"Come on, Bruce. I know a burger place in Metropolis that has the best fries on the east coast, and the milkshakes are so thick you have to eat them with a spoon."

In retrospect, it hadn't been Clark's food bribery that convinced Bruce to listen to the idea of the three of them—the Holy Trinity, as some newspapers called them—going out to lunch. Sure, he was hungry, but he'd meant what he said about being away from Gotham too long. He was needed elsewhere. It was 100% true. It wasn't the promise of a good time; although, he begrudgingly admitted that Clark's company was often, dare he say it, fun when he dropped the Boy Scout Superman act. And he'd never say that out loud, not even under the most insidious torture methods.

It was the way Diana stood with her arms crossed beneath her chest, her stiff posture, her wrinkled brow and downturned ruby lips. He was avoiding her. That wasn't what a friend did. Especially not a good friend.

Bruce sighed quietly and let the silence stretch on just to needle Clark for the hell of it. "One burger. If I don't like it, I'm leaving for Gotham."

"Great," Clark said. "I'll meet you guys there in an hour."

Bruce left without another word, silently cursing himself and whatever set of glands that made him fold whenever the Amazon Princess of Themyscira was involved. It was just lunch between three friends. Nothing more. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

Probably.

Exactly one hour later, Bruce Wayne—cleverly disguised beneath a baseball cap, motorcycle jacket, dark blue jeans, and boots—sat at a table of The Burger Hole, tapping his foot impatiently and checking the outside for Clark about every thirteen seconds.

"Hi," a perky blonde waitress smiled at his left. "I'm Wendy. Are you dining alone today?"

"No, I'm waiting for someone," Bruce said, slapping on his most dazzling grin.

"Not a problem. What can I get you in the meantime, handsome?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but then a silken voice spoke right next to her. "A vanilla Coke, no ice."

Diana slipped into the booth opposite him, lowering her sunglasses enough to give him a challenging stare. "Or have I forgotten your favorite drink?"

Bruce didn't drop the grin. "And I thought I had an eye for details."

Diana chuckled and winked at the waitress. "And I'll have a vanilla milkshake, please."

The waitress scribbled it on her notepad, beaming. "I'll be right back with those."

As soon as she left, Bruce's grin withered. He glanced around expectantly. "Where's Kent?"

"I don't know. He hasn't texted you yet?"

"Not since he gave me the address." As if on cue, Bruce's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it immediately.

Bruce,

I'm not going to be able to make it. You and Diana have fun.

-Clark

Bruce closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then texted back.

The Watchtower had better be on fire or I'm going to kill you.

-Bruce

A moment later, his phone vibrated again.

I plead the fifth. And for the record I'm doing this for you, not me.

-Clark

Bruce exhaled through his nose and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. "Kent's not joining us."

Diana's blue eyes widened. "Oh? Is he in trouble?"

"Either he is, or he's going to be," Bruce grumbled.

"Would you relax?" She laid her fingers on his hand, just the briefest touch, and yet it left trails of heat across his skin. "It's lunch. Even the World's Greatest Detective needs to eat. Gotham can survive another hour without their savior."

Bruce sat back in his seat, crossing his arms, but he erased the frown from his face as a courtesy. The waitress returned with their drinks and gave them the menus. He flipped his open, happy to have a distraction from Diana's blindingly gorgeous visage. Like him, she wore a disguise to avoid being mobbed by admirers. Today, she'd pinned her hair up in a bun and wore a pair of cat-eye sunglasses that made her look remarkably like Audrey Hepburn. Her clothes were simple but still held that elegance she all but oozed—a scarlet off-shoulder blouse, black skirt, black pumps, and a silver necklace. Her bracelets were hidden underneath the long sleeves, but he could see a glint of the edges when she moved. Her full lips wrapped around the straw to her milkshake and Bruce felt hot blood climbing up his neck towards his face. Damn peripheral vision.

It wasn't until she finished her first sip that he managed to actually read a single line of the menu. Diana opened her own and casually said, "So, what looks good?"

Bruce ground his teeth and reminded himself she wasn't doing it on purpose. "Eyeing the Alehouse Burger. You?"

"Hmm…the one with fresh Arugula and sun-dried tomatoes actually sounds quite lovely."

Bruce's lips betrayed him, twisting into a smirk. Once an Amazon, always an Amazon. He closed his menu and handed it to the waitress. "The Alehouse, cooked medium, fries on the side, no bacon."

"Excellent. And for you, ma'am?"

"The Garden Burger, cooked well-done, fries as well, everything on it the way it is."

"I'll be back as soon as I can." The waitress left. Diana surveyed the number of people in the restaurant and concluded that their spot was secluded enough to remove her sunglasses.

"So…" she said, returning to her milkshake, much to Bruce's chagrin. "How've you been?"

"Busy," Bruce said, crossing his arms again and focusing on the clock on the far wall behind her head. If he ignored the milkshake drinking, it would have no effect on him. The plan was foolproof.

"You?"

Diana shrugged, licking her lips and swallowing before replying. "Same. I haven't had much time to see the old gang. I was hoping maybe we could all get together on a major holiday or something to catch up."

She sent him a wry smile. "Don't suppose you'd let us use the mansion this Thanksgiving?"

"That's up to Alfred," Bruce grunted. "I usually work Thanksgiving night."

"Surprise, surprise." She picked up her spoon. "Clark was right about this milkshake. I'm about to hurt myself trying to use a straw."

She set the straw aside and went in with the spoon this time. Bruce squirmed in his seat and continued staring at the clock in vain. After a moment or two, she held the utensil out to him.

"Would you like to try it?"

He gave her an impressively cold glare. "No, thank you."

"It's delicious. You'd like it."

"I'm fine."

She ate the spoonful instead. "What? Are you afraid I have…what did Wally call them…oh, yes, cooties?"

Bruce snorted, but only to try and hide a laugh. The notion that Wonder Woman just said the word "cooties" was too much, even for his usual stoicism. She had a knack for making him laugh and he really hated it sometimes.

"Well, you did grow up on an island with no vaccinations, so I very well could get an infection."

Diana scowled. "That wasn't very nice."

He smirked. "Just being honest, Princess."

But then he reached out, took a spoonful of the milkshake, and ate it, staring into her spring-water-blue eyes the entire time. He licked his lips, shrugged, and gave it back. "Not bad."

"Told you so." Diana ate another mouthful, and this time she was smiling.

The waitress returned a few minutes later with their food and they ate in a surprisingly companionable silence. She, of course, refused to eat the burger with her hands and instead cut it into bite-sized pieces with a knife and fork, except for the very last piece, which she did use her fingers for.

Bruce smiled to himself and reached across the table without thinking, clearing away a glob of mayonnaise from the corner of her lips. Her eyes snapped to his and the diner seemed to fade away around them for a couple of seconds. There had always been a world behind Diana's eyes—one that Bruce burned and hungered for in spite of himself. She was valiant and intelligent and fierce, yet still warm and soft and wide-eyed, still expecting the best in people even though she had seen the worst kinds of evil. It wasn't just physical attraction. She drew him to her like the sun. No soul on earth could hide from the light that Diana's very presence emitted, and no one was crazy enough to ever want to hide from it except for him. That was why he avoided her these days. He couldn't risk losing her trust, her friendship, her respect, because of whatever complicated feelings they held for one another.

Bruce lowered the napkin and finished his meal, signaling their waitress for the check. She took the bill and his credit card and returned a moment later, still smiling brightly.

"Have a wonderful day. And…" She bit her lip. "I just have to say, you guys make an amazing couple."

Without another word, she turned to greet new patrons. Bruce cleared his throat. Diana covered her mouth with a hand to hide a smile, scooping up her purse.

"Shall we?"

They walked outside and he offered her his arm without thinking after holding the door. She took it, resting her hand on the inside of his bicep. "Did you take a cab?" he asked.

She nodded. "Are you off?"

"For once, yes," she answered with a happy sigh. "I'm not scheduled for duty until tomorrow night. I asked for a little time off since things have gotten so hectic."

Bruce hit the key fob to his Rolls Royce parallel-parked a few feet away. "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

She stopped by the passenger's side, pulling away to face him. "That would be lovely, yes. But before we go, I have to ask you something."

"And that is?"

She smiled wickedly. "Do you think Clark set us up?"

Bruce snorted. "Undoubtedly."

"Well, either way…I had a good time. Date or otherwise. Thank you, Bruce."

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, gently. She pulled away, but slowly enough that he caught the scent of her perfume and it drove the remaining sanity right out of his brain. He pushed the brim of his baseball cap up over his forehead and stooped the slightest bit, cupping the side of her cheek, drawing her into him, and kissed her on the lips. He held it for a long handful of seconds, allowing the sweet flavor of her lips to sink in, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She rested her hands on his shoulders, not backing down, not letting him go until the both of them were breathless.

Diana's eyes opened halfway, giving him a sultry glance that made his heart palpitate. "I thought you were a rich kid with issues."

"I have issues," Bruce said, pulling the cap down again. "Not brain damage. Not even Batman is crazy enough not to fall for a goddess."

He opened the car door for her. Diana smiled brilliantly and climbed in. They drove off into the mid-afternoon sun.

Later that night…

Clark set his glasses on the nightstand, yawning and stretching before climbing into bed. His head hit the pillow and right after it did, his cell phone beeped. Groaning, he grabbed it and opened one eye without lifting his head to read a new text message.

I'm still going to kill you. Diana says hi.

-Bruce

Clark fell asleep laughing his ass off.

FIN

A/N: I didn't realize how much I seriously miss the WonderBats ship until I got this plotbunny idea last night. God, I love writing these two dorks. Especially Bruce in all his denial and Clark being a cheerful little shit about their relationship. I was grinning the entire time I wrote this fluff, so I apologize if it's a little cheesy. Forgive me.

Review, review, review! I need to know if my WonderBats chops are getting rusty or not. Thanks for reading, dears.

Kyoko