Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League or Justice League Unlimited. I merely write this for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others.

A to Z, an Anthology
Trimming

Bruce could hear giggling when he stepped out from behind the clock and into the study. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced around the room. No one seemed to be there. Shaking his head, he pushed the clock back into place and locked it. Turning back around to face the room, he said out loud, "I wonder if Alfred put the cats out."

More giggling, though this time it sounded as though it was being muffled.

Bruce cocked his head. "What's that? Doesn't sound like a cat." He strode across the room and peered behind the wingback chair nestled in the corner. "Hmm, nothing here. Where could it be?"

Again, giggles permeated the room.

Smirking, Bruce moved over to the desk and picked up a few papers and opened the two drawers on either side. "Nothing in here either. Is it a ghost?" he asked.

There was no response of giggling this time, but Bruce had already pinpointed its origin. Stepping back from the desk, he swept down and grasped the small figure hiding beneath the desk. Careful not to allow any heads to hit the desk, Bruce pulled the child out.

Laughter bubbled out of the boy as he peered down at his father. "Daddy!" the four-year-old cried.

Bruce stared at him mock-sternly. "Why are you hiding in here, Stephen Thomas Wayne? Shouldn't you be with you mother, or Grandpa Alfred?"

Stephen shook his head. "Mommy said get you."

"Oh really? And what does she want?"

"Come to living room to help with Chris'mas tree," Stephen told him.

Bruce snorted under his breath. It figured. Every year, Diana found a way to ambush him and drag him into decorating the house for Christmas. This was the first time she'd ever finagled one of the children into her plans, though.

"Oh, she does, does she?" he asked. Stephen nodded emphatically, so Bruce answered, "Well, then we shouldn't keep Mommy waiting."

Swinging Stephen into his right arm, Bruce walked out of the study and down the hallway toward the living room. He could hear voices coming from the room in question, one female, one male, and both familiar. Coming to a halt in the doorway, he looked inside.

The enormous Christmas tree was set up to the right of the fireplace. The lights were already wrapped around it and plugged in at the back, helping to light up the room in a web of reds, blues, yellows, and greens. Diana and Alfred were at the couch, which was covered in boxes full of ornaments, each holding up ropes of garland. Across the room, by the tall windows, the playpen was set up. Inside, the one-and-a-half-year-old Lydia Sophia was standing and holding a stuffed rabbit in one hand, the rabbit's ear in her mouth, and grasping the webbing in the other. Her blue eyes were glued to her mother, but she must have caught Bruce's movement at the doorway, because she turned toward them. Suddenly, she dropped the rabbit and called out, "Da! Da! Da!"

Lydia's cries caught Diana and Alfred's attention and they turned, first toward the baby and then to the door. Diana stared at Bruce and, noticing Stephen balanced on his hip, she smirked.

"Mommy," Stephen said, pointing at Bruce, "I bring Daddy!"

"I can see that, sweetheart," she replied, "thank you very much for getting him."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "I take it you need me, Princess?"

"Yes, I do," she said. She held out the garland rope. "We need help putting the garland on."

"Really?" he asked. "You got the lights on easily enough."

Diana's brow wrinkled. "Not really," she admitted. "Alfred and I nearly fell off the chair multiple times trying to get them on at the top."

"Ah." Diana and Alfred had set a rule ever since her first Christmas in the Manor – no use of meta abilities to decorate the place. Everything had to be done the 'traditional' way.

Bruce rolled his eyes dramatically and set Stephen down. The boy immediately moved over toward the playpen. While Lydia's toys were inside it, Stephen's Legos were scattered around it on the floor. He happily sat down and started to play, having lost interest in the adults. Lydia too was no longer paying attention, and had picked her rabbit up again.

"Well," he said, taking the garland, "it seems you caught me again, Princess. How will you do it next year, send Lydia down into the Cave and not even have her wait until I get up into the house?"

She grinned and leaned close enough to press her lips against his cheek for a brief moment. "You could always stop acting like the Grinch and volunteer to help," she murmured into his ear. "''Tis the season', Bruce."

Trimming: n. something attached as a decoration; v. to decorate something.