A random one shot that popped into my head. Silly fun! :D
Thank you to the awesome Hepburn for her amazing beta skills!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even Pictionary.
The dinner had been planned weeks in advance. Each person adding it to his or her calendars either gleefully or begrudgingly, but looking forward to it nonetheless. It was something they all needed; a little down time, good food and good company.
So far, the entire evening had gone off without a hitch.
Alfred's famous roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and mash had been warming in the oven, ready to be served at a moment's notice. This of course meant all Bruce needed to do was hand his guests a plate to serve themselves, since he was such a good host. The better host in question, however, had retired for the evening and was nestled comfortably in Gotham's Opera House. Madam Butterfly had only two showings for the year and the English thespian at heart had been planning the occasion for months.
Around the stately dinner table, two couples were enjoying a fabulous meal and witty banter. Lois, for example, was on her third scotch on the rocks. The handful of times she had visited the Wayne estate, she had made a habit of raiding the liquor selection. Bruce did not drink. Alfred used the majority in his cooking. And the palatial estate had hosted only a handful of parties in the last twenty years. From the reporter's standpoint, it was a shame to let anything good go to waste.
That meant the lovely bottle of Dalmore Single Highland Malt Scotch, which could fetch a hefty 60,000 dollars at auction, was left for the one and only Lois Lane. It was a bottle fit for a king, quite literally. For tonight, it was fit for Metropolis's Star Reporter. Having rich friends definitely had its benefits.
"So," Lois, her tongue on the looser side, "Is it in bad taste to ask about League matters when we're all together?"
Clark smiled at her, "Of course not. We're all friends here."
Bruce, mid-mouthful of potato, gave Clark a 'Do you have Kryptonite for brains?' look, but Diana spoke up before he could.
"Lois, we know full well that you hold League details in the highest regard of secrecy. I don't see any harm in it."
"Until you've given her a bottle of whiskey," Bruce muttered low enough for everyone except the mortal who was distilling herself.
The said mortal grinned. "Good. So what is the deal with Hawkgirl's wings? Does she hide them when she's trying to remain incognito? Or, can she at all?"
Clark blinked at her. "That's the matter you wanted to discuss?" He seized her drink, sniffed it and then took a light sip. And then grimaced.
Lois took her glass back. "For being Earth's Mightiest Hero, you certainly are a light weight."
Clark clutched his throat, and mockingly added, "It's like fire! It tastes like how Darksied looks!" He took a swig of his milk, just to wash the taste from his mouth.
"Speaking of fire," Diana gave the others a knowing look and stood up to enter the kitchen. She returned momentarily, holding a large platter, its contents lit like a firework. "Alfred's one and only Baked Alaska." The desert, now Diana's favorite, had been requested by the Amazon. Little did she know, she had Bruce's surrogate father wrapped around her finger.
Clark's eyes grew wide and practically giddy as Diana set it in the middle of the table. "Would you do the honors, Kal?"
He gently blew the fire out, revealing a crispy, sugary outer layer of absolute heaven. If Clark could be polled anonymously, he would pick Alfred's desserts over Ma Kent's any day. But that was his deepest, darkest secret; a secret he would take to his grave
After everyone had been served, all that could be heard was a chorus of contented sighs.
"That was the best meal ever. I really do believe Alfred has outdone himself," Diana managed to say, she was stuffed to the brim with Alaska and roast beef. The combination of the two wasn't half bad.
Bruce made some sort of half-hearted reply about how it was getting late and he should be getting ready for patrol.
Lois, now down to just the 'rocks' in her glass, laughed. "Bruce, it's seven o'clock. Do we really bore you that much?"
"Actually he needs time to pre-brood before the real brooding begins," Diana answered.
Bruce narrowed his eyes at her. "Oh, ha-ha."
"I know! Let's play a game!" Clark added somewhat over-excitedly. They all stared at him.
"Like, a board game or a card game."
Lois patted her boyfriend's arm. "Oh Smallville, you're too cute. But we're grown ups."
"Actually that does sound intriguing," Diana said. Of course she would agree to something like that. Bruce looked like he would rather pull his eyeteeth out than play a board game. He and Diana, on the other hand, played plenty of games, but they weren't the sorts you shared with two of your closest friends.
"Many normal people do it. I know just the thing." He was off in a blur. Ten seconds later he returned with a blue box labeled 'Pictionary'.
"Did you go home for that?" Lois asked, wide-eyed. At times his powers still boggled her. Especially when she was half a bottle down.
He grinned, "Of course." He sobered up for a moment. "Oh and I double checked, Dancing With the Stars is set to record. You didn't forget."
Lois sighed dreamily. "Oh baby, you shouldn't have." She pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, which made Diana giggle and Bruce roll his eyes and grab for the blue box.
"Let's get this over with," he uttered, setting up the game. "Diana, you're on my team."
Diana was picking up a few game pieces, including the small sand timer. "What is the premise of this ga-...?"
Lois practically railroaded her with a shrill voice. "Of course she's on your team! Why don't we switch things up a bit?"
Before either male could object, Lois added, "Girls verses boys!"
Diana grinned. "I like the sound of that."
Bruce looked over at his teammate, the Boy Scout. "I hope you can draw."
"I can draw in my sleep. Can you draw?"
Bruce smirked, but inwardly panicked. Bruce Wayne had an entirely too large a list of things he could do on an expert level, but the very few items that had found themselves off the list? Cooking being a huge one. Another? Drawing. Yes, Bruce could draw up plans for projects of the inventive nature, i.e. batwings, batmobiles, batarangs, but the art of drawing itself? Of doodling and making pictures? Bruce was better off cooking.
After Lois briefly explained the rules to Diana, she pulled a card from the deck. "Oooh, this is one for both teams." She made a mental note of the word and handed the card over to Bruce, the other "artist".
Bruce, cool, calm and collected readied himself for the game to begin. In a matter of seconds, Diana guessed her partner's drawing, an octopus and Clark was left to stare at Bruce's sad depiction of the sea creature.
"What the hell is that, Wayne?" Lois asked, peering over to get a better look.
"It's an octopus," he defended.
"It looks like road kill."
Clark looked at it side-ways. "Oh, I can see it now. Like an octopus that got run-over by a semi."
Bruce snatched the picture away, wadded it up and threw it behind him. "Never mind the octopus."
Over the course of less than thirty minutes, the girls were ahead a whole heck of a lot. In fact, they were nearing the finish square in a matter of two more rounds. Lois rolled the dice and moved their piece. Ok, one more round.
Lois, once again, marveled over Diana's expertise in drawing. With just a small piece of white paper and a tiny number two pencil, the Amazonian Princess could draw anything in neat detail. Shading included. The pictures practically jumped off the page.
"Dear god, Diana! How are you so good?" Lois asked, for the third time. Bruce had counted.
Diana shrugged humbly. "Blame it on a thousand years of learning the arts with Atea and Iphito, two very gifted, yet very strict teachers."
Clark and Lois found Diana's anecdotes endearing and commented accordinly, all the while Bruce's pile of crumpled papers was growing behind him.
Lois plucked her favorite from Diana's pile. The word had been flower, and Diana had drawn the most exquisite cornflower in high detail. However, Diana had referred to it as a centaurea, and delved into a story about how it had been named after the great Centaur Chiron, a mentor to warriors such as Achilles, Jason and Apollo. The story had enthralled everyone, including the brooding Bruce at her side.
Lois sighed, and gently placed the flower picture in her pocket. "You know, Diana, something like this should infuriate me greatly. Since I already imagined you were good at everything." Scotch had a magical way of making honest Lois somehow more veracious, "But these are amazing. Have you ever considered painting? I know a gallery in downtown Metropolis that would kill to have your work."
Just then Bruce stood up. "Well, it's that time. Sorry to cut this short. Gotham awaits."
Lois groaned. "But we're so close to winning!"
Bruce gave her a look, "Do you see where you're at?" He pointed to the game piece millimeters from the end. "I'd say you already did."
"Aww yeah!" Lois made a motion to give Diana a high-five; Diana met her in the middle and managed to not break Lois's hand.
Clark checked his watch. "Yeah, I've got to be up bright and early in the morning. Our copy editor is breathing down my neck, so I have to get in at dawn." He also stood up.
Lois tried to. But the Scotch had plummeted into her legs, making any and all movement a crapshoot. Before she had a chance to topple onto the floor, or worse, into the solid mahogany table, her Man of Steel caught her. In one swift motion, she was thrown into his arms and cradled by two very powerful hands.
"Thank you for dinner!" Clark exclaimed as he and Lois made their way to the front door.
"Thank you for coming!" Diana said, and then added, "We should do this next week." Bruce shot her a dirty look at 'next week'.
With that, their dinner companions were off into the night sky, heading toward the big city of Metropolis.
Silence descends on the two still in the manor. Diana gave Bruce a sly look; she had made it her goal to read him like a book. And she was getting entirely too good at it.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of," she smiled and came over to him, planting a quick but sweet kiss on his mouth.
Diana ignored him and bent down to study the pile of wadded papers. She selected one and opened it up.
"This one is my favorite." The word had been dog and the picture was of a cute, little puppy. She walked into the kitchen, Bruce following her out of curiosity, and she attached the picture to the refrigerator with a magnet. "It's so cute." She pointed to it. "And he's wagging his tail."
"That's one of his legs."
This made Diana laugh. "Well either way, it's beautiful." She slid over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands automatically gravitating to her hips to pull her even closer. "You're beautiful," she managed to breath out before their lips collided.
After a few long moments of ecstasy, Bruce pulled away very reluctantly. "Patrol."
"Wait up for me?"
"I always do."
He started to move out of the kitchen. "Oh and next time? I pick the game."