AN: Not at all part of the darker, grittier League series. Sorry guys.
However, this is important because it was my first full out commissioned fic. Echo sent me the ideas, I put them to (figurative) paper.
I feel like it isn't silly enough to be VeggieTales. It's too serious. It's missing the quirks. I tried to sprinkle some lighthearted fun in here and there. Hopefully it doesn't ruin the whole mood.
Petunia Rhubarb – or Vogue, as most of Bumblyburg knew her now, was just about ready for bed. The mass of red curls known as her hair had been tied up into a gigantic sloppy bun at the top of her head. Her makeup-less face had been washed and moisturized, and she was already in her pajamas (which may or may not have included a SHUX T-Shirt she stole from LarryBoy a few months back). All of the electronics were off, and she was on her way to lock the front door, when said front door's doorbell rang.
She pursed her lips in a thoughtful confusion. Who could that be? And what did they want that couldn't wait until the morning? Opening the door, surprisingly, raised more questions than it answered.
Standing in the door frame was no other than Bumblyburg's self proclaimed greatest hero. Well, he wasn't really standing in the doorframe. He was more…hunched over in it. He was bruised absolutely everywhere, blood stains were soaking through his shirt, his lips were chapped to the point that his bottom lip had sliced open, and even with the mask on she could tell how bad the black eye he was now sporting was. "May I come in?"
Nodding vigorously, she opened the door wider for him. She wasn't about to ask what happened – if he wanted her to know he'd tell her. As he limped inside, she had opened her mouth to speak when the mask hit the floor. The first thought to enter her head was 'Oh my gosh this must be bad he sleeps with that thing on' and the second was 'Oh my god that's the billionaire recluse who lives on the hill. LB's the billionaire'
And then suddenly, off went his shirt. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Instinctively, she pinched herself. As soon as she realized this was real life and not one of her reoccurring fantasies there were only two things on her mind – that she hoped he didn't see her pinch herself, and that she hoped he wasn't noticing how hard her panties were about to hit the floor. Even with all the cuts and scrapes, he was gorgeous. She couldn't stop ogling him.
He did turn around, actually, not bothering to clear his throat as he gruffly asked "Can ya patch me up?"
That brought her out of her haze a little bit. "O-of course." She sputtered out as she went to the washroom to grab her first aid kit.
When she returned, Larry had already perched himself on the edge of her coffee table. Silently, she began to work. Bandaging up his arms had been first, and the easiest. Next was his face. Gingerly, she began to apply a cloth damp with soap and water to his black eye, gently dabbing, careful not to apply any unneeded pressure. She could feel his breath on her neck as she worked, though she tried to push the thought aside.
With his eyes still closed, she opened a tub of lip balm, readied a bit, and gently slid her pinky finger over the chapped areas. Even all chapped, she couldn't get over how badly she wanted to kiss those lips, but she knew that now was not the time.
Especially now that he was giggling a bit. "Shh…" she hushed, as she took the cloth again and gently wiped the rest of his face.
He managed to control the giggle fit, thankfully. And then came his torso. His bare torso. She had had many a wandering thought about said bare torso. She swallowed hard before raising a shaky hand to begin the healing process. Hydrogen Peroxide was dipped onto a dry cloth as she started to dab the deep cuts. Immediately, he winced, taking a quick short inhale in pain. As he tensed, she trembled "S-sorry…" she whispered shakily. "I'll try to be carefuller…" she promised, unaware of her improper grammar.
He nodded, and she went back to work. She worked in silence. He observed in silence. But the silence wasn't awkward. In fact, it was rather comfortable. Minutes passed, and she was taping up the last of the wounds. Her hand lingered on his chest a little longer than necessary, as she looked up to him and whispered "There." Her hand remained still.
Their breathing was in sync. And they both knew it. Because they were close enough to feel the other's breath on their face.
In a sudden and surprisingly graceful move, Larry gently moved forward, brushing his lips against hers.
A million thoughts began to flood the girl's head. Mostly trying to rationalize what was happening. He was caught up in the moment. It was more of a thank you for fixing him up than anything romantic. It was a way of showing his appreciation.
But as he went to pull away, and his tooth slowly and gently grazed her bottom lip, one thought shut out all the others. 'He wants this is badly as I do'
This thought was so prominent, that apparently she voiced it out loud. "You want this, too?"
Larry eyed her suspiciously. What an odd question. Giggling, the hero replied "Are you kidding?" he dipped his face to rest his forehead on hers "Of course I do."
This time, she kissed him. It was soft and gentle, of course. She wasn't about to do anything crazy. Not after whatever it was he just went through that injured him like this. It was crazy, really. She was in her pajamas, he was black and blue, this was never how she pictured it happening. And yet, here it was. And it was perfect.
Slowly, she pulled away and asked "Do you want to stay? The night? W-with me? N-nothing… you know…dirty…just…cuddles?" Darn. She was a lot more confident going into that.
He smirked. That big goofy one toothed superhero smirk. "That depends. Are we not doing dirty things because we're saving them for tomorrow?" Petunia literally felt her mouth go dry. "I mean, I am already shirtless…"
And within 4 minutes, so was she.
"Hey!" he cried, breaking away from the heat of the moment. "Isn't that my shirt? How'd it end up with you?"
