“I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t have a choice, you *know* that, so how about you give me the benefit of the doubt and get *up* here, already!” Nifra hissed into the phone, watching Superman warily as he sat at her desk, chin propped in one hand, staring at her with a goofy grin.
“Flash is on duty,” Batman told Nifra over the phone. “And I’m only a part-time member of the league.”
“He already groped Flash into severe trauma! And GL is unreachable and Hawgirl would just hit him in the head with her mace and break it and Wonder Woman is really sick and J’onn says that I should wait for the potion to take its natural course but he’s already proposed to me *twice*!” Nifra yelled. “I swear to God, I’m spacing your computer if you don’t get up here and help me figure out how to *do* something about this!”
“You’re dreamy,” Superman told her, and she smiled tightly at him.
“He groped Flash?” Batman asked, sounding amused and Nifra stabbed the pencil she was holding into the head of the rubber doll sitting on her desk, viciously.
“He’s channeling Tiger Beat and is suddenly Mr. Grabby Hands,” she gritted out. “And if you don’t help me, I’m going to have to call Lex Luthor, and you know *exactly* how that’ll go so what say you get your goddamned rubber clad ass up here already, Batfreak?”
“I’m on my way,” he said grimly and Nifra slumped back in her chair with relief before hanging up the phone.
She looked over at Superman, and Superman’s grin widened. “You’re *really* dreamy,” he said.
“Honey, I’ve got girl parts,” she replied wearily.
“I like your girl parts,” Superman said, earnestly, reaching over to take her hand.
“You don’t like *any* girl parts,” Nifra retorted, disengaging her hand from his with no small amount of effort. “You like the mens, Supes. Let me put this as bluntly as I can: you’re gay. A flamer, in fact. Do you know what you dressed up as last Halloween? The construction worker from the Village People, okay? So just – what say you keep your big ol’ gay alien hands to yourself for a little bit, hmm?”
“I don’t mind, I could just watch you all night long,” Superman told her, and Nifra made a disgusted noise.
“If only you’d adopted that philosophy with Flash,” she muttered, before turning to him and raising an eyebrow. “You do realize that tommorow you’re going to want to crawl into a hole and die about that, right?”
“Would you crawl into the hole with me?” he asked hopefully.
Nifra rolled her eyes. “God, give me strength.”
“Superman,” Nifra was saying with a warning note in her voice as Batman walked onto the bridge, “what did I tell you about hands?”
“To keep them to myself,” said Superman, sulkily.
“That’s very good,” she replied, removing his hand from her thigh and putting it on the desk with a gentle tap. “So how about you do that.”
“I’m here,” Batman said, swishing his cape over his shoulder.
Nifra glared up at him. “By way of *Venus* I assume, because it does *not* take that long to get here from Gotham.”
“There were some other pressing matters,” Batman told her walking across the room. “So what do you want me to do?”
She stared, disbelieving for a moment. “I want you to *fix him*!” she said, flailing her arms in Superman’s direction. “With one of your little – whatevers. You know, the things you carry in your belt? Just -- you know, do it!”
“You’re cute when you’re mad,” Superman said to Nifra.
“And you’re annoying when you’re drugged,” she told him without turning away from Batman. “Do you see? Do you see what I have to deal with?”
“Why haven’t you just locked him in his room?” Batman asked, curiously as he reached into his belt.
“Because he’s a stupid alien who broke the door down the first time I tried that!” Nifra exploded. “What are you doing?”
“Taking blood. The needle is a weak kryptonite alloy,” he replied, leaning closer to Superman, whose attention had left Nifra and was now focused on Batman very intently.
“I – I wouldn’t do that,” Nifra murmured, but Batman glared at her over his shoulder and she held her hands up in surrender. “All right, do what you want but it’s your –“ she broke off as Superman grabbed Batman’s shoulders and pulled him in close for a very thorough looking kiss.
“Mouth,” Nifra finished, crossing her arms and smirking as Batman leapt backwards, one gloved hand scrabbling across his face.
“He kissed me!” Batman yelled, pointing.
Nifra waved one hand, breezily. “Join the club, pal.”
“Hello, Batman,” Superman said with a come hither look, and Nifra grinned.
“Well, at least that much is back to normal,” she said cheerfully.
“Something has to be done about this,” Batman said with conviction.
“Hi,” Nifra said with a little wave and a bright smile. “I’m Nifra, the girl who’s been saying that since Don Juan showed up at the Watchtower like, four hours ago and started waxing poetic about the curve of Flash’s ass.”
“The hypodermic broke when he grabbed me,” Batman said grimly. “I don’t have another one that would get through his skin.”
Nifra’s smile vanished and her eyes widened. “What are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you that our options are becoming drastically reduced,” Batman replied.
“Okay, so what options do we have, then?” Nifra asked, worriedly. “Because we do still have options, right?”
“We do,” Batman said slowly. “The first is to expose him to enough kryptonite to render him unconscious.”
“We can’t do that!” Nifra protested, outraged. “He’s very – he’s very *fragile* about that kind of thing! You know what he’s like, he’d be pouty for days! And he might get hurt!”
“He’s hardly fragile,” Batman told her dryly. “He’s invulnerable.”
“That is *not* the point,” Nifra gritted out, “and you know it. That is *not* an option.”
“You two are both just so *attractive*,” Superman said, awed. “Especially you, Batman. I mean, the glutes alone –“
“Shut up,” Nifra and Batman said in unison.
Nifra passed a hand over her eyes, before asking. “Okay, so what are our *other* options?”
“You haven’t determined what the potion was, or where he was infected?” Batman asked, glancing over his shoulder at Superman again. Superman waved his fingers flirtatiously.
“How the hell was I supposed to do that!?” Nifra asked, indignant. “With my special brain powers? The poison-detecto-mutations that I’ve been keeping secret all this time?” She closed her eyes, frowning in faux concentration, and humming loudly. “Mmm – yes, yes, that’s it, it’s love potion! From Colonel Mustard in the conservatory!”
Batman glared, and crossed his arms, mimicking her stance. “So the answer to my question is no.”
“Yes, the answer to your question is no,” Nifra told him.
“I mean – have either of you considered modeling? Nude, maybe?” Superman asked. “Because, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’d like to see the pictures…”
“Then our only other option is to wait it out, as J’onn suggested,” Batman said finally, giving Superman a look of distaste. “Hopefully it won’t last too long.”
Nifra’s eyes widened in horror. “You’re kidding, right?”
Batman’s answer was a flat, unfriendly stare.
“Of course you’re not,” Nifra muttered, collapsing into the chair behind her with an audible sigh. “You never kid. So it’s you, me, and *him* all night long, huh?”
“It would appear so,” Batman replied unhappily.
“Oh, won’t that be nice?” Superman said with a wide, delighted grin.
“He keeps grabbing my arms,” Batman complained.
“What do you want me to do about it?” Nifra asked, while leafing idly through Vogue across the room. “Every time I go over there, he asks if I want to sit in his lap.”
“You say yes,” Batman accused, and Nifra looked up from her magazine, angry.
“I tripped over his foot and fell *into* his lap, and that was one time, and shut up.”
“You know, my left calf is really starting to hurt,” Superman said, with a coy smile at Batman. “Do you think you’d like to rub it for me?”
“When I find out who did this to him,” Batman said, letting the threat hang in the air.
“Get in line,” she muttered.
The potion wore off by mid morning the next day. Superman didn’t remember any of what had happened, and so it fell to Nifra to explain to him in graphic detail what he had done, while Batman glowered in the corner. Which she did, taking visible glee in his discomfort.
“I did *not*,” Superman protested, shocked. “I mean I would never – Flash is just a – this is because of the shower thing, isn’t it? You’re making this up because of the shower thing.”
“I’m making nothing up,” Nifra grinning. “It’s all the God’s honest truth.”
Superman shook his head, disbelieving. “You know, if I had known you were going to freak out that badly about seeing Bat – I mean, seeing what you saw, then I wouldn’t have let you see it, okay? There’s no call for all of this –“
“Seeing what?” Batman asked, silkily. “What did she see?”
“I saw nothing!” Nifra said immediately, standing. “I saw nothing! There was nothing seen! And we’re switching topics here! Batman, tell Superman that I’m telling the truth?”
“She’s telling the truth.”
“See? Truth!” Nifra repeated, vindicated. “Ask Flash if you don’t believe us.”
Superman blanched as the reality settled in. “Oh, God, Flash. I should – I need to – I’m going to my room and I might not come out ever.”
“Good plan,” Batman advised, as Superman ran out, before turning to Nifra, cocking his head and saying. “What shower thing? And why did Superman almost say my name?”
“There’s *no* thing and he *didn’t* almost say your name, you’re hallucinating because you’re tired and psychotic and there are lots of words that *sound* like your name and hey! I don’t have to explain myself to you because I hate you and you hate me,” she told him tartly. “So go away and go do crazy you-things and I’ll stay here and do moderately sane me-things.”
“With pleasure,” Batman shot back as he strode toward the doorway, where he turned, looked at her and shook his head. “You’re quite odd.”
Nifra’s lips quirked up in a smile. “You have *no* idea.”