Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Thanks, KN! You get some yummy pumpkin pie. :D

Pumpkin

The scent entices as soon as he pushes the grandfather clock open. Spice and sweetness fill the air, and his step quickens as he leaves behind the dank recesses of the cave.

Just as he is about to turn the corner, he hears her laughter and immediately freezes.

He should have known the butler had not made the dessert, her personal favorite, for him.

Bruce turns to retreat to his bedroom. He has not even taken two steps when he hears, "Master Bruce?"

Steeling himself, he makes his way into the kitchen, unpleasant smile artfully arranged on his face. He refuses to look at her but knows she is frowning. She is one of the few who knows what he looks like when he is genuinely happy. And tonight he is anything but happy.

"Glad you could join us, Master Bruce. Will you be having some pie?"

"You know how I feel about desserts, Alfred."

The butler gives an apologetic smile to the princess. "If he had his way, every meal would consist of gruel and water."

"It's filling and contains all the essential nutrients," Bruce informs blandly.

"See what I must put up with, Miss Diana? I cook and slave away for a culinary Philistine."

Diana pats the old man's hand, smiling softly, "If it's any consolation, I love your food."

"It is more than enough, my dear. Unfortunately you have not been around enough lately to counteract Master Bruce's poor taste."

He refuses to be made uncomfortable by the statement. It's his home, not hers, and certainly not theirs.

Without even glancing at the clock, Alfred resumes, "Oh, look at the time. I must be retiring for the evening. Goodnight, Miss Diana." Alfred slightly bows to her, then gives him a curt nod, "Master Bruce."

"Goodnight, Alfred…And thanks again for the pie," she adds, but the butler has already left, dimming the lights behind him.

Bastard. Who goes to bed at six in the evening?

He leans against the kitchen counter directly across from where she is seated at the table. She does not face him, though her profile is enough for his mind to fill in the other side.

It is impossible to dismiss her femininity under normal circumstances, but she has made it even more difficult. The white folds of dress skim over her like running milk; the dark locks are swept up, revealing the spine and shoulders.

"We decided after you and J'onn moved out there wouldn't be any more of these visits," he says.

Straight. To the point. No room left for argument.

She ignores him, pushing the pie in his direction. "Would you like some?"

"No."

She shrugs, and the movement pushes the loose lock of hair that had been hovering indecisively at her shoulder, sending it over the edge. "Suit yourself." The remaining light causes the knife to shine, drawing his attention away from the errant curl on her back.

Her incisions are precise, and in seconds a large slice of sweetness fills her plate. As he watches her bring the fork to her mouth, he wonders why she does this, why she insists on making things so hard for him. His fists clench and release with every bite she takes, and he would swear he hates her, but for the fact he is madly in love with her.

"This tastes heavenly." She stands, plate in hand, and sidles up next to him. Despite the space between, his senses are full of her: sugar and spice and everything nice.

His fingers twitch.

She chews and swallows. "You should stop saying no."

Sectioning off a bite, she puts the plate down on the counter, then holds the confection up for him to take, her free hand held under the fork so the crumbs will not darken Alfred's spotless floors.

He doesn't move.

"If you don't like it, I promise I'll leave." He knows her looks as well. There is too much sadness and frustration around her eyes for her smile to qualify as genuine.

He is tired of being its cause.

Reckless and slightly angry, he speaks out of turn. "And if I like it?"

"Then I'll stay."

He breaks eye contact with her and stares down the bit of pumpkin pie as if it were the Joker. "It's not worth it."

"How can you know unless you try?"

"You don't know when to quit, do you?"

"You didn't answer my question. And as for me quitting, you don't really want me to."

He lets a mirthless chuckle escape, but it doesn't deter her. Again, she knows him too well.

Unmoved by his glares, she offers him the morsel once more. He doesn't fight her as she guides it into his mouth, even helps her by placing his hand under hers. She lowers the utensil and watches him chew and swallow.

It is the best piece of pie he has ever had.

"Do you want more?"

He shouldn't, but he nods.

"Will you let me give you more?"

He nods as she sets the fork aside.

"Good."

Her thumb is at his lips, brushing away invisible pie crumbs, and when she finally leans in to kiss him, he knows that this time he will not push her away.

Pumpkin Revisited

He is tired.

Eight hours of patrol finished, and he is just trudging his way up the staircase, each carpeted step a veritable Himalaya.

He pauses outside the bedroom door, resting against the open frame.

He can just make out her form under the sheets, surrounded by the numerous throw pillows that adorn the bed. Odd. She doesn't like blankets of any kind, and the cushions normally litter the floor.

He moves in closer to inspect.

She is asleep, black curls spilling around her, framing her perfect face. He smiles at the tiara on her head.

He sits down on the very edge of the bed, carefully distributing his weight so as not to wake her.

He should have known it was pointless.

In the gray light of the rising sun, he can just make out the fluttering of her eyelids. And then she is staring at him with her brilliant blue eyes.

"Daddy?"

There is a second's pause before she bolts upright in bed, her numerous throw pillows tumbling to the floor.

"You should be sleeping, pumpkin nose."

"That's not my name."

"Whatever you say, pumpkin nose." And even though he knows she should be sleeping, he reaches over and starts tickling her.

"Daddy! Stop!" she shrieks in between peals of laughter and thrashes of limbs. "Stop or you'll wake Mommy!"

He pulls his hands away immediately, covering his mouth in shock and horror. "I better stop then."

The girl throws her covers off and stands up on the bed, and he now understands why she bothered with the sheets in the first place.

She looks just like her mother, right down to the red and white boots.

"Mommy let me wear it to sleep, so I could surprise you when you got back from work. Do you like it?"

"Very much. Now I have two Wonder Women in my life."

Without warning she jumps in his arms, twisting until her body is parallel with the floor, arms reaching out in front of her. He spins her around the room, listening to her happy giggles.

It feels like flying.

When they finally stop, she is still laughing. "No, Daddy, I'm Wonder Girl."

"I see, and who gave you your uniform? Athena?"

The little girl shakes her head and begins to ask, "Can I w--"

"Aphrodite?"

"Nope! Can I--"

"Hera?"

"Noooo!" she howls, torn between anger and laughter at her father's constant interruptions.

The amused dad scratches his head, pretending at puzzlement.

"I know. Grandma Hippolyta?"

"It was Uncle Dick! Can I wear it to school tomorrow?"

"Sorry Wonder Girl, but that's against school dress code, and we can't have superheroes breaking the rules."

"You're right," she says through a loud yawn. "But can I wear it when I get home?"

"That's an even better idea."

Brushing the pillows and sheets away, he lowers the tiny bundle to the bed. She is asleep in under a minute.

He bends and kisses her nose, closing the door behind him before succumbing to his own yawn. Stumbling more than walking to his bedroom, he smiles tiredly when he finally sees his awaiting wife.

She is wearing her tiara too, sheet pulled up to her neck. "Very cute," he says.

"I take it you saw Lydia?"

"Yes."

"We missed you."

"Halloween." He crawls gratefully into bed, kisses her briefly. "Crazies come out early."

"Rough night?"

"Not exactly, just long."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I saved you some candy."

"Thanks." He yawns again. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Too bad you're so tired. I had a surprise for you."

"Let me guess. You have your uniform on." He turns his head to the side, opening his eyes just enough to catch the mischievous sparkle in her own.

"Not exactly."

And suddenly he's not so tired.

Probably not my best effort, and guaranteed to give you a cavity. Thanks for reading.