|Bite Sized Bats
Author: The Brown-ie PM
Batman becomes tiny by an accidental magical mishap. So, Superman does what any sensible man would do: Ask his spouse for help.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Friendship - Bruce W./Batman - Words: 1,402 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 10 - Follows: 5 - Published: 02-28-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7880576
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Thanks for the beta, beta-buddy. If you like Mass Effect and Mass Effect 2, check out Moranth's fics on FFN.
A Story About Exactly That
Perched high above the hustle, and criminally insane bustle of Gotham City, were Batman his young ward, Robin. The elder of the two surveyed the skyline for their comrades, while his ward picked his nails with a batarang. Though normally calm, he had been looking forward to this event all evening. And what an evening it had been: In the spirit of the holidays, muggings were at an all-time high; Poison Ivy had thrown her usual Christmas tantrum, by peddling possessed pine trees to unsuspecting buyers; and Penguin added to the cheer by turning an outdoor ice skating rink into an arctic animals preserve.
All in all, the evening had been long and eventful. They both looked forward to Alfred's cooking and a few hours of much needed rest.
Batman stilled, the pointed nose of his cowl fixed on two slowly approaching dots on horizon. As they drew nearer, Robin began to wave his arms wildly.
"Hi, Kon!" he shouted as their allies came into view.
"Hi, Tim!" Kon chirped cheerfully as he poked out from behind his mentor's cape. "Where's Batgirl?"
The Dark Knight shot him an threatening glance at the mention of her name. Superboy gave out an uncharacteristic squeak and retreated behind the cape once more.
"Did you bring it?" Batman growled grumpily.
"Well, good evening to you too, Bruce," Superman smiled. "Hi, Tim."
"Did you bring it?" Batman asked again, with even less patience (As if it were possible.).
"Yes, I have it-"
"I'd like to go home sometime soon."
"Okay, okay," the Kryptonian sighed. "Kon, please give the package to me." But his request was met with the sound of pleasant munching. Pulling his cape aside, he found Kon re-wrapping the package that was meant for their friends with lightening speed.
"Conner Kon-El Kent, why are there crumbs on your mouth?" he asked in disbelief.
"I... I was hungry," his clone replied sheepishly. Clark snatched the box from him and peeked inside with his x-ray vision. At least there were some left.
"Sorry about that," he apologized as he handed it to Robin.
"I'm used to it. He and Bart would snatch food from my mouth if they could," Robin teased as he accepted the package and fastened it to his belt.
"Here," Batman grunted as he threw his gift to his floating friends. Kon caught it a little too eagerly. He gave the box a shake, a smile forming on his greedy, crumb-dusted lips. On closer inspection, the vibrant green and red gift bag was dotted with tiny, frolicking reindeer. A pristine white card was fastened to one of it's gilded handles; a note written in neatly, sprawling script ("Alfred's," he suspected.) that wished them a "Merry Christmas."
"Thanks, guys! It looks so-" But the Kryptonian halted when he realized their companions had already gone.
"I hate it when he does that," Superman griped. "And I don't even know how he does it. I have super hearing and x-ray vision for Rao's sake..."
"It totally sucks!" his clone agreed noisily between bites.
Superman, releasing another long suffering sigh, took Kon by his belt-loop, and flew home.
After a shower, bowl of hot soup and freshly made bread, Tim took it upon himself to open their gift.
"They look so good," he whispered in awe. The remaining dozen cookies were dotted with an assortment of chocolate chip, nuts and candies. Tim grabbed one eagerly and took a bite. As he munched, he plucked the scribbled note from the wrapping paper, it read:
To the Bats:
Here's hoping crime will take a holiday.
Thanks for looking out for Big Blue.
"They're good!" he chirped. "Here, Bruce. Have one."
"I don't like sweets," Bruce groused as he pushed the box away. "You shouldn't eat those either."
"But Lois made them for us!"
"And that's exactly why you shouldn't eat them."
Ignoring his mentor, Tim plucked a cookie from the box and took a bite.
"Wow, they are edible and pretty tasty. You really should try one- OW!" He yelped suddenly and clutched his cheek. "Something cut my mouth!"
Grabbing the box, Bruce examined a cookie: One of its multi-colored candies was nothing more than a stray press-on nail. With a grunt of disgust, he tossed the box in front of Ace, who after a few sniffs shoved it away with his snout and retreated underneath his master's chair, whimpering.
"Oh my God," his ward wailed, a hand pressed over his mouth and his stomach as he made a dash for the restroom.
"Clark?" Lois' disembodied voice carried over the clamor of the kitchen. "Where did all of my cookies go?"
"Oh, uh... I gave them all to Bruce," he replied, appearing in the doorway.
"What? I was hoping to send some to your parents!" Lois snapped, covered in white from head-to-toe with flour. The kitchen was a hellish mess: the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes; the floor was covered with an assortment of ingredients; and there was smokey-veil wafting in the air.
"I'm sorry, Lois. But, there is still plenty of time!" Clark said, putting on his most apologetic face as he surreptitiously lowered the oven's temperature. "But I'd be happy to make some more with you."
Lois bristled at his proposal. Her nostrils flared as her features twisted into harden scowl as she gripped the sink's edge. Anyone else would have be delighted by such a loving gesture, but Lois, a true Metropolisian*, was too cynical to believe anything that anyone said.
"No," she said coldly as she slowly turned to face her husband. Her lips were draw tight in a half snarl, half smirk, which caused Clark to take a step back. "I know your game, friend."
"But, Lois-" he pleaded, but was effectively silenced with a hateful glare and a threatening looking spatula.
"Clark Jerome ("J-Joseph," he mumbled before Lois threw a dishtowel in his face.) 'Kal-El' Kent," Lois began slowly. "I will make more cookies. You will take them to your family ("Please, Lois! Kon has been vomiting for days!"). They will eat them. And then you better go shuck your own corn in the Fortress of Solitude tonight."
"Yes, ma'am," he whimpered wearily as he floated off in defeat.
"What were in those cookies?" the Dark Knight yelled over the gunfire as Superman shielded him. "Robin's been hallucinating for three days! And he still isn't right!"
"That boy's never been right!" Jason barked between loading clips. Batman had decided to check up on his wayward son, only to have them erupt into a one-sided gun fight all along the alleyways of the East End. After following a trail bullet-riddled windows and small fires, Superman found his friend holed up behind an overturned car for cover, while Jason unloaded everything he had.
"Lois can do alot of things well," the Kryptonian said as he swatted a grenade through high into the air. "She's a fearless investigator, a Pulitzer-winning journalis-"
"She can't cook, Kal!"
"I know! I'm sorry! Please, let me make it up to you!"
Superman's brow furrowed as the bullets continued to ricochet off of his back. "I've got an idea." Suddenly, he was nothing more than a red and blue blur; disarming Jason before knocking him out.
"There!" He stood with his hands on his hips.
Batman sighed as he fastened several zip ties around Jason's wrists and ankles. Clark made quick work of the rest of his hidden weapons, tossing them into a growing, make-shift pile before melting them down with his heat vision.
"So," his alien friend asked as he loaded his former ward into the passenger seat. "Are we 'cool' now, as the kids say?"
The Dark Knight gave him a scathing look before the black-glass widow slid over them and the Batmobile sped away, leaving an angry cloud of burning rubber in its wake.
* What in the pudding are people from Metropolis called?