You guys are so patient! Hope you enjoy this . . . (6-17-17: I forgot that Mook was left running free in the bedroom. Had to go back and fix that. ;D)
Warning: Language . . .
Dick pushed the door open with his shoulder, stumbling into the foyer with a large plastic kiddie pool that was as tall in diameter as Elle. It made a racket but they didn't worry about why no one came to investigate. It was nine o'clock; Bruce and Damian would have already gone out on patrol and Alfred was probably manning the Batcomputer. He was glad. He had no desire to explain why he was dragging a cheap plastic pool into the house in February. He was, however, glad to have found it. It was far better than trying to keep Earl the Lobster in an ice chest.
"Sh! You're making too much noise," Elle complained as she followed him in, bucket of Earl in her arms. "I don't want to have to explain this."
Dick laughed. "My thoughts exactly."
"Don't forget the chest," she reminded him. "It's still sitting out on the step."
"Ah, yes. I'll come back for it," Dick told her as he lifted the pool above his head and trotted up the staircase.
The nice thing about mansions were that most of them had staircases large enough for five people to climb them side-by-side with room to spare. Wayne Manor was no exception. They had ended up buying an ice chest as well but it was being used to keep lobster food in. Krill and silversides, mostly . . . Carlmart really did have everything, apparently!
Elle followed Dick into their bedroom. The room was huge, like most of the rooms in the manor. Dick could probably do his gymnastics across the floor between the bed and the sitting area. He put the plastic pool down in the middle of the space and stepped back as Elle paused by Mook's terrarium.
"Look, Mookie!" she called to the tarantula happily. "We brought you a brother!"
Dick couldn't help it. He started laughing. "And they look so much alike," he snarked.
Elle sent him a look over her shoulder. "As much as you and your brothers do."
Dick choked. "Hey! At least we all have black hair."
"Sh! You're going to give Earl a complex," she scolded lightly but her frown quickly disintegrated as she carried the lobster to his temporary home. "Don't worry, Earl," she crooned to the wary crustacean, "this is only for a little while. Your new mama and papa will be getting you a brand-new tank tomorrow. It will be so nice that you won't mind being here instead of the ocean . . . Well, not too much anyway, I hope."
Dick hesitated. "Are you sure Earl can't understand you?" he asked her suspiciously.
Elle didn't bother dignifying such a ridiculous concept with an answer. "Go get Earl's food," she told him as she set the lobster into the center of the pink pool. "He's hungry."
Dick snorted. "So am I," he muttered as he left to grab the ice chest still out front.
He needed to move the car back into the garage as well. Elle was too busy pouring the briny water into the pool to hear him. He was a little disappointed that he didn't get his seafood dinner but considering he had completely forgot Valentine's Day, he felt like he got off easy. He knew from experience that forgetting that particular day could wreak havoc on a relationship.
Dick hated when Elle got angry with him . . . She could go days without speaking to him. The bond made any difficulties they might have uncomfortable enough but Elle's voice was pure magic for him and he couldn't think of anything else she could do that would make him regret their disagreements more. Thankfully, she seldom got upset with him.
When he returned with the chest a few minutes later, Elle was sitting on the ottoman next to the neon-pink eyesore, chatting it up with their new . . . pet. He wondered if there were any way to keep this a secret from the rest of the family. Dick blew out his breath in frustration. Damian visited Elle up here every day and no one could keep a secret from Alfred for any length of time.
He supposed he could bear up under the ribbing he would be taking from this. His lips turned up at the sight before him. The bond assured him that Elle was ecstatic right now. That was worth any amount of teasing he was bound to endure from his brothers. Hell, the fact that he and his brothers had spent more time in each other's company without bleeding since Elle had come into his life than the past seven years combined made Dick pretty darned ecstatic as well.
How long had he dreamed of exactly this very thing? The entire family getting along, being able to work together, . . . not bleeding! Yeah, that last part was important. Gotham City drained enough of their life's blood as it was without the Robins, past and present, aiding the process along at every opportunity. As he stepped closer and leaned down to embrace the love of his life, he came face to face with Mook. The gargantuan arachnid was cozy on its mistress' shoulder. Dick jumped back, in spite of himself.
Elle looked at him, smiling. "They're bonding. I think they like each other."
Dick ran a shaky hand through his hair and laughed at himself. "Is that so. How can you tell?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked.
He snorted. "No. No, I'm sorry. Not to me," he chuckled as he drew up his own chair and sat down beside her.
Earl was attempting to crawl out of his pool. Elle had removed the bands that had been on his claws and he opened and closed them, like he would his hands after being untied – an event that happened on occasion, even now. He shook his head . . . He was now empathizing with a damned lobster. His life . . . It had become a comic strip during the last few months but he could honestly say he wouldn't have it any other way. He leaned forward and frowned at the pool.
"That's not a lot of water in there. You sure that Earl will be alright?" he asked worriedly.
This was his Valentine's Day present to Elle. He didn't want the lobster to die before the day actually arrived. That would be a dinner gone to waste . . . He sent a prayer of thanks upward that the bond didn't come with straight up telepathy. His fiancée might not kill him for that thought but it would be a close-run thing.
Elle agreed. "It's not a lot but lobsters can live up to three days out of water as long as their gills are kept moist. This should be enough until we can get him situated into his new home."
Dick stared down at the lobster in the kiddie pool. "Bruce is going to have a cow."
Elle snorted and snickered. "Maybe no one will notice?"
Dick looked over at her with disbelief. "The best we can hope for is that no one steals him for dinner."
"No!" Elle gasped. "They wouldn't."
Smiling, Dick put an arm around her. "No. They wouldn't but it would be a close-run thing. The only person in the house that doesn't like seafood besides you is Bruce." He looked down at her curiously. "Did your mom or grandmother have the same aversion to seafood?"
Elle sighed and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.
"No." The tone in her voice said this was a subject that had been thoroughly exhausted at some point.
When no other information was offered, Dick prodded her gently. "Your father or grandfather?"
"Papa loved seafood and Nono grew up on the coast of Italy. Seafood was a staple there," she told him unhappily.
"So, it's just you?"
Elle sat up at looked at him, her upset obviously. "I just can't do it! I've never been able to do it. Dick, I swim with them. I played with them during dives. It's like asking me to eat a puppy! I. Just. Can't!"
Dick cringed inwardly that her choice of words echoed those of the cook's assistant at the restaurant. "I'm surprised that you offered to take me to eat at a seafood restaurant, then."
"You made it a point to tell me how selfish I am," she grumbled, absent-mindedly holding a finger out in front of Earl. The lobster lifted a claw to her but didn't pinch her. Elle rubbed her finger along the edge of the claw gently and smiled at him. It was the damndest thing Dick had ever seen.
He swallowed, remembering how he had griped about the subject to her not so long ago. At the time, he supposed he meant it but then, he never realized how far her aversion went.
"I thought I could handle it. I didn't know Earl or any of the other shellfish on display. I never swam with the fish they were serving. I had hoped I could tough it out for the time it would take you to eat and we could get out of there," she mumbled. "I didn't want to be selfish and it seemed like such a simple thing at the time. I shouldn't have looked at them. I should have just gone straight to the table and closed my eyes."
To his surprise, a tear hovered a second on her lashes before dropping to splash onto the leg of her jeans. The material soaked it up instantly. Was she thinking about the other lobsters she had left behind? Dick found himself wondering how he would react going into a restaurant that served elephants and actually seeing the beasts before the slaughter.
Remembering his love of Eleanor, Haley's circus elephant that he had helped care for while a child, he thought he might have acted similarly if placed in the same situation . . .
"You can laugh at me," Elle grumbled. "I'm used to it. Aiden always liked poking fun at me for it. He still makes a habit of ordering seafood whenever we have to dine together at some stupid function we're forced to attend."
Startled to find Elle lumping him in with Aiden for any reason hurt. "I'm not going to make fun of you."
"You wouldn't believe how many times I went to bed without supper because Nona or Mama made seafood that night. Nono and Papa both agreed that it was ridiculous to make a separate meal just for me and sent me to my room because I was too selfish to eat what Mama and Nona had prepared for me," she told him. "It wasn't until I began to cook for myself that it stopped."
Dick winced at the word selfish.
"I'm a little surprised, being so soft-hearted, you aren't a vegetarian," he marveled.
She leaned up and gave him a soggy smile. "Maybe if I had had to do chores on a neighbor's farm, I would have. If I had named a chicken and then been forced to have him for dinner . . ." she shuddered dramatically.
"Your grandparents don't have a farm?"
"No. They own a vineyard. Nono makes wine. The business has run in the family for generations," she informed him. "Did I not tell you that?"
Dick shrugged. "If you did, it must have slipped my mind."
"Well, you'll be happy to know that I do not name grapes," she laughed. Elle stood up and, straddling his legs, planted herself in his lap.
"You'll be happy to know, I won't ask you to eat at anymore seafood restaurant with me," he declared. "I'll find an opportunity to go without you sometime when the craving gets bad," he said, winking at her.
"I'm sorry I couldn't do better," she said regretfully. "But you've made me extremely happy with Earl."
"I didn't know this dislike ran so deep," he told her.
"We still have a lot to learn about each other," she sighed. "I hope you won't find other things you don't like about me."
He kissed her. "As regretful as your dislike of seafood is, it doesn't make me like you less. After all, I don't share your love of marshmallows."
Elle blinked. "You don't like marshmallows? But Christmas . . .?"
"I didn't say I didn't like them," he clarified. "I said, I don't love them like you do."
She thought that over a moment and then smiled. "So, basically, what you're saying is, more for me!"
Dick laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's right."
"I can live with that," she grinned. Elle wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned down to reward him. Long minutes later, she tucked her head into the crook of his neck and murmured. "You are the best man I have ever met, Dick Grayson, and I am the luckiest woman in the world."
His heart warmed at her words, the bond ensuring that he understood that Elle had meant every single one of them. Dick scooped her up and carried her over to the bed.
"That deserves a reward," he told her.
Elle squirmed a little. "Afterwards. I don't know about you but I am starving!"
Dick blinked at the reminder. They hadn't eaten yet. He'd actually forgotten!
"What are you in the mood for?" He glanced at the clock. "It's too late now for most restaurants to still be open but I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind throwing together something for us."
Elle pouted. "Why would we bother Alfred when I'm right here. I cook, remember?"
"Yes, you do," he smiled.
He had missed her cooking. Other than making the occasional sandwich, Elle had only cooked once since they'd come back to the manor. Alfred's kitchen was his kingdom, however, and while he might consent to Elle assisting every so often, in that room, he ruled.
"I'll help clean up," he promised, setting her back onto her feet. He scooped up Mook from where he was crawling in the direction of the bed. "Oh no, you don't," Dick spoke to the tarantula, much like Elle did at times. He hadn't realized that behavior could be contagious. He placed Mook back into his terrarium. "There you go, buddy. You'll be safer in there."
Elle looked around the room. "How long are we going to stay here again?"
Dick shrugged. "Unsure. I think Bruce was hoping to find the person responsible for the contract before we moved out."
She sighed heavily. "And I screwed that up."
"Temporarily," he assured her. "But we'll be here for longer than previously planned because of this setback. Does that bother you so much?"
"Only that I don't have a kitchen of my own. I worked so hard to become independent and get out on my own . . . I didn't expect to be trading my father's home for your father's home." Frowning, Elle walked into the hallway that made up their wing and considered the space. "But perhaps we can do something to make our time here more palatable."
Dick followed her out and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.
"What are you thinking?" he asked suspiciously. Her mind was running several hundred miles an hour. He could see it from here.
"I'm thinking about a kitchen," she murmured.
He looked at the rooms that lined the hall that they hadn't touched yet. "You want to put a kitchen up here?"
She swung around and grinned at him. "I want to put in an apartment."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "An apartment?"
"I'll pay for it!" she exclaimed, growing excited. "Do you think Bruce would go for it? Would he let us remodel the wing and make it independent from the rest of the manor?"
Dick tilted his head as he thought about it. "I don't know. This place has been in his family for hundreds of years."
When a fire had struck the manor a few years ago, Bruce had driven the architect and the contractors nuts, wanting the details around the reconstruction of the wings affected to be identical to the original. There had been numerous hoops to jump through, and Dick suspected numerous hands greased (although he would never suggest it openly), to get the proper permits that allowed it as laws had changed over the centuries. Much of the manor's features had been grandfathered in. It had been a headache, but being a billionaire meant exceptions could be made. It was the only time Dick ever suspected Bruce of using his fortune to bend the rules. He'd never had the courage to ask the man about it, however.
She smirked at him. "I'm not suggesting he deed the wing to us. It would still be Wayne Manor but this would be a place of our own while we're here. We could stay in it anytime we came back to visit."
Dick crossed his arms. He had to admit, he kind of liked the idea. He, like Elle, had wanted his independence. It was the main reason he had moved out years ago, more so even than the arguments he and Bruce had been having. The manor was enormous. Dick could have continued to live off the man's largesse forever and never need see him if he didn't want to but Dick had craved being on his own and not beholden to anyone.
They were looking at a stay here of several months potentially. Elle's safety was worth the sacrifice of his independence but, as she pointed out, the illusion of their own space within the manor would make the stay easier. But would Bruce go for it? Or would the suggestion hurt his or Alfred's feelings? Despite what Dick had said numerous times in the heat of their arguments, he knew the man had feelings . . . and that they could be hurt. The two of them were getting along better than they had in years now and, although Dick didn't want to screw that up, he understood what Elle was asking and agreed with her.
As if she knew what he was thinking, Elle moved back to him and placed her hands on his chest. "I'll do the asking, okay? And if he says no, I won't say another word about it again."
It was amazing the relief he felt from such a little thing. A little humiliating as well but, thankfully, Elle didn't see his reluctance to ask as cowardice. She saw it as him wanting to preserve their relationship and, for that, he was grateful.
"Okay," he murmured as he kissed her. "But stop planning it in your head until after you see what he has to say."
She grinned. "Am I that obvious?"
"I'm just glad you don't know where the tools are stored," he quipped. "I could see you, sledgehammer in hand, demolishing the walls all on your own in order to get a head start."
"Don't be ridiculous," she told him but laughed with him.
He wasn't too off the mark, he had a feeling. They started walking to the kitchen together when his stomach rumbled. She took his hand, swinging their arms playfully as they traversed the stairs. It didn't take much to get his mind off Bruce and onto food. He might not be eating lobster, but Elle never failed to disappoint in the kitchen.
"Oh my God, what is that smell?"
The door to the kitchen eased open and Tim stuck his head through. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I thought you two were going out to dinner tonight?"
Dick was putting the freshly-made tortellini in a pot of boiling water as Elle stirred fried shallots in olive oil. She smiled in greeting as she added fresh spinach to the pan and added the heavy cream to the mixture.
"Change in plans," Dick told him. "You're back early," he added, noting the time was just half past midnight.
"Slow night," Tim said, setting his motorcycle helmet on the kitchen table. He tossed his gloves on top and walked over to look at what they were cooking. "What is that?" he asked with way too much interest.
Elle answered. "Chicken-Mozzarella tortellini with a spinach and cream sauce."
Tim eyes wandered over the flour covered counter. "Did you make the pasta from scratch?"
"Of course," Elle frowned at him. "That is the only way to make it."
"J-Just that it smells delicious," Tim finished lamely.
"There's more than enough here if you want to join us," Elle offered.
She sent an apologetic smile to Dick. He shrugged. It was the risk they'd take every time they wanted to use the kitchen, he realized. Suck a large house and yet there was no guarantee of privacy in the common areas. Yet another reason to talk to Bruce about turning their wing into a self-contained apartment. Perhaps, if they made it a condition for their stay?
The door opened behind Tim and Bruce walked in holding a lobster in hand, its claws opened and snapped in distress. Damian and Alfred followed.
"If you two are going to cook, you might make certain that your ingredients don't escape into the house proper," he told them.
Elle squeaked in surprise and ran towards the squirming shellfish. "Oh no! Earl escaped!" she exclaimed, gently taking the lobster from Bruce and cuddling it in her arms.
"Careful, miss," Alfred warned her. "It will pinch you if you hold it incorrectly."
When Alfred offered to take it for her, Elle turned a shoulder to block him. "No. He wouldn't do that. Dick, turn the fire down under the sauce and watch the tortellini. It will need to come out in another few minutes. I'll be right back," she said, leaving the startled butler in her wake.
"Where is she going? Isn't the water for the lobster?" Damian asked.
"The water is for the pasta," Dick clarified.
"I was under the impression that you two were going out for dinner," Bruce said as the door closed behind Elle. He looked to Dick for an explanation. "Did you run into trouble?"
Dick snorted in amusement. "Only if trouble just ran from the room with a live lobster in her arms."
"Explain."
Damian glanced back at the door confused. "I thought Elle didn't like seafood?"
"Indeed," Alfred nodded. He moved over to the stove to resume watching Elle's sauce for her. "What Master Damian said is true."
"Correction," Dick told them as he checked on the pasta. "Elle doesn't like to eat seafood," he said, emphasizing the difference. "She will, however, make a scene that requires me to rescue said seafood from the restaurant and bring it home as a pet."
"Wait! What?" Tim blinked. "Are you joking?" He looked behind him in the direction that Elle disappeared. "Tell me you're joking."
Bruce wandered over to look into the pot as Dick gathered a bowl and prepared to remove the stuffed pasta from the water. Dick sighed.
"It is one of those things one has to adjust to when one falls in love with a Atlantian, apparently," he announced. The whole thing was kind of funny now that he thought about it. He shrugged. "Or maybe it's just the Sirens that get emotionally-attached to shellfish."
"It sounds like you two had an interesting evening," Alfred commented as he turned the fire off beneath the skillet.
He couldn't help it. Dick started chuckling as he started moving the pasta from the water to the bowl Bruce held for him.
"While I was speaking to the maître-d, Elle wandered over to the tanks where they kept the fresh lobsters and crabs before cooking. I supposed I should have noticed that she was bonding with one of them before I chose to have it for dinner but, in my defense, I was hungry." Dick told them.
Bruce and Tim both made faces of comprehension but Tim followed it up with laughter. They knew immediately the turn his evening was about to take. Damian simply looked impatient although Alfred looked as if he were having trouble stifling a smile.
"Imagine my surprise when she burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant," Dick shook his head. "The assistant behind the tanks had to clue me in. I ended up rescuing the lobster and presenting it to her outside."
Damian frowned. "Are you attempting to pull our leg, Grayson?"
Tim gawked. "She cried . . . over the fate of a lobster?"
Bruce hummed. "I'd have cried at being forced to eat it."
"Yeah, well, I thought she'd dump it into the lake and we'd go to a different restaurant," he told them with a sigh.
"But?" Damian asked. There had to be a 'but' in there somewhere to explain the lobster's presence in the manor.
"'But'," Bruce added, "lobsters are salt-water creatures. It would have died in the freshwater of Lake Michigan."
"Yes, well, I know that now," Dick said. "But, if I continued to wish to remain a hero in her eyes, I had to make certain the lobster continued existing. So, we stopped by the 24-hour Carlmart on the way back and now there is a pink plastic swimming pool in our bedroom. I'll need to see about getting something long-term in the morning."
"You bought a lobster a kiddie pool?" Tim burst out laughing.
"From which it apparently escaped after we left it alone," Dick nodded.
"And all this," Bruce motioned to mess still covering the kitchen counters.
"We're still hungry," Dick admitted. "She made an anti-pasta salad but that alone didn't cut it, so . . ."
"Chicken-Mozzarella tortellini," Tim finished, swiping one of the pasta from the bowl and tossing it into his mouth. "Aah, hot!" he exclaimed seconds later, spitting the pasta back into his hand.
"Idiot," Damian scoffed. "He just took it out of boiling water!"
Dick took the skillet from Alfred and poured the spinach sauce over the pasta left in the bowl and then rinsed the pan before setting it into the sink.
"No worries, Alfred," he told the butler. "We'll clean up after ourselves. Now, enough about my evening. How was patrol? If you hadn't been back before we finished up here, I might have joined you."
"You weren't missing much," Tim said, blowing on his pasta. He was determined to eat it. "Just Killer-Croc making a mess down at the wharf."
He raised an eyebrow. "Where was this exactly? Elle and I were down on the boardwalk."
"Ooh, did you go to The Sea Shack?" Tim asked, changing the subject back to the couple's evening. "I heard that place was really terrific."
"You'll have to tell me about it, then," Dick muttered, as he tossed the pasta lightly in the sauce. He looked at the expectant faces around him and down at the tortellini. "Might as well get a plate if you want some."
Bruce picked one out of the bowl and blew on it. "I already had a sandwich when we got back." He popped the tortellini into his mouth as he moved to leave. Two chews in, he halted and looked back in surprise. "That's delicious!"
Tim was making noises as he, too, enjoyed his stolen piece. He quickly went to the cupboard and pulled out a plate. "I'll take some." Tim shoved the plate at his brother.
Dick blinked. "You act like you've never eaten her cooking before."
"That's because we didn't know how much of the meal she actually did herself," Tim told him. "Sorry, Elle," he apologized to the absent woman. "But we've never met anyone who could cook as well as Alfred before."
"I'll have you know, Master Timothy, on that particular day, I only made the salad," Alfred murmured.
"Here, Alfred," Dick handed a plate of Elle's chicken-mozzarella tortellini to the older man. "You have to try it, too."
The butler waved him off. "Nonsense. You and Miss Arabella made that meal for yourselves."
"She'd be hurt if you didn't at least try it, Alf," Dick put the plate into the butler's hands. "Go on. She always makes extra."
"Yes, please," Elle said as she reentered the kitchen. "I want your professional opinion. And don't spare my feelings."
Tim moaned around a mouthful as Bruce plucked another tortellini from the young man's plate. "Mm, are you going to open a restaurant, Elle? Please, say yes!" the teen begged.
She laughed as she took a plate from Dick. She looked pleased with her portion. "You didn't overcook it! Yay for you!" she exclaimed happily and gave Dick a quick kiss on the cheek. "No plans to go pro, Tim, no." She took a bite and smiled, satisfied with her and Dick's efforts.
"You're teaching Dick to cook?" Bruce asked.
"He's improved since the last month despite the lack of practice," she told him after she swallowed.
"Brave woman," Tim snorted in amusement but Dick didn't rise to the bait.
"Exceptional, Miss Arabella," Alfred complimented after a bite. "You are quite brilliant in the kitchen, if I do say so. Where did you study?"
"That's quite a compliment coming from you, Alfred" Elle smiled. "Actually, I learned under the tutelage of my grandmother. She was fond of dinner parties and I was expected to help out in the kitchen whenever I was in residence."
"It is very good," Bruce concurred. "Perhaps you should consider opening a restaurant."
"No. Thank you, but no. I only cook for family," Elle told them.
"Not half bad," Damian added once he had swallowed.
By this time Elle had figured Damian out enough to know that was his version of high praise. She obliged by spooning several more tortellini onto his plate. Bruce continued to refuse a plate and pick pasta off of the plates of those around him, studiously ignoring Alfred's scandalized expression.
"Watching your weight, Bruce?" Dick teased.
"Beware," he warned. "It gets harder as you get older to keep it off."
Elle tried to imagine what Bruce would look like without the crazy workout schedule he kept and choked. Dick obliged by pounding her on the back while Alfred rushed to hand her a glass of water. Tears were leaking by the time Elle got herself under control. She glanced around at the wide-eyed faces surrounding her and laughed.
"You all are so used to people getting shot or poisoned or beaten and something as mundane as choking on a piece of pasta freaks you out?" she giggled, the picture of a fat Bruce Wayne trying to worm his way into a Batman suit was still etched in the back of her mind.
"You have a strange sense of humor," Damian commented.
Elle wiped the tears from her eyes. "You have no idea, little man," she snorted.
Dick began washing dishes as Elle wiped counters. They had to shoo Alfred out of the kitchen as they bid the others good night. Damian paused by the door.
"Are you coming out with us tonight, Grayson, or are you going to allow yourself to become lazy and fat?" The boy asked, utterly serious.
"Oh, it is already tomorrow, isn't it?" Elle said, startled. She didn't know why she was surprised since everyone was back from patrol but the evening had flown by so quickly. Elle glanced over to see how Dick would answer the question.
"I can't tonight, Damian," he told the boy. "I have a previous engagement. Today is now officially Valentine's Day."
"What's that? And why would it prevent you from patrolling? Criminals seem to come out in greater numbers for holidays," Damian asked. "It is a holiday, I assume? There seems to be too many of them as it is."
Dick waited for Elle to rescue him but she just tilted her head. "It's a day celebrating . . . um, well, love," he explained.
"Love?" Damian scoffed. "You people made a holiday for that?"
Elle blinked huge eyes. "Well, don't look at me! I didn't do it!"
"You'll understand soon enough," Dick smirked.
Damian rolled his eyes. "Enough with the unspoken references to puberty, Grayson. I'm not one to wax sentimental over silliness. Being of a more sober nature than you, I wouldn't waste my time with such mawkish trivialities while crimes are being perpetrated."
The couple exchanged glances and Elle had to bite her cheek to keep from snickering. Damian didn't have a developed sense of humor to not be offended by their amusement. He wasn't fooled, however, and recognized the strain.
"Tt," he clicked his tongue at them and shoved out the door in a huff.
"He'll figure it out for himself soon enough," Dick grinned as he folded the dishcloth and hung it on the oven door to dry. "You finished?"
"I am now," Elle called out from the pantry where she was putting the flour away.
As they made their way back towards the foyer and the staircase, they spotted Damian hovering near the landing. He looked up as they approached.
"You should just boil him," the boy snarked, waving a hand. Earl was crawling along the carpet toward the next set of steps.
"How?" Elle exclaimed. She scooped the errant lobster back into her arms and hurried up the stairs. "We need to call about an aquarium first thing in the morning."
"You should have named him Houdini," Dick called after her. Of all the lobsters in the tank at The Sea Shack, he had to rescue the one who was an accomplished escape artist.
"Tt . . . You are so whipped," Damian said as he turned in the direction of his room in the opposite wing. "I'd have just eaten him."
"And that is why you will grow old, cold and alone," Dick told the boy but he, too, wondered if he shouldn't have just eaten the lobster.
Damian disappeared down the opposite hall, unconcerned with Dick's prophecy. And, why would he? Damian didn't like girls, yet. Dick smirked as he trotted toward his and Elle's bedroom. He would, though, and Dick just hoped he'd be around enough to see it.
Dick walked into the room to see Elle feeding Earl by hand. "What are you doing? Do you want to get pinched by him?"
"He won't pinch me, silly," she insisted.
Dick watched, prepared to help her pry the claws apart if necessary but, damned if she wasn't right. He frowned as he watched the lobster crawl up into an almost begging position and carefully remove the tiny krill Elle held on her hand for him . . . All of it accomplished without pinching.
Dick began to wonder if maybe she could communicate psychically with the lobster like Aquaman could but was just unaware of the talent. He didn't know how something like that worked. Obviously, the fish didn't have an actual language base, so it was possible that Elle was projecting her feelings onto the lobster without a conscious effort and the beastie was responding to her.
Very few had this ability, even among pure-blooded Atlantians. Aquaman, of course, as did Aqualad or Tempest as Garth was now called. His teammate and friend had outgrown his previous incarnation as had Dick. Tempest patrolled the seas and seldom came ashore anymore. In fact, it had been over three years since the two of them had seen one another. Dick made a mental note to include Garth in their wedding invitation that he would give to Aquaman.
Elle finished up by splashing a little briny water over Earl's gills and giving him a stroke down his back. The lobster appeared to enjoy her attention. How odd . . .
He moved over to the bed as Elle washed her hands before joining him there. She crawled in to cuddle with him. Elle was growing increasingly fond of cuddling the longer winter continued. The season had lost all its charm and she scooted up against him, using his body heat to warm her hands and feet. He jumped a little at the cold at first but soon they were both cocooned under the covers and toasty warm.
"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" he asked her.
"You mean, today? Everything is already set. First, we get Earl's aquarium and then we go to the karaoke bar." She murmured into his neck.
He tilted his head to make room for her to nibble. Weirdly, this has always tickled before but Elle had a technique that sent electricity rocketing through his body and down to . . . well, just down. He sighed with pleasure every time she would speak against his skin.
"Karaoke? Really? That's what you want to for Valentine's Day?" Hm, go figure . . .
She giggled and his body tightened as did his arms around her.
"I happen to like karaoke. And, I haven't sung in front of people in so long," she lamented.
He had to admit, it had been a while.
Elle continued. "And, we did promise Jason we would help him with his case."
The smile of contentment fell off of his face as his eyes flew open. Dick rolled onto his side and looked down at her in consternation. "That's today?!"
Her fingers traced over his lips teasingly. It tickled and he licked them.
"That's tonight," she clarified for him.
"Are you sure?" Maybe she got the date wrong . . .
"Positive. He called just before we left to confirm."
He dropped back onto the bed in annoyance and Elle took a turn leaning over him. "You should have let me talked to him," he grumbled.
"You're not changing your mind about going with us, are you?" she asked him.
He glared at her. "No! There's no way I'm letting you get anywhere near criminal activity without me there to protect you. Especially if you're singing! These guys deal in human cargo, sweetheart. I don't want them to get any ideas, you know? Your voice is like a dream. You'd make a valuable commodity."
"I'm sure between the two of you, I'll be perfectly safe," she assured him. "These sound like real scumbags and I'm happy to help distract them for a few minutes if it helps to bring them down and save lives," she declared firmly. "I want to help."
"I know you do but you have to promise that you will stay alert, and don't go to the bathroom by yourself," he told her.
Elle smirked at him. "One of you will be going to be following me into the restroom? You're not serious, are you?"
"Completely," Dick stressed.
"I don't think I could go with one of you guys in the room," she complained.
"Then you better go before we get there and hold when we do," he told her.
She frowned at him, pouting. He kissed her bottom lip, playfully.
"It wouldn't be Jason going into the bathroom with you, anyway" he said to make her feel better. "I'd be the one to accompany you."
She made a face. "That doesn't make it better."
He looked confused. "What's the problem? You use the bathroom when I'm showering sometimes."
"Yeah, but that's when you're showering! The water makes noise and the fan is running and you can't . . . you know," Elle cringed a little, "hear . . . stuff," she finished lamely, waving a hand in the air.
Dick burst out laughing.
She smacked his chest. "Oh, shut up! You guys are so disgusting! You all stand in a line and watch each other pee! You don't care about a woman's sensibilities."
"We don't watch each other pee," he chuckled. "Are you telling me women can't hear other women peeing in the stalls next to them?"
"That's different!" she insisted. "Those are other women. It still isn't comfortable, at least for me, but it's not like having to go in front of men!"
"Sweetie, we're getting married," Dick gaped at her. "We're bonded already and, frankly, my love, we've been in far more intimate situations than sharing a bathroom."
She blew out a breath in frustration. "You know nothing!"
"I know that if it bothers you that badly, you probably shouldn't drink much during the day," he said. Elle narrowed her eyes at him and Dick added to soothe her, "Okay, okay! If you have to go while we're there, I'll turn on the faucet for you."
Elle pursed her lips as she stared down at his amused face.
"My hero," she muttered sarcastically but she didn't balk when the hero in question decided to claim his reward early. Instead, she purred . . .
REACTIONS?
I missed you all. Looking forward to seeing how you like this chapter. Just a bit of silly before we have a bit of excitement.
(And if any of you think Elle's grandparents were mean, back in the day, this was a common thing if someone rudely refused to eat what had been prepared for dinner. You ate what your mother made or you didn't eat. My parents weren't being cruel, mind, there was usually plenty of other things to eat at the table but you through a fit and off you went. )
Oh, yes, and for those of you who like to remind me that Damian is a vegetarian, he didn't become one until the advent of Batcow. This hasn't yet happened in my story. He avoids some meats but eats chicken, turkey, and seafood at this time.