Meeting of the... Minds?
by Sunflare2k5
Disclaimer: Every person and place in this is owned by DC Comics, and I am
not using it for profit.
Scarecrow frowned at the warehouse laboratory that Penguin had assigned
him. The space was awkward, the equipment was sub-par... and worst of all,
he would have to clean it and take inventory! That was the work of janitors,
not scientists! At least he'd been given a decent assistant? Dr. Linda Friitawa
didn't seem to fear him, but at least she didn't sneer at him; it was better
than nothing.
The first problem was that the storage area was built for some Procrustean
height that fit no-one. The top shelves were beyond his reach, but if he tried
a stepstool he'd collide with the low rafters. Friitawa would just have to take
the inventory on those shelves for him. Some trace of gallantry forced on him
by his family nagged at Scarecrow, but he pushed that aside for practicality's
sake.
She'd found a rolling stepladder to work with; it reminded him pleasantly of
the ones used in old libraries. So she called down the items to him, and he
wrote them down in his notebook. And it was actually working, until...
"I can't see this label; could you..?" Linda asked, as she stepped down the
ladder and half-turned toward him, small box in hand. At that same moment,
Scarecrow turned to her and lifted his head from gazing down at his work...
And his nose promptly collided with her bust.
Linda froze in place, blushing brilliantly. She didn't have any place to retreat,
not unless she wanted to fall off the ladder and hurt herself?
"Urk!" His eyes widened in shock. He'd never -- he wouldn't dare do this!
From the first moment of his interest in girls, they'd only been interested in
mocking him, dismissing his mind and soul since his body didn't meet their
standards. And...
And why aren't you backing away from her, you idiot?! he berated himself.
So he did, instinctively using the notebook as a shield before his face to
hide his shame. Or was it to protect him in case she attacked?
She finally climbed down. "I... I didn't think you did that on purpose?" she
hesitantly offered.
"Quite so, purely accidental!" he agreed hastily. "So it's for the breast that
we forget--" He groaned, burying his face in the notebook. "Best... best,
damn it all!"
Linda tugged at the notebook, trying to see his face. "Professor..? Listen,
it's all right. Really..." She blushed again. "At least I had someone cute doing
this to me?"
He blinked, and carefully put aside the notebook, unsure that he'd actually
heard her correctly. "Cute? Me?!"
"Yes." Linda offered him a shy smile. "With the long hair and round glasses,
you look rather like a redheaded John Lennon."
"John Lennon..." He pondered this. The resemblance wasn't deliberate on his
part; he usually didn't care about how he presented himself. But somehow he
felt... warmed, by her attention. He wanted more of it. And perhaps she might
want more things from him, eventually?
"I hope you don't expect me to sing now, Dr. Friitawa?"
She smiled. "Please, call me Linda."
"Then... call me Johnathan." He mustered up his hopes, and smiled back.
(End)