Author's Note: Well, I didn't mean to break the 10K barrier. This must be what I get for trying to keep Eyes short. Character ownership goes to DC Comics.
The last of our dinnerware in the sink, Bruce and I return to the rocking sofa on the terrace. For a while, we sit beside one another, content simply hand-in-hand, our fingers interlocked while we sit and look out into the Metropolis night sky. I make the first move, rubbing his hand with my thumb.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bruce turn his head towards me. I do the same, turning to face him. "Well, I'm happy to see that you're so relaxed." I give him a smile afterwards.
"You seem to be in quite the mood yourself."
A hummed laugh escapes me. "Would you like me to repeat myself? Tell you again how happy I am tonight?"
"Well, you don't have to tell me..." The corners of Bruce's lips curve up into a smirk.
Something like a tingle of desire runs across my lips as I remember our kisses in the coffee shop. 'I did more or less promise that we could continue once we weren't surrounded by strangers…'
I lean closer to Bruce, turning my shoulders and pulling our joined hands into the small sliver of open cushion between our hips. I let my lips part lazily as I get closer and closer to Bruce's lips. I lower my gaze to his smile, itself fading to prepare for a kiss. Just before our noses begin to pass, I stop, lift my eyes to his, and lift my face away a few inches while I steal his smirk.
"I'm sorry, Bruce, were you trying to coerce me, the Princess of the Amazons, into something I didn't mean?"
His eyes narrow for the briefest of instants. He twists his shoulders towards me and I almost miss his hand before he takes hold of my right shoulder. He tips his head to my left and quickly leans forward, chasing after me, his eyes closing the rest of the way.
His lips press tightly to mine. I feel his jaw opening and let a small moan escape me while I race to match him and close my eyes. Our lips repeatedly slide against each other. The simultaneously sharp but gentle sounds of our lips fills my ears, mixing with the sounds of increasingly-labored breaths and the occasional approving moan. It takes me a few good seconds to realize most of the moans are mine.
Bruce keeps going, every so often pausing to pull back and tip his head the other way. In these brief reprieves, we take a moment to open our eyes, blue gazing passionately into blue. Each time we return, our jaws' and lips' movements become gradually more pronounced, yet somehow still small.
Finally, Bruce throws me a surprise, brushing the soft tip of his tongue against the edge of my upper lip as the misaligned seal of our lips begins to close. I start a little with surprise from the unexpected touch and he takes the opportunity to realign our mouths and capture my lower lip, even giving it a little tug before I can react.
I lean back against him and manage to capture his upper lip. I take my turn, capitalizing on the opportunity and getting a taste of him. For a few moments even after we pull away from each other, the texture of his lip lingers on the tip of my tongue.
We both begin opening our eyes at the same time, but I drag the motion out, holding onto the taste and feel of his lips for as long as I can. By the time my eyes are completely open, Bruce is smiling again. He waits to be sure he has my full attention before speaking. "I believe you need to be unwilling to be coerced, Princess."
The knowing, almost haughty smirk shaping his lips is frustrating to look at, but despite myself, all I want right now is to have those beautiful lips on mine again. Before long, Bruce's stillness is what's frustrating.
Finally, I take action myself, lifting my right forearm from its resting place across my right thigh. I snake my hand around and behind Bruce's left shoulder, wrapping my fingers over the front of it. I press my palm against the top of his shoulder blade, pulling him close again.
I press my lips to Bruce's hungrily. I find myself kissing more intensely than I had imagined and quickly realize what I'm doing; I am claiming Bruce's lips, claiming Bruce himself for myself.
The realization gives me pause. 'I've done this before.' I let my lips still, but keep them pressed tightly to his while thinking back. This isn't an act of apology, repentance, or forgiveness. This is possessive. This is passion.
My self-distracting thoughts must be trying to Bruce. He takes the initiative, restarting our kiss and returning my passion with equal fervor. His reversal takes only a few short seconds. Almost before I am aware of the change, the hand on my shoulder jumps away, finding the bare skin of my waist, just below the hem of my shirt.
He slips his fingers under the fabric. He spreads them slightly as he turns his hand at the wrist, lifting his hand up my side and beginning to run it around toward my back.
His hand finally comes to rest with his thumb outside the shirt to hold its hem straight as it runs across the back of his palm and fingers. The instant his hand stills, Bruce pulls me closer. In the same stroke, he lifts himself and leans over me, my head tipping back and my body bending with him as his gentle pulling draws me closer until finally I feel his tan jacket against my bare stomach and his lifting presses my breasts to his chest.
His right hand slips free from my left. It touches me again seconds later, first his fingertips on my cheek, then his palm joining soon after. My fingers tighten over Bruce's shoulders as he slides his hand back, fingertips entangling themselves in the roots of my hair, all of it now hanging freely below my head, swaying gently as our lips and mouths continue to move against each other.
In our new position, I realize that I'm losing our subtle contest of power and control, but I can't find the will to complain or protest. Being born and raised an Amazon did nothing to prepare me for this kind of passion, for the love swelling my heart, for the excitement filling my mind. Worst of all, it did not prepare me for my acceptance in any way of a man being over me.
There's a lightness, a tingling numbness spreading pleasingly up the back of my neck. It's been there since before now, though I can't think of when I first felt it. Now it seems to be settling in the back of my head. Bruce's hands and lips seem to be feeding it. A small wish runs through my mind, hoping that I will lose myself to the sensation.
Bruce unknowingly distracts me from it. Again, he runs his tongue along my lip, pulling my full attention back to my lips. Our impassioned kiss continues normally for a few moments more, then Bruce does it again. He pulls back for a moment and I open my eyes to see him tipping his head the other way. I close my eyes and do the same moments before I get his lips back. 'He's baiting me,' I realize when I feel the soft touch of lingua for a third time soon after.
I lift my recently-emptied left hand and find the junction of Bruce's neck and shoulder, resting my hand there for a moment before doing the same as he had done to me, working my fingers up into his hair. My focus stays mostly with my lips, but a small part of my mind races, trying to figure out what Bruce is baiting me for. Finally, I give in to curiosity and reach out with my tongue, parroting him and touching the edge of his lip.
The response isn't immediate. After another cycle of our jaws' motions, Bruce's tongue returns. The narrowed tip brushes lightly against the inside of my lip next to the corner of my mouth. His head tips further, until our noses are more than halfway to perpendicular, but still barely touching each other's cheeks.
As Bruce had, I let another cycle pass before I copy the motion and return the touch. He does the same, touching a new spot on my lower lip before retreating. We quickly settle into a pattern, each of us allowing an uninterrupted cycle of our jaws and lips against each other before taking turns sneaking our tongues to the other's lips.
Finally, Bruce straightens his head again. At the same time, he takes his turn and pulls the center of my upper lip against his own. When my turn comes, I find myself reaching further than I expected to get my tongue behind his lip.
The instant I touch the underside of his lip, his returns. He captures my tongue, pressing it against his upper lip. At the same time, his jaw leads mine closed and for a too-brief moment, both of our lips are perfectly sealed around our joined linguae. A moan of consummate pleasure escapes me.
Gently, our tongues glide against one another as we begin separating, drawing our lips tight around each other's soft invader. I open my eyes when Bruce's lips leave me. I stare up into his eyes for a few seconds while the lightness threatens to overtake me, held back only by my excitement.
I hear my heart, beating wildly in my chest. With my breasts pressed to Bruce, I am certain that he can feel it resonating through him. A tiny piece of my logic trying to hold out between the lightness and excitement screams for me to take at least a minute to calm down, but desire drowns it out.
I want my turn. Bruce got a taste of the inside of my mouth, of my tongue. All I got was a sample. 'I want to taste him!'
If he decides that we're done kissing now, I might end up seriously hurting him. I can't let him do that. Before he gets the opportunity to move any more, I reach back up with my lips and pick up our kiss from where we left off.
He forces me to wait two whole cycles of our lips brushing against each other before he finally gives in. His timing actually catches me off guard, but he pauses, giving me time to react. I reach out with my tongue, press it up against the underside of Bruce's. He waits for me to lead our lips closed tight around our tongues and again waits for me to begin pulling my tongue away. I take my time, taking full advantage of the opportunity to savor every sensation and commit absolutely every bit of it to memory.
Finally, the kiss ends as Bruce lifts his lips away. I open my eyes to look up into his. I can still taste Bruce's tongue and the inside of his mouth. The tiny samples I had gotten from his lips pale in comparison. I've never had anything to eat or drink that tasted even similar. I can't believe the thought could ever cross my mind, but I can't help myself. 'This taste...rivals iced mochas...'
Absently, I pull my lower lip in between my teeth and begin rubbing the end of my tongue against the smooth inside. I notice after a moment, then open my mouth to stop myself, try to distract myself from the lingering memory of our kiss. "…Great Hera!" I breathe. It's about the best I can come up with.
Bruce lowers his hand from my hair and the side of my head. It falls to my shoulder, then down, onto my upper arm. He leans back as he caresses my arm and his left hand caresses my side under the shirt.
He sinks into the cushion beside me while sitting straighter, all but pulling me upright with him, my hands still behind him. I relax both hands, letting his shoulder go and dropping my right hand down to rest on his side just above his waist while my left falls to his shoulder. I pull my palm away and slowly, lightly glide my fingertips onto his chest, down to about the middle of his fabric-wrapped torso.
My desire, my need for that last kiss come back to me. "I never knew myself to be so…greedy," I think aloud.
"Can't say I feel like complaining about it…" His reply is lighthearted, but I know he is being honest. I smile in reply to his humor.
I see a moment's hesitation in his eyes. "Diana, do you need to return to the Watchtower tonight?"
"What?"
"You have a late morning monitor duty shift tomorrow. Do you really need to go back there to sleep? You're perfectly welcome to sleep here."
"Wait." I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. "Do you want—"
"I mean you can use the other bedroom. There's sure to be plenty of extra beddings and pillows. Both of the couches in the living room are long enough for me to sleep on, if you'd prefer." It's left unsaid, but there's a clear suggestion in that short pause before he finishes the sentence.
I take more than a long moment to consider the question. I had lost control from a kiss. Granted, I've never had so exciting a kiss, but my mind sees fit to remember that I, an Amazon, let a man take control. Even my turn leading our last kiss hadn't truly been something I controlled. Bruce was still above me the whole time. I needed him and his marvelous tongue for the kiss and he had certainly been the one to choose when to let it begin.
The memory of the kiss is exciting enough, but at the thought of his tongue, I remember his taste. Again, my tongue begins to move absently, wandering back and forth against the roof of my mouth as I suppress the urge to kiss Bruce again.
Remembering his question helps. "Alright, I can spend the night here." It's tempting to stop there, but I'd rather have a better handle on myself before letting myself go any further. "But are you certain you'll have everything you need to sleep without a bed for yourself?"
Bruce's expression shifts. I inwardly sigh with relief. 'He isn't mad—he doesn't even seem surprised. Maybe he only wants the company...' I smile appreciatively.
Before the smile is fully on my lips, he answers. He lifts his right hand from its gentle caresses and rests his forearm on the back of the sofa. "Believe it or not, I've slept on couches before. I even have more than one to choose from here. Bedding won't be an issue, either. It's more or less a given that there are extra sheets, blankets, and pillows for both your bed and Alfred's."
That brings up an interesting point. "What about Alfred? What will he say when he finds out?"
"Well, he won't accept another day of vacation. That's for certain." Bruce pauses, thinking. "A place like this, I can get us guest robes if there aren't any waiting for us in the bedroom closets or bathrooms already. Put your clothes out and Alfred will have them cleaned, dried, and pressed—assuming he can figure a way to do that up here—all by the time you wake up."
"That might be nice. I don't have another set of clothes for tomorrow. What about you sleeping on a couch?"
Bruce gives a small chuckle. He smiles at me after calming. "He probably won't say much of anything. At least not now. He'll bring it up later, I'm sure, but you can bet he'll be ecstatic. Remember, he did have a hand in keeping me from letting you walk away."
"So he may see it as a form of thanks?"
Bruce tips his head off to the side, his smile widening and his gaze turning to the night sky past me on my right. Something of a whine escapes him as he considers the idea. "Something like that," he finally answers while looking back to me.
"And speaking of 'what about's, what about Gotham?" I only hope he doesn't take it to mean I want him to go out and patrol. Not here in Metropolis or back in Gotham. Not tonight, when I have him to myself.
"It's being handled." I give him an inquisitive look, silently asking if that's all the answer he intends to give me. "Dick has been having a little trouble in Blüdhaven of late, otherwise I'd have asked him to stay at Wayne Manor with Tim. Since he is unavailable, I talked to Commissioner Gordon, asked if his daughter would be interested in house-sitting for a day or two so Tim wouldn't have to stay somewhere else."
I give a slight nod of understanding. "I see."
Bruce had never confirmed anything about his team to the founding Leaguers. It had been easy enough to deduce after I figured out his identity in Paris. J'onn and I had even met with all three while living at the manor during the second Watchtower's construction. Even so, Bruce never said anything definitive.
Alfred had answered more about "Master Bruce's self-imposed obligations to protect those closest to him" than why everyone seemed to disappear at night while the Batmobile wasn't in the cave. Even then, Tim was the only one I was ever really sure about. I saw Dick and Barbara so rarely that I was nearly back to deductive reasoning for their caped identities. This is the closest I've gotten Bruce to telling me who his teammates are.
"It's in good hands," I respond with surety. He smiles and starts us repositioning ourselves on the rocking sofa. We move closer, shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, thigh-to-thigh. I let him wrap his right arm around me, but instead take his free left hand in my own.
We turn our heads to one another and share a smile. Once our smiles begin to soften, I rotate my left shoulder forward and slide it across his chest. I steal a quick kiss, then gaze lovingly into his eyes for a few breaths before I turn my head forward and settle back against him.
I close my eyes and lift my right hand to my side, covering as much of Bruce's right hand as I can. The mood feels right. "I love you, Bruce," I tell him, the words soft, but unmistakably from the bottom of my heart.
I feel his warm breath on my ear a moment later and the sensation sends a pleasant, unexpected shudder through me. "I love you, too, Diana," he whispers.
Happiness fills me and my heart swells. At the same time, I notice the lightness at the back of my neck again. Until now, I had thought it a response to so passionate a kiss, but maybe that had only made it stronger. Perhaps the real cause is Bruce himself, my emotions, my love for him that only seems to be growing more intense now that I actually have him, now that he's no longer trying to run from me.
A part of me wants to ask Bruce if he feels anything similar, but I'd much rather hold on to this tranquility. Bruce is relaxed and seems happy, all on account of me. It's hard not to be a little self-satisfied, maybe a little arrogant about that, but it helps to know that we're sharing both our feelings and time. They're equally important.
Bruce and I stay on the sofa for a while. It seems to be a clear night, but no matter how long I stare at it, I don't see any stars. Bruce moves his arms in the middle of my thoughts, interrupting me for a few moments as he does. I wait until his hands come together, for him to clasp them over the exposed skin of my stomach. "I'm surprised the stars aren't visible by now." I wrap my hands over his.
"Too much light pollution," he explains succinctly. "Gotham can get like this, too. The downtown and the industrial districts get more smog, fog, and low clouds. Incidentally, Wayne Manor has one of the best views of the night sky in all of Gotham."
I think back to my time in the manor. "At least it's something to project the Batsignal onto, right?"
An amused humph escapes him. "Right." He falls silent for a few moments, then straightens in his seat. "About time to get everything sorted out so we can retire?"
I lean forward, nodding. Bruce's hands unclasp and I move to my right as he pulls his arms away, each of us giving the other room to stand. I follow Bruce inside, closing both sets of doors behind us. I can hear that Alfred's music has stopped. I imagine him awake and waiting anxiously, hoping not to hear signs of argument, hoping for some sign that Bruce and I are getting along well, but I hope he is already asleep. Observation has taught me that Alfred barely gets more sleep than Bruce on most days. The cost of helping him maintain the dichotomous lifestyles of socialite and crimefighter.
We pass quickly through the living room and enter the bedroom opposite Alfred's. The bed draws my attention from the moment I first step inside. It's probably a king-sized bed and it has been immaculately made. It has what looks like a single, massive pillow stretching from one side of the mattress to the other. Bruce steps right up to it and pulls back a heavy blanket and then what looks and sounds like the satin sheet beneath to reveal what is actually two rows of pillows.
Bruce picks up one of the smaller pillows in the first row, then one of the two larger pillows that make up the second row. He turns to me with a pillow in each hand. "I shouldn't need any more than these two. It's safe to assume four pillows will be enough for you, right?"
I can tell he is joking, so I lift my hands to my hips and look as commanding, as authoritative as I can. "Bruce," I playfully warn, a smile on my lips.
He chuckles, then moves to pass me. "Hold on. I want to set these down before we go any further."
I nod and cross my forearms below my bust, leaning over my left foot as I follow him with my eyes while he leaves the room. He steps out of my line of sight after rounding the corner at the end of one of the couches. He comes back into view a moment later, empty-handed. He answers my silent gaze by pointing a finger to my left, to a large closet stretching out from the corner to the left of the door, extending nearly two thirds of the way down the wall to my left. Past it, I notice a smaller set of screen and glass doors, leading out to a private veranda, its facing the opposite of the terrace where Bruce and I were relaxing.
"Here we are," Bruce comments aloud as he pulls open the first set of closet doors. I turn my attention back to him and see the shelf above the line of empty hangers. There is a set of sheets and blankets folded in the corner on the shelf. Bruce reaches for them, then flips the light switch as he pulls them out, lighting up the inside of the closet.
He leans into it, then turns to his left. He turns his head further, turning to me before he straightens and steps out. "The bathrobes are at the other end. Go ahead and grab one while I put these in the other room."
"Alright," I reply while stepping up to the last set of doors at the closet's left end. The doors swing out without a sound, revealing a pair of fluffy white bathrobes, hanging from the first two hangers on the line.
I reach in and slide the two hangers apart to compare the backs to the fronts. Both bathrobes are a brilliant, but somewhat plain white. The only bit of color is the hotel's MGH logo embroidered in large, blocky gold lettering, with "Metropolis" above and "Grande Hotel" below in a calligraphic script.
I pull one of them from its hanger, surprised at how soft the robe is. I idly rub the material between my left thumb and forefinger, my mind returning once again to Wayne Manor. Alfred had delivered a similar robe to me and to J'onn when we stayed there. It had been one of my favorites of the manor's luxuries and he had offered to let me keep it once the Watchtower was habitable, but I had declined. I've regretted it from time to time, but with its embroidered Wayne "W," I felt it would be wrong to remove it from the manor.
I get a small nagging feeling and turn. Bruce is standing behind me. His approach had been silent, but that doesn't surprise me. "Usually I'm more quiet," he says apologetically.
"Don't worry, I didn't hear you." I hand him the robe. "You'll need one, too, right?"
He takes it with both hands. "I'll wait outside if you'd like to change now."
I nod in response. "Where is Alfred going to wash my things?"
"There's a laundry closet near the door. Even comes with a laundry basket."
"Bruce, we've been together since we got here. When did you have the chance to look into all of this?"
"I took a quick look when I put the beddings in the other room," he answers frankly. "These places usually have all the basic amenities of home. Some, more eccentric guests live in penthouse suites for extended periods. The hotels need to build their suites with that in mind."
"Eccentric, Bruce?" I smile wryly. "You say that like you're not talking about yourself. How many other billionaires do you know who run around like you?"
"There's always Oliver Queen." I laugh at that. Green Arrow, of course.
Bruce waits for my laughter to pass. "I'll let you change." With that, Bruce turns to the door. He steps out, pausing to turn back and close the door. He gives me a smile before I lose sight of him.
I stand still for a while, letting the day and evening replay slowly in my mind. 'Well, I was certainly right to tell Shayera that working for Bruce's affections is worth it…' The thought brings a smile to my lips.
Finally, with a shake of my head, I refocus. I need to change. I remove the second robe from its hanger and walk to my bed for the night, the robe draped over my arm. After setting it down on the edge of the bed, I take my shoes off and set them beside the foot of the bed. I next begin to remove my clothes, leaving myself in only my bracelets and pendant necklace as I begin to fold each article of clothing carefully and pile it all on the bed.
Once finished, I pick the robe up and slip first my right arm, then my left into its sleeves. With my grip on the edges, I pull the robe closed, letting its soft warmth envelope me from my neck all the way down past my knees.
I bring my hands up to free my hair from the robe's neck, then notice the motion opened the robe. 'Now, how do I keep it closed?' I ask myself, leaning forward and looking down past my breasts to the robe's waist. "Ahh," I remark aloud, spotting the ends of a sash hanging from a pair of the loops sewn around the robe's waist.
I pull the sides of the robe closed before taking both ends of the sash and wrapping them around each other. I pull the ends of the sash tight, then readjust the sides, pulling them straight to make sure there are no wrinkles, I lift the sash's ends and pull it tight once more. Satisfied with both sash and robe, I pick my clothes up and hold them to myself below my bust with my left arm.
I walk over to the bedroom door and it opens as easily as the closet doors had. I find Bruce sitting on one of the couches, facing the doors out to the terrace. As I approach, I look over the second couch, which faces the door to Alfred's room. Bruce has the pillows set up at one end of the couch, the sheets and blankets already laid out across its seat.
Bruce turns to me and stands while looking me over from head to toe. Despite myself, I smile a little smugly at the look. I remember his line when we arrived at Gotham Delizioso. "Enjoying the view?" I can't help but ask.
His eyes dart up to mine as he lifts his chin, too. "Are you going to hit me if I say yes?" He isn't entirely serious, but I can also tell he isn't ruling the possibility out.
I give him a grin as I turn away. I spot the door to the tiny laundry room. It's open, the basket visible atop the washing machine. "Maybe. Leering at an Amazon, Bruce."
I hear him getting off the couch behind me, then silence. "Seems to me that a lot of people get away with that." He's a lot closer. Maybe a couple steps behind me.
"Just the ones I don't see." I step into the laundry room and put my clothing into the laundry basket, making sure my folded pants are on top. "Promise not to go digging through my clothes during the night and I might be willing to institute a more lenient punishment."
His response is nearly immediate. "I won't touch them or look through them and I'll make sure that Alfred moves and folds them strictly as required." I can tell he hasn't moved since he last spoke.
"Good," I reply, turning back to face Bruce with a smile. I step out of the laundry room and put myself well within arms' reach. I lift my hands to his chest, run my fingers up, onto his shoulders, and then let my arms slide over them as I step closer.
"Now," I begin, bending my elbows, crossing my arms at the wrist and wrapping my hands across the back of his head and neck, "about that goodnight kiss…"
"You mean punishment?" he corrects before letting his own lips widen into a smile.
I feel his hands on my sides through the robe's fabric. He slowly lifts them up, onto my lower ribs and closer to the level of my breasts. "Don't get caught up in the little details, Bruce," I reply in jest.
I give him a moment more, then lean forward and tip my head to the side, giving Bruce a quick kiss. I pull back when he starts to respond, then open my eyes and look up from his lips to his eyes. Bruce only lets me stay still a moment, leaning forward and kissing me back. His jaw opens slightly and he begins the thrilling rhythm of our lips rubbing against each other.
Finally, he stops, pulling back and giving us each the opportunity to relax our necks. I notice as we trade our gazes that his breathing is rather pronounced. A little self-reflection tells me that mine is, too.
I blink slowly, pulling my right hand from behind Bruce's head. My fingers find their way into his hair just above his left eye. They play along his hairline there, straightening some errant hairs, swirling little circles over others. A thought from the bedroom comes back to me.
"You know, Bruce…" He gives an inquiring hum to let me know I have his attention—as if it might be anywhere else. "I had breakfast with Shayera this morning. I was with her when you called from the airport. She didn't think you sounded all that affectionate..."
He doesn't wait long enough to see if I will add more. "What'd you say to that?" I'm glad to hear him ask, to hear him still interested.
"That I'm happy when my hard work pays off…" My expression hardens, and I let the almost lyrical tilt to my voice drop. "Don't get me wrong, Bruce. You can be as stubborn as a mule most of the time, but your instincts are right more often than not and I usually trust your decisions.
I pause, and my thoughts shift. "I'm really glad you showed up in my room before I threw out my dress from Paris. I don't want to think about what I would have done if you had waited any longer to arrive, especially not now, knowing how happy I am."
Bruce's expression shifts suddenly. He turns away, his smile falling into a frown, almost a scowl as he pulls my fingers from his hair. "I can imagine what would have happened," he says after a moment.
The change surprises me. It's almost as abrupt as the change from Bruce Wayne to Batman. This is different, though, the change to Batman brings about an air of cold, calculating distance. This change only brought anger and frustration. "What are you talking about, Bruce?"
He gives a little start, lifting his head and turning back to me. "Sorry. A bout of my natural pessimism. Don't worry about it, Diana."
I let my lips part a little as I stare back at Bruce with uncertainty and curiosity. Bruce leans forward again, presses his lips to mine gently, holding the unexpected kiss for a few short breaths. Just after I close my eyes, he pulls back. "We're dating and you're here with me now. That's all that matters."
I wrap my right hand back behind Bruce's head. "Finally dating," I correct.
"Finally," he agrees. His hands drop back down to my waist, his palms soon falling away, leaving me held between his fingertips.
"Alright. You should probably head to bed. I've got to get ready, too. It might be nice to get a full night's rest. I'm sure Alfred will still beat me to waking up tomorrow, though."
I nod and begin to slowly remove my arms from behind his head. I pause when my hands are over his shoulders again. I feel another sense of daring. "I love you, Bruce."
His cheeks flush lightly. "I-I" he begins to stammer embarrassedly. He stops himself, swallows and restarts with confidence and heartfelt emotion. "I love you, too, Diana."
"Thank you, Bruce," I tell him after a short silence, lifting my hands from his shoulders to cup either side of his chin. I lean in and give him a brief kiss. "You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that," I tell him appreciatively as I lean back and lower my hands.
Bruce's hands fall away as well and he smiles. "I'd be willing to argue that point. I'm pretty sure I have a good idea."
A quick chuckle escapes me before I turn. "I suppose you do," I reply, remembering his blush.
He lets me get back to the bedroom door in silence. Just before I cross beneath the doorframe, he pauses me with the soft utterance of my name. I turn back to him. "Good night, Diana."
My smile broadens. "Good night, Bruce." I take a step back and then slowly close the bedroom door, neither of us averting our gaze until it finally cuts us off from one another.
I walk towards the oversized bed. 'Not much to do now but retire—Oh!' There is one thing to do. I turn, diverting towards a chair past the nightstand on the bed's right.
I relax as I sit down in it. Resting my elbows and forearms on the chair's arms, I lift a hand to my right ear to activate my communicator. "Wonder Woman to Watchtower."
A moment later, I hear a voice in my ear. "Watchtower. This is Mr. Terrific. Go ahead, Wonder Woman."
"This is just to inform you that I'll be staying in Metropolis tonight. I should be back aboard in time for my monitor duty shift tomorrow morning."
"Understood. Anything else?"
I'm about to answer that there isn't, but a thought hits me and I pause for another moment. 'I don't want anyone to misunderstand and think I'm in Metropolis to stay with Kal.' I let the conversation play out in my mind for a moment.
"Is Superman aboard?"
"Just a second." A short pause. "According to the transporter records, he went back to the surface a few hours ago."
'That's right, he was going to Kansas after his shift.' Better to feign a little ignorance. "Oh. Alright. Well, would you contact him for me? He needs to know he'll have to cover if I'm late tomorrow."
"As soon as the channel is clear, Wonder Woman."
"Thank you. Wonder Woman out."
"Watchtower out."
Now I have a few minutes to wait. There isn't much point in getting up and going to bed yet. I expect Kal will call to ask about my message from Mr. Terrific.
A few minutes pass and I start to relax in the chair. Finally, I hear the telltale beep. "Wonder Woman," I answer.
"Diana. What are you doing in Metropolis?"
"Good evening, Kal. I figured you'd end up calling," I reply cheerily, in contrast to Kal's nearly demanding tone.
He sighs in defeat, quickly realizing he'll have to play along. "Good evening, Diana." His voice is more even, calmer. "Why would Mr. Terrific need to tell me you might miss your shift tomorrow?"
"Because Bruce and I are spending the night in the penthouse at the Metropolis Grande Hotel."
He pauses before replying. "Diana, don't you think you're moving too quickly?"
"Relax. Alfred and I are in the two bedrooms. Bruce offered me his room and is using a couch in the penthouse's living room. Haven't I told you to trust what I'm doing with my heart?"
"Yeah. Yeah, alright. Well, would you mind telling me what you're doing in Metropolis?"
It's tempting to tell him, but I'd rather let Lois get the chance to surprise him. "You're going to work tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah. Usually do. Why do you ask?"
He might start to figure it out if I mention Lois by name. "You'll have to ask around."
"That's all you're going to give me, isn't it?"
I smile, a little surprised at myself for having fun dragging Kal along, for enjoying this little streak of mischievousness. I take a moment to stamp it down. "Sorry, Kal. It's not my surprise to reveal."
"Alright, fine. I'll just have to be patient and wait." He pauses again. "You know, I'm not going to be able to cover for you if you're late."
"I expected that. I just didn't want word going around the Watchtower that I'm in Metropolis to be with you. I think Shayera deals with enough questions about the foundering members as it is. Bruce and I don't need anyone getting confused. And for a moment I forgot that you went home after your shift. I asked Mr. Terrific to pass along the message so no one up in control would think I knew where you were."
"Alright, well, just try to be on time for your shift, Diana," he replies after a momentary silence.
"I plan on it, Kal. Don't worry. Bruce told me that he and Alfred are heading back to Gotham in the morning. They're leaving long enough before my shift starts that I've considered flying back with them."
"Be careful, Diana. What'd you say again? I've known him a lot longer than you have."
"Kal," I scold, "You worry about it too much."
"I hope so, Diana. I really do…" He pauses again. I think to respond, but he beats me to it. "Well, if not tomorrow, there's always the founder's meeting Thursday evening."
"Of course. I'll see you soon."
"Yup. Good night, Diana."
"Good night."
The channel closes and I'm left with only the near silence of my temporary bedroom. At last with nothing to do, I rise from the chair, only to look across the bed and notice the door to the attached bathroom. I move around the bed, deciding to spend a moment exploring it. The size of the bathroom is impressive and everything is very neat and clean, but a person can only spend so much time looking at a bathroom. Still, I look forward to my morning shower tomorrow.
Before long, the distraction is behind me and I'm back in the bedroom. I look down at the bed as I step up beside it and reach out. I straighten the sheets and blanket where Bruce had removed the pillows and then move to the other side to lift the covers away. I press my palms into the spotless fabric on the mattress as I uncover it, getting a feel for the mattress's softness.
"Well," I comment to myself aloud, "this is certainly going to be a lot more comfortable than my bed on the Watchtower…" I turn to the head of the bed, spot the posts at either end as they extend nearly four feet up from the room's floor. I smile, satisfied. "Good enough to hang my robe."
I remove the robe slowly, then hang it over the top of the post by the back of its neck. The robe in place, I climb into bed, practically sinking into the mattress before reaching for the covers to wrap over my nude form. I sigh contentedly to myself while closing my eyes and beginning to relax. "Definitely satin," I whisper aloud to myself.
'The end of a good day, all things considered.' There are still a few loose ends that need to be wrapped up, Bruce's little oddity from just before we said our good nights, for one. There's also the matter of Kal's excessive protectiveness. A little epiphany hits me. "That must be what drove Lois to wit's end!" I can certainly relate at the moment.
"Maybe Bruce is wrong. Maybe getting the four of us in a room together is exactly what we all need," I theorize.
A few ideas begin coming to me, but I finally stop myself, deciding to see if I can involve Bruce as well. The idea of 'involving Bruce' reminds me of another loose end. Bruce still needs to tell me about his past romances, so I know who he has been involved with. I'm sure there are a few more things to worry about, but as the luxurious mattress lulls me towards inevitable sleep, I can't bring myself to think about what they might be.
What I considered a good Monday quickly spreads into a good midweek. Tuesday morning had been interesting. Alfred had reacted much as Bruce predicted. As an added bonus, his very vocal approval of Bruce offering me the bedroom instead of the living room couch had been amusing.
Alfred had gone so far as to wash and even iron almost all of my clothing. The result was far and above what I had expected. Of course, it was also ready for me by the time I exited my room after indulging myself with a long, hot shower.
After breakfast, Bruce and I had joined Alfred in checking the rooms over to make sure we weren't leaving anything that belonged to either man. It was something Alfred was reluctant to allow, but appreciative of nonetheless. I stuck with the two of them for the car ride back to the airport. At the last minute, I decided to return to the Watchtower while still at the airport, the same way I had arrived.
Tuesday and Wednesday themselves turned out to be rather run-of-the-mill. The only spot of trouble had ironically been in Metropolis. I had ended up with an offset shift, from 9:00 to 3:00, to make up for the scheduling conflicts with the Leaguers originally scheduled from 6:00 to noon and noon to 6:00.
Only a couple minutes after eleven, Metallo had appeared downtown. His mechanical body seemed to have refreshed his mind. He had managed to escape League confinement, but he thought of himself as being in the wrong year. Kal had managed to suppress him with some assistance from Shayera.
The only loose end in the matter was how he had obtained the kryptonite to power himself. After being informed and asked to track down the kryptonite's origin, Bruce had come up to the Watchtower to take the kryptonite back to the Batcave. He had been thoughtful enough to pay me a real visit after arriving. We had even shared a few long, passionate kisses before I finally relinquished the kryptonite. While the opportunity was present, I also made sure to remind him not to forget to see me in the evening when he left for patrol.
Wednesday had been interesting in its own right. Lois's article had been published in that morning's issue of the Daily Planet. Kal hadn't been quite as upset about missing the byline as Bruce had led me to believe. When he came around on his way out for patrol Wednesday night, I asked him about it. He admitted that he had only mentioned it so he wouldn't have needed to tell me he really didn't want Kal there since both of them had once dated Lois.
Thursday afternoon is when things started to turn downhill. The morning had progressed smoothly enough. None of the founders have monitor duty shifts on days with scheduled founders' meetings. I managed to get a lot of training in through the morning. Shortly after noon, though, I received an unexpected call just as I was finishing up my lunch.
"Miss Diana?"
My hand darts immediately to my ear as I get up, turning away from the other occupants of my table and walking away. "Alfred?" I whisper in response.
"Ahh, Miss Diana. I do apologize for bothering you like this, but I believe Master Bruce needs your help."
"Bruce—he isn't hurt, is he?" The words come quickly out of my mouth, my tone nearly desperate as I immediately imagine the worst.
"No. No, he appears inexplicably distressed. I fear he will injure himself before long if he isn't careful. Miss Diana, I feel your assurances would be most helpful, so if you could, please come to the manor as soon as you are able. This simply is rather…difficult to explain without seeing what Master Bruce is doing."
"Alright, I'll be down shortly, Alfred." I turn back to my table and pick up my tray.
"Thank you. I will await your arrival in the cave," Alfred tells me as I apologize to my tablemates for having to leave early.
I begin to worry the moment I leave the commissary. I try to keep Alfred's assurances in mind, but all I can do is keep going back to the concern in his tone and his insistence that I help calm Bruce down. 'What could be wrong?' I worry what I will find when I reach the manor.
I rush as best I can to the elevator and then out from it when I arrive on the transporter deck. I float my way across the deck to the technician and the control console, setting down a few steps away and practically brushing the technician aside with an unexplained, "Excuse me."
I look up to the pads beyond and see Steel, Stargirl, S.T.R.I.P.E., and Vigilante ready to deploy to the surface. Bruce supersedes them in my mind. "Off. Now," I order. The four of them scramble off the transporter pads as I turn my attention back to the panels at my fingertips.
Again, I begin the procedure with a tap to my communicator. I authenticate myself before selecting the Batcave as my destination. The founders-only panels close automatically as the nearest transporter pad warms up and I wordlessly step out from behind the console to stand in place.
The transporter's light engulfs me, fills my vision. As quickly as it begins, it ends, the light fading away to reveal the Batcave in its full, partly-lit glory. Alfred is waiting near the Batcomputer and I jump to fly across the cave to him.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Miss Diana. Please, follow me upstairs."
"What's going on, Alfred? Where's Bruce?" The concern on my voice grows stronger with each word.
"I'm…not sure I know how to answer, Miss Diana." We step out from behind the grandfather clock in the study. Alfred resets the time, then leads me down a few hallways to the foyer.
"Master Bruce has become rather…obsessive."
"How is that any different than normal?" I can't help but ask as I lift my foot to the first step heading upstairs.
"It's what he is fixated on that has me worried. He seems determined to tear his bedroom apart—to destroy it, if need be—but I cannot for the life of me determine why," Alfred answers.
That's all the information I need. "I'm going on ahead," I tell Alfred. A moment later, I lift myself from the stairs and fly past Alfred, grasping the railing and tossing myself over it before turning towards Bruce's room.
The flight down the hallway takes longer than it's ever seemed to, even when walking it in the past. I hear an uneven scraping sound just before I arrive, accompanied by Bruce groaning with effort. An instant later, my feet are on the ground and I take the last two steps to stop in the open doorway to his bedroom.
"Bruce!" I call out with worry as I round the corner and enter his bedroom.
The sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks. Not one piece of furniture is in its proper place. The bed is halfway across the room and turned at an angle. Both nightstands are upside down, one close to its original place near the wall. A bureau lies on its back almost dangerously close to the wall of floor-length windows. Piles of smaller objects lie scattered about the room.
In the middle of it all is Bruce. He's standing at the foot of a large folding ladder, his right foot on the first rung, his left hand holding firm, his right hand gripping a small electronic device. My arrival seems to have given him pause as well. It doesn't last long.
"Diana. Did Alfred call you?" He doesn't give me time to react. "No matter. You can help." He steps off the ladder and walks toward me, presenting the device in his open hand.
"What…"
"A scanning unit. I use it to search for interference, transmission signals, and the like." He stops in front of me and I begin lifting my hands. He turns his hand over and thrusts the device into my right hand. "I need you to sweep the ceiling. It'll be faster and safer than me moving that ladder around all afternoon."
"Bruce…I don't under—"
"Just check it!" he exclaims harshly. My jaw hangs loose and my eyes go wide with shock as I look up from my hand. After a moment, Bruce lifts his right hand, balling it into a tight fist. It quivers in the air for a moment and he brings it close to his head, leaning down until his forehead is nearly against it.
After a few long seconds of silence, Bruce seems to relax. His arm drops back to his side and he lifts his head, looking up to meet my gaze. "I'm sorry, Diana. I didn't mean to yell at you. Just…please."
Bruce turns away and walks back into the room, leaving me to look down at the device in my hands. 'What is he searching for? Does he really expect to find something? What could be so important that he would tear his room apart like this? Why can't he just tell me what's going on?'
Numerous other questions run through my mind, but only these keep repeating themselves, only these seem the most important. Eventually, I give in. With Bruce's current mood, I don't think I'll be able to get any more out of him.
My grip tightens around the device, a firm hold not strong enough to break it. The desperation in Bruce's final plea is the real driving force behind my own decision to act. He had sounded so…powerless. Like he were at the mercy of something he doesn't understand. If doing as he asked, if searching the room with this scanner will satisfy him, will mollify him if the search yields no results... I hold on to the hope that I can get him to explain himself.
Alfred arrives. I turn to him and give him a weak smile, holding up the scanner in my right hand, presenting it to him. His gaze travels to the scanner for a few moments, and then back to my face. His concern and confusion are evident. I have no answers for myself, let alone any to give him. I can only begin my assigned task before Bruce has another outburst.
I turn to the ceiling and begin floating upwards. I reach out, holding the device at the end of my reach and begin to sweep it across the ceiling. I go slowly, lingering in each area to make doubly sure I've swept through with the scanner multiple times.
I notice Bruce looking up at me from time to time. He looks up at me approvingly, but approval gives way to distress every time he realizes that my search seems hopelessly fruitless. When I finish, I look to Bruce and before I can tell him that the scanner didn't detect anything, he tells me, "Check the walls."
There isn't a point in arguing with him. I'm going to have to let his stubbornness wear him out. So, without a word, I begin to sweep the walls with the scanner. Sweeping all four walls takes far longer than the ceiling, especially by including the windows at Bruce's insistence.
When I finally finish, I land near him and hold up the scanner as I approach. He has probably already searched with the scanner wherever he could reach, so I'm confident he won't ask me to scan the floor next.
Anger flashes over Bruce's expression and he reaches down to the floor. He picks up the largest item within reach, one of the nightstands, and tosses it straight up into the air. "Master Bruce!" Alfred exclaims from far off to my left as Bruce winds himself up below the falling nightstand.
He lashes out with a powerful kick. His foot connects with the flat top with a loud smack, but luckily, the nightstand holds together. The kick instead sends it flying, on course to pass by me to my left. I remember the windows there and dive into the air to catch it.
I barely manage to catch the nightstand before it slips past the ends of my fingers, mere feet away from the large panes of glass. I pull it down below my head as I float over the floor, putting a halt to my drift before I get too close to the glass wall. I look back at Bruce, find him looking back at me, watching what had unfolded with amazement.
After a few moments, Alfred breaks the silence. "Master Bruce! What were you thinking? If Miss Diana had not been here to catch—"
"I know!" Bruce exclaims, his tone equal parts anger, humiliation, and pain. He turns away from me with a frustrated groan and walks to the edge of his bed. I take the opportunity to set the nightstand back on the floor and then stand again on my own feet.
He sits without a degree of elegance, practically falling back. His head falls immediately and he lifts his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers and palms up and down for a moment before resting his forehead against his palms and lowering his elbows to his knees. He gives a long sigh of exasperation.
"Bruce?" I ask, trying to sound sincerely concerned, trying to let him know with the simple utterance of his name that I am here for him, that I want to help him however I can.
"...Diana..." He turns his head a little towards Alfred, still standing by the door. His head doesn't leave his hands. "…Alfred…I'm sorry."
"Master Bruce, please. Just explain to us what is going on. What is all of this about?"
Alfred's questions are my own. There is nothing I need to add, leaving me only the task of approaching Bruce. I do, admittedly with a degree of caution, and I am soon sitting to his left on the edge of his misplaced bed.
I reach toward him with my right hand, wrapping my fingers around his upper left arm. "Bruce?" I gently prompt.
He gives another sigh, then lifts his head from his hands. "I've been having these…dreams," he begins while folding his forearms between his knees. "…Nightmares…"
"Nightmares? You did all this for nightmares?" I ask with unavoidable skepticism.
"Yes and no," he begins. He pauses, looking towards the windows. His eyes narrow. "They aren't dreams. I don't know what they are, but they aren't dreams."
He turns to me, sitting straighter. "Dreams and reading are separate functions of separate hemispheres of the brain. You shouldn't be able to read anything while dreaming. I could. Something is interfering and I'm going to find out what."
"Even if it means tearing the manor apart?" I ask, with perhaps a little too much of an accusatory tone.
"There's something else." I lean closer, let my curiosity color my expression. "I don't remember a whole night."
"Bruce, you can't expect yourself to remember every moment of your life," I reply.
"Even if it's the night before the first dream?"
I pause, admittedly surprised by the timing. "When did all this start, Bruce?"
"Before our first date. You remember I called that morning to confirm what time your shift ended?" I look away, my eyes narrowing, my brow furrowed as I try to recall the whole of the conversation. I nod, letting it play out in my mind. "You thought something was wrong, that I was calling to cancel our date."
"Yes. I remember," I reply, not particularly enjoying the memory.
"I was in a panic. I had just woken up from the first dream. I was afraid you hated me. I needed to hear your voice. It wasn't until a few days later that I realized I couldn't remember the night leading up to it. I still don't know how I got home that night, what I did on patrol."
"You seemed very calm to me, Master Bruce. It didn't appear that anything was wrong. The only thing that seemed odd was that you only spent twenty minutes at the computer after returning home."
Bruce turns to Alfred, points to him. "And that is all I have to go by."
It all seems too far-fetched. "Maybe it's all one, big—" I start, but Bruce interrupts me before I can finish.
"I don't believe in coincidences, Princess. Something else is going on," he says while turning back to me.
"I've had what seems like a single, ongoing dream. I get a night or two of peaceful sleep after each segment. It's been a few days since the last one. It's a sure bet I'll have another dream tonight. I'm overdue."
Author's Note: Reviews are welcome and appreciated, but certainly not required. Thank you for reading.
If the night missing from Bruce's memory sounds new, that's because I forgot to explicitly mention it before the ending of Memory. Fixed.