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The Watchtower was unusually noisy for a late Thursday afternoon.
No, scratch that.
The Watchtower was in chaos.
Not danger chaos. Not “Earth is exploding” chaos.
No—a far worse kind.
Gossip chaos.
Diana noticed the shift the second she stepped out of the transporter after twelve exhausting hours negotiating a ceasefire in Kasnia. All she wanted was to get her iced mocha, sit for five minutes, and not hear anyone mention foreign policy.
Normally the hallways carried the soft hum of machinery, the clack of boots, the occasional muffled conversation. Today, though, the sound was…busy. Too busy. Clusters of new recruits huddled along the corridors, whispering behind gloved hands. Giggles burst and were immediately shushed. People froze whenever she passed, with wide eyes and stiffened postures like guilty children pretending they hadn’t been caught. Some were even suddenly pretending to read datapads upside down.
She didn’t think much of it.
People whispered about her all the time—usually things like:
“She can bench press a tank."
“I heard she deflected a missile with her hair.”
“She definitely had plastic surgery.”
Rumors followed her with the same persistence as paparazzi on Earth. A princess, a demigoddess, an Amazon—people talked.
She’d learned to ignore it.
So she gave them all her best polite royal smile and headed straight to the cafeteria for her beloved iced mocha.
The doors swung open to the usual mix of tired heroes and exceptional Watchtower cuisine. Conversation surged—then died as heads turned toward her like a wave. A table of rookies scrambled to act natural. One actually choked on his sandwich.
Diana ignored, decided she was too tired to decode any of this, and went straight to the beverage dispenser. Sweet, caffeinated salvation in hand, she scanned the room and spotted Shayera and John toward the back, mid–late lunch.
Perfect. Familiar friends, neutral ground, no dramatics.
She approached with a little smile. “May I join you?”
They both said “of course” at the same time—but exchanged a strange glance that made Diana hesitate.
She sat down anyway, taking a long sip of her drink and sighed contentedly. “Kasnia was…long.”
Shayera’s eyes narrowed, wings rustling. She leaned in. “So. When were you planning on telling us?”
“Telling what?” Diana asked.
John raised an eyebrow. “Kind of weird that we had to hear it from the gossiping rookies.”
Diana looked between them. “Hear…what? I'm not following.”
Hawkgirl frowned. “Seriously? You and Batman.”
"What about me and Batman?"
“The relationship,” John said casually, as if discussing the weather. “You know. Between you and Batman.”
Diana’s straw paused halfway to her lips. Heat crawled up her neck, blooming across her cheeks until it reached the roots of her hair. Her brain flatlined. “…I’m sorry, what?”
Shayera rolled her eyes, full judgment activated. “Don’t play coy with me, Princess.”
“I’m not—what are you—wait.” She set her mocha down, palms up, exasperated. “Is that why everyone’s whispering and freezing like statues every time I look in their direction?”
Green Lantern snorted. “Pretty much.”
“Batman and I... dating?” she screeched, voice rising half an octave in disbelief.
“Apparently!” Shayera threw her hands up.
“But that's absurd!”
Both stared at her like she’d just declared water wasn’t wet.
Shay leaned back, feathers puffing in irritation. “Wow. Okay. So that’s how it is.”
“How what is?” Diana was completely lost.
“I thought we were friends again,” Hawkgirl said, jabbing a thumb toward her chest. “You couldn’t trust me with this? I can keep a secret! But nooo—Flash tells thirty people, and that’s how I find out?”
Diana looked horrified. “Shayera, we are friends. But I swear to you—there is nothing to tell. Bruce and I are not...”
“Come on.” John gave her the flattest stare a Lantern could muster. "The two of you are very close, and you're the person he spends time with the most. Hell, he spends time with you out of his free will."
“Kal and I are close too." She gestured helplessly. "We often hang out together. Do you think we’re dating?”
“Not even remotely,” Shayera replied immediately. “You two don’t have that chemistry. You and Bats, though? Please.”
“What do you mean?” Diana demanded.
John and Shay exchanged a long, meaningful look.
Shayera looked at her like she genuinely couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Diana… you and Batman have insane chemistry.”
Diana’s head jerked back slightly. “Chemistry?”
“Oh please,” the Thanagarian was close to losing her patience. “Everyone can see it.”
“Diana, we’re not blind.” Finally John said slowly, like explaining to a child, "it's pretty obvious.
The Amazon just blinked back, genuinely baffled.
Shayera sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay, Princess, here’s the short version: neither of you were subtle. You're less subtle than him.”
“Subtle about what?”
“Your affection.”
Diana straightened. “Affection is not something to be ashamed of. One should not have to hide that they enjoy the company of another.”
John facepalmed. “That’s… literally the problem.”
She frowned, confused.
Shayera took pity and began explaining. “Most people don’t mind brushes or shoulder touches. But you? You touch Batman. And he lets you.”
Diana opened her mouth—then closed it. Because…well…yes. That was true.
Seeing her expression soften, Shayera took it as a victory. “See? Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re dating,” Diana reasoned firmly.
John leaned in. “You want to hear what started the rumor?”
She nodded warily.
“Flash,” John said, already sounding tired of the word, “claims he saw Batman going into your quarters.”
Her jaw dropped. “You all know that he’s been in my quarters once! Years ago when we were finishing building up the Watchtower!”
Shayera held up another finger. “And apparently Flash said he saw Batman help you up in the training room.”
Diana frowned, utterly lost. “That’s… what teammates do?”
“Not the way he described it,” she muttered.
Diana rubbed her temples. “This is absurd.”
“That’s not even the half of it,” Shayera explained. “The newer heroes have added… details to corroborate the story.”
Diana dreaded the word details. “What kind of details?”
“The kind where somebody swears they saw you two making out in an empty hallway.”
“WHAT?” Diana choked on her mocha. “M-making—!? That’s— that’s— who would believe—?”
John raised his hand. “Everybody apparently."
She tried another angle.
“These rumors are ridiculous." Diana said, face hot again. "Think for one second—do either of you truly believe Batman would make out with someone in an open hallway where anyone could walk in?”
That, finally, made them pause.
“…okay, fair point,” Shayera admitted. “Bruce is too paranoid for that.”
“Yeah, that part’s suspicious,” John agreed. "They might have embellished the gossip."
Diana exhaled in relief.
But Shayera wasn’t done.
“However.”
The princess visibly tensed.
“I have noticed other things.”
She blinked puzzled. “What? What things?”
Shayera began listing them off on her fingers.
“Like the way he looks at you and how he definitely notices when you're in the room,”
Diana’s face heated so much she thought that the shade of pink in her face would become permanent.
Shayera continued. “Or how he doesn’t flinch or pull away from your hand as fast as he does from everyone else’s."
Her ears burned.
"And how he’s been bringing you iced mochas more often than usual out of nowhere.”
She felt her heart flutter before she caught herself.
She tried to hide the smile tugging at her lips, but her mouth betrayed her—curving into a small, soft smile before she could stop it.
Shayera pointed triumphantly. “There! Gotcha.”
Diana shook her head quickly. “No! That’s not what you think. I’m just… glad that he might… think of me as someone special.” She took a long sip of her mocha.
John stared. “Diana. You’ve always been special to him. Five minutes with you two and anyone can tell.”
The blush crawled all the way down to Diana’s neck.
"Listen." She cleared her throat. “While Shay’s observations are… thoughtful… they’re merely circumstantial. And Wally is not reliable. He gets things wrong constantly!”
Diana leaned forward, desperate. “Remember when he claimed Thanagarians were endangered because laying an egg was so painful and they refused to do it more than once?”
Shayera let out a loud snort. “We don’t even lay eggs!”
“Exactly!” Diana said, throwing her hands up. “See my point? Flash doesn’t check information.”
“Okay…yeah. That makes sense.” John relented slightly. “Gossip is gossip. And Wally is… Wally.”
Shayera nodded too, albeit reluctantly. “And while we all know you two have unresolved tension and weirdly intense chemistry—”
“Shay!” Diana squeaked.
Shayera sighed. “Come on, Diana. You two definitely have something going on. But dating? Even I have to admit—that seems far-fetched.”
Diana relaxed.
For half a second.
Then froze again.
She frowned, offended. “…far-fetched? Why ‘far-fetched’? Am I not good enough?”
Both John and Shayera nearly choked on air.
Shayera grabbed her hand. “No! Diana, please. You’re perfect.”
“Absolutely,” John agreed. “Any man you have an interest in should feel honored!”
“It’s just—” Shayera added, choosing her words like she was handling a bomb, “—Batman is… Batman. He’s unavailable. Emotionally. Permanently. Chronically. Pathologically. He isn’t just ‘any man.’ And he probably wouldn’t risk a relationship. With anyone.”
“Man barely talks to his own shadow. Romantic relationship? That’s a risk he wouldn’t take." John nodded. "We all know that, he doesn't make it a secret.”
Diana stared at her iced mocha, cheeks still pink, emotions a tangled mess of embarrassment, affection, and a tiny spark she refused to acknowledge.
“…well,” she muttered quietly, “people should stop listening to the Flash.”
John sighed. “Try telling that to the other eighty heroes on this station.”
Suddenly, Booster Gold opened the cafeteria doors and shouted:
“BREAKING NEWS! THEY’RE PROBABLY ENGAGED!”
Diana groaned.
Even though part of her liked that people thought it was possible.
She escaped the cafeteria the moment Booster shouted engagement.
She didn’t run—she would never run—but her strides were purposeful, regal, and just a touch faster than usual.
She needed quiet.
She needed space.
She needed to stop blushing before someone set off the fire alarm.
The Watchtower hallways were no better; every cluster of heroes she passed suddenly pretended to study datapads, walls, or ceiling vents. Someone even saluted her. Another whispered, “She looks lovesick,” before darting around a corner.
Diana pressed two fingers to her temple.
The monitor womb. Yes. Sanctuary. Duty. Work. There, at least, no one would—
The doors slid open.
Superman was at the central console, hands resting on the edge. His expression was tense, eyes slightly narrowed, lips pressed into a straight line—emotional hurt plain on his face.
He looked up the instant she stepped in.
His expression was…strange.
Not angry. Nor amused.
Somewhere between disappointed and betrayed, like she’d forgotten his birthday.
“…Diana,” he said, standing fully.
She looked concerned. “Kal. Is everything alright? You look...”
He stepped closer.
His eyes narrowed in that very specific Clark Kent way that meant he was preparing a heartfelt conversation she did not have the energy for.
“You know,” he began slowly, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh Hera,” she muttered.
He folded his arms—that was bad. That meant sincerity was coming.
“I shouldn’t have had to find out from the rookies that you were dating, or from Booster that you and Batman are engaged.”
Diana froze mid–step.
“Kal,” she started.
He held up a hand. “Don’t. I just—” He ran a hand through his hair, a subtle gesture of frustration. “I get it. I’m not entitled to every detail of your personal life, and that's fine. But I thought—considering we’re friends, I shouldn’t have had to find out from the rumors at all. You and Batman… dating? That's not a detail... that's huge.”
He looked genuinely wounded. “I thought… maybe one of you would have told me.”
She stared at him, mortified.
“Oh. Oh no. Clark—Kal—no. It’s not— it isn’t—”
He held up both hands. “I’m not judging. Truly. I’m happy for you. And him. I’m just surprised. And maybe a little hurt.”
Diana’s stomach sank. “…Kal, the rumors are… wildly exaggerated. People are… I'm not getting married."
He didn’t move, just stared. “Exaggerated? Wally swears he saw Bruce leaving your quarters at midnight.”
“Wally also swore Shayera lays eggs,” she countered.
Kal winced. “…okay, that was a red flag.”
Diana nodded firmly. “Exactly.”
“But then why are people so convinced?” he pressed. “I mean… Diana… you two spend an awful lot of time together, and you do act—”
She cut him off immediately. “People are reading too much into it.”
Clark still looked conflicted, so she sighed and softened her voice.
“Kal. Listen to me. I understand why you might think something was happening. But truly—people are exaggerating. Wildly. You know the Watchtower. One misplaced word becomes a scandal. I really don't know how heroes can gossip so much; one would think they've got better things to do.”
He exhaled, shoulders sagging with visible relief. “So you’re telling me the rumors are untrue.”
“I’m telling you they’re…misinterpretations.”
“…misinterpretations,” he repeated slowly.
“Yes.”
“That does not explicitly answer my question.”
She coughed. “Well. Rumors rarely reflect reality, Kal.”
He stared at her for a solid three seconds.
“…you still didn’t actually deny it,” he said carefully.
Diana’s cheeks warmed. “Kal.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. None of my business. Really.”
He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I apologize. I should not have taken gossip at face value. Especially on this station.”
The princess nodded, relieved.
Clark’s voice chimed cheerfully, “well,” he leaned in with open mischief, “it’s not exactly the wildest idea.”
Diana stiffened. “…What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” Clark chirped, examining the screens. “Except the part where every time his name comes up, your face does that little—” He waved vaguely, “—glowy thing.”
“I do not glow.”
“You do,” Clark said, grinning. “Like a lamp. A magical, lovesick lamp.”
Diana sputtered, face flaming. “I—Kal—I assure you, Batman and I—”
“You and Bruce have always been…close. The type of close that makes sense, even if no one talks about it. I guess that’s why the rumor spread so easily.” He shrugged, as if stating a self-evident truth. "It is very plausible."
“Plausible is generous.”
“No. Plausible is accurate,” he insisted warmly. “But still—I should’ve known better. If there was something between you, you’d tell me eventually.”
“Of course. And Kal… you are one of my closest friends." Diana smiled at him, soft and grateful. "If that happens you'll be one of the first to know.”
He returned the smile, relaxing fully for the first time.
Then—
The monitor channel pinged.
Kara’s voice crackled through. “Uh—Superman? Wonder Woman? Just so you know… people are now saying Batman proposed with a batarang ring? And that you said yes?”
Clark laughed.
Diana covered her face with both hands.
“Plausible,” He muttered.
“Kal!” she gasped.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
Diana let out a long breath. “Honestly… this rumor is completely out of control.”
Clark leaned back on the table, smirking. “And yet still very fun to watch.” He coughed. “Should we…do something?”
“For now let’s just… keep an eye on the Watchtower before Flash adds another headline.” Diana marched toward the console with renewed, exhausted determination. “At this point, I think we simply wait for Bruce to yell at Wally.”
Superman nodded. “That does tend to restore order.”
A beat of silence.
“…Diana?”
“Yes?”
“If Batman really did propose with a batarang ring—”
“Kal.”
He raised both hands again. “Stopping.”
She sighed deeply. This was getting completely out of control.
At least Kal wasn’t hurt anymore.
A ping sounded from Diana’s comm. J’onn’s voice came through calm, controlled, and unmistakably serious.
“J'onn to Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman, Green Lantern and Hawkgirl, please report to the conference room immediately. We need to address… a recent issue with the rumors spreading around the Watchtower...”
She exchanged a glance with Kal. The weight of the gossip—and the risk it posed—was far from over.
Minutes later, the founder members gathered in the conference room. Screens cast a soft glow over their faces, everyone except Batman, whose absence left a noticeable shadow.
Diana, still flushed from the cafeteria chaos, iced mocha in hand, kept her shoulders tense. Kal stayed close, Shayera and John flanked the room, and at the edge of the circle, Flash fidgeted, guilt and hyperactivity written across him.
J’onn’s deep, calm voice cut through the murmur of machinery. “Wally,” he began, “we need to discuss the rumor you have—spread. Across the station.”
Flash froze mid-step. “Uh…yeah…about that…”
Shayera’s wings shifted impatiently. “You’ve thrown the entire Watchtower into chaos. Everyone knows—or thinks they know—that Diana and Batman are… involved. Do you realize the potential fallout?”
John’s hands pressed to the table. “Potential fallout is an understatement. You could’ve waited five minutes before running your mouth.”
Flash held up his hands defensively. “Look! I didn’t make it up!”
Diana blinked. “You didn’t?”
“I saw it! I mean, yeah… I was kind of heartbroken for a moment. But then I realized… they’re made for each other. And I’m happy for them!”
Shayera raised an incredulous brow. “Heartbroken?”
Wally’s shoulders shrugged helplessly. “A little. Okay, a lot. But I meant to keep it secret! I just…slipped my tongue.”
Diana's hands tightening slightly around each other. "Saw it? What did you even see?"
Flash looked around nervously. "You and Bruce holding hands in the training room... and he did leave your quarters at midnight the other day."
The Amazon paled, "Wally, you should really start paying attention to what really happens... did you really see that?"
The speedster looks down guiltily, "uh, not really... I'm not sure, I was running too fast."
The princess sighed. “And the engagement rumor?”
Flash’s eyes widened. “Engagement? No! I had no idea about that. You're engaged?!”
Diana exhaled softly. “We are not getting married, Wally.”
J’onn’s gaze hardened slightly. “Flash, this goes beyond mere gossip. Given how aware we all were of Diana’s feelings for Bruce, fabricating—or exaggerating—such rumors was cruel. It was unnecessary. And very likely to reach him.”
Flash’s face fell. “…Reach…him?”
“Yes,” J’onn said seriously. “It is unlikely that Bruce will not hear about this eventually. And while we can attempt to soften the blow, we cannot guarantee that his response will be…gentle.”
Diana exhaled. If he were here… She swallowed. Bruce would vehemently deny everything, most likely in a harsh, mean, rejection-like tone that could leave her hurt. A very real hurt. The thought alone made her chest tighten.
Wally looked genuinely panicked. “Oh…oh wow. Okay…uh…maybe I went a bit too far.”
Wonder Woman’s voice softened but remained firm. “Wally…this could have been very harmful. For me, for Bruce, for the trust we all share here.”
Flash shuffled on the spot, avoiding her gaze. “I know! I really… I feel horrible, Diana. I didn’t mean for it to spiral like this.”
Superman stepped closer, voice calm but serious. “Sometimes gossip is harmless. Humorous, even. Like when you said Batman hoards Gotham gargoyles in the Batcave basement.”
The speedster attempted a small smile. “Hey, that was…kind of true?”
J’onn’s next words were sharper. “But matters of the heart are different. They affect everyone involved. If Bruce hears this before Diana has a chance to explain, she could…be hurt. Severely.”
Flash nodded furiously. “I understand. I swear! Nobody tells him. Please. I don’t want to die today.”
Diana let a faint, wry smile slip through her serious demeanor. “Consider this a lesson. Even small slips can become storms.”
The chagrined speedster bowed his head, voice sheepish. “Lesson learned. And Diana…really, truly, I’m sorry.”
Clark softened, a grin tugging at his lips. “Still…we all trust you didn’t intend harm. Just…maybe check the impact before spreading the next headline.”
Shayera muttered under her breath, though still pointed: “Next time, Wally, think. Really think.”
Diana turned back to the monitors, feeling the weight of the morning’s chaos and the seriousness of her position—both as a teammate and someone whose heart could be inadvertently hurt.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped when Bruce eventually heard, he would be in a forgiving mood—and that Wally would survive to tell the tale.
She didn’t say a word to anyone. With quiet efficiency, she activated a transport to the Batcave, her fingers tapping over the comm panel like she was performing a mundane task, nothing more. No one noticed. No one asked. No one followed.
The familiar darkness of the cave swallowed her in a cool embrace. She stepped down onto the polished floor, the hum of the computers and the faint drip of water from the cavern walls filling the silence. And then she saw him.
Bruce.
Casual clothes—dark, simple, unassuming—and yet every inch of him radiated focus and intensity. He was bent over the Batcomputer, eyes scanning files, fingers moving with precision, completely absorbed in his work. He didn’t even notice her entering.
Diana let herself take a slow breath. For a moment, she simply watched him—the way his brow furrowed, the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his hand hovered for the next keystroke before committing. He was a man of order, of control, of focus. And she was utterly in love with him.
Before she even realized it, she was behind him, arms circling his neck in a gentle hug. Leaning down, she pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to his cheek.
“Diana…” Bruce murmured, startled, but didn’t move away. He leaned back slightly, just enough to look at her, and said softly, “Hi.”
She smiled against his skin, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne, and something uniquely Bruce. “Have you been here all day?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost tender.
He exhaled sharply, a brief tightening around his eyes. “Harvey escaped Arkham. I need to catch him before he hurts someone.” His words were calm, matter-of-fact—but there was an edge, a tension she could feel through his spine, through his grip on the chair.
“And you’ve eaten?” she pressed.
Bruce shook his head, eyes not leaving the screen. “Too much work.”
Diana’s hands tightened slightly on his shoulders. She stepped back just enough to pull his chair a few inches away from the computer, creating space between him and the overwhelming hum of his world. Then she climbed onto his lap, letting herself fall against him.
He froze for half a heartbeat, then adjusted, one arm circling her back and a hand settling naturally on her face. And then—he kissed her. Deeply. Soundly. There was no hesitation, no caution, just the raw, burning connection that had been quietly simmering between them for years.
When they finally broke apart, Diana rested her temple against his shoulder, breath uneven. “You have no idea what fueled the gossip machine that Wally keeps running,” she said, voice low, almost conspiratorial.
Bruce lifted his chin, giving her his full attention. “What?”
She told him everything. The cafeteria chaos. The rumors, embellished by every new hero who had the misfortune of witnessing—or imagining—their interactions. She recounted Shayera and John’s observations even Clark’s faint teasing.
Bruce listened, his expression shifting from amusement to disbelief, then finally settling into laughter. Not loud, not theatrical, just a soft, rich chuckle that made her warm.
“And apparently,” Diana added, “you’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”
Bruce scoffed. “Me? You’re the one who kept looking at me like I hung the stars every time we were in the same briefing.”
Diana gasped. “I do not.”
“You do,” he said, absolutely certain. “You also hover.”
“Hover?!”
“Whenever I’m injured.”
“That is concern!”
“And touching.” He smirked. “A hand on my arm. My shoulder. My back. Every time.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, you stare.”
“I do not stare.”
“You stared at me for four full minutes in the last meeting.”
“That was observing my surroundings.”
“Bruce. You didn’t blink.”
He opened his mouth—paused—closed it. “…Fine. Maybe a little.”
They stayed like that, trading jabs softened by affection, the kind that came from months of unspoken love.
Then Bruce asked quietly, “Did you deny the gossip?”
Diana felt her cheeks flare. “…Not exactly,” she admitted. “I didn’t confirm. But... I said Wally’s not a reliable source… I don’t like lying to our friends.”
Bruce nodded slowly. “I…feel guilty about hiding it too.” He hesitated, hands brushing hers, thumbs circling, “But what happens between us… is ours. Not anyone else’s.”
Diana’s hands rested over his heart. “Are you ashamed of me?” she asked softly, vulnerable.
Bruce’s response was immediate, vehement, unwavering. “Absolutely not. I love you.”
Her chest ached at the honesty in his voice. “Then… why the secrecy?”
He exhaled, leaning back into her touch. “I’m still coming to terms with us being together.”
She frowned. “…After eight months?”
“Yes.” His gaze met hers, solemn, haunted. “My heart and my mind have accepted it. But my fears… haven’t. I’ve lived with loss all my life. My parents, so many close calls. I… I’m terrified you’ll be taken from me the same way. I can’t stop it from happening. So I ask… a little patience.”
Diana’s eyes softened, tears she hadn’t realized were building threatening to spill. She cupped his face, leaned in, and whispered, “You don’t have to be afraid, Bruce.” Her voice carried steel and warmth in equal measure. “I won’t leave you. Ever.”
He closed his eyes, letting himself relax fully into her, the walls around him momentarily lowering, replaced by something almost foreign—trust, surrender, love.
Diana hugged him tightly, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat, the weight of his fears settling into the safety of her arms. She whispered, almost to herself, “I’m here, Bruce. Always.”
For a long moment, the Batcave held only the sound of their breathing and the unspoken acknowledgment of months of longing, fear, and hope.
Diana pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, her lips still tingling from their kiss. Her eyes sparkled, and despite the warmth in her chest, a small frown creased her brow.
“You know,” she said softly, almost laughing at herself, “the gossip evolved at an alarming pace… people are convinced we’re getting married.”
Bruce’s eyes flicked up to hers, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That's not that far from the reality,” he admitted, voice low but steady.
Diana's eyes widened, startled by the honesty. “…Not that far?”
“No,” he said, leaning just a touch closer. “I wouldn’t have given in to my feelings if I wasn’t… prepared to go the distance with you.”
Her chest swelled, a rush of pure, unrestrained joy. She beamed at him, heart hammering in her ears. “So… you would marry me?” she asked, voice teasing, yet daring him to answer.
Bruce’s gaze softened, dark and unwavering. “Yes. And when that day comes…” His thumb brushed lightly against her jaw, “…I promise you, every friend, every teammate—everyone who matters to us—will be there. We’ll share it all with them.”
Diana’s smile widened, impossibly bright, and she didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward and kissed him hard, pouring everything into it—the relief, the joy, the promise of a future together. They stayed locked for a heartbeat longer than necessary, letting the world shrink to the space between them.
Finally, she pulled back, forehead resting against his. Her breath hitched, a playful, conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “But if we’re going to keep sneaking around the ‘Tower… we need to be more careful.”
Bruce raised a brow, amused. “Oh?”
“I mean it,” Diana said, tone stern, though there was a teasing curve to her lips. “I’m thankful it was a rookie who saw us in the hallway the other day. Had it been anyone more reputable information wise… we might not have been able to deny it at all.”
Bruce chuckled, warm and quiet, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Then we’ll do better.”
Diana slapped his chest lightly. He laughed at her antics. “I’m serious, Bruce! Wally saw us in the training room and saw you leaving my room. If we keep this up, a new rumor will arise—and neither of us will be able to deny it. Remember, it was your idea to keep our relationship a secret.”
Diana pulled away and tried—truly tried—to look exasperated. She straightened and narrowed her eyes. But with Bruce looking at her like she was the only light in the Batcave, it was hopeless. Her stern expression cracked almost immediately.
Bruce simply smiled, leaning in close enough that their foreheads touched. And then, without another word, he kissed her. Soft at first, insistent next, as if saying, I understand. I’ll be careful—but right now, nothing else matters.
Diana melted against him, the weight of secrecy, rumor, and fear of exposure fading away in the warmth of his arms. In that cave, in that moment, they didn’t need the world to understand, the Tower to approve, or the gossip to die down.
When they finally pulled apart, Diana sighed.
“Fine,” she conceded, attempting to recover her tone. “But you are going to eat something.”
“Later,” Bruce said, dismissive.
“Now,” she countered, crossing her arms.
“Diana—”
She leaned closer, voice soft but firm. “You’re exhausted. You haven’t eaten. And I can feel the tension in your shoulders. Please.”
Bruce froze. Her face—worried, earnest, lovingly insistent—hit him harder than any punch ever had. He let out a long breath, the surrender obvious, inevitable.
Completely whipped.
“Alright,” he resigned amusedly. “You win.”
Before she could respond, he slid an arm under her legs and another behind her back, lifting her effortlessly into a bridal carry.
“Bruce!” she gasped, startled and delighted.
He smirked up at her. “Come on. I’m sure Alfred’s cooking a nice dinner. Join me, Princess?”
Her arms curled around his shoulders, warmth blooming across her cheeks. “Only if I can stay afterwards.”
Bruce laughed—quiet, low, content. “I wasn’t planning on letting you leave.”
She kissed his cheek, and he tightened his hold on her as they moved toward the manor stairs, their breaths mixing in the dim cave light.
---
Meanwhile, on the Watchtower...
Flash leaned against a railing, watching the cafeteria chaos with a sly grin. The chatter about Batman and Wonder Woman had reached peak absurdity, and he had decided enough was enough. Time to redirect the storm.
Flash, with the confidence of a man who had single-handedly created—and survived—three different rumor spirals this month alone, sidled up to a rookie who had been whispering furiously to the next table.
“Hey guys,” Wally said casually, "—listen. That rumor about Wonder Woman and Batman? Total nonsense. You’ve been duped. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled.”
The rookies blinked in confusion.
“But... did you hear the real reason I got my powers?”
The girl he sat on the table with froze, ears perked. “Uh… no?”
"Oof, thank goodness. I thought that it had spread already" Wally took a dramatic deep breath, like he could finally relax. The trainees looked extremely curious.
Flash then leaned in, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper. “It wasn’t chemicals. Not lightning. Nope. Totally magical. I… I offended Zeus. Big time. So he zapped me himself. Personally.”
The girl’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
Wally shook his head gravely. “Not kidding. Totally serious. You can’t tell anyone, but… I have to pay him back weekly. Rituals. Offerings. Mostly food. Sometimes he wants people to stand in the rain. Who knows? He’s very picky.”
The rookie bolted off, whispering it to the next cluster of heroes like it was gospel truth. Wally smirked. This was perfect. People would definitely run with that.
Within minutes, the cafeteria and hallways buzzed with it.
“Did you hear Wally has to send Zeus weekly prayer updates or lose 40% of his speed?”
"I saw him leaving a lightning-shaped offering at the console!”
“He’s apprenticed to Zeus! I swear!”
Even the veterans were half-amused, half-baffled. The story was so ridiculous, so outrageously specific, that no one questioned it. And more importantly…
The Bruce/Diana gossip, once everyone’s main obsession, was completely obliterated. Buried under the sheer absurdity of Wally’s magical, lightning-struck life.
Wally zipped through the crowd, nodding like a proud general surveying his battlefield, until he found Shayera leaning against the wall near the ice cream machine. “See? Sometimes, if you want to stop a rumor, you just… give them an even bigger one to talk about. Works every time.”
Shayera rolled her eyes at him.
By the end of the hour, the Watchtower was a frenzy of Zeus-themed gossip, ceremonial offerings, and whispered debates over Wally’s “loyalty to Olympus.” The rookies cheered. Heroes debated the plausibility. And somewhere, Zeus may or may not have been mildly offended.
And just as Wally intended…
No one remembered anything about Batman and Wonder Woman.
THE END.