Rules
Rules.
Rules are made to keep order and create structure. They are well thought-out guidelines meant to be followed, governing conduct and creating a unified front among a group of people.
Rules are directives meant to be followed.
Rules are made for a reason even if we don't always understand the need for said reasons or fully agree with them.
An entire binder filled with rules exists on the Watchtower, officially labeled by Batman as "Protocols". It must make the rules seem more important and imperative to be labeled as protocols, more perilous to oppose if not followed to the exact letter of the law.
Rules are meant to keep people safe and to hopefully avoid a disastrous outcome.
Some rules are completely idiotic like no fraternizing between teammates.
Some rules, though, are just meant to be broken.
Savoring the sweetness of my iced mocha, I tilt my chair back as my gaze falls on the monitor screens before me. I have no idea why they call this the graveyard shift. It's a morbid sounding designation to a shift that is hardly if ever truly dead or boring.
Just because it's almost five in the morning on the east coast doesn't mean that there's nothing going on or that it's not daytime some other place in the world.
Disasters and evil deeds do not stop just because the sun has gone down and the moon presides over the dark sky. In fact, darkness seems to give birth to evil, breeding deception and all sorts of wicked deeds.
Momentarily closing my eyes, I savor another sip of my caffeinated dependence. I can't help wondering where these have been all my life or how I ever survived living on Themyscira for the last thousand years without them. It's an addiction I never want to be cured of.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
The deep, grating rasp of the fearsome Dark Knight pierces the euphoric haze the chocolate and caffeine has created in my brain, forcing my eyes to pop open. I quickly hide my surprise at his unexpected presence, tucking it away and giving him my best smile in hopes that it will blind him enough not to notice my numerous infractions.
"I believe you have aptly named it monitor duty," I politely respond, the heels of my boots sliding across the top of the desk as I lower my feet to the floor.
His piercing glare only diminishes ever so slightly as I sit up straighter in my chair, my boots now firmly on the floor. There is no rule in the protocol book about having feet propped up on the desk. I know…I checked. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, there will be by tomorrow along with a detailed memo to all staff and Leaguers.
"I know you're doing monitor duty, princess," he growls, a scowl etched firmly on his face that I would've sworn was permanent if I hadn't caught glimpses of what might be categorized as a faint smile by some. "What are you doing with that iced mocha?"
I look at the cup in my hand as if it's completely obvious before meeting his glare again. "I planned on drinking it, but if you have other ideas, I'm all ears."
I know I'm getting under his cowl and testing his patience, but I can't help myself and besides that the man deserves it. He's infuriating on a good day and positively unbearable on a bad one. Still, I can't help being in love with him just the same. Now, if I can only get him to admit that he feels the same way about me. Damn obstinate mortal mule.
I also know that I'm playing with fire and quite frankly I didn't care at this moment. It's almost five in the morning. I'd been out on a mission for hours on end, only just returning before my monitor duty shift. I haven't had any sleep in over thirty-six hours and I'm really beginning to feel it.
"Protocol book section eight specifically states no beverages in the Monitor Womb," he evenly states, picking upon the empty ice cream container and spoon sitting on the desk beside one of the computer screens. "Or food."
I roll my eyes at him, growing annoyed with his lecturing tone. I'm a Founder for Hera's sake, not a child. "I just returned from a thirty-six-hour mission," I counter. "Forgive me for being a little hungry and in need of caffeine, Bruce."
I watch as the lenses of his cowl constrict into barely perceptible lines, his jaw clenching tightly. "Section three, paragraph fourteen," he responds. "Use of real names on the Watchtower is strictly prohibited."
My fatigue immediately catches up with me, surpassing my patience or what little of it still exists. I leap to my feet in a burst of anger, my forefinger finding the center of the Bat emblem on his chest. "I don't need to be lectured on the rules, Bruce," I hiss as I continue poking him in the chest, pushing him backwards until his back collides with the wall. "I am a Founding member of this League and I know the damn rules."
Bruce stares at me for a long moment, his lips thinning into a disapproving line. "Section six, paragraph nine states physical abuse of any kind will not be tolerated and is grounds for expulsion from the League."
My vision begins to tunnel with his reminder, everything taking on a red hue as my fury completely takes over. "Why you arrogant pig!"
A flurry of Greek curses escapes before I can stop them, earning myself a smirk from the very source of my ire. "Section ten paragraph one," he replies. "Swearing will not be tolerated no matter what language it may be presented in."
They always say there's a fine line between love and hate. That line was completely abolished as I suddenly grab his face, my mouth crashing against his as I kiss him senseless. He responds to my kiss, returning it fully as his gauntleted fingers tangle in my hair. Several moments later, I finally break the intimate contact after the need for air becomes too demanding to ignore any longer.
Retreating, I find I'm quite pleased with myself to find him as affected as I am, breathing heavily in an effort to regain control once more. I can hardly believe that I have managed to stun him into silence…that is until he opens his mouth.
"Section six, paragraph one," he quotes. "Sexual assault will not be permitted in any form."
With a cry of rage, I slam my fist into the steel wall right beside his head, leaving a decent sized dent behind him. Bruce doesn't even flinch as he calmly stares me down. "That's damage of Watchtower property, princess—section thirteen, paragraph twelve. I'll be sure the repair team sends the bill to you."
I call him something quite unacceptable and very disrespectful in Greek before turning on my heel and storming towards the door of the Monitor Womb just as Superman enters for his shift. He looks at Batman and then me, confusion clearly written on his face.
"What's going on here?" he asks.
"I've got an Amazon princess to seduce," Batman growls as he begins to follow me.
"Isn't that against the rules?" Superman yells as the door slides closed behind me.