Disclaimer: Sue me if you like, but I got this on cyber paper that's scrolled in big, fat letters. And it screams, "I DON'T OWN JUSTICE LEAGUE!" Beat that.

Anyway, this is my other story on Justice League Unlimited. Since I can suppress myself no longer, here it is, flashing right in front of you, crying for attention! But this doesn't mean I'll overlook Cupid ain't just love arrows. I'd like to get started on this one before I'm to be shipped off to Michigan for collegiate reasons, and I hope you'll understand.

So this is Little Hearts, Overflowing Drool for you, my dear readers.



Diana stared at her reflection. She blew out a sigh as water trickled down her face, her eyes bloody-red with fatigue darkening her eyes. Hera, she resembled an oversized owl at that moment. She then patted her eyes lightly, grabbed the towel that bore B.W. at the hem, dabbed her washed face, and gingerly hung the cotton-soft towel on the metal loop.

Taking one last look in the mirror, she smiled. She couldn't make him worry. She turned the knob, and the abrupt change from cold tile to warm carpet soothed her frigid feet. She inhaled a thankful breath when he was still snoring lightly in bed.

She approached the bed, climbed into the sheets and into his open arms. He snorted in surprise when she pillowed her head on his bare chest. He rubbed his face, involuntarily kneaded her neck. "Can't sleep again?"

Diana stared into his sleepy, blue eyes. "My head's killing me and I could still taste bile in my throat. Other than that, I'm fine."

Bruce sat up, his fingers switching on the bedside lamp. Diana squinted her eyes as light momentarily flashed purple stars in front of her. She cursed under her breath, ignored Bruce's stern eyes on her. "Don't even start." She glanced at the clock on the table. "It's only fifteen past three, and my headache's ebbed down. I'm really fine," she said as she kissed him. "And switch off the light. Our shift's starting in two hours so, we'll need all the rest we can muster before we're called to Watchtower."

When Bruce still didn't move, Diana sighed and stretched herself over him. Darkness consumed them. Diana inwardly moaned when Bruce ran his rough hands down her toned arms. "You're not feeling well. Maybe you need to call in sick for the day."

Diana slid away from him, fell on her side of the bed, and closed her eyes with her back facing him. "You're talking nonsense again. Go to sleep."

She shuddered to think that he was still watching her, his eyes roaming over her hair and back as if he could extract the smallest details from the pores and hair follicles of her skin. Though his observant eye had never unnerved her before, she now felt uneasy and embarrassed of her vulnerability of the situation.

For the past week, she had scrambled out of bed, her head feeling cold, sick, and heavy. She had even snapped at Bruce a few times when he suggested the doctor, and Bruce wasn't a man to say 'no' to. They had yelled and fingered each other throughout some nights. And if Alfred hadn't barged in a couple of nights ago, there would have been an outline of Bruce Wayne on the wall.

She didn't know what was happening to her, to her body. She felt herself quivering when cool air seeped to her bare skin, and she buried herself under the sheets' cover.

Her breath was the only sound that vibrated in her noise-deprived ears as she waited for him to contradict her. But it never came. Instead, he furtively hugged her waist as he relaxed next to her. She burrowed deeper into him, her thick mane muffling his breathing.

"You move too much," Bruce mumbled when she shifted her position against him.

"Go to sleep," she echoed and within a span of two minutes, slept. Finally.


Bruce grimaced in John's direction when he cooed and made silly faces in Rex's face. Euphoric that his father must have looked like an idiot, Rex squealed in bubbly laughter. John laughed. Bruce frowned.

He tapped on the keyboard, said, "Bet he's concluding that his father's a clown. Can't you squeal somewhere else? You're disturbing the sought silence that wishes funny-looking fathers and drooling babies to get out." Bruce turned. "Isn't Shayera supposed to take care of him today?"

"Hear that, Rex?" John approached Bruce's chair. "Uncle Bruce thinks we're funny. Let's dance in merriment for Gotham's Sir Grumpiness has been appeased."

"John… the door." Bruce gestured to the door.


"Who wouldn't be when his colleague has turned into a jester and has drool all over the front of his costume." Bruce turned back to the screen. "Seems like you've changed ever since he was born," Bruce uttered softly.

But John didn't hear him. He looked down at his costume, and said, "Oh." He strode to Batman, gently pushed Rex into Bruce's stiffened hands. "Hold him a minute. Need to clean myself up."

Bruce paled as he held the baby by the armpits. Rex's green eyes looked terrified as Batman returned the stare. Suddenly, Rex's face began turning into a hideous shade of red, his mouth curled in a preliminary cry. And the baby let out a shrieking wail.


"Coo him, dandle him on your knee. He likes that."

John sounded so far away, like he was walking out of the room. Bruce peered over his shoulder when the monitoring room was dead-quiet excluding the baby's horrific shriek. To his horror, John disappeared. John, you blithering idiot! After I sew Rex's mouth shut, you're next!

"Uh… don't cry," he said sternly.

More wails. Rex's tiny fingers were balled in tight, angry fists.

"Shit. C'mon, just be quiet. John—Daddy's coming back soon." And he'll be dead the moment he comes back.

To his relief, the door behind them slid open and Shayera nearly flew to Batman, her eyes serious and annoyed.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as she plucked Rex out of his hands. Bruce felt like crumpling to the floor in a pool of relief washing over him. She was currently a godsend and he was sure that John wouldn't be singing Hallelujah! once he gets a hold of the sickeningly merry Green Lantern.

"Trying to convince him to keep his mouth shut. He's louder than the Banshee," Batman muttered as he rubbed his ringing ears.

By now Rex was giggling, his face pale but his cheeks rosy. Shayera wiped Rex's drool with a towel and nibbled on Rex's belly. Rex giggled, drooled more.

"That's because you were holding him the wrong way. It hurts him." She rubbed off drool dripping down the baby's chin, approached Bruce. That prompted him to jump out of the chair.

"Don't you dare do it, Shayera. I'll drop him the second you give him to me."

She raised her brows.

"Might. I might inadvertently drop him."

"You won't. I'll teach you."

Before Bruce could protest, Shayera handed Rex to Bruce. Both the baby and dark hero looked stunned and a bit horrified. Rex looked up, his eyes welling up, his gummy mouth ready to howl.


"You're too tense." Shayera stifled a laugh. "Don't hold him by the armpits! Wrap your arm below his butt to support him. Like sitting him up."

"Arm… support… sit up," Bruce recited it like a mantra. "Why the hell am I doing this?" He was flushing with humiliation and irritation.

"Okay, now hold his head." She ignored him. "A little above the neck. There… Now pull him closer."


"You heard me. Pull him closer." She rolled her eyes when his eyes widened as Rex began to cry. "You're holding him like he's a ventriloquist's dummy!"

"I'd be choking him if I pull him against my chest!"

"Everything all right in here?" John strolled in, his brows furrowed seriously when he saw Rex crying.

"You!" Bruce started to advance towards John but Shayera stopped him. "Control the temper, especially when you have a baby in your arms." When Batman calmed a bit, Shayera said, "Now, coo him."


"Dammit, Bruce! A baby couldn't have lowered your IQ in a remarkable duration of ten seconds! Coo him!"

"I didn't ask for help—"

"Coo him!" Shayera and John hissed at him in unison when Rex wailed louder.

Admitting defeat, Bruce stared at the red-faced bundle in his arms and started to bop and hum gently.

Once there was a way to get back homeward

Once there was a way to get back home

Sleep pretty darling do not cry

And I will sing a lullaby

Golden slumbers fill your eyes

Smiles awake you when you rise

Sleep pretty darling do not cry

And I will sing a lullaby

Once there was a way to get back homeward

Once there was a way to get back home

Sleep pretty darling do not cry

And I will sing a lullaby

Rex fell silent, his sparky green eyes smiling up at the Batman. Bruce gruffly surrendered him to his parents. Shayera accepted Rex quietly, her arm lined with Rex's dribble but she ignored it. John, on the other hand, felt his jaw fall, his throat dry and mute.

Bruce glanced down at his baby-salivated boot, said, "I think Shayera's right. I feel like he took a toll out of my brain." He walked out the door, called out, "You owe me big, John."

When the door swished close after the Batman, Shayera commented, "Never knew he had a nice voice. We should have more sessions together… Bruce, Rex, and me. That way, we could sleep cozier at night if he would teach me some lullabies. Lullaby is an alien word in the Thanagarian language."

"I think my jaw cracked in shock overdose." John massaged his numb jaw.

Shayera elbowed her husband's rib. "You scared the feathers out of me when you told me you left him with Bruce. You do know that Bruce doesn't have experience?"

"Worth the first." John took Rex out of Shayera's drool-filmed arms. "What's wrong with asking me to sing anyway? I could sing, you know."

Shayera chuckled as she wiped off drool from her arm. "Prove it."

"You want my version of Itsy-Bitsy Spider? Or would you rather hear Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?"

Shayera laughed. "I'm doomed." She pinched Rex's cheek tenderly. "We're both doomed."


Why was this happening to her? She threw up into the toilet bowl. Hera, was she dying? If not, she sure felt like it. The lavatory's stall seemed to be spinning around her, the bowl looked as though it was resuscitated with a life of its own when it undulated in her line of vision. She groaned, wearily stood up.

She unfastened the door's lock, and leaned on the sink. Splashing water on her sallow face, Diana didn't bother turning around when Black Canary thrashed in a cubicle three doors away from where she puked her innards' refuse.

Dinah kicked open the door, her expression of seeing Diana mollified her just a bit. But Diana perceived that her legs were shaking and she modeled the same pallor as Diana's. But Dinah was too frustrated—or was it embarrassment?—to notice Diana closely.

"Excuse me," Dinah said as she quickly walked out of the restroom.

Puzzled and curious of what could have aggravated the blonde martial artist, Diana walked to the stall. It seemed ordinary and sterile as a cubicle ought to be maintained, but when her glance fell on the teeming trashcan, she approached it.

She doubled over when she saw the crumpled makings of 'Pregnancy Test' leaping at her in pink, flashy words. She gasped in shock, touched her flat belly. Morning sickness, mood swings, uncontrollable hunger pangs. Though she was born from clay, she lived long enough in the Man's World to know how the signs of the pregnant cycle developed.

But no… impossible. How could she? Why? Now? Couldn't be.


She jumped when she heard Shayera humming happily as she washed her hands in the sink. Too stunned to care, she darted to Shayera, surprising the former Hawkgirl.

"Diana? What's wrong?"

"I… I…" Tears began to spill and Shayera was too shocked to grab a tissue and offer some to Diana. "I… think… I'm pregnant."


To be continued…

So. What d'ya think?