30/30 - Child's Play

by Smitty

Disclaimers and other information in "Opening Credits"

Rating: PG

"So whose great idea was this one, anyway?" Bruce growled in a voice that was very nearly the Voice save a cape and cowl.

"Aw, aren't you having fun, Brucie?" Summer Levy bubbled into his ear, bouncing to the beat of N*Beat's 'I Will Love U 4-Ever'.

Bruce dodged her wildly swinging blonde ponytail and pasted a wide toothpaste-commercial grin on his tense face.

"They could at least learn to spell," he murmured, one hand sliding around Summer's waist to splay over her bared midriff.

"Brucie!" Summer cuddled up to him, throwing both tanned--in October--arms around his neck and grinning winningly up at him.

"People will start to talk and Daddy'll just hate that," she pointed out, tilting her head cutely.

Bruce repressed another growl and turned his gaze skyward.

"I feel like a child molester anyway," he sighed, removing his hands from 'Summer's' tight little abdominal area.

"Aww," Summer sympathized, turning to rub her bottom against his thighs. "Really?"

Bruce closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm going to kill Clark," he promised himself, just loud enough for Summer to hear. "I swear."

"No, you won't," Summer teased. "Not after I..." She grinned and leaned up to whisper to Bruce exactly what J'onn was going to do with Summer's just-barely-legal body.

Parts of Bruce were interested. Others...just weren't.

"I'm thinking green," he suggested, plucking the strap of Summer's tank top back up onto her shoulder. "Very green."

Summer gave him a smile well past her years. "I think we can arrange that," she told him.

"All I want to know is WHAT were you thinking?" Bruce asked, more in despair than in disgust.

"Wonder Girl," J'onn announced serenely.

"Wonder Girl? Who let Young Justice in on this?"

"Bruce. There are some things that I believe even you don't want to know."

Bruce thought about this.

"It was Superboy, wasn't it?"

"Don't hurt the meta, Bruce."

"He's a clone. We can just make another one."

"There, there. You're all tense." J'onn grinned, amused by his own lack of sympathy. "After all, it all worked out in the end, didn't it?"

Bruce's rate of respiration increased as a smooth green tendril wound its way up his leg. He didn't reply, but rolled J'onn over and pulled up the covers as the stereo played the sweet strains of Miles Davis in the background.

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