A/N: Whew, so many adds! Sorry for the wait but it's much longer than the last. Leave a comment!


Hawkgirl snorted. "Are you serious? Wait, you're really serious, aren't you?"

"Well, I don't know…" the Flash scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not sure he really likes me."

"I don't like him," said Green Lantern, without missing a beat.

"I apologize." Martian Manhunter stared, eyes large and unblinking. "But I believe that this may be a bad idea, leading to catastrophic proportions."

Wonder Woman tilted her head in curiosity. "I don't mind. I think it's a fascinating idea. A birthday card, you call it?"

And through it all Superman merely nodded, a soft and understanding smile curling his lips, as he approached his colleagues one by one as discreetly as possible aboard the Watchtower. He knew it would be difficult getting them to soften at the idea but it was actually interesting hearing all of their excuses. Impressive really. They were ridiculously honest with him, which was helpful, but, in fact, a bit discouraging, too.

"Well…" Superman had paused, racking his mind as he had stood across from Flash in the break room, "I think hate is a pretty strong word."

"Tell me about it." The Man of Steel had nodded in understanding as Hawkgirl barely even took a breath while she went on her rant, listing off reasons how terrible it was to work with such a "brooding asshole" who apparently has never heard of the saying "there is no I in team."

After a few hours, Superman sighed and resigned himself. He stood in one of the halls, facing the large window view of space. On slow nights like these, the Kryptonian would normally come out to simply gaze at the planets and stars – the dark canvas blanketing the universe as celestial matters twinkled in the distance. However, its affects weren't boosting his confidence this time. Batman had always been a difficult person to work with but after being with the Justice League after so many years, Superman thought by now they had all learned to accept him. He snorted. Apparently not. The thing of it was, he was more agitated at the Caped Crusader than the JL members. If he wasn't such a loner, a manipulative control freak that had to be a perfectionist at everything he did even if he hurt someone else in the process –

Superman shook his head. It was always easy to think that Clark Kent, the gentle "farm boy" basically liked everyone due to being a simple-minded fella who grew up saving animals and helping farmer Joe on the field or something. But, contrary to popular belief, the Smallville man didn't like everyone he met. He didn't like his boss, Perry, and didn't care much for that mailman that kept giving him his neighbor's mail. But, he was just polite and a brilliant actor at not showing it. Years of controlling his powers at a young age taught him a thing or two about pacifism. So, how did this happen? Batman was the definition of a grade-A jerk that Superman normally would avoid.

"Could you look anymore pathetic."

The Kryptonian suppressed a jump. Sighing, he remained fixed towards the window, staring at the reflection as Batman emerged behind from the darkness. "I thought we agreed that you'd at least clear your throat or, I don't know, tap my shoulder to signal your appearance?"

Batman merely glared, his white eye slits unblinking.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Hasn't been much activity for a few hours. Couple of red dots on the eastern side but local police have been handling it."

"Won't be for long." Batman shifted and stood next Superman, surveying the view. "Nothing on the Georgia case then."

The alien shook his head. "GL's found a glitch in their story. Thinks there more to the case than what we've heard so far. He'll be canvassing it with Hawkgirl."

Batman didn't respond, just cocked his head, causing Superman to chuckle. "I have faith in them. I'm sure they'll get something done."

He scoffed but didn't say anything. The pair remained quiet as they watched the stars, a comfortable silence settling between them. In the distance, the Flash was whistling an annoying pop tune while Martian Manhunter phased through cabinets, searching for any forms of chocolate. Hawkgirl was upstairs, roaring as she went through her third simulator and Wonder Woman watched the news with Green Lantern in another room.

"Here."

Something nudged his elbow and Superman glanced with a raised eyebrow. Batman produced a metal coffee canister, the steam still wafting, and poked him with it again.

"Alfred made extra."

"Oh," Superman clutched the canister and took a quick sip of the warm substance, trying not to laugh in the process. It was something the other Robins would say about their mentor – whenever he wanted to do something nice or show that he cared in any form, Bruce would simply tack Alfred's name on it.

"Dick, Alfred wants to know if you're coming home for Christmas."

"Alfred noticed that you've been upset lately."

"Well, Alfred cares about you, Tim."

"Thanks." Superman wiped his mouth. "Haven't seen him a while. He's doing okay?"

If Batman was actually going to respond, his words would be a mystery, because the alert system went off throughout the Tower, signaling a code orange. Superman cringed but took another quick slurp. "So much for the slow night. Tell Flash he owes me five bucks."

But, an idea suddenly sparked his thoughts. He was a member of the Justice League and could handle any international conflict. All he had to do was approach the situation as a code blue: birthday card operation. Batman slipped further down the hall but stopped momentarily, his cape flowing gently. The Kryptonian took one more sip, relishing the warmth, and followed. Superman was an expert at peace management – either way, he'd get the League members to sign that Hallmark card.


"Alfred wants to know if you have any plans this weekend."

Clark raised an eyebrow and stared at the phone. "Bruce?"

The Daily Planet was alive and bustling that Wednesday afternoon. There had been an animal escape at the zoo a few hours ago and Lois was already in the field, working the story with a few other lackeys. Clark remained at his desk, fiddling with a story from last week that he had yet to finish. Back to school articles were tremendously dull. Now this phone call seemed to be another distraction.

"Damn it…wait." There was rustling and shuffling on the other end, causing Clark to groan.

"Seriously? Not even a hello or how are you" –

"Dickie, you're giving me a headache. You know what I said about this. I'm talking to him right now so" –

"Hi, Uncle Clark!"

Clark pulled the phone from his ear at the sudden cry, laughing as he did so. Dick was already twelve – well past the age of calling him "Uncle" anything yet the child was always excited whenever he was near, either in his reporter or superhero form.

"How's it going, kiddo?"

"So are you coming to the manor this weekend? Alfred says he'll make your favorite pie for your birthday and it'll be really cool because I'll be there and I was thinking probably that – wait I'm not done yet! I didn't even" - -

More rustling and after a few moments Clark was tempted to put them on hold. Finally, Bruce's less than enthusiastic voice rustled on the other end. "Well?"

Clark frowned. "Is this an invitation or…"

"Put two and two together, Kent. Busy or not."

"With Pa back from surgery, I wasn't sure if they were planning anything or not..." He glanced at his calendar and bit his lip. Everyone had made excuses - Lois was going to do a story in Montana, Lana was sick and Jimmy...hmm, well he wasn't that desperate yet. "But, nope. Think I'm pretty much free."

Bruce scoffed as if he had just lost a battle. "Fine. This Saturday afternoon. I'll have the jet pick you up."

"What? No, you don't have to" –

"It's done."


"I'm Velma Jettson reporting for CBS News live. Moments ago, two tornadoes touched down completely destroying everything in their path." The reporter gestured behind her as the wind whipped her blonde hair back and forth. "Firefighters have been short staffed but it seems like the Justice League is paying a visit."

"If it's all clear, take some time to help a brother out with the cleaning crew." Green Lantern cradled his hand as his ring created a large glowing shovel. His comlink crackled. "This is going to take forever. Superman?"

"Hey, Lantern." The Man of Steel hovered nearby and gave a small wave. "Busy?"

He blinked and glanced at the frantic firemen below him. "…Yes?"

"Whelp, this'll only take a second," he said as he pulled out the crumpled card from behind his cape. If only he had a utility belt…

Lantern's eyes widened. "Cl – I mean, Superman…I thought we already went over this" -

"Hey!" a firefighter from below shouted. "A little less talking and a whole more not-almost-dropping-shit on people!"

"Shit! I mean Judas Priest." Green Lantern adjusted his ring, frowning. "I mean…Goddamn, just give me a second. I'll sign the stupid thing."

Minutes later, with a low woosh, Superman flew in the air in search for his next target. He swiftly landed near Hawkgirl, who was using her mace to smash the fallen trees. The alien frowned and cleared his throat.

"Is that even helping?"

"What?" she blew an escaped strand of hair out of her face. "Small pieces, duh. It'll be easier for them to carry."

Superman opened his mouth but closed it, deciding it was best not to argue. "Uh-huh. Say do you mind signing this real quick? It'll only take a second."

"What? Superman, seriously, during a mission? I said I wasn't interested" –

"It'll only take a second! Then you can go back to destroying or helping or whatever it is that you're doing."

The Thanagarian snarled but realized she had no excuses this time. They were in a contained environment with news reporters about – it'd look bad if they were caught arguing. She could only imagine the headlines. "Clever, Son of Kyrpton."

He simply grinned once she yanked the pen he had been waving in her face and scribbled something down as she pressed the card against her knee for a hard surface.

"Now go bother someone else."

"Will do."


"You really outdid yourself, Alfred, really."

"The pleasure is all mine. Please, allow yourself. Master Greyson, what did I say about being a polite host?"

The child groaned and sat back in his chair, arms crossed. "Guests are allowed the first bite."

"Precisely."

The dining room of the Wayne Manor was rarely used. Alfred had been up all night the day before, shimmying the feather duster on the large mahogany table and fireplace mantle. The chandelier was given a good spritz and the antique chairs' pillows were patted down. It wasn't every day that they entertained guests that weren't after Master Bruce's money…or simply after Master Bruce.

"But, can't I have just a little" –

"Richard." Bruce tilted the newspaper, blue eyes narrowed at his ward, who merely gulped.

"Fine." He sighed. "But Alfred says there's no reading at the table so ha!"

"That is correct, Master Bruce," said Alfred as he cut another slice of lemon meringue cake. "Gotham's weekend crime updates can wait for a few more hours."

The usually silent manor was filled with soft chatter, for the moment being, as forks scraped plates filled with fluffy cake, glazed fruit, deviled eggs, and stuffed mushrooms. And while Clark was never hungry due to his Kryptonian genetics, he scarfed down entirely everything, the taste buzzing on his tongue.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You've got chocolate on your face, Kent."


After cornering and pestering the rest of the members as they were busy with firefighters, police, and, overall being responsible JLA members, Superman smiled to himself as he entered the computer room. The card was a colorful mess of scribbled names and, sure, there were some smudges and the corner was bent, but, it was something. At least he hoped so.

Batman sat in front of the computer, fingers flying away on the keyboard as articles popped up on the flashing screen before him. He barely flinched as Superman took the empty desk chair next to him, nor did he tilt his head in curiosity as the Kryptonian produced a disheveled card to him.

"I thought," he said, eyes never blinking, "that we agreed that you wouldn't do anything stupid."

Superman shrugged. "You may have, but I didn't."

"It's just a number."

"A magic number."

"You're being ridiculous."

"All the more reason for you to just open the thing already cause I'm not going to stop. C'mon, get it over with."

After an agonizing wait for all of sixty seconds, the detective cracked his knuckles, cleared his throat, and finally, accepted the card in his gloved hands. At first he remained quiet, his eye slits simply staring at the paper, but a few moments later, he snorted.

"Did you threaten them with a laser beam to the head?"

"Something like that. Hey, it's the thought the counts, right?"

Batman spun back to face the computer and continued typing as the Man of Steel absentmindedly watched the flashing screen. The card remained in the detective's lap and the next few minutes were filled with the soft clacking of keys and the swishing of Superman's chair as he rocked back and forth until Batman cleared his throat.

"Alfred…he wanted to know if you'd be free tomorrow."

Superman shrugged, eyes not leaving the screen. "I might be."