Author's Note: It's something, right?

Legalities: Property of DC Comics!

Rating: PG-13

Continuum: Sometime after Gods of Gotham.

Misguided Proportions By: Carmen (Kara) Wayne

It was always about the World's Finest. Batman and Superman. But there was really three members to this "World's Finest" group. The third being the lovely Wonder Woman. It was fitting, really.
Superman, the world's strongest man.
Batman, the world's greatest detective.
Wonder Woman, the world's bravest woman. Not to mention the most caring, loving and beautiful.
In a way, she was always the glue that kept the Justice League of America together. She was forever their princess. Just like her sister to the Titans. To lose her was unimaginable. Though they had once, in fact, and it was an utter nightmare. A world without Superman was chaotic, but a world without the princess was a world without hope.
Watching her, there on the Embassy of Themiscyra's balcony felt so scandalous, but he couldn't look away. Raven hair blowing around her, a white Grecian robe wisping around her like smoke. She had clearly just come from an ambassadorial meet. Her tiara was in her hands, and she had previously tossed her bracelets to the floor of her room. She was completely unarmed, her defenses down. A rare sight when it came to the Princess of Amazons.
Diana turned and disappeared under the black and red curtains that lined the glass French doors, her shadow coming out onto the curtains as an exotic black mass. of woman.
Before he realized it, she had dropped her robe off her body, to the floor. And he knew very well she wore nothing underneath. It was a sight he didn't want to see out of respect, but couldn't bring himself to turn away. Her moves were smooth and seductive. By nature, it seemed, she moved like that.
She tied her hair up into a high ponytail atop her head, chest heaving out as she did so. Did she realize she could be seen? Did she care?
He forced himself forward. He was there to speak to her, after all. The thoughts came uncontrollably now, however, due to the image of her naked silhouette. Thrusting inside of her, tasting her flesh, pumping against her strong, perfect body. massaging her chest, kissing her most tender spots. driving her to a screaming climax.
What man in his right mind DIDN'T see that?
But before that, the friendship. Diana told him she would always be there. Dependable, loving, soft, kind. She was simply not expendable as a friend.
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As if he were fooling anybody. She felt it her duty to humor the eyes watching her. After all, it wasn't every day Boy Billionaire Bruce Wayne decided to give the sport of Peeping Tomism a try.
And the fact that it was Bruce made all the difference. Her boys, her colleagues in the JLA, were good men. Bruce, Clark, Wally, Kyle-it didn't matter. There were all good boys. She trusted them with her body and her life.
In many ways, she and Bruce were opposites. Bruce represented vengeance, she represented hope. He was dark and cold, she was light and warm. But in these differences were similarities. They wanted justice, truth and peace.
And she had to admit there was an attraction there, to him. While she figured her voyeurism ended when she slid into her room, under the curtains, had she known the truth the little demon inside her could have cared less.
She often wondered to herself, secretly, what a night with him would be like. once she got over the horrendous numbers of women he had been with. Praying he had no STDs, she would think about the two of them together.
Did he like control? Did he like to lose it? Was he gentle? Rough? Imaginative or classic? She, personally, would want him to be commanding. forceful. No man or woman told her THIS was how it was supposed to be and THIS was where she needed to be positioned. To lose her control to a man she trusted was. thrilling to say the least. She suspected Bruce to be perfect for that; he wouldn't abuse the command given to him.
She dropped the robe of royal garb that she had to hear when handling "world affairs" to the floor. As is customary, nothing was on underneath. No one seemed to understand nude was better.
Carefully, she piled her long black hair on top of her head, into a ponytail, and went to slide on comfortable clothes, which to her meant cotton everything. Underwear, shirt and pants. Out of all the HORRID creations by Patriarchal men for their women, cotton clothes felt like a god-send.
Just as she pulled up the white cotton undergarment from her ankles, the Embassy chimes went off. Someone was at the front entrance.
'So he got the courage to do it.'
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'I should have the courage to DO this.'
He stood outside the embassy doors, looking nearly defeated. The wind tussled his hair, messing it worse than his costume's cowl had made it already. He was dirty from the heat, the sweat under the Kevlar, but he made himself presentable.
'She's a warrior, she'll understand.'
. A breath in, sharp.
'A beautiful warrior that doesn't sweat. She doesn't even get body odor.'
He hated women that smelled. As did any man in their right mind, he assumed. Well, he didn't HATE them. but the highly potent ones in lieu of sweating made him miserable. Hence why things with him and Catwoman didn't go too far. Could Diana smell bad even if she tried? he wondered.
With a deep breathing, he lifted his hand and pushed the button to activate the visitor chimes.
'I wonder if she's still naked.' he though, a part of him twitching at the mental image.
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Diana tugged on dark blue (cotton) pants, lose and clingy just at the hips-and a gray shirt which was impeccably tight. And being a woman who despised bras, that just made the shirt give more of a show.
Slowly, tauntingly, she paced down the levels of the Embassy. She didn't want to appear aware that he had been around all along.
Once she reached the doors, she slowly opened one to peer out to her handsome visitor, immediately swooning.
Bruce Wayne ran a hand through his hair, staring at her face. Gentle, smooth. How he would have loved to touch her cheeks and stroke her hair.
"Hello, Diana," he said.
Diana continued to watch his passionate blue eyes for several, surprisingly comfortably long moments before nodding to him.
"Hello, Bruce." she said with a kind smile.
Bruce grinned, just a little, at her smile.
"Diana." He slowly lifted his hand into the doorway, and opened his hand to a small, black stone. Involuntarily, as he spoke again, his voice darkened to his Bat-tone. "What can you tell me about Obsidian Stones?"
Diana's jaw dropped at that. Instantly, she took a step back and gripped the door with a hand.
"How romantic, you peeping Romeo!" she snapped.
Forcefully, she thrust the door shut, slamming it into his hand. As she walked off, satisfied, Bruce was left to do a little pain-dance over his very surely broken hand.