Hello and thank you for clicking on my story! As a warning, this is a plotless story but I hope you're satisfied with what you find here. Please drop me a review on your way out – constructive criticism is especially welcome.

Diana battles insomnia but with a little help, finds what she is looking for.

Disclaimer: No profit is being made from this story.

The sheets were wrinkled.

Diana laid on her back, raised them in the air and watched the chocolate-colored clouds float back onto the mattress. To her dismay, the puffs folded over each other in stubborn creases just before they landed. Not to be deterred, she pulled the sheets taut over her body yet the edges remained folded. Diana sighed in resignation as she dropped her head to her pillow. She stared at the ceiling and wiped some runaway dark locks from her forehead as she wondered why the 1200-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets were anything less than perfect. For this much luxury they should sing her to sleep.

She tossed. She turned. She laid on her back. Laid on her stomach. Laid on her side. It wouldn't do. She found the room, cloaked in tendrils of midnight, was strangely suffocating. Diana got up and opened a window to the sounds of night creatures. She laid back down, hoping the lullaby of the outdoors would soothe her to sleep.

It didn't. The heat of the porous night just floated in and made her navy boxer shorts top and green tank top stick uncomfortably to her body.

Diana groaned. It was impossible. She was not getting any rest tonight. She had three meetings at the embassy in the morning and at this point she was doomed to exhaustion. Hours more of this torment was certain to drive her insane. She was desperate for something to cure her, something to take away her night madness.

What's wrong with me? The frantic thought echoed through her mind. No answers came but the sound of chirping crickets pulsing through the night air.

Frustrated, she sat up. Gathering her hair in a low ponytail, she twisted it and tossed it over her right shoulder. The hot, rank air made her tresses feel like electric coils on her back. She tried to compensate by leaning against the cool oak headboard behind her. She was at a loss with what to do. She rubbed her eyes lightly, hoping the act would somehow cause them to finally feel droopy.

She glanced at the bedside table. The LED clock illuminated 3:47am in a warm glow. Shifting back to her previous position, Diana brought her knees to her chest as she contemplated the room. The Old World design exuded refinement but not snobbery. The deep green wallpaper, the King-sized bed, walnut bedside tables, even the chaise and loveseat at the opposite side of the vast room divulged tasteful elegance. But something was missing.

Someone, rather, she mentally corrected herself.

Her right arm reached out and touched the vacant side of the bed, gently gripping the cool, unused covers. An ache began to thrum in her stomach, reminding her of the person she wanted there more than anyone else. She closed her eyes, felt the sheen of sweat that coated her eyelids. She was simultaneously thankful for the knowledge of how much he meant to her and distressed by his absence. Taking in a deep breath, brief memories of them flashed in her memory and brought her back to one simple fact.

She never would have imagined herself here. But it did happen.

A year ago she would have never accepted the possibility that she would be sitting in his bedroom, in his bed, nonetheless, waiting for him to return from his nightly patrol.

Smiling to herself, Diana recalled seven months ago when she confronted Bruce after a mission.

They had been in Peru, evacuating citizens from a small city crippled by a 7.8 magnitude earthquake. She had been flying low over the city, scanning the building rubble with the unsavory task of looking for survivors and bodies. They were pressed for time, worried the aftershocks would come quickly and would be just as devastating as the initial quake. Diana's sharp eyes spied a man of about twenty-three underneath a pile of crumbling building cement, bruises evident all over his half-exposed chest. His ripped t-shirt was stained with dark colored splotches, probably the result of the blood that ran down from cuts on his nose, forehead and left cheek. He had evidently pulled himself out of some rubble and now was propped awkwardly on a mix of crumbled bricks and shattered wood, clawing at his still buried leg.

Diana touched down next to him, in the only clear space five meters away from him. As she climbed over the pile of fallen buildings to reach him she wished for the hundredth time that day she spoke Spanish so she could calm him down. The man distractedly glanced up from his leg and upon seeing her, his brown eyes lit up in a mixture of admiration, recognition and relief. Diana stepped gingerly over the rubble as she made her way to him. She tore into the pile and shortly after she applied her assistance, the man's leg was free but still badly injured. Diana gently hoisted him over her shoulder and was about to take off for the medical tent before a yell stopped her.

"Wonder Woman!" She turned around to see Vigilante running up to her, dust caking his formerly white hat and red scarf. "I need your help real bad – some of the locals said there are people trapped in the mess outside the school ." He pointed down a street, or what was once a street, to her left. "It's 'bout two miles yonder."

She glanced to where he pointed, then back to the package on her shoulder. "I need you to take this man to the hospital tent." She lowered the dark-haired Peruvian off her left shoulder and gently set him on his feet, making sure he could stand.

"I don't think he can use his right leg."

"Sho' thing, ma'am." Vigilante moved to support the young man, placing his arm around his back for support as Diana sped to the direction of the school.

She reached the half-demolished remnants of a school and found Batman already at work. Landing a small distance away from him, she yelled, "Have you found anyone?" as she began ripping at the pile. She scrutinized the building next to her which was still mostly intact. Some of the walls were still erect and desks inside the building were hauntingly visible – a glimpse of serenity amidst the carnage.

"No," He huffed, "But my sensors show someone's in there."

The two did not speak further as they hauled debris out of the way. Diana prayed to the gods she would not find the horror of any little corpses as she dug for those still alive. The day had been trying enough.

Yet as if the gods traded one misfortune for another, a low rumble became audible. Two sets of hands stilled. Two minds raced through the possible outcomes of an aftershock. Two pairs of eyes met milliseconds before a violent shaking overcame the ground beneath their feet and they struggled to remain standing.

The shaking was only seconds long but it seemed to go on for minutes. When it subsided, the only thing that could be heard was their ragged panting. After a moment, each stood back up. Still catching her breath, Diana turned to Batman.

"Are you alright?"

But she didn't hear the words she spoke. At the same time as the question left her mouth, she watched her name form as a shout on his lips. He ran and collided with her soft body. The force of his shove and her lack of readiness caused toppled her to the ground, landing on her right arm two meters from where she had been standing. Confused and distracted by the pain in her skinned forearm, Diana grimaced and touched it briefly before she saw why Batman had ferociously pushed her. A chunk of the school roof, now loose from the aftershock, teetered on its last support. Before she could spring to her feet, before he could dash to safety, it fell from the dilapidated building and engulfed the black figure beneath it in a cloud of dust and rubble.

Exactly where she should have been standing.

Diana would later claim she could not remember much of the rest of that day, probably an effort by her psyche to save her from recalling the most traumatic event in her life. She didn't remember the desperate call she put to the Watchtower or that when Superman quickly arrived on the heels of another mission her arms were covered in her own blood from scraping at the crumbled pile and pulling out his tattered body.

She barely remembered transporting up to the Watchtower infirmary with him in her arms. In fact, her memories were sparse until she felt J'onn's hand on her arm, stilling her from pacing in the infirmary hallway. He told her Batman would survive, that thankfully his suit had absorbed much of the damage. She was fairly certain the moment followed with her shedding a few tears on J'onn's shoulder.

The rest of that day was spent between exhaustion in the infirmary and restless sleep in her quarters.

Early the following morning she made the familiar journey from her room, down the stairs, through the walkway, into the infirmary bay and to his room. She found him sitting up in bed, a white patient's smock covering his chest, examining his right arm. Two cords dangled from the monitors, unhitched from his skin. She knitted her eyebrows in concern and approached his side in three clicking steps upon the white tile. The relief of seeing him awake was subsequently trampled by her distress of what he was doing.

"What did you do?" She demanded, suddenly hearing a void of beeps from his unplugged IV monitor.

"No internal bleeding, no organ damage. There's no reason for me to stay." He gripped a third cord protruding from his right hand, preparing to pull it out.

"You need rest." She said sternly. She put her hands on her hips to emphasize her meaning. He ignored her as he tugged at the plastic tube in his fist. "You know J'onn won't let you leave."

"Try me."

"This is ridiculous. A roof fell on you yesterday. There's no way you're leaving after less than 24 hours in the infirmary." She rubbed her temples with the tips of her thumb and middle finger, a habit she adopted from Superman. "This wouldn't have even happened if you hadn't acted so rashly."

"Rashly?" His voice growled. "I don't think moving a teammate out of harm is a rash act."

Anger bubbled beneath her surface. "We both know I could have taken the hit better than you."

"Irrelevant." He grunted as he shifted his weight and slung his legs over the side of the bed. His obvious discomfort sent her frustration boiling over.

"Dammit, Bruce!" She hissed, taking another step toward him. "Gods know you could have died! What in Hades were you doing?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with a response." His typical coolness amplified her wrath.

"It could have been much worse." She continued, ferocity deafening her to her own words. "You can't pull stunts like that when we have bigger problems to deal with."

His head shot up, irritation finally crossing his features. "Careful, Wonder Woman."

She knew what she wanted to hear from him, to tell her why he pushed her to safety - but his refusal to say it infuriated her further, causing her voice to raise. "You can't even give me a logical reason why you did it."

Bruce's anger rose to meet hers. "What do you want me to say?"

"Why not just let it fall on me?"

"Drop it."

"What were you thinking?"

"I didn't think, Diana!" He blew out a ragged sigh as their eyes locked.

She opened her mouth to retort but stopped. A warm wave washed over her as her steely expression transformed to a tender one. Although it was what she wanted to hear, his unexpected admission was startling nonetheless. Her hands fell from her hips as she watched him. She didn't know what to say. Should she stay there? Apologize for letting her emotions get the best of her? Wait for him to say something else? After a couple of minutes she gulped a deep breath, silenced the questions in her head and quietly sat down next to him. As she did, her gaze never left his face and she found a new strength. She felt empowered. She felt like she had won.

"Yesterday could have been it." Her voice soothed. "If things had turned out differently… " She left the sentence hanging. "Bruce… how long are we going to keep this up?" She offered him a small, regretful smile. "To be honest I don't know how much more I can take."

His gaze held her eyes. "I still have my reasons." He stated unapologetically.

She blinked and looked away, instantly wondering why she even tried. The feeling of rejection was miserably familiar. Lightly biting her lips, Diana silently vowed he would not get the satisfaction of her tears. She moved to get up when him firm hand gripped her arm to stay her. "Diana…" He began and stopped, words uncharacteristically failing him.

Her expression hardened at his unwillingness to explain himself. "People battle for their happiness, Bruce. Every day. It doesn't come without sacrifice. I'm willing to do it. To fight for it. The question is will you? Will you fight for yourself, for your right to be happy?"

Her question reached deeper than she knew. He hadn't been fighting. He knew it. Time and time again he had given up on the fight. He had stopped before he had begun. So what did that make him? What kind of a man looked a battle in the face and didn't even bother to pick up a weapon?

He took in Diana, all of her. She was ever the Amazon, her stance rigid as if unwilling to let her guard down. Her blue eyes were bright with conviction as she waited for his reply.

And it was resolved in his mind and soul – he was no coward.

"I am."

She relaxed visibly but had little time to process his newfound courage before he dove in to steal ravenous kisses on her mouth. She responded to his touch eagerly, coming close to be enveloped in his arms and opening her mouth to his hungry prodding. He reached up and ran his hands up her back to bring the two of them closer. Two hearts throbbed lively, two people lost themselves in the other for the first time. Each felt the simultaneous joy of a new beginning and the fear of what the future would bring.

They kept their courtship mum to avoid League gossip and it became more than necessary when Bruce Wayne and Wonder Woman stepped out in public as a new couple, two months into their hushed relationship. By that point it was only fair to break the news to the Leaders, who would know the truth, before they read it on the headlines. Unsurprisingly, the news was well received especially by Superman who was ecstatic his two best friends finally recognized what was plain to everyone else.

Four months later, Bruce took Diana out to the most opulent restaurant in New York. He paid off the host to put them in a VIP room away from the craning necks and the less than discreet photographers. Over two plates of chicken marsala he asked her to move in to the Manor with him. She accepted and at the end of that month she brought her belongings to Wayne Manor.

This is how Diana currently found herself on a July night in his bed sheets, cursing her insomnia.

She looked up from the trance of memories, reviving herself from the past. She gazed at the open window and with a small sigh she recalled just how late – or early – it was. She reached her hands to the ceiling to stretch and heard the satisfying crack of her shoulder blades. Briefly, she questioned if picking up a book and trying to read again would be of any use but quickly rejected the thought. Her attention could not be held with reading.

Admittedly, something was bothering her. She knew it from the restlessness her movements, frequents sighs and roaming gazes. It didn't take Diana long to identify the object of her agitation - she wished patrol had ended early tonight. She had the utmost faith in Bruce but there were still times her imagination ran wild with the question of "what if." Having him next to her rather than in the lethal crossfire of Gotham made sleep come much more swiftly. Glancing again at the illuminated clock, her stomach turned. Hours to go before I can sleep, the resigned thought skittered across her mind.

No, she decided, the best thing to do was to try and relax again. Maybe, just maybe that might calm her enough to drift into sleep. Diana crossed her legs and sat up straight. She closed her eyes and breathed, trying some of the techniques Bruce had taught her after their sparring sessions. She let her mind wander freely, until it landed on another persistent memory. Of when she sat on that same spot on that same bed, when a shirtless Bruce leaned over her, one hand gripping her bare thigh, the other grasping her waist and pushing up her shirt as his warm lips greedily met hers over and over, their mingled panting the only thing breaking the silence of the room…

Diana's eyes bounded open. This wasn't getting her anywhere.

She uncrossed her legs and stood up to shake the vivid memory from her mind. She stayed at the side of the bed, shifting her weight from one leg to the other hoping exhaustion would crash down on her at any moment and compel her to sleep.

But nothing came.

Wearily, she closed the open window, the night sounds from outside doing nothing to pacify her. She sat down on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor.

Something has to work. She threw a look around the room. If she stayed in here much longer she was going to go out of her mind. She played with the possibilities. Go down to the cave to work on some cases? The study to do research for her embassy meetings tomorrow? The thought of diving into work wasn't quite appealling this late at night. She needed something brainless, something that would make it easy for her to come back to bed.

She smiled to herself, thinking back to Flash's advice for all problems - when all else fails, you can't go wrong with food.

Standing up promptly with a new destination, Diana softly made her way down the hall to the stairwell. She lightly stepped down the stairs and made her way to the expansive kitchen. The motion-sensored recessed overhead lights came on in response to her presence. With more oak cabinets than most professional kitchens, a perimeter adorned with black and grey speckled granite counters with two islands in the large rectangular room, there was enough counter space for dozens of meals to be prepared simultaneously. Within the cabinets the kitchen was decked with every possible appliance, utensil or tool Alfred could possible need. It was the kind of setup such a culinary master needed. Admittedly, Diana was jealous of his cooking ability. She had indeed delved into the art out of necessity of feeding herself when she lived alone but she was nothing like the master at his work. It almost made her want to begin cooking for herself again. Almost.

For tonight she would settle on a soothing cup of green tea, despite the warmth of the night.

She lightly stepped over to the eye-level cabinets just to the left of the refrigerator to retrieve the loose tea leaves. She opened the cabinet and gingerly sifted through the containers for the appropriate type. After finding the green tea and setting the cylinder tin on the granite counter with a quiet clang she closed the cabinet, about to turn around to get a spoon and mug.

"Good evening, miss. Is there something I may assist you with?"

By all means Alfred's voice should have scared Diana out of her wits and caused her to let out an ungraceful scream. Yet she had years of practice with Batman under her belt to maintain her calm exterior despite the startling jolt the butler had just given her.

Now I know where Bruce gets it from, she mused with the hint of a smile.

Diana turned to the mouth of the kitchen and the sound of the voice. The regal butler stood before her under the glow of overhead lights, satin black robe with a crisp white nightshirt and gray pants. Even in his sleepwear Alfred kept up an impeccable appearance. She swore the man needed a day off.

In spite of the shock he had given her Diana was pleased to see him awake. Certainly, she and Alfred had been coming into more contact with each other over the last few weeks but she was ashamed to say her busy schedule had never afforded her much time to see him outside of her morning routine and dinner.

"Thank you, no. I was just getting some tea." She watched Alfred's gaze as it traveled from her eyes down to the tin on the counter in front of her.

"Having insomnia, miss?" She quirked an eyebrow and responded in the affirmative.

"Nothing too terrible, but yes." Alfred began to move towards her.

"Then you want Chamomile, not Green. Unless you'd prefer to be up all night?"

Surprised, Diana stepped aside upon his approach. He opened the cabinet back up and pulled out the proper container.

"I'll prepare it for you, if you like."

"Thank you." She crossed the kitchen to sit down at the small table and chairs at the end of the room and next to the large window. She watched in awe as the Englishman went about his craft, quickly boiling water and dispensing the right amount of leaves into a strainer. Even something as simple as preparing tea he made look like a wondrous dance. A feeling of guilt overcame her.

"I hope I didn't wake you." She left an opening for his confirmation or contradiction.

"Not at all, miss." Silence reigned again.

Undeterred, Diana made a second try at conversation.

"I hope I haven't caused you more trouble than Bruce normally would."

"You are certainly not a bother, madam." Diana tilted her head at his tone, recognizing sincerity in it. He turned and faced her with a white cup and saucer, Chamomile tea steeping in the steaming water. The curls of hot air swayed enticingly at her and he approached the table. "I'm happy you were able to join us here." He set down the saucer and stepped away to clean up the preparation utensils.

"Alfred." Diana's voice arrested the Englishman. He turned to face her once more. Her gaze wavered between his task and his eyes. "If you wouldn't mind, I would enjoy some company."

A brief, gracious smile broke his lips and he obliged her, first moving away to retrieve his own cup and then returning to sit across the table from her. He unfolded a white napkin from the table and set it in his lap.

"The tea smells wonderful." Diana leaned over her cup slightly and breathed in deeply as if to let the wisps of steam infuse into her entire body. She gave the older man across from her a gentle smile. "I'm relieved you directed me to the right kind. I still have so much to learn. There are times I wonder where you get these culinary tricks from."

The butler agitated the strainer in his own cup. "Master Bruce tired quickly of the warm milk method. It wasn't – pardon me – his cup of tea." Diana laughed lightly.

"It seems as if he excels at everything but cooking."

"Indeed but I'm quite thankful for it. There must be something for me to use against him when he is too impressed with himself."

"I imagine that must be a challenge. He's so perceptive of everything around him. It's uncanny." She raised the cup to her lips in thought. The tea seared its way down her throat like a cleansing liquid fire. "Watching him grow up must have been quite the experience."

Alfred's stare became wistful. "Indeed, it was. Master Bruce was always a quick lad. Nothing could puzzle him for long." Diana smiled unknowingly at hearing this side of Bruce. He never talked extensively about his childhood. She was still getting used to the idea that he had someone like Alfred in his life.

"Was he a handful to keep up with then?" Alfred removed the strainer from his tea.

"He was, though always respectful. Rarely caused a ruckus." Alfred sipped his tea with a satisfactory smile.

"He sounds like every parents' dream child." But that's not hard to believe, she added silently. Diana suddenly realized she was fulfilling the role of the wide-eyed lover, completely enamored. For a moment she questioned if she should chide herself for her infatuation.

"Indeed." Trancelike for a moment, Alfred blinked and looked away, taking a deep breath. Diana noticed, realizing she had touched on that subject. It was evident the tragedy born from that night resonated in Alfred as it did in Bruce. While she knew there was still a great deal to learn about Bruce's parents he had shared his memory of the night of their death. When he talked about it the pain in his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard from him. Yet she also knew the deep love Bruce held for his father-figure. It was clear whenever he spoke about Alfred. Diana knew Bruce looked up to the Englishman more than Alfred could possibly know. Through Bruce's admiration Diana felt a special place in her heart for his trusted butler.

"If he was to grow up with anyone other than his parents," she murmured, "he was lucky it was you."

His eyes touched hers hesitantly. A slight gleam in his showed the compliment affected him profoundly. "Thank you." He replied. Responding to the impulse Diana reached out and gently grasped his hand, resting her forearm on the cool glass of the table. They shared a smile.

"Looks like you two are having a pleasant evening." A voice said from the other end of the kitchen. Both heads quickly turned to see a showered Bruce, black hair gleaming with dampness, dressed down in post-patrol workout pants and t-shirt. He leaned against the wide oak doorless entrance of the room with a characteristic smirk dancing on his lips.

"Maybe I should let Gotham fend for itself more often." As he straightened and approached the table, Diana released her hand from Alfred's and they both stood. Diana felt a release of tension from a chasm deep inside her. Although her residence at Wayne Manor had been short, there was a familiarity in the overwhelming relief from seeing him come home, night after night. She was all too aware of the alternative and frightening possibilities.

Bruce came to Diana's side of the table. Glowing and eager for the reassurance of touch, she reached out and placed her right hand on his cheek as they shared a brief, chaste kiss. Her hand fell as they pulled apart and tangled with his. She offered him an open smile, evidence of her elation at his safe return. Bruce couldn't help but notice the feelings written in her expression mirrored his own when she returned from a mission. As this realization sputtered across his conscious, his own gaze changed from warmth to unrestrained affection.

"Is there anything I may get for you, sir?" Alfred's voice cut through their respective musings and concluded the short moment of unguarded tenderness. The butler visually appraised him. "Shall I retrieve the medical kit?"

"Not tonight, Alfred. It was pretty quiet." Diana sent a quick thanks to the gods.

"Thank goodness." Alfred quipped. Gathering his tea and napkin in one hand, the butler bowed slightly. "I feel quite exhausted. Unless my assistance is needed, I will retire again for the night."

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce regarded the Englishman cordially.

"You are welcome, sir." He began to turn away from the couple but paused. Silently, Alfred reached out and clasped Bruce's upper arm with his spare left hand. He gave a loving squeeze, the gesture matching the look in his gaze. Not understanding the origin of the action but in full comprehension of its meaning, Bruce returned the gesture with a slight nod. Neither spoke for the moments that passed between them. Then all at once, Alfred dropped his hand from Bruce's arm, resumed his poise, turned with finality and walked out of the kitchen as if the entire event had not just passed between them. Bruce threw a brief look to Diana before he made his way to the leftover tea on the speckled granite counter and declared,

"I could go for some Chamomile."

For a few seconds she said nothing. But Diana decided it was better to dismiss what had just occurred as part of the unspoken intimacy between Bruce and his father figure.

"How did you know?"

He was already fixing a cup. He offered her a half-smile that spoke of vivid memories while he placed the strainer in a mug and set water to boil in the kettle. "There have been enough nights where I've needed help falling asleep."

His demeanor reminded Diana of how striking the change in their relationship was. A different side came out when he was at home, a side Diana never truly saw until she entered this private part of his life. The idea of a Bruce Wayne not consumed by his mission or Wayne Enterprises was unimaginable to her a year ago, just like the notion of a romantic relationship between them.

But much to her surprise after their relationship went public Bruce actually seemed to find enjoyment in some activities. More than once they attended a charity event for appearance's sake and actually had a good time. Certainly there were nights when the Bat took over completely, when she found him in the cave hunched over and isolated, nights when she knew it best to leave him to his work. But still – it seemed as though Bruce was changing, even in the slightest of ways.

She watched him pour the boiling water into the mug and agitate the strainer, deepening the color of the scorching water. No, this was not the Bruce Wayne she thought she knew a year ago. Something was fundamentally different. He didn't suck the happiness out of their relationship, didn't dwell on all the disappointments of life. On the contrary, Diana didn't know happiness like the one she had found was possible with Bruce.

Satisfied with the state of his tea, he removed the silver strainer and set it on a small aqua bowl. He walked back to where Diana stood next to the table and leaned against the nearby wall counter to face her. Diana noticed how his grey shirt offered a thin veil to his muscled chest and enticing arms and she immediately craved feeling them around her again. Realizing her mind was diverting dangerously, her attention snapped back up to Bruce's face. He held his white mug between both hands, inspecting the contents carefully before looking up to meet her stare.

"I was surprised to find you both still up. I thought you had meetings in the morning?" He brought the mug to his lips and took a satisfying sip as she groaned. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction.

"I do. I was just having some trouble sleeping." She brought her thumb and middle finger up to rub her temples. "Alfred was kind enough to keep me company."

"And make you tea?" The mug hovered inches from his mouth.

"And make me tea." His lips tugged upwards at her admission.

"Any reason in particular for your bout of insomnia?" She lowered her hand from her brow and their eyes met over the rim of his mug. She glanced away, reluctant to admit the man standing before her had invaded her senses and prevented her from a restful sleep. Although Diana felt secure in their relationship there were times she feared showing too much attachment to Bruce. Perhaps it was her upbringing or concern he would think she wanted to move at a faster pace but Diana found moments such as these where she wanted to reassert her self-reliance. Diana rested her right hand on the back of Alfred's now empty chair.

"I couldn't get comfortable." She looked up at his unconvinced stare. Sighing, she tried again in spite of former insecurities. "Sometimes it's hard to fall asleep when you're not there."

Bruce's countenance became thoughtful. Still facing her, he lowered his mug to the counter.

"Well I'm here now."

That was a good enough invitation for Diana. Both quickly forgot their Chamomile as she sauntered to where he stood, a knowing look unfolding on her features. Upon reaching him, Diana ran her palms up his bare arms to his shoulders, and then curved her arms around his back, feeling the strong muscles racing just beneath his shirt and bringing their faces within centimeters of each other.

"Then I guess that's good news for both of us." She leaned her full body against his as she met his lips tenderly. Almost reflexively, his arms looped around her torso to hold her in place. Yet by the grace of their ample body contact, a heated flush overcame each from head to toe. In response to her urges, Diana pushed onto him further and his arms ran down her body to the rise below her lower back. Following an appreciative squeeze, Diana's breath hitched and her kisses became more feverish. Encouraging the way things were going, Bruce dragged his mouth from hers down to her slender, irresistible neck.

Regaining rational thought before all was lost, Diana pulled away slightly. "Shall we continue this upstairs?"

Her breathless voice invigorated the fire consuming Bruce. He abruptly grabbed each of her thighs, pulling them off the tile floor and tethered them around his waist, rendering her immobile. Caught off guard, Diana tightened her arms around his neck to keep balance. She felt his breath tumble around her neck as his husky voice whispered against her ear, sending tremors through her body,

"Sounds perfect, Princess."

Sleep might not come so soon, Diana decided, but she could put up with some night madness as long as Bruce could.