Thanksgiving Is For Family 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: (talk to Darklady)

Thanksgiving is for Family 2: Comedy of Manners
by Darklady
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)

*Diiindooooong*

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."

*Diiindooooong*

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 on 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 ... *don't*" 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." Tom 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 moment's consideration, then shook his head sightly. "Raw gluttony, I'm sad to say."

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

Barbara patted Tim's 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?"

end