft, plushy exterior," he shrugged. "But it's what they wanted and it makes 'em happy, so that's all that matters."

Shayera's eyes went out of focus as she watched the children dancing around ecstatically, smiles all around, laughing and jumping, with the orphanage leader not too far out of safety's range. The heroine's expression remained unreadable.

"Hey, Kimmers," Flash's voice snapped her out of it as he greeted the girl's return. "Why aren't you playing with the other kids?"

"I didn't finish teaching her," Kim pointed to Shayera before sitting back up at the crafts table and picking up her previously discarded paper and scissors. "You cut like this," she continued, as though she had never been interrupted.

Shayera blinked in surprise, but picked up her scissors nonetheless. She looked from Kim's folded triangle to her own, and tried to mimic her snip for snip.

"Hold on, don't cut there," Flash said, amused at her ineptitude. "You're gonna ruin the whole thing that way. She's cutting over here, see?" he grabbed her hand and cut with her on the opposite side of the paper.

The Thanagarian was a little uncomfortable with the contact, but with the humorously serious scrutiny of little Kim satiated and marked by a nod of her approval, she decided to let it slide.

"That's right," Kim appraised the work. "When you open it up, it should go like this," she unfolded her own snowflake, dotted with little heart and diamond-shaped cuts.

Wally released her hand and Shayera stopped cutting to unfold her own work. At the rate it was going as she opened it up, she was afraid she would have another bunch of paper scraps, but, to her amazement, her creation held together . . . barely.

She heard a chuckle next to her. "Looks like you still cut a little too much," Wally snickered.

"If you've got something you want to say, you can say it in the training room when we get back."

"Na, I think it looks great," he took the wispy flake and held it up to look at it better. "It's so soft and delicate. A true expression of the artist," he smirked.

"Of its critic," Shayera corrected with a hint of malice.

He laughed again, this time at her irritation and set the snowflake down. "No need to get all worked u—"

"Your wings are real, right?" Kim interrupted him.

Shayera looked a little surprised. "Yes, they're real."

Kim's eyes looked watery. "My mommy used to say that angels were s'posed to protect us . . ."

Shayera looked down at her fragile snowflake, suddenly feeling very cold and alone in the warm, crowded room of the orphanage. I tried, her thoughts whispered guiltily. I wanted to . . .

Flash hesitantly lifted his hand to place upon her shoulder.

". . . that's why I'm happy you're on the Justice League," Kim smiled. Flash put his hand back down.

Her eyes snapping back to the little girl, Shayera took in her image. The black hair cut in a short bob with a short fringe above her round face, the tiny rosebud mouth in the softest of smiles, the dark, endearing eyes . . . someone believed in her.

"Hey," Flash said softly to Kim, and the gaze was broken. "You like angels?" He picked up another piece of paper and his scissors. In a blur of red, silver, and white, he quickly snipped until he had a blocky form of a person with something akin to wings on either side.

"Wow . . ." Kim said in wonder, her little brown eyes widening.

Flash pulled the figure from the sides, and a string of angels emerged, each linked with a heart between the other.

"There's a present just for you, Kim."

"Hey, Smallville."

"You making a habit of staying up this late, Lois?"

"News never sleeps, not even when everyone starts taking vacations," she continued typing without looking at him.

"Yes, but reporters need sleep," he rested a hand next to the typing console, peering over her shoulder.

"Only if they think they don't need a Pulitzer story," she looked at him askance.

"Have it your way," Clark shrugged. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You snooze you lose," she waved her hand dismissively. The clacking of her fingers on the keyboard continued until Clark's footsteps could no longer be heard outside the door. Slumping back into her chair, Lois sighed and rubbed her eyes. "Who needs sleep when I've got coffee?" she mused, picking up her mug. Only about a quarter of a cup left, she had no problem downing it quickly. She stared at the blinking cursor on the screen.

Tapped a pen in her hand and stared.

Tapped and stared.

"Ugh," she forced herself up, leaning on the computer. "When coffee fails, nothing like a sudden chill to get the gears going," she pulled her coat from the back of the chair. She looked out the floor-length windows so far above the ground packed with a spread of snow. It was snowing, but she could still make out the building across the street. Closing the tan coat around her, she made her way up the stairs to the roof.

The windblown snow was only blocked marginally by the giant globe behind her, but she did not mind so much. There was just something about seeing the city from this high up, rain or shine. Snow capped the towering buildings as the flurries dropped from the grey clouds above. Quiet and quite beautiful in this crystalline form, she felt a little at a loss as to one word to describe it. She would not exactly say 'frosted' . . . she was a journalist after all, determined to avoid clichés at all costs—

Speak of clichés, she rolled her eyes as a familiar blue and red form fell to the rooftop amongst the snow. "If you came to keep me warm, I brought my own coat," she smirked.

Superman stepped toward her. "Ha, ha," he smiled his pseudo-sarcasm back at her. "You could at least sound glad to see me."

"How long is it this time? A little dinner and then up and away again?" she looked up at him. "Because if we're going to do that, we might as well skip to a midnight snack and save on the tip."

"I've got two weeks off."

"I don't know how long I can kee—come again?" she blinked.

"Two weeks." Superman smiled. "And one's reserved for you."

"A whole week with you?" she laughed thoughtfully. "I wouldn't know what to do with all that time. How'd you manage that anyway?"

"Having a whole league of us has advantages."

"Oh? And was that your grand scheme the whole time? A clever way to get you a vacation with your exclusive reporter?" she nearly winked at him.

"Let's just say it's an unexpected benefit," he brought an arm around her waist and began to pick her up.

"Now hold on a minute," she took hold of his large arm. "I can't go flying anywhere with you tonight. I've got a story due."

"Lois, what was your last recorded time on an overdue story?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Twenty-two minutes," her eyes gleamed back at him. "Typed," she tapped her finger on his chest, "checked," on his chin, "and pressed." She pulled him toward her by the chin and gave him a quick kiss.

Superman grinned and swooped her up. "And they say I'm the one with super powers."

"Where are we going?" Lois asked, pushing her whipping hair from her face as they flew.

"I don't know yet," if he could shrug while holding Lois, he would have. "Where do you want to eat tonight?"

"Some place warm. How about Morocco?"

"I thought you liked the Christmas season," he said, nodding toward the snow on the building tops.

"It's fine with me, as long as it doesn't soak through to my underpants," she said sardonically.

"It certainly comes on fast," he commented.

"You bad Boy Scout," she smiled playfully, "I wasn't sure you had it in you."

He looked down at her quizzically. "What in me?"

"That's the spirit," was all she answered. "Well, since you don't seem to want to go too far, why don't we try that place on Sixteenth Street?" Her smile looked mischievous.

"Uh, whatever you say . . ."

"You'd think with the way they're staring they didn't know superheroes need food to survive," Lois picked up her wine glass, glancing toward the windows that divided their table from the rest of the restaurant.

Superman hid a laugh.

She set her glass down. "What's so funny?" she asked quizzically.

"Nothing," he tried to cover.

"C'mon, tell me," she pressed. "What are you laughing at?"

"You wouldn't think it was that funny," he rested his chin upon his hand, gazing at her. "I'm Mr. Cornball, remember?"

Her smile was wry. "I hoped you would read that article. Now what's so funny?"

"Well, I was going to say that they're probably staring because of the beautiful woman sitting with me, not because I'm a superhero."

Silence.

"You were right; that was lame."

His face sunk.

"But I guess it was sweet, in a way," Lois conceded, pulling her hair back over her shoulder. A stray strand fell, and as she brushed it away with her fingers, she looked at him in a deductive manner. "So how did you manage to get time away for all original seven? Don't at least some of you need to be keeping the League together?"

"Lois," Superman sighed, "I thought we agreed: no interrogations at the table."

"I know, I know," for a few seconds, one could see a little of the childish spirit contained within the otherwise composed reporter as she said, "just this once though. It won't be in the books, I promise."

The restaurant bustled in the quiet between the two, even through the windowed partition that divided their private section of the dining area from the other tables. Not many people were left in the place at this hour, but the busboys' hard work muffled its way through the wall of glass and wood. The candle in the centre of the table gleamed steadily a soft light upon the two of them in the dim lit room.

"Truth be told," the Man of Steel started, "I figure the League can do more good if the leaders are closer to the people. You were right before."

"Some guys are still scared, huh?" Lois looked partially disdainful, partially understanding. "Even after all you've done . . . having all that power . . ."

"Exactly." He leaned back into the chair. "But if we can go out and celebrate the holidays with the rest of the people, instead of being cooped up in the tower or in the surface hall just monitoring, maybe we can get some of that trust back."

"As well as have a big fat justicy Christmas party," Lois gave a smile that told just how well she knew him.

Superman shrugged. "If that happens to be a result of it, then so be it."

She lifted her glass to him. "Cornball."

He tapped her glass with his own. "Would you mind if I did?"

She finished the last of her drink before she answered. "Of course I wouldn't mind, but have you ever organised a party before?"

"Well, not really . . ." he set his glass on the table as he scrunched his brow in thought. "But it couldn't be that hard. I mean, I organised a whole league of superheroes."

Lois shook her head. "You have no idea what you're getting into. Parties are way different territory from a club of superfriends."

"Justice League," he corrected. He did not know why, but something about that title irked him immensely. "And since you seem to know so much more about it, would you like to help out?"

"Help out as in do it for you, you mean?" she raised an eyebrow.

"You're the one familiar with the territory," he smirked at her.

"I guess I could," she smiled, pondering. "But only as long as I have free reign to interview the members."

Superman looked dubious. "Well, they may not answer you, but you can ask them. But no pictures," his stare was hard, "unless the they're given the green by the league."

"All right, all right," she laughed. "I'll put a leash on Jimmy." Lois twiddled with her napkin as she mused inwardly at the idea of a Justice Christmas Party—or would it be a 'Just Christmas Party'? "Who else would be coming?"

Superman blinked, confused. "We need more?"

"It wouldn't be much of a party with just you guys," Lois rolled her eyes. "If you ask me, the only one of you I think would feel at home at a party would be the Flash, and that's not the kind of party you guys need."

"Well, gosh," Superman scratched his head. "I . . . I don't know of anyone who should be invited . . . more Leaguers, maybe?"

Lois shook her head. "You want them to be gaining the trust of the people. If you make it League members only it'd look like a stuck-up club. You need to get some normal people in there."

"Well, make it open then."

Lois covered her eyes with her hand in exasperation and sighed. "This is why you need me. You can't just have it open; the crowd would be enormous. You guys are high-profile—you can't just have everyone roaring in. I wouldn't be able to get enough caterers for that kind of a riot anyway."

"Oh," he looked crestfallen.

"I may know someone from the entertainment section who could figure something out for that," Lois dismissed it for later. "Anyway, what would the theme be?"

Superman looked at her like she was the naïve one. "Uh, Christmas."

Blowing her bangs out of her face in a barely tolerant manner, Lois said, "You can't just have it be Christmas. That's too general. How about The First Noel? We could make it a costume party."

He shook his head. "Too religious. Some of them are still strangers to our ways. We shouldn't complicate it with a bunch of symbolism and stories that would have no meaning to them."

"Hm," she deliberated. "How about the Twelve Days of Christmas?"

"That wouldn't work either," he said.

"Why not?" Lois huffed.

"You know the twelve days are the days after Christmas until the Epiphany, right?"

"Someone paid attention in Sunday school," she said mocked. "I always thought they were before."

"Nope. Goes from Christmas to January sixth."

"Well, we could just celebrate it before, themed like the song—"

"Are you kidding? That one has even more symbolism. What would you say to them when they asked you what it all meant? You'd have to tell them the background of the Christian faith, the division between churches . . ."

"All right, all right, I get it," Lois was at her wits' end. "Is Winter Wonderland PC enough for you, Mr. Nondenominational?"

". . . well, I guess that's okay."

"Good. Then the date should probably be—"

"Lois, that's enough. We don't have to plan it all in one night. Didn't you say you had a story to write?"

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who insisted I had the time to be dragged away from that story," she crossed her arms, but then thought better of it when the idea of deadlines, bosses yelling, and I-told-you-so-Clarks intruded on her mild irritation. "You're probably right though," she acquiesced reluctantly. "I should be getting back soon."

"I didn't mean I didn't want to spend more time with you," Superman tried to ease it over. "I just don't want you in trouble because of me."

"Since when have you ever known me to keep out of trouble?" she laughed back into a light-hearted mood. And following that mood impulse, she leaned over the table while giving him a playful look. "Think we've got enough time for dessert?"

The rapid pattern of his footfalls drifted swiftly behind him. "I told you the white one was the best outfit to wear. It's more . . . festive."

Shayera soared above him, drifting on the thermals. As she looked down at the red blur beneath her, winding down the city streets in pace with her own, she wondered not for the first time how he could possibly project his voice upward loud enough for her to hear without it getting caught in the wind and flying uselessly behind him.

"C'mon," Flash continued. "Admit it, you had at least some fun."

"I just don't understand why we stayed so late," she finally spoke. "Most of them were falling asleep anyway."

"But I thought you liked snuggling with Kim."

"I was not 'snuggling'. She wouldn't let go of me."

"Suit yourself," Wally shrugged, stopping in front of the Justice League's Earth Embassy. Shayera gently descended with a few beats of her wings and a soft tap of her foot's contact with the ground. "You did have fun though, right?"

Shayera turned to him, seeing his hopeful expression. "It . . . it was . . . nice of you to let me come," she managed to say through thoughts of children frightened of her, or worse, let down by her when she could not protect them—just because she had wings. "But I don't think people are ready to forgive just yet. Not even children."

"What are you talking about?" his eyebrows shot up under the red mask and he zipped in front of her, blocking her path to the door. "The kids loved you! You played with them! You snuggled with them! You—you made snowflakes!"

She sighed and looked to her feet. "Wally, it's just not a good idea to be around the people right now. They're still scared and upset, and I don't blame them." She stepped around him to the entrance.

"No!" Wally grabbed her arm, but immediately released it when she whirled on him. "No," he said more calmly, once again face to face with her. "They're not the ones scared and upset. And I'm not sure about what Supes wanted with this, but I think this is more about you than them. It's Christmas time, Shayera. It's all about g—"

"In case you've forgotten," she glared, snapping her hand away from him, "I'm an alien, a filthy hawk. Your holiday doesn't really do much for me."

"Well maybe it should!" his voice rose. "You can't go around expecting people to trust you if you don't give them any trust yourself!"

"I don't expect them to trust me!"

"Or you don't want them to! It works both ways!" He took a deep breath, calming down. "Look, Shayera, I think you should just give it a chance."

"Good night, Wally," she turned her back in response.

"You can't just walk away from this, Shayera," he said softly.

The doors closed.

Flash turned around and started walking down the steps. Stopping to sit down on one of them, he looked up at the sky, slate grey and dropping snow. Crossing his hands, elbows on his knees, he grimaced. "Way to ruin things again, Wally."

Oh, by gosh, by golly

It's time for mistletoe and holly

Fancy ties an' granny's pies

An' folks stealin' a kiss or two

As they whisper, "Merry Christmas" to you