Thanksgiving is for Family

by Darklady

Disclaimer: DC owns the the JLA, including all aspects of Eel O'Brian. Chicago owns this particular universe, but after I get done she may not want it. I would own the plot - but there isn't one. So?

Note: This is a lot easier to understand if you read the other stories, but I think it stands on it's own.

Location: Chicago's J'onn-verse.

Rated: G (but technically possible slash)

Archive: Please ask Chicago.

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"Hiya guys." Plasticman strode into the Watchtower, elongated arms wrapped several times around an unstable-looking tower of take-out boxes. Behind him staggered a short, plump man in a lurid dotted shirt who's equally unsteady load of brown paper sacks seemed likely to collapse on top of him at any second. "Drop the stuff over there, Woozy."

"What the...?" Wally West spun in his chair, dropped jaw belying his reputation as the 'fastest man alive'.

Plas dumped his load unceremoniously on the floor, then stretched out a hand to take the bags. "Hey, Winks" he said, stacking the bags on top of the other snacks. "Go get the other cooler, will ya? I gotta have a word with my... compadres. "

The two hero's watched carefully as the soundproof crash-door slid shut behind the departing man.

"Plas!" Wally hissed! "You are supposed to be here for monitor duty? Not a frat party?"

"That means I can't have a pizza?" He leaned over and slid one sliding bag of jalapeno flavored chips back onto the stack.

Wally pointed at the door. "That means you can't have a civilian!"

"Excuse me!" Plas stretched to ceiling height, then spiraled back down. "Woozy is a reporter? I didn't say anything when you had Linda Parks parked on the sofa. So if..."

"Linda is a serious reporter!"

"That was an interview you were giving her on the observation deck?"

"Linda is my wife! You plastic pervert!"

"Whatever. And if Kal can have Lois up here..."

"Lois Lane is..."

"... Clark's wife?"

"...not a sports reporter. She has a valid..."

Eel set his hands onto his hips. "Look, you..."

"J'onn!" Wally nearly shouted in relief as door again slid open and the tall green Martian appeared. He was carrying two large coolers, and chatting quietly with the much smaller man at his side.

"Flash. Please!" J'onn carefully bent down and handed the coolers to the brightly clad civilian at his side. Compared to the nearly seven foot tall and massivly muscled alien, Woozy Winks appeared stout to the point of comedy.

"I'm sorry J'onn. But...?"

Winks looked even stranger when stood beside the stretched thinness of Plasticman, chomping on a freahly opened bag of chips with Plas's arm wrapped around his shoulder. Wrapped several times around his shoulder.

Wally looked at the oddly matched pair shaking his head. "Plas can't just..."

"Flash." J'onn cut him off with a look. "Walk with me to the transporter, please."

"Sorry, J'onn." Wally said, pacing himself to stay with J'onn as he left the monitor deck. "I didn't meant to give you a headache, it's just that..."

J'onn paused as the crash door slid shut behind them. "You are concerned about how Mr. O'Brian will cover his monitor duty while he is...distracted."

Wally shrugged. "You've got to admit, Plas is not the most... focused guy on the planet. Or off it, as the case may be. And that Woozy Winks guy just seems to bring out the worst in him. And getting the guy up here on a press pass..."

"May be a bit of a... stretch. No pun intended." J'onn waited while the Flash slid his palm over the door reader, making his departure official and transferring tower control to the next shift. "But it is allowable under our current bylaws."

"It's not that I mind coming back to a room full of pizza boxes and chip bags and crumpled soda cans." Wally blurred a few steps as J'onn started down the hall to the transporter room. Well, I do, but..."

"The servos will take care of such things." J'onn reminded him.

"Yeh - but..." Wally waved, setting J'onn's cape waving in the sudden air current. "What if something happens. I mean - Plas has his talents, but...alone..."

J'onn stopped. "If you feel I should..."

"No!" Wally bit his lip. "I didnıt mean you should give up your time off. You need the break."

"Are you volunteering to remain?"

"Hell." Wally shrugged, starting again to the transporters. "You know I have to have dinner with Linda's folks. They hate me already - especially after she got killed. If I flake on them again it's gonna be me under that headstone. Itıs just that..."

"We have a sudden shortage of volunteers." J'onn reminded his colleague. "Since the loss of Orin..."

Wally face tightened with pain. Orin had been one of J'onnıs oldest friends. A colleague from the first years of the League. He had not meant to bring up that loss. Not with everything else the Martian had been through.

"Our membership has shifted towards the Americans." J'onn continued. "You, as you say, have your wife and her family. Kyle and Jade are with her father."

'Lord, and I thought my in laws were tough.' Wally thought, then hoped J'onn hadn't been listening.

"Diana is on a diplomatic mission and I..."

"Need to get some planet time in." Wally finished. "Which is good. Really. I'm glad. You spend too much time up here as it is. It's just... Plas? Alone?"

J'onn paused to let the transporter room door open. "Dr. Light has requested time in the stellar observation lab."

"Dr. Light." Wally searched his memory. Wasn't she the one that...? Oh, yes, energy powers. "OK." he grinned. "She can take care of things."

"I wish you would show greater confidence in your teammates, Wallace."

"I try, but.."

"Mr. O'Brian is entirely competent - as he has proven time and time again. Otherwise he could not be.."

"A part of the JLA." Wally held up his hand. "Understood. It's just that his style...?"

J'onn waited as the Flash typed his destination into the transporter controls, then did likewise. "Is alien to you?"

"Sorry. J'onn." Wally stepped into the first transporter tube. "I seem to keep saying that. It's just that... I just wish Bat's was handling things. Like last year."

J'onn stepped into his own tube. "Batman has family obligations." And on that word, the two men dissolved.

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Woozy Winks clicked off the transporter room monitor.

"Batman has family obligations?" He snatched up a bag of cheddar popcorn, and threw another to his friend. "Mr. Grrrr! needs to slice a turkey, so you get stuck up in Luna-toons land." Woozy flipped open the cooler and bent down to rummage through the jumbled cans. "I don't believe it. Where did cowl-head get a family since last year. I think he's just...."

"What's not to believe?" Plas shrugged. A gesture that in has case covered at least four vertical feet. "Bats is human - somewhere under all that kevlar. So he's got to have family somewhere."

Winks pulled out a frosted Ginkola. "You think?"

The pink and red hero sent out a spiraled finger to snare the can. "Only J'onn was actually hatched, if ya know what I mean. And maybe Wonder-chick."

"You figure he's got a sweet gray-haired old mother somewhere?" Winks snorted as he went searching again. "Like I could see pointy-ears sittin' down at some big ol' farm-house table and slicing up the turkey with his batarang? Ya shur."

Eels voice got tight. "He's got... family. OK? Which you know I can't talk about. OK?"

"Yah but.." Winks surfaced again, this time with a can of Blitz. "What about your family?"

"I beamed over to see my old man this morning." Turning one finger tip into a hook, Plas popped the tab and chugged down several gulps of foaming Ginkola. "Nice thing about being JLA. I wrote myself a pass, and Eel O'Brian got to skip in ahead of visiting hours. Got it over with quick."

"That bad?" Woozy asked, beer suddenly ignored as he crossed over to lean against his friends outstretched leg.

"Nah." Eel patted the smaller man's shoulder. "Better then most years. He didn't want to speak to his 'candy ass faggot kid' - but he did take the cigarettes."

Woozy rubbed his cheek against Eels knee. "Oh, Eel..."

"Woozy. Woozy." A long pink hand patted the rounded shoulder. "It's not so bad."

"Shitty Thanksgiving."

"Nah!" Plasticman sprung up suddenly, popping into the floating chair of the video tower. "Hey! We've got pizza. We've got turkey sandwiches. We've got two thousand channels of football... which is even more then ESPN 2." At a gesture, at least half the monitor panels were suddenly replaced with images of battling athletes. "I've got a case of Ginkola. You get beer... and I get" Plasticman slid a shovel-sized hand under his companion and hoisted him up into the chair beside him. "You."

"There is that." Woozy grinned as he leaned against the yielding pink shoulder. "You know - they could spring for a softer couch."

Plas morphed himself into a double-wide recliner. "That better?"

"Thanks." Woozy tucked his beer into the pillow-shaped fingers. "Pass the remote."

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Note: The bit about Plasticman and Woozy Winks making like couch potatoes in the monitor womb is cannon. I just have a sick mind. And any details I got wrong? Well, this is not exactly my favorite fandom - so *shrug*.

Thanksgiving is for Family

Chapter 2: Comedy of Manners
by Darklady

Disclaimer: DC owns the Bruce and J'onn. Chicago the J'onn-verse. I would own the plot - but there isn't one. So?

Location: Chicago's J'onn-verse.

Rated: G

Archive: Why would you want to?

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J'onn sat on the sofa and watched Bruce Wayne answer the door. Normally that would have been Alfred's job, but not on November 22nd. The housekeeping service had been sent home before noon, and Alfred was in the kitchen putting the last touches on an elaborate dinner - so authority had been delegated down the line.

"Tim!?" Bruce smiled, stepping back to let the shivering young man into the foyer. He had not been certain his 'second son' could get away for the day. Especially when his new stepmother was using this rare reprieve from boarding school to do some 'family building'.

"Mom and Dad are going out with the Henderson's." Tim apparently read Bruce's mind. "I told them I'd rather come over and watch the games with Dick."

"They approve?" J'onn asked, wondering if he had misjudged the age difference. Terran assumptions were always difficult to track. He knew that Dick was a wonderful mentor for the lad, but as Tim's parent could not possibly know of Dick Grayson's extracurricular activities?

"Dick's a cop." Tim answered, dropping his jacket on a chair and then - after a glare from Bruce - going back to hang it in the entry closet. "They figure it will make me less of a JD. Or at least he can get me off. Same diff."


This time Tim swung open the door.

"Babs. Great." He looked with theatrical deliberation at the large pink bakery box resting on her lap. "More cake?"

She held out the box. "Double devil chocolate - with chocolate chips."

"Kewl!" Tim stepped back to make room for Barbara's chair. At a second glare from Bruce he added, "I'll take it right down to Al."

"Barbara", J'onn morphed quickly into his Alana persona. "Is your father..?"

"Not today." Barbara held her jacket out to Bruce, who hung it beside Tim's. "He's going out with Bullock and Montoya."

"Stepmother?" Bruce asked.

"I wouldn't mind." Barbara pushed forward into the main room. "So where's Little Miss Rambo? Not around, I assume."

"I got her to take the day off by swearing not to step foot out of the house - in either persona."

"Babs!" Dick came in from the dining room, pushing past Bruce in order to bend into Barbara's kiss.

"In the hall?" Bruce rebuked his soon. At least ... J'onn thought is was a rebuke. Since is was delivered in the Bruce voice it was hard to be certain. "What would Alfred say!"

Dick straightened. Slowly, since Barbara was holding n to his tie. "Alfred said to tell you he's ready."

"Shall we?" Bruce ceremonially held out his arm to 'Alana', who only laughed and morphed back into his more familiar form.

Dick did the same to Barbara - with about the same success. She was still laughing when the quartet reached the dining room.

"Hey Babs" Tim looked up from where he was setting Barbara's cake - now suitably displayed on a silver cake-plate - on the buffet behind the main table. "What do you think."

"Whooo - major turkey."

Dick playfully punched her arm. "Is that anyway to talk about my kid brother?"

"How do you know I didn't mean you?"

"Because I'm the 'cute one'."

"So you say - Ego Wonder."

Bruce smiled at J'onn. "I should have adopted Dick when he was young enough to spank."

"Cassandra." J'onn greeted the young lady as she came up from the kitchen with still another platter. Something vegetable, this time. "Permit me."

"J'onn guest!" The young lady pointed imperiously to the far end of the table. "J'onn sit."

"Yes, Master J'onn." Alfred stepped up behind her. "Truly this is the last load." Stepping around the company, he quietly went about setting the salads on the service plates.

Dick took the wine bottle from the bucket, pouring for everyone but Cassandra and Tim. "Please." He pulled back the lower chair slightly.

"Should I not sit.. ?" J'onn pointed to a chair hear the head of the table.

"By Bruce?" Dick laughed. "Not a chance. You're at the Mrs. Wayne end of the table." Dick pulled back Cassandras's chair, then went up to sit beside Bruce.

"East coast snobissimo." Barbara - wheeling to the open space on the side across from Dick. "You know the relationship is official when Alfred stops seating you together."

"I was not aware that Mr. Pennyworth considered me..." He finished by morphing into a remarkable copy of... as said ... Martha Wayne.

"Is picture girl!" Cassandra giggled, pointing to the huge oil that loomed over the pine trimmed mantelpiece.

"Uhh." Dick mock-shivered. "TMI."

Bruce winced. "Please ... donıt" He allowed a small sigh of relief as J'onn slid back into his customary green.

"Not that we really..." Dick started.

"Come off it, Dick. Bruce never does anything half way." Ignoring her probable father in-laws dawning edge of 'batdom', she turned to J'onn. "At the rate you two are going? I figure by Christmas he should give you the pearls."

Terrans. J'onn wasn't even certain he wanted to know what that meant. But the mental tension was rising, so... he sat as ordered. "It is pleasant merely to have dinner."

"Thanksgiving isn't a dinner." Dick corrected. "Thanksgiving is a ritual."

Tim nodded - forcefully. "We dress up for people who see us every day."

"In clothes they we are going to change out of almost immediately." Dick gave a wary look at Alfred, who apparently ignored the statement. "Because they are NOT comfortable for sitting on the couch."

Tim grinned at his suit decked 'brother'. That was the only benefit of now living 'at home'. He at least was out from under the 'rule of Alfred'. Which meant that Tim could get away with ... well. not comfort, but at least a sports coat and no tie.

"We sit down at a table with FAR more food the we could ever eat." Tim said, waving at the thirty pound turkey that took up one end of the table.

Barbara looked over the immense display, then at the seven diners, then at J'onn. Then she shrugged. "I think the objective is to cover every inch of cloth with a platter of something."

"At too early time." Cassandra contributed.

"Because we want to pig out and still have time to catch the end of the games." Tim reminded them.

"And when we are totally sick?" Dick finished. "When we swear we never want to see another bite of anything for as long as we live?"

Bruce smiled slightly. "We take a short break, then we come back in for dessert.

"Four of them this year." Tim said, making a show of counting off his fingers. "Apple pie. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin cheese cake. Bab's chocolate cake."

J'onn looked at Bruce. "Sugar to counteract the tryptophane?"

'No wonder Bruce loves him,' Dick thought.

Bruce gave that a moments consideration, then shook his head sightly. "Raw gluttony, Iım sad to say."

"Hey" Tim tried to look offended. "It's the American Way!"

Barbara patted Timıs hand.

"Besides," Dick added, watching as the gray suited butler made a last check of the buffet. "It's the one time of the year when we can convince Alfred to join us."

J'onn watched with pleasure - and some surprise - as the dignified older man took the remaining place to his right. "Mr. Pennyworth."

"Master J'onn." Alfred Pennyworth gave the seated company one last searching look, then said "If you would care to lead grace this year?"

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İKKR 2001

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