Hershey's Kiss
By: 1000th Ghost
*Friendly public service announcement to cat owners: chocolate is poisonous to cats, hence the inspiration for this story. So, especially with Christmas time, make sure there's no chocolate (or poinsettias, they're poison too) around your kitties! :) *
Did you ever kiss a girl?
"Master Bruce...what are you doing?"
His head shot up, embarrassed at being caught by his butler. Especially when being caught covered in flour with all manner of sticky, sugary goops coating his hands. Especially when said butler had a terribly amused smirk on his face.
"M-making, um, I'm making muffins."
"Alright." The amused smirk did not go away. "Might I ask why?"
Bruce's eyes widened.
"Might I also remind you that you don't know how to cook?"
"Well, I found a recipe." He pointed to a battered cookbook. "This was in the library. Only...how do you turn the oven on?"
Alfred chuckled, and it turned into a full laugh when he read the recipe's title.
"'Cupcake Kisses'? This wouldn't have anything to do with Miss Kyle now, would it?"
Do you want to?
"I mean, n-no, well, I just thought...I could do something for her? I don't know, girls like desserts, right? And chocolate?"
"Yes, I suppose chocolate is rather a staple of romantic exchanges. And the homemade element is a nice touch."
"Alfred...will you turn the oven on for me?"
Alfred smiled.
"Of course, Master Bruce."
Hit me, and...hmm... I'll let you kiss me.
An hour later, an extremely nervous boy in a sweater vest carried a shaking tray of tiny, white muffins down a hallway. It had taken him a while to figure out how to track her down, but finally he had discovered her favorite spot - a sunny window bench between their bedrooms. Well, it hadn't been so much "discovery" as it had been "her shouting at him as he passed and laughing when he jumped".
He placed the tray in front of her on the bench, tried to think of something to say, and then said nothing.
Selina looked at him, at the muffins, and back to him, her eyebrows raised.
"Geez, kid. What's this for?"
"Well," he thought, "you're amazing and beautiful and keep bringing up kissing, and I really, really, really want to kiss you and don't know how to tell you so I'm hoping making you muffins with Hershey's Kisses in the middle will be enough of a hint."
"A snack?" he said.
"Hmm." She smiled, her head cocked slightly. "Alright."
And he turned on his heel to leave. Oh, well, he tried. Maybe he'd do something else tomorrow. Maybe his nerve wouldn't suddenly decide to abandon him in the middle of the act tomorrow.
"Hey! Aren't you gonna help me with these?"
He slowly circled back towards her. She was patting the spot on the other side of the tray.
"Oh, o-okay."
He looked so happy that she almost wanted to laugh, but she held her tongue.
He sat cross-legged like she was and picked up one of his creations.
"Cheers!" she suddenly proclaimed, squishing her muffin against his. Then she popped it into her mouth.
"You know, it's actually considered impolite to clink glasses together during a toast. You're supposed to just almost touch them." ...why was he talking about proper etiquette? Could he honestly not think of anything more interesting to say? Ugh, he was ruining this, she must think he was a stuck-up bore.
Except that now she was leaning towards him over the muffin tray. Her big, green eyes closed, her head tilted, and he couldn't remember how to breathe. It didn't matter, he found out, because his eyes had closed too, which didn't require breathing.
"Mmm. These are delicious."
His eyes snapped open. She was leaning back against the wall, licking her fingers.
"Wha-?" his mouth said, but no sound came out.
"Oh, that? That was an almost-kiss. No touching allowed. Didn't want to be impolite." She had never seen such a perfect combination of crestfallen and flabbergasted. "That is how you high-societies do it, right?"
Alright, maybe she felt the tiniest bit bad now. His mouth still hung partially open in shock, and she tore off a piece of a muffin and pushed it in.
"Too bad," she purred, stroking her finger across his lips. "I oughta give you lessons in how Gotham kisses in addition to fights."
"Okay," he was going to say, he really was going to say, but she was talking again.
"You make these?" she said through a mouthful. "They're really good."
He watched her lick the corner of her lips and tried to keep his voice at a normal level.
"Uh-huh. T-thanks."
"What's in them?"
Oh, boy, here goes. He had to say that word. In front of her.
"Um, flour and baking powder and salt and cinnamon," he recited, "and eggs and milk and vanilla and-"
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was surprised he wasn't giving her the measurements too.
"-and each one has a Hershey's...Kiss in the middle."
Her eyes got as big as saucers.
"Oh, Bruce. Tell me they're peanut butter flavored or something."
"No," he said, confused. "They're chocolate."
She cursed and threw her head back against the wall.
"I'm allergic to chocolate!" she told the ceiling.
Well, it was official, he was a whole new level of idiot. He would spend the rest of his life holed up in his room until he got old and withered and died and made sure no unsuspecting girls got poisoned with his fatal desserts.
"I'm sorry!" He put the tray on the floor and scootched forward until their knees were touching. "Should I call a doctor? Are you going to die?"
She gave a short laugh.
"No, I'm not going to die. I'm just going to get a wicked backache. The only thing you've killed is the rest of my day."
"Couldn't you taste it?"
"I never eat it! It just thought they tasted good, I wasn't analyzing the flavors!"
"You should have paid attention to-"
"Yeah, I should have, but instead I was paying attention to you."
"Oh." He almost smiled for a moment before remembering that he had managed to poison the girl he wanted to tell he loved. "You're sure you don't need a doctor?"
"Nah, I'll just be moaning in bed, writhing in the sheets."
He would have felt guilty for blushing had she not said the sentence with such a playful glint in her eyes.
"I could use some company though."
She could use his company while she moaned in bed, writhing in the sheets. He wondered if she hated him and had made her life's goal torturing him.
She decided that her life's goal should be torturing him. Ha-ha, she loved this cute nerd.
"I'll carry you."
This cute, strong nerd!
"I can walk, you know."
"Let me help," he begged. "I feel terrible about this."
"Well..." She was in his arms bridal style, and her fingers could brush against his hair while seeming accidental. "I do appreciate the princess treatment."
Her door was ajar, and he nudged it open with his foot.
"I've got the castle and the prince and everything. Just like in a fairytale."
A silly image floated into his mind of the two of them in front of a castle made of mini muffins, he in a golden crown and sweater vest, her in a pink ball gown and black leather jacket. And suddenly he wanted to save this girl, from the streets and from crime and from her life that she didn't deserve. He wanted to keep her safe and with him and live happily ever after.
"Ow. Fun times starting," she joked weakly as he laid her in her bed.
Instead, he just hurt her.
Blaming himself and feeling miserable, he busily attempted to make her comfortable, fluffing her pillows and tucking her sheets up around her.
"I should get sick more often." She stretched against the pillows in bliss. Then her face crumpled. "No, never mind. This sucks."
"Do you want me to-to rub your back or something?" He wasn't sure he could handle it if she said "yes".
"No, thanks. Just let me flop and be miserable." She closed her eyes.
He stood awkwardly next to the bed and looked at her and had no idea what to do.
"Talk to me," she said, eyes still closed.
"O-okay. Let me pull up a chair."
"Don't bother, just get in bed with me."
On the list of things he wasn't sure he could handle...
"I-I don't think...do you think..."
"I'm sick, and it's your fault. You have to do what I say."
He sat very gingerly on the very edge of the bed, and she cracked one eye open incredulously.
"A real romantic sort, aren't you? My heart's all aflutter."
Good grief, he was blowing everything. Could he possibly mess this up any more if he tried?
Eager to redeem himself, he turned and quickly moved farther up onto the bed. And managed to sort of fall on her.
She let out a gasp, and he jerked away.
"My gosh, kid, fine, just sit there then."
Yep, permanent bachelor recluse, that was the future he had to look forward to.
She laughed.
"Wow, my heart really is aflutter. That poison's really doing its work. This is ridiculous, feel!"
She grabbed his wrist and put his hand on her chest, his hand was on her chest, his hand was on her chest-
"-like, a million miles an hour, it's crazy!"
She was talking, he had to pay attention, what was he supposed to pay attention to, her heartbeat or something?
"Fast," he said, and his voice sounded way too deep.
"-gonna have a heart attack!" she exclaimed and flung his hand away. "Talk to me."
"About what?" He rested against the headboard with her, wishing he had the confidence to scoot over enough to share her pillow. The headboard hurt his neck. He nervously crossed and uncrossed his legs. Maybe he should take off his shoes.
"Why'd you make me cupcakes? Since I'm hoping the reason isn't that you want to off me."
"Because...to..." He couldn't say it. "It seemed like a nice thing to do."
"Yeah, you are nice. Tell me about your friends."
"I really don't have many of those." Well, that didn't sound lame at all.
"Me neither. I don't like people."
"But you like me?" The words were out before he had decided to say them, and he immediately wished he could shove them back in his mouth.
"Do you like me?" Her eyes were wide open and staring at him hopefully.
His eyes were wide open and staring at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
"I-I asked you first."
"If I say I like you, will you actually try to hold me before the pain gets so bad I pass out? No funny business, I promise."
"Y-yeah. I'd do it anyway."
"Shocking." She bent forward. "Get behind me."
He could burn his hand, stand on the edge of fatal heights, and practically drown himself. He wanted a test? He wanted to be brave? Nothing compared to this.
He probably should have taken his shoes off, he thought, but too late now, one leg was on either side of her under the sheets, and his relieved neck was against her pillow.
"I like you, Bruce," she said. Then, with a smirk on her face that he couldn't see, she leaned far back, rubbing herself into him as if hoping to permanently wrinkle his starched khakis and unravel the sweater vest that was starting to feel stiflingly hot. "I really, really like you." It was an impossible mix of a whisper and a moan.
"Y-you said no funny business."
She shrugged.
"I lied."
"Selina..."
Yes, that's right, that's how her name was meant to be said, dark and virile and seductive. She had him right where she wanted him.
"I'm delirious and in no control of my actions."
And she was too sick to take advantage of it.
"I'm going to take a nap now."
He had never seen anyone fall asleep that quickly before. She announced it, and the next moment she was out cold.
He was glad for it too. She was more-or-less asleep for hours, passing in and out of little waves of consciousness. But she cried and moaned and squirmed, and he sincerely hoped sleep was an adequate painkiller.
Painkiller...
Why hadn't he just offered her a stupid Advil?!
Because crushes were hazardous to everyone's health since he got too flustered to think of the obvious solution!
"Selina!" He gently shook her shoulder. "I'm going to go get you some medicine!"
"No," she murmured. "Stay."
"But it'll make you feel better!"
"Don't feel that bad anymore," she said sleepily. "Just stay."
His arms, which had made their way around her waist at some point, brought her closer. He placed a kiss amongst her unruly curls.
"You kissed me. Caught you."
"I'm delirious and in no control of my actions."
"No, you're not," she countered. "I am."
He might have been delirious at this point, he thought.
"Maybe I did kiss you."
What he had wanted was a kiss from her and a bit more intimate than in her hair for comfort. But beggars couldn't be choosers.
He almost laughed. He wasn't supposed to be a beggar. And she...well, she wasn't either. She was much better at taking what she wanted than he was.
"Oh, B. That wasn't a kiss." She yawned luxuriously. "For all your pointless studying, you sure don't know much."
He paused.
"Have you ever been kissed?"
"I don't need to have experience to know how to do it right. Though..." She turned her head sideways and up so she was almost staring at him. Their lips couldn't have been more than a centimeter apart. "I wouldn't mind some practicing."
And then she was asleep.
"I want to kiss you," he whispered hotly against her skin. "You're driving me crazy."
She couldn't hear him, but that was the point.
Oh, well.
He felt his eyes begin to slip close too.
Someday. Someday he would get the thief to steal a kiss from him.
The End