Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Thanks to Kipling for the beta. Here's hoping that Star Trek lived up to your expectations and that there was plenty of Spock/Uhura love. What would the be called? Spura? Uhurock? =D I don't know how it's supposed to be spelled. I see both Uhuru and Uhura on the web. Oh the craziness!
Thanks to that anonymous reviewer who listed her ideas for Sexy Bruce. I took the one about the kitchen. And this is what came out. And thanks for all reviewers. I can't reply, because it's not my account the reviews are getting sent to. Sorry!
Again, this takes place in that time where Diana and J'onn could have stayed with Bruce after the Watchtower got turned into a steaming pile of debris.
Three: Steamy and Mouthwatering
Diana walked into the kitchen, joining two of her three housemates. While J'onn was his usual calm self, Alfred was bustling about the kitchen looking worriedly.
"Is something the matter?" Diana asked.
"Ah, Miss Diana." He straightened up, wiping his hands down his apron. She had never seen him so…frazzled. "How are you this evening?"
"I'm doing well, thank you. What's going on? Is it anything I can help with?"
"I have plans for this evening that came up rather unexpectedly, and I fear I will not have enough time to make a proper dinner."
Diana looked over at the butler, her eyes twinkling and jokingly said, "Hot date?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
Diana's laughed in delight. "Oh, Alfred, that's wonderful! Don't worry. I think between Bruce, J'onn, and me, we can make dinner."
She could tell Alfred did not believe her, but he looked thankful for the reprieve. Not that he would take her up on it…"You are guests in the Manor. I couldn't possibly allow you to make dinner."
"Then we won't. Bruce will."
While Alfred never did anything undignified, the almost snort that came from the proper Englishman nearly shocked Diana."Master Bruce? Cook?"
"Yes. In fact, I think it's a wonderful idea."
"I am not sure Master Bruce will be of the same opinion."
Diana was already pushing Alfred towards the door. "You need to get ready for your date. Leave Bruce to me."
"If you insist."
"I do. Good night, Alfred."
Alfred took of his apron, and Diana grabbed it from his hands before he could change his mind. Bowing to both her and J'onn, he made his goodbyes, adding just before he left, "If the Manor burns down, I trust you know how to reach me."
A few moments later, Bruce entered the room. Having been living here for awhile, Diana had begun to memorize his daily routines. He had just finished practicing in the cave and had recently showered. His wet hair shone in the light of the kitchen, and somehow he still looked insanely hot, even though he was only wearing sweats.
Diana began to wonder how he was even able to wear the sweat suit. She herself was in a t-shirt and shorts, and thought she was about to burn up.
Bruce gave an amused grin. "I just saw Alfred in the hall. Does anyone know what's going on with him?"
"He has a hot date," J'onn informed.
Bruce smiled, nodding his head in approval. "Good for him." Making his way to the oven, he asked, "What did he leave us for dinner?"
"Nothing," Diana said.
Bruce pulled away from the empty oven, confused. "That doesn't sound like Alfred."
"He was in a hurry. I told him we would take care of it."
"He would never agree to that."
"I told him you would cook for us."
Bruce started laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It was beautiful.
"Well, who's up for Chinese?" Bruce walked towards the phone. "I have their number on speed dial."
J'onn rose from his seat. "I already know what I will be having for dinner, so I will leave that decision to you two."
Diana watched in amusement as J'onn made his way to the cupboard that housed the Oreos. He made one last pit-stop at the refrigerator, and while he hid the food under his cape, Diana guessed that her favorite Martian was about to partake of milk and cookies.
"Enjoy your meal," he said, exiting the kitchen."
Bruce shrugged his shoulders and picked the cordless phone off the receiver. "Chinese?"
"I was thinking we could try something different tonight."
"Italian?"
"That sounds good, but I was thinking you would make it."
Bruce put the phone back and gave her a no-nonsense look. "I don't cook."
"Why not?"
"One, I have Alfred to do it for me, and two, I'm horrible at it."
"I think you just need practice."
"Think all you like. I'm still ordering out."
He moved to pick up the phone, but her hand was on his. "If you make dinner, I'll make dessert," she promised
Their hands were still joined, and she could feel Bruce turn his fingers over as they brushed against her palm. Retracting her hand as if he had burned her, Diana looked away. "You really want this?" he asked, his voice amused.
Diana swallowed. "Yes."
"Don't say I didn't warn you." Bruce pulled away and walked over to some drawers. He opened the topmost drawer, and pulled out a box. "Pick one."
Closing her eyes, Diana took a recipe out. "Spaghetti."
Bruce's sigh of relief was audible. "I think even I can handle that."
Bruce opened a cabinet and reached for a pot, bending over in the process.
Because Diana believed in the dignity of every human being and thought it insulting to objectify any person, whether man or woman, she was having a mini-crisis of conscience.
To look or not to look, that was her question.
Her answer: Just one, tiny peek.
Even though he could not see what she was doing, Diana covertly lowered her eyes to Bruce's posterior. The word callipygian came instantly to mind, and she started to wonder if one of her gods and goddesses had sculpted him out of clay as well.
"Diana," he called over his shoulder, "do you mind…"
Clearing her throat in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner, she asked, "Mind what?"
Bruce didn't answer right away, finally crouching down to see better into the dark cabinet. "Do you mind getting some of the ingredients out?"
"Not at all."
Tearing her gaze away, Diana looked at the recipe. Fresh oregano, basil, bay leaves, parsley. Garlic powder, garlic, pepper. Onion.
Diana opened the refrigerator and stared inside, reveling in the blast of cool air against her skin. Being unversed in the ways of the kitchen, she had trouble identifying the different vegetables and spices. She was just about to call for Bruce's help identifying the different herbs and spices, when he was at her back, gazing over her shoulder.
Again, how was he not burning up? She felt like she was going to spontaneously combust.
"What are we looking for?" he said at her ear, and Hera help her, his breath against her skin made her shiver. She hoped he didn't see the goosebumps that had popped up along her skin.
Forcing herself to remain calm and detached, she rattled off the ingredients, "Oregano, basil, bay leaves, parsley, onions."
He reached around her, and she could feel his chest through his sweatshirt, pressed against her back. Her eyes fluttered shut, but then he was gone a second later.
She shut the refrigerator door, recalling the task at hand. "Did you get everything out?"
"Only thing we have is parsley and onions. We'll just use the dry spices for everything else."
Diana frowned, "The recipe says it's supposed to be fresh."
He winked at her, and Diana decided she would agree with whatever he said from then on. "I won't tell Alfred, if you won't. It will be our secret."
Diana couldn't keep from giggling. She liked secrets.
"So, where are they?" she asked.
"In the cabinet above my head."
Normally the cabinet would have required a step ladder to reach, but Diana was gifted by Hermes with flight. She slowly lifted herself into the air, and dug around for the spices while Bruce continued chopping the parsley and onion below. His elbow moved against her calf, creating a most delectable friction. She froze, bottle of oregano in her hand, eyes unseeing.
After about twenty seconds of skin on skin contact, she faintly heard Bruce call her name. "Are you having trouble?"
Her hand slackened, causing Diana to drop the oregano.. Thankfully, Bruce caught it, and handed it back to her, fingers brushing. He smiled up at her, "Lucky for you I have quick reflexes."
"Lucky for me," Diana murmured, quickly getting back to find everything she needed.
Pretty soon all the ingredients had been gathered, and the stove was turned on. They began adding some of the items to the tomato sauce, careful to avoid being splattered by the hot red liquid.
"Now we just need to let things simmer."
Diana swallowed, mouth dry. As far as she was concerned, things were already broiling.
As Bruce kept stirring the sauce, he began to engage her in small talk, and Diana began to relax. Her mind was still a little fuzzy, but at least she was capable of using it.
They were in the middle of discussing Alfred's date when Bruce turned to her, eyes serious. "Is it just me or is it getting hot in here?"
"It is a little warm," Diana admitted. "Maybe I should…" All thoughts of adjusting the temperature flew out of her head the second she saw his fingers move to the hem of his sweatshirt. As he began to peel it off, she gripped the countertop. The toned muscles of his abdominals called to her, begging her to run her fingers over them.
She was only slightly disappointed when he pulled down the black wife-beater that had ridden up as he took the outer garment off. Fortunately, without the distraction of his torso, she was able to give her undivided attention to his arms as he stirred the pot. She gripped the counter harder. Thankfully it was made of granite.
The steam from the sauce rose in the air, gently licking at Bruce's arm. His forehead was covered with a light sheen of sweat, and he raised his forearm, mopping his brow. Similarly affected by the sultry conditions, Diana began to fan herself.
"How much do you think a dash is?" he asked, seemingly out of nowhere. Diana had not been paying attention to his words, and so she didn't know what to answer.
Trying not to panic, Diana nodded her head.
Bruce raised a confused brow, so Diana shook her head instead. He finally gave her an odd smile, then tipped the bottle of oregano over and shook it. Breaking out of her reverie, Diana peered over the side of the pot. There was now a green layer over the sauce. Seemingly satisfied, Bruce began stirring again, enveloping the dried flecks of green with the sauce.
"You must really like what I'm making. You're practically drooling."
Really? Discreetly turning her head to the side, she swiped at her mouth. Realizing that he was just teasing, Diana hit him lightly on the shoulder.
"I am not drooling."
The playful smirk on his mouth immediately caught her attention. He then began to drag his tongue across his lower lip, and her eyes followed the movement. "Of course you aren't." Diana's eyes snapped to his, and the mischievous glint she saw there made her blush even more. He knew how badly he was affecting her, and he was taking pleasure from it.
"Before you are completely mesmerized by my cooking skills, why don't you start boiling the water for the pasta?"
Well, at least that was something she could handle without humiliating herself further. Deciding not to argue with his choice of words, Diana walked around Bruce, who happened to be standing next to the cabinet where the pots were kept. She opened the door, bending over to find the pot. The tiny prickling of awareness at the back of her neck told her she was being watched. The knowledge made her stomach flutter, and she responded, hoping to get him back for all the teasing.
She moved so that her outer thigh brushed against his leg. And when she felt his fingers run up and down her skin, she knew she had made the right choice.
Pot in hand, Diana stood up, but didn't move, allowing Bruce to enjoy the contact for a few more seconds.
Eventually dragging herself away, Diana filled the pot with water and set it on the stove, turning it on. The uncooked pasta lay to Bruce's right, on the other side of the stovetop. As she waited for the water to boil, she moved back to Bruce's side, leaning against the counter. It wasn't long before the fingers of his free hand were on her leg again.
She didn't know how long they stood there, him stirring and her melting, but he eventually turned to look at her. In a raspy voice he said, "Want a taste?"
The dreamy, "Yes" she offered him would normally have made her feel foolish, but Bruce didn't seem to mind too much. And knowing that he liked seeing her affected by him spurred her on.
He held the wooden spoon up to her mouth, cradling his hand underneath it, so the sauce wouldn't drip on Alfred's gleaming floor. He blew on the sauce, cooling it down, though the whole time his eyes were on her mouth. She bit her lower lip in anticipation.
"Ready?" he said, his voice foggy.
Boldly, she grabbed his hand and guided the spoon to her mouth. As her eyelids began to close, he pressed the spoon to her parted lips, dragging it across before tipping it back to allow the sauce to drop into her mouth.
The moan of pleasure she had planned on releasing stuck in her throat. And it wasn't because of nerves.
The sauce tasted terribly.
Trying not to ruin the moment, Diana kept her eyes shut and swallowed the over-seasoned watery concoction, but she just couldn't. She gagged, and her eyes watered.
He walked over to her, clearly concerned, but she waved him away, rushing to get a drink of water. When her breathing had returned to normal, he was smiling ruefully at her, "That bad, huh?"
"Um…actually, it was quite…"
"Diana."
"It was awful. Worst spaghetti sauce I've ever tasted in my life."
"It can't be that bad." Turning to his pot, Bruce ladled himself a spoonful and downed it in one gulp. His nose screwed up adorably, and he started to laugh. "Is there anyway I can make it up to you?"
"I can think of one or two ways," she said as seductively as she could.
Apparently Bruce got the message. He trapped her against the counter, and she spread her hands out behind her to brace herself.
Wrong move.
Diana hissed in pain, instantly retracting her hand from the sizzling stove. Her flesh was bright red, and would no doubt start blistering very soon.
"Let me look at that," Bruce ordered.
Diana hid her hand behind her back, angry at the way they kept getting interrupted. "It's nothing."
While the look he gave her was not as intimidating as the batglare, he was clearly determined to see her hand. Blowing an irritated sigh out of the corner of her mouth, Diana offered her hand to him.
Bruce gently took it in his, slowly turning it over so he could see her palm. He frowned at the red line that bisected her hand. "Looks like a second degree burn."
He dropped her hand and stalked over to the freezer. Getting some ice out, Bruce brought it back over and took her hand again. Using one of the cubes, he traced the burn on her palm, staring balefully in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have warned you."
"I'll be fine."
He lifted the piece of ice and looked again at her hand. "The redness seems to be going down."
"I'm a quick healer."
Bruce nodded, setting the ice aside. "Now I have two things to make up for--burning your hand and trying to poison you." She would have laughed at how he disparaged his cooking skills, but his eyes were on her mouth again.
Diana wrapped the fingers of her good hand around one strap of his wife-beater, tugging him closer. "I think you were doing just fine before."
His hands tightened around her waist, lifting her up to seat her on the counter. His hands rested lightly on her knees as they both stared at each other, both breathing hard. Bruce was the first to move, taking her injured hand in his. He lifted it to his mouth and blew on her palm. Her fingers flexed in reaction, but he opened her hand back up, rubbing his lips across the bright red line the oven had marked on her skin.
Diana tilted her head back, resting it against a cupboard door as she watched Bruce play doctor to her decreasingly painful burn. He pressed one last kiss to the wound before setting her hand back down. His fingers tightened on her legs, and he lifted one, hooking it around his waist. She leaned forward, burying her face in his neck as he repeated the action with her other leg. Then he lifted her off the counter and carried her to the kitchen table, far away from the hazardous stove. "Wouldn't want you to get burnt again," he said, trailing his fingers down her back.
"Always so thoughtful."
He set her down on the table, staring at her as if she were his next meal. With what little mind she had left, she recalled they were not the only ones in the manor. "But what about J'onn?"
"He took three packages of Oreos and a gallon of milk. He won't be coming back down here any time soon." His nose moved to the hollow of her throat before he started alternating between dropping kisses and tasting the skin along her collar bone. Diana tilted her head to the side as he slowly lowered her down across the table. "Told you we should have ordered Chinese."
"If we did…then we wouldn't be here…on the table." Sentences were becoming too difficult to form, so she pulled his mouth to hers.
Diana thought the heat would annihilate her, and they were just starting. He was just beginning to trace the seam of her lips when a splash of cold water hit her on the face.
With a groan, Bruce broke away and looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, the house sprinklers had turned on, raining water from on high. From her place under him, Diana glanced back over to the stove. The sight that greeted her was horrific. The forgotten spaghetti sauce was smoking and splattering all over the place. The water for the pasta was boiling over, and the uncooked spaghetti had been scattered across the floor.
"Wow," she laughed, closing her eyes as the water fell.
Pushing off of her, Bruce cursed himself for not turning off the stove. He jerked viciously at the knobs, turning off the flames. Then he disappeared from the room. The sprinklers turned off a few seconds later.
When he came back, Diana sat up, taking instant notice of his clinging shirt and dripping hair. Then she looked at the mess they had made again. With a sigh, she slid off the kitchen table. They needed to clean up.
"Leave it," Bruce ordered.
"But what will Alfred say?"
"We'll get it later." He took her hand and started pulling her towards the door.
"But—"
"Diana."
"But--"
Bruce practically snarled, and Diana placed a finger against his mouth in an effort to calm him down.
"I promised you dessert."
Bruce almost started protesting, but stopped when he realized he wasn't going to win.
Diana left him for the fridge, coming back a few moments later.
Without warning, she jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist again. He easily caught her.
"Nice reflexes," she said.
"Thank you."
He looked down at the food she was cradling between their bodies. When he saw the whipped cream and chocolate sauce, his face broke into a wide grin, which Diana returned.
"Let's go."
A/N: And then they went and made ice cream sundaes. =D
