Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, and I'm not making any money off of this.
Thanks for the beta, KN. I opted to not mention the secret sauce stain, but I'm sure it just came from a cheeseburger. D
Hope you guys enjoy.
Diana eyed all the different buttons and knobs on the control panel suspiciously. Why was this so difficult? She could fly her invisible jet, pilot a Javelin, man the controls in the Monitor Womb, destroy missiles with her bare hands, but she had never faced a foe like the one that lay before her: her dirty laundry.
She heard someone coming down the hall and called out to them. "Is anyone there? I need help."
Shayera popped her head in, and when she saw what Diana was doing, quickly popped it back out.
Her red-headed buddy walked back in, a sneer covering her face. "You're joking, right? I don't do laundry."
"Neither do I. I don't even know how to turn the stupid machine on."
"I would have thought Amazons used their hands and a tub of water."
"When in Patriarch's World…"
"Right. Have a man do it."
"Do you think they know how?"
"Only one way to find out. John!" The way Shayera yelled his name, Diana didn't doubt he could hear her.
When Lantern entered the laundry room, he wasn't alone. The Martian Manhunter was with him.
"Hey fellas, Diana and I are trying to figure out the whole laundry thing. Any tips?"
"I don't wear clothes."
All three of the humanoids, with their mouths gaping, turned to look at J'onn J'onnz . Seeing their confusion, he simply said, "Mental projection. I don't really look like this either. You know that."
"Even though we can't tell the difference, doesn't it feel weird. You're completely…" Diana looked at the floor in embarrassment "…naked."
"Yeah, man, doesn't it feel weird to have it all hang-…" Lantern brought a fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat- "exposed."
"On Mars, Diana, we don't have those societal hang-ups. And, John, I don't think you are that familiar with Martian anatomy"--Lantern hoped that J'onn couldn't sense the "Thank God" that passed through his thoughts--"We don't have anything that could be exposed. Nor did we have to worry about laundry."
Shayera pursed her lips in serious thought. "I think that's a fair trade-off."
Diana's face contorted in a look of mild disgust. "I'd rather learn how to do laundry. What about you, John. Can you help me?"
"Sorry. I've always dropped off my clothes at the dry cleaners."
"Even the ones that aren't labeled dry-clean?"
"Yes. I had a bad experience when I was in the military. All my undershirts came out pink."
"Oh, well, thanks anyway."
The other three superheroes left Diana to contemplate the domestic conundrum by herself.
A few minutes later she was joined by the Man of Steel.
"Hi, Superman! I need some help." She raised her laundry basket.
Superman held up his hands, warding off the dirty clothes. "That looks like a job for Ma Kent ."
Diana looked flabbergasted at him. "How is it that five superheroes are capable of taking care of the world, but not one of them knows how to do laundry?"
"Try asking Batman. He knows everything."
Both Diana and Clark looked at each other, then burst into laughter. "That's a good one, Superman."
Just then the devil they were speaking of floated through the doorway. "Something funny?"
The giggling powered heroes stood up straight, and tried to look as serious as possible. "Uh, nothing funny at all, Bruce. Just trying to help Diana do her laundry."
"And how's that going?"
At this point Diana sighed. "Not very well. Apparently, no one on the Watchtower knows how to clean their clothes. I'm surprised we don't stink."
"Well, everyone but J'onn. He doesn't wear clothes."
"And how do you know that, Batman?" Superman chuckled, but stopped when Bruce glared at him.
"I thought it was obvious." And that was all the answer they were going to get.
"Are you always up to date on your colleagues' state of dress?" Diana teased the Dark Knight.
Bruce performed one of his batsmirks. "It depends on who the colleague is."
"And on that note…" Superman exited the room.
"So, do you know how to launder your uniform?" As she asked her question, Diana dumped all of her clothes into one of the machines.
"It has to do with the polar and nonpolar properties of…"
Diana closed her eyes, and lolled her head back, feigning sleep.
"You've been spending too much time with Flash, Princess."
"Yes or no, Bruce?"
"No…er, Alfred washes my clothes."
"So the omniscient Batman doesn't know how to clean up after himself? Too bad I don't have an English butler to take care of me."
"I could have Alfred clea-…"
"So I heard there was a laundry crisis in here!" The Flash sped into the room, interrupting Bruce's offer.
"You know how to do laundry?" Diana tried to hide her surprise, but she wasn't doing a very good job.
"How do you think I earned my allowance from Auntie Flash?"
When neither of them responded to the question that they thought was rhetorical, Wally babbled on. "Seriously, Batman I could understand not knowing how to do laundry, but you and Shayera?"
"Why would you think that Shayera and I would know how?"
"Because you're woooooo..." Flash saw the arched eyebrow Diana was giving him and the sadistic little twitch of Batman's lips. His mind raced, trying to find another way to finish the sentence other than 'women.' Wombat, wobble, wolf, wolverine, woe. Arggh! He didn't know how long he could hold out the sound. Finally, something struck him. "Woooooonderful! Because you gals are wonderful, that's why!"
Before Batman could add one of his glib comments, Wally quickly shouted, "Now where are the clothes??!!!"
Diana pointed at the machine. "In there."
"Are you kidding? That's the dryer." Wally zoomed over and gathered all the clothes in his arms. Setting them on the floor, he began to arrange them in piles.
"What are you doing?" The idea of Flash pawing through her underthings while Bruce watched was not something Diana particularly savored.
Wally stopped and looked up at her. "It's called sorting. You need to make different piles: whites, darks, bright colors. And then from there, you separate them by the temperature of the water they are supposed to be washed in."
"It's not that, Flash." Diana looked at the pair of her star-spangled briefs that were resting in Wally's hand, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw another smirk decorate the world's greatest detective's face.
Realizing the source of her discomfort, Wally assured her. "Don't worry. It's not as if you have anyth…" Flash let out a low whistle as he pulled out what looked an awful lot like a pair of bat-boxers. "Now what do we have here?"
The batsmirk quickly disappeared as the lenses in Bruce's cowl widened. Diana whipped the article of clothing out of Wally's hands and behind her back. With her cheeks burning red, she blurted out, "I have no idea how those got in there."
"You don't? Hmmm…that's interesting. Do you have any theories on how your 'delicates' got in Diana's dirty laundry, Bats?"
Bruce flatly stated, "If you put those there, Flash…" He left the threat open-ended, allowing the speedster's mind to race with possible ideas of retaliation. Again the words wolverine, wolf, and woe drifted through the young man's mind.
"It wasn't me!"
But Batman had already disappeared with the incriminating evidence hidden underneath his cape.
Diana turned a cheery smile on the Speedster. "So, what do we do after they're separated?"
Flash quickly forgot the mysterious article of clothing, as he lost himself in the joys of detergent, softener, and dryer sheets.
That night Diana received a call over her com-link. "From now on, Alfred is doing your laundry."
"Fine by me. Goodnight, Bruce."
Yeah!? Boo!? I'd appreciate the input. Thanks for reading.