Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. I'm glad you liked it. Enjoy!
He wasn't usually this warm when he woke.
Crane's apartment had crappy heating to start with. Throw in no fat to keep him warm, add a tendency to shuck off the covers, mix well, and one got Jonathan Crane waking freezing most mornings.
Aside from the obvious sex benefit, sleeping with Poison Ivy had even more perks. Her body heat kept him warm, and her body weight kept him from tossing around and sending the covers elsewhere. Still on the verge of being conscious, it took Crane a moment to realize what those perks meant. A man of his IQ couldn't remain pleasantly confused for long, though.
"We had sex."
Ivy had been having a pleasant dream about rose-bushes and wasn't thrilled to be brought back to reality. Seeing the stunned look on Jonathan's face, made her bite her tongue though; she could complain and nap later.
"Yes, we had sex Jonathan," said Ivy. "Considering all the screaming you did last night, I'd say you enjoyed it immensely."
To Ivy's delight, Jonathan blushed. She'd never seen someone's face go completely red before; lovely.
How did Ivy look so beautiful, all the time, Crane wondered? Even in the morning, with her hair ruffled from sex and sleep, and she was breathe-taking. In fact, she might look even more beautiful now.
"See something you like?" Ivy asked, stroking his face.
Crane didn't need a mirror to know his blush had darkened.
Ivy sat up and stretched, giving Crane a front-seat view of her breasts. He'd thought this morning couldn't get better. He'd been wrong. And last night, Ivy had let him touch them, taste them… She'd brought his hands to them and shown him what to do.
"You definitely see something you like," said Ivy.
"I wasn't looking."
Ivy smiled, "You're allowed to look Jonathan."
"I'm afraid the sight will turn my face permanently red," said Crane.
Ivy laughed, and pecked his lips. "You're regaining your sarcastic attitude, that's a good sign."
"No, that's a genuine fear."
Ivy laughed again, and lay back down. "Feeling calmer?"
"Getting there," said Crane, rejoining Ivy on the pillows.
Ivy said nothing more; she looked contented but Crane wasn't an expert on judging positive emotions. What if she wasn't content? What if she expected him to say something? Of the three times, he'd had sex in college, there'd never been a morning after. Not one where they lay in bed in a contented silence, at least. The first time had been at a party, and both he and the sophomore who dragged him into a closest had been drunk. They'd passed out afterwards; the next morning the girl had threatened to kill him if he told a soul, and kicked him in the balls when he asked if she had any STDs.
The other two times, the girl had kicked him out of her room. No morning after, awkward or otherwise, to prepare Crane for this. Not that he'd ever thought there was a possibility of this happening.
From soap-operas, he'd gleamed that this would be the time to kick Ivy out and then call a guy-friend to brag. But Ivy would kick him out his own apartment if he was lucky and turn him into compost if he wasn't, if he tried that. On top of that the only two men he could call were Tetch, and Nigma. Calling Tetch would just be weird, and Nigma would poke fun at his lack of experience.
"My knowledge of these sorts of moments is limited to soap-operas, and those options don't work for me."
"Good. Refuse to conform."
"Fight the power and the man."
Ivy laughed. "We need to get up."
"Probably. Yes. I've got a book to finish, and chemical suppliers to meet."
"I have to get back to a back-up greenhouse," said Ivy.
"Where is it?"
"Underground. Why?"
"With your ankle, it'll be hard to get around," said Crane. "I could drive you."
"I know how to hot-wire a car," said Ivy.
"I don't doubt that you do, but I already have a car, and committing a crime while injured ups your risk of getting caught," said Crane.
"I'll manage," said Ivy.
"You're not used to accepting help from people," Crane observed.
"No," Ivy mused.
"I'm not used to helping people."
"You seem quite adept," said Ivy.
"Do you want to shower first?" Crane asked.
"It doesn't matter," said Ivy. "What food do you have?"
"The only vegetables I have are frozen peas," said Crane.
"I robbed a vegetable stand on the way here," said Ivy. "They're in my coat. You could fry us some tomatoes for breakfast."
Ivy limped to the bathroom, leaving Crane wondering when he'd offered to make breakfast. Quickly, he went over the conversation in his head. Nope, no offer. Still, friend tomatoes would be better than the stale pop-tarts he had.
Crane pulled on his clothes. An easy feat, as they were all within arm's reach, and got to work.
Ivy had had the insight to leave her trench-coat outside the bathroom. Crane hunted through the pockets until he found the aforementioned vegetables. On his way to the stove, Crane checked the time.
2:30 p.m.
Three hours until he had to meet his chemical suppliers. While washing, and slicing the tomatoes, Crane went over his mental list of what he needed to bring, and debated whether or not it was time to cut ties with these gentlemen. They were often late, but the products were all good. With his luck, the next group of suppliers he got would be four worse. Still, the Scarecrow did not settle.
"The showers yours, Jonathan," said Ivy. "I can finish making breakfast if you want to shower."
Even with wet hair, she was towel-drying, Ivy was stunning. Crane was torn between wanting to ogle, and berating himself for being so weak-willed.
For a villain, Jonathan was easy to read. Not that staring, slack-jawed, while blushing meant a lot of things. He'd get mad if she teased him though, so she filed it away to use as a reminder for when he became too egotistical.
"I'll go shower," said Jonathan, and fled to the bathroom.
Smirking, Ivy continued breakfast.
Inside the bathroom, Crane stared at himself in the mirror. Not a pastime he usually took up. The sigh had never been good, and this morning was no exception. With the exception of hickeys, very messed up hair, Crane looked the same. Still scrawny still lanky; Crane looked away from the mirror striped quickly and hopped in the shower.
Ivy had come to him. Poison Ivy had come and confessed to him. They'd had sex, and she hadn't gone running for the door. That counted or something. A tad more confident, Crane hopped in the shoulder.
A brief but vigorous cleaning of his hair and body parts later, Crane exited the shower. Pulling on his old clothes wouldn't continue to keep him clean, and smelling decent, at least. But Crane hadn't thought to grab clean clothes before, and he wasn't leaving the bathroom in a towel.
Ivy had finished breakfast, and sat on the counter already eating. "Your plate is on the table."
"Thank you," said Crane.
For January, the tomatoes tasted good. Perhaps Ivy had done something to them. She could control plants; it was possible she could make vegetables taste better just by telling them to.
Ivy hopped down from the counter, and limped over to the fridge, depositing her plate in the sink as she went. Did she expect him to wash that? Well, she sort of was a guest and one picked up after guests. And considering Ivy's feminist principles, she'd probably kill him with the plate if Crane told her to wash it.
Best to just wash the dishes himself; it was only one extra plate after all.
"Did you say there's an ice-pack I can use, Jonathan?" Ivy asked.
"Like I said I have frozen peas, but that's it," said Crane.
"Those work." Ivy fetched said peas, and returned to her counter, where she applied them to her ankle.
"Does you ankle feel better?"
"A little."
"Would you like me to wrap it again?"
"No, I can do it."
Crane finished off his tomatoes. What was he supposed to say to her? What did normal people say in these situations? This wasn't a one-night stand, hopefully. Ivy had said she'd wanted a relationship… So, what did normal people do when they were dating it was the morning after?
Talk.
Yes, talking worked; communication is key. Now he just needed a topic.
"What was the name of series with a female serial-killer you told me about?" Ivy asked.
"The Gretchen Lowell series, by Chelsea Cain," said Crane.
"Now that I'm out, I'll give it a read."
"Good," said Crane. "So uh… Now what?"
"Did you just quote House?" Ivy asked.
The situation between House and Cuddy were very similar to Ivy and himself, Crane realized. "I did so unintentionally."
Ivy smiled, "I thought we could play things by year. We've had sex, let's try going on a date."
"We could go to the movies," Crane suggested.
"You like movies?" Ivy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"When I need to kill time, I've found the movies are a good way to do so. They're dark, and relatively uncrowded so long as I go to a movie a week or so after it's been released. There's a little theatre I frequent from time to time, that shows re-runs of old horror movies," said Crane. "This Saturday there's a showing of "You Next"."
"I remember seeing the trailers for that," said Ivy. "Very well, the movies it is."
"Great," said Crane.
They'd arranged for a date; in only a few sentences, too. That was easy. Crane almost smiled dreamily in relief; only the idea of how painfully burning himself alive for such a sappy act kept him from doing so.
"What time?" Ivy asked.
"It starts at nine. We could meet at 8:45."
"Sounds good to me." Ivy hopped down from the counter and kissed him.
Crane hadn't expected it, and jumped. He could feel Ivy pull back, and quickly kissed her back. Whether he did anything right, Crane ahd no idea, but he tried to mimic the movements of Ivy's lips the night before.
Wow, Jonathan," said Ivy. "You're a fast-learner."
"That was good?"
"Yes," said Ivy, proudly. "I'll see you Saturday, we can practice more then."
"Great."
Poison Ivy thought he was a good kisser; getting to be a good kisser, anyway. So this was what male pride felt like.
Someone knocked at his door.
"I'll get it," said Crane, dropping his voice to a whisper. "It's probably my land-lady; you're more recognizable than I am."
Ivy slipped into the bathroom. Armed with fear-toxin, Crane opened the door.
The Riddler stood in his doorway. "Have a nice night?"
Crane pulled him inside. "How did you know?"
"You and Ivy whispering back and forth in Arkham for months. Ivy shows up at my door, and asks for your whereabouts, and… You just told me," said Nigma.
Crane cursed himself for falling for that.
"I made donuts," said Nigma, holding out the box. "Now that you're having sex, I'm sure Ivy would appreciate a less bony you."
Crane took the box, and hit Nigma with it.
"Oww."
Happy that he'd caused Nigma pain, Crane set the box down. The donuts inside it looked tasty; he selected a jelly one.
Ivy exited the bathroom, "Afternoon, Nigma."
"Ivy," said Nigma, inclining his head.
"I was just leaving," said Ivy. "Enjoy talking about sex."
Crane blushed.
"I wasn't…" Nigma began.
"That's what men do, they sit around and talk about sex and how manly they are just because they had sex," said Ivy. "You'll understand if I don't' want to be around."
"I wasn't here to do that," Nigma protested.
"Of course not," said Crane quipped.
"Honest. I'm here to mock Jonathan, and him alone," said Nigma.
"I will see you Saturday, Jonathan," said Ivy. "Good-bye, Nigma."
Ivy left the apartment.
"Are you suicidal?" Crane asked, rounding on the Riddler.
"Really, Crane," said Nigma, "As if I would be stupid enough to come here without insurance. Where's your chess-set?"
"The Bat smashed it."
"Good thing I brought my own," said Nigma. The Riddler moved to set up the pieces. "Here's the deal, for every game I win, I get to ask you one question. For every piece you take that is not a pawn, you can ask me one question. If you win, I'll tell you my insurance."
"What could I possibly want to ask you?"
"Door codes, for one," said Nigma. "You said you were planning to rob Moore Chemicals."
Annoyed Nigma had a good answer, Crane grabbed his pieces and set them up. One game alter, Crane ahd several door codes, knew who to steal passes from where best to do the stealing, and had been emailed a set of the buildings blueprints. Something his own henchmen ahd failed to get in a month's time. But Nigma had won.
"What do you want to know?"
"How many did you have sex before Ivy?
"Three."
"I owe Jervis one hundred dollars," Nigma mused.
"I'm glad Tetch believed in me."
"I said it wouldn't count if he'd contributed," Nigma quipped.
"Let's just play another game."
Nigma won again, though as a consolation prize Crane knew everything he'd need to, to rob Moore chemicals.
"How long between Ivy and the last girl? If it was a girl."
"I hadn't had sex since college," said Crane. "Half-way through senior year, and my partners have all been female."
Nigma smirked, "Tetch owes me two hundred."
Crane glanced at the clock. "Leave."
"Don't you want to know the best way to rob Wayne Tower?"
"Even if I did, I have chemical suppliers to meet with," said Crane. "Now shoo."
"Oh, yes, my insurance," said Nigma. "I'd say it's worth at least one more question, but if you'd like to risk it…"
"Either tell me, or leave," Crane snapped.
A glance out the window told Crane it had started snowing. Great. He had gloves around here. Somewhere.
"What's helpful, a traitor, and will be expiring shortly?"
Crane tried to hit Nigma with the chess board. "English."
"I am speaking English. Would you prefer old English? I'm fluent in that too," said Nigma, smugly.
Crane glared.
"Your chemical suppliers were busted by the cops last night," said Nigma. "They made a deal to roll over on you."
"The GCPD will be waiting," said Crane. "I guess I do have time for more chess."
RISE
The guards, who escorted Crane to the rec-room, had made him late. Texting on the job took precedence, apparently. For taking away Crane's precious rec-room time, the Scarecrow planned to torture them, and the sap they'd been texting, until they were insane enough to eat their phones.
Being late also meant Poison Ivy arrived before him. Now she hogged the couch, Crane shot her a dirty look for being a hypocrite.
"If you want to sit down, ask nicely, Jonathan," Ivy purred.
Swallowing all his pride, hatred, anger and desire to create a fear-toxin that affected her, Crane forced out: "May I please sit down?"
"Well, I'd prefer for you to sound a bit more pleasant, but it's a start." Ivy tucked her beautiful legs under her, giving him room.
Silently, Crane fumed at himself for thinking Ivy's legs were beautiful, at the guards for making him late, at the Bat for catching him. Still seething, he took a seat, as far from Ivy as he could. "If you don't want to hear my voice, don't talk to me," Crane snapped.
"I was objecting to the clear desire to strangle me in your voice," said Ivy. "Not saying that it's a bad voice. A tad raspy, perhaps."
"I like it that way, its creepy," said Crane.
"If you say so," said Ivy.
"Are you implying it isn't?" Crane demanded.
"I suppose, you're very touchy, aren't you?"
"I'm the Master of Fear, all should cower before me," said Crane.
"Did you purposely try to make your voice creepy?" Ivy asked.
"No."
"Really? Seems a tad convenient that the Master of Fear has a raspy voice he, and a large percentage of Gotham think is creepy."
"Seems fitting to me," said Crane.
To Crane's relief, Ivy changed the subject. "Did you finish Pride and Prejudice/"
"I did," Crane didn't tell her he'd been up all night doing so. Not because the read had been good, more that nightmares had struck. The Scarecrow wasn't going to take the risk of having some pathetic, measly, brain-damaged guard would hear him cry, and beg in his sleep.
"Why do you read horror books?" Ivy asked. "Do you like being scared?"
"How do you know I like them?"
"I saw you reading one at the library," said Ivy.
"Were you spying on me?"
"I go to the library for my own reasons," said Ivy. "I saw you, had no reason to talk to you, and left."
"I don't believe you, I would have noticed," said Crane.
"Or you're just not as observant as you think you are," Ivy replied.
Unfortunately, when he was reading, Crane wasn't as observant as a villain should be. Not wanting to admit the fact, Crane did as Ivy had, and changed the subject. "I hear the GCPD brought you in this time."
"They did," said Ivy. Unfortunately, she didn't sound bothered by it. "And I'm capable of getting my own revenge, should I choose to."
"I wasn't going to offer," said Crane.
"You didn't answer my last question," said Ivy.
Crane didn't want to answer on principle. However, Ivy decided whether or not he got to sit on the couch. For now anyway. And it wasn't like he disliked talking about books, and the reasons he liked them. "I like to see how people respond to fear."
"Of course," said Ivy.
"Did you expect differently?"
"No," said Ivy. "Do you have any recommendations?"
"The Gretchen Lowell series," said Crane. "There's a female serial-killer who plays a detective like a violin."
"I'll take a look."
Thanks for reading.
