Surprises let you know we care... Too bad there were many people who hate surprises...
The Joker wasn't much of a man for apologies. Well, on very, very, very, very rare occasions, and usually those sparse moments were saved for Harley. So now the Joker sat at his desk, his loyal Bob waiting near the door, looking through a Victoria Secret catalogue Harley had left lying on the desk.
"Say Bob, What do you think?" The Joker held the magazine up, open to a rather nice spread for a push up bra collection. Bob glanced briefly to the page before looking to his Boss.
"I think Harley would love it." The Joker's grin fell somewhat.
"It's not for Harley..." The Joker let the booklet fall from his grasp. "It's for my bestie." Bob cocked his head.
"I think you should get black, if it's for Batman." The Joker hooted a laugh, slamming his desk harshly.
"I didn't think of that. Remember that for me." A tear was wiped away. "No I meant my other bestie. Alex the Chef." Bob gave a quiet 'oooh'.
"I don't know, Mr. Joker. She doesn't seem like someone who would appreciate frilly things." Bob leaned against the wall some. "Besides, if Harley found out, she may take it the wrong way."
"Well damn." The clown leaned in his swivel chair, twirling the chair in slow circles. "Bob what kind of gift do you think would say 'I'm sorry I held a gun to you, and threatened to kill you. I promise the next time the gun won't be loaded.'" Bob, a man of many talents and great thoughts, was at a loss.
"I'm sorry, sir. You already overhauled the diner, that's a big gesture in of itself." The Joker hummed, the low grumble harmonizing with the squeaking of the chair. "Whatever you do think of, sir, I'm sure she'll appreciate." Even if it was a lie for her life. The Joker had stopped spinning, now gazing out the window at the decrepit ruins of The Fun House.
"Bob, when's the last time Chefie had a vacation?" Bob couldn't help but think when he was due for one.
"I don't know, Boss." The Joker gave his best Cheshire Grin. He needed some info, and there was only one person in Gotham with better connections than him...
Damien tried his best not to roll his eyes at the screaming children around him. Well perhaps not screaming, but they were being quite loud, and in public no less while their respective guardians allowed their offspring to run around with little to no supervision. Alfred seemed unfazed as he handed a cheque to the cashier in the toy store, with instructions on where to make the delivery and to keep the hidden benefactor a secret. Bruce's latest charity would be on the 6 o'clock news no doubt. The youngest Wayne doubted he could feel any more relieved than he did in that moment when Alfred began to walk away from the horde of screaming children. The Gotham Mall was packed with droves of last minute holiday shoppers, and the tension was thick as people tried to ge tthe last of stock gifts that were left in the shops. More desperate than a man in the desert searching for an oasis.
"Do you have any idea's, Master Damien, on what to get Miss Fox?" The bags laden on Alfred's arms did nothing to slow his stride. Damien pondered the question for a moment.
"I was hoping to stop by the book store, the one near the fourth floor. Then the record store." It was well known that you could find anything in Gotham's six story mall. From caskets to candy to cars. Hopefully the book store would have in stock what he was thinking to purchase.
"Very well, Master Damien." Alfred stepped onto an escalator, Damien close by his side. "If I may ask, what are you hoping to find?" The butler was curious, for many reasons.
"Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Lady Alexandera once commented her envy towards one of her culinary teachers at having a second edition. I hope to find a first for her." Alfred's brow raised, impressed.
"Master Damien that would a an incredibly difficult find. Most are held in prized collections, and very rarely are sold on the market." Damien nodded.
"I understand that. I did some research, and found one for sale to 2,000 dollars. However, the shipping would bring it after Christmas." There was unmasked annoyance in the boy's voice. "I'm hoping the curator of the shop may have some lead on where to buy one and have it in time to present to Lady Alexandera." Alfred smiled, impressed at the boy's initiative and thoughtfulness towards his friend.
"And the music store?"
"Lady Alexandera like's Queen." Alfred kept quiet at the admission. He had never seen Damien take interest in another person, unless they were a target during his nightly activities. The crowd was much thinner here on floor four, most of the shops catering to more eclectic tastes. The bookstore took up a rather large corner of the hall, the smell of paper strong, as people milled about, their shuffling of feet mixing with the shuffling of pages. Damien wasted no time, striding up the the counter and ringing a bell on the counter. An elderly women, much older than Alfred, rose from behind the counter, back still hunched as she looked at the young boy before her, glasses magnifying her eyes to incredible size.
"May I help you?" Her voice was whispery and thing, like the tomes surrounding them.
"Yes, I am looking for a first edition Mastering the Art of French Cooking. If you have it, or know anyone who does I'd like to purchase it with haste." The elder woman blinked her large eyes owlishly, mulling the words the boy said in her head.
"That is quite the request young man, one I'm afraid I cannot grant here." The woman held a sad lilt in her voice, seemingly sad at her inability to help. Damien pressed on.
"Do you know anyone who would have it? I need it before the holiday comes."
"I'm afraid I only know of one copy, but it's not for sale." Damien's eye narrowed.
"Where is it?"
"It's one of my sister's. Our mother had a copy, and passed it down to her." The woman smiled warmly. "It has great sentimental value, I doubt she would part with it."
"I could buy a different copy and have it shipped to her, in addition to buying her copy for it's market value." Alfred stepped in and placed a hand on Damien's shoulder, knowing a losing battle when he saw one.
"Young man, I can see you desperately want that book, but the Devil himself couldn't offer a deal sweet enough for her to part with that book." The woman smiled still, folding her hands on the counter top. Damien acquiesced.
"I thank you for your assistance, Ma'am, and apologize for taking up your time." Damien held his hand out to shake her hand, to which the elderly woman took, her soft hands cool to the touch.
"You have no need to apologize. I hope you find what you're looking for." Damien nodded and turned heel, walking away with dignity despite his aggravation. Alfred piped up.
"I'm sure we'll find a suitable replacement at the music shop, Master Damien." Damien huffed.
"It won't be enough." That one sentence betrayed just how young Damien was. He grumbled the words under his breath but there was a telltale sign of a whine.
"It's one of the hardest lessons to learn, Master Damien, for someone with your wealth, that money cannot always the best of things." Alfred gazed down at the boy by his side, imploring him to listen to his words. "Sometimes the richest of gifts are paid for not in money, but with intentions and actions and time." Damien was silent, absorbing the wisdom Alfred had imparted on him.
"What do you plan on giving her?" It was a quiet curious voice, speculative. Alfred grinned.
"A new knife set." Perhaps his own knife would reappear after the new year began.
Jervis Tetch was absolutely ecstatic. He had texted Alice an invitation to tea on Sunday at her shop. Her store was always closed to the public on that day, but she was always there working on something, so he knew she would be free. Her response had come sometime later but it was a yes, and The Hatter quickly began to make his selection on his gift. He was worried he would be too busy to give her her present on Christmas day, so he opted for an early exchange, but now came the hard part. He was partial to top hats, but that wouldn't suit his sweet Alice's face. A derby hat would do nicely, but that was a part of Edward's signature look, and the idea of her imitating him made him... uneasy. He skipped over the beanies, those were too unbecoming of anyone, despite their popularity. Walking past the rows of shelves, The Hatter began to feel somewhat despondent. Nothing seemed good enough for his Alice, either it was much too fancy, or too dour. It came to him three hats from the last, a black unassuming thing settled on a mannequin's head. Yes... That would nicely.
Alexandera pulled the scones from the oven. Orange and ginger permeated the kitchen, an underlying scent of clove wafting through the heat. There was already a kettle on the stove, waiting for to boiled for tea. Pulling the parchment paper off the hot sheet pan and onto a waiting cookie rack, the Chef sighed. She didn't mind Jervis stopping by for tea, quite the opposite, she was actually looking forward to it. He was the easiest Rouge to deal with, hands down, but she grimaced when she thought of the text he had sent her. He had called her Alice again. She could deal with Alex from him, knowing it would be the best she could get out of him, but he had crossed the line. And she had to make good on her threat from before. It didn't look bad on her, per se, but it was different. Not bad, just an adjustment. Maybe she should have gotten a lip piercing instead. She entertained the idea for only a moment, remembering the one time she wore a gold necklace in school. She had a an elegant script branding on her throat for two weeks that said 'Fuck Off', when she opened an oven set to 450 degrees. It hurt like a bitch, but she did meet her...
The back door opened, the howling of wind rushing through the kitchen, chilling the once warm utopia.
"Oh Alice! It smells absolutely delightful in here." The back door slammed shut, echoing through the kitchen. "I do hope you enjoy this new chai I picked up, it's become one of my- ALICE! Your hair!" The Hatter jaw dropped as he turned the corner, the bag in his hand dropping to the floor. Leaning against her prep space, the chef cocked a brow, grinning at the reaction.
"Told you, Jervis. You call me Alice again I'll dye my hair blue." Indeed it was blue, a deep denim blue that made her skin appear paler than what it really was. Not that the chef really cared. The Hatter spluttered for a moment,
"I-, had I really- I could have sworn-..." Jervis's expression fell from shock to bashfulness. "I'm sorry, Alex, I hadn't realized my slip up. I will do my best to not do so in the future," His crestfallen look made the chef feel some small guilt in her enjoyment at his expense, if only for a moment.
"Oh, come on. It can't look that bad." The Hatter jerked his head up.
"No! That's not what I meant. It's quite fetching on you really! I only-" Okay, the compliment was too much. The Chef halted him, holding her hand up.
"Don't worry about it. I was trying to joke. Come on," Alexandera grabbed the cooling rack of scones. "I just turned the stove on, the water should be ready soon." The Hatter rushed to hold the swing door open, not that the Chef needed him too, but it was polite, before grabbing his dropped bag.
"I hope you've been well, Alex." The Hatter broached, sitting down across from the Chef who sat cross legged in her chair. "I brought some goodies with me today."
"Chai, right?" Alexandera grabbed a still hot scone, biting into it with no worries for the heat, as only someone with years of cooking experience could have.
"Yes, it's a star anise spice chai." He pulled a round metal tin from his bag, popping the top off before extending it to the Chef. "It smells divine!" Jervis watched as his Ali-Alex leaned forward, her now blue hair held aside by one hand as she sniffed the contents of the tin. She appreciated tea just as much as him, and he noticed she scrunched her nose in the most adorable way when she smelled a new tea.
"Hey, that'll pair good with these," The Chef shook the treat in her other hand. "they're ginger orange." She glared slightly at the tray. "I thought I had currants to go in them, but they're gone."
"Oh I bet they'll be delightful regardless." The kettle in the kitchen began to whistle.
"Be right back." With the Chef walking away, Jervis pulled a brightly wrapped gift that took up the rest of the bag, placing it on the table eagerly. When Alexandera returned she didn't miss the large box, or the bright look on Jervis's face.
"What's with that box?" Alexandera began to pour hot water into their mugs.
"It's your Christmas gift. I figured since I'd be here today, I'd give it to you now, as opposed to giving it to you after Boxing Day." The Chef froze.
"Christmas Gifts?" It was still for a moment. "Fuck me." The Hatter jumped in his seat.
"What?! I- oh, um, I uh, didn't think, oh dear, the time." The Chef cast a deadpan gaze to the fidgiting man. His blush reaching down his neck.
"Jervis, calm down it wasn't a request." The Hatter visibly relaxed, but the Chef saw the easy opening. "It was an order." Vermillion would be an adequate comparison to the mans facial colour.
"Alexandera!" The Chef gave a smug smile, happy he had actually used her full name instead of the nickname.
"Yeah, that's what you'll be screaming."
"Dear Lord, woman!"
"That, too." Alexandera laughed as she scooped a small amount of tea into one of her defusers. "I'm joking, Jervis."
"That's not the kind of topics one discusses at Tea!" The Hatter tried his best to sound undaunted by her words, but the red of his face negated the attempt. "Why on Earth would you say such things."
"Eh, it's fun for me. But really, you reminded me that I need to figure out gifts for you all." The Chef placed Hatter's mug before him, taking another bite from her scone. "I honestly didn't think to get you gifts, it's been years." The Hatter frowned,at her words and at the fact she was taking with food in her mouth.
"You really have been alone for some time now, haven't you?" It upset him that she seemed unfazed by it.
"I'm the most social I've been, since Joker came into my life. I'm still getting used to it." Alexandera gestured to the box. "Am I opening that now?" Jervis slid the gift to her.
"Please do!" Paper was torn away, a cream box lie under the red of the paper. The Hatter tried not to bounce in his seat as Alexandera lifted the lid. She gave a crooked smile.
"I should have guessed you got me a hat." She lifted the black newsboy cap from its confines, turning it over in her hands to inspect it. "It looks good, Jervis."
"I made it sometime ago, and when I saw it I knew it would suit you." He was delighted when she placed it on her head, a perfect fit. "I do hope you like it."
"Yes, Jervis, I like it." The chef gave a rare full smile, her teeth bared and lips stretched wide crookedly. "I'll try to take care of it." But she made no guarantees. She had said that about her coat many years ago.
Bruce sat in front of his computer, reading the reports and statements coming in about a new criminal on the streets. It bothered him that despite the petty dealers and thieves picked up, none of them could give a solid answer on who was running the gang. Whoever it was he was smart and careful. He would slip up, they always slipped up. The Batcave was as silent as the man in the chair, whose cowl was pulled back and hair still damp from sweat. Alfred came down with a tray of food and painkillers. He could see Bruce's deep expression as he scanned the articles, lost in his thoughts.
"Penny for your thoughts, Sir?" Bruce turned his head, watching as Alfred walked past the giant penny standing on it's edge.
"Very funny, Alfred."
"It was a play on words with my name, Sir." Alfred placed the tray down. "My humour always goes over most peoples head." Bruce smiled lightly, amused at the sass.
"How did today go?"
"Well, Sir. Despite my warning to not disclose your name when setting up the toy donation, Miss Vale had him on the news for his five minutes of fame."
"And Damien?"
"Quite disheartened at his loss today, in getting his first choice of gifts." Alfred placed a plate of pork chops next to the mouse Bruce was using. "He is currently upstairs, locked away in his room working on something." Bruce stopped his work clue hunting, turning fully to Alfred.
"What do you think, Alfred?"
"A great many things, but the foremost is that you need to eat, Sir." Alfred didn't miss a beat, striking quickly. Bruce picked up the plate.
"I mean about Damien's association with Fox. He's smart, and would have found something on her by now." Alfred clasped his hands behind his back.
"As I said before, Master Bruce, I don't believe he cares." Alfred thought a moment, before continuing. "I think that he is enamoured by her, much like a child does for an older siblings friend, or babysitter." Bruce cocked a brow.
"You think he has a crush on her?" Alfred nodded.
"Nothing large, but definitely a small one. I remember a young man from my past who had a crush on one of our maid's daughter." Bruce chuckled, knowing the butler meant him. "Her attitude towards him is vastly different from how most others treat him, and her blatant honesty must be refreshing to hear after so many dealings with your elite friends."
"He has a jacket with her company logo on it." Alfred picked up on the question hidden in the statement.
"Ah yes, I'm not sure of the full details, but I think Damien attempted to gather intel on Miss Fox, assuming she was away. He was caught, and she assumed him a thief. Her treatment of him that day may be why he sees her in a favorable light." Bruce furrowed his brow.
"She lied the other day, covering for him." Bruce met eyes with Alfred, chewing thoughtfully. "I asked him about it, and before Damien could answer, she said something about him stealing her time." Alfred smiled, slightly disappointed at missing the interaction.
"I think she likes him, too, in her own way. They taken well to each other. She has defended him from his brother's taunts, in her own way. They have the same disposition towards the world, Sir."
"It's good he's socializing, but what happens if we do find something on her." Bruce clicked on an icon on his screen, a file popping up on the chef. "Her record is clean, but if we do find something on her..." Bruce trailed off.
"Sir, in my many years of life, I have come to learn that coincidences do happen. She is stationed in the Narrows." Bruce frowned. Alfred was right, but his gut was always right too. Something else was going on with the chef.
Joker had picked up her boys for whatever job Joker had planned today, which left Alexandera alone in her shop. Her usual clientele were patient as she bustled to take their orders and serve them, but thankfully it was slower than usual. Soups and hot sandwhiches were on the menu today, and the first huge stock pot was nearly empty.
"Alright fuckers, last call on the bisque before I pull out the gumbo." A small war began as men verbally fought over who got the last bowl. While the brutes fought, a squirrel of a man meekly raised his hand, and asked her directly for the bowl. The chef smirked, nodding and walked into the kitchen. The bustle in her lobby was amusing as the men taunted each other and tried to give their best reason as to why they should have the soup, it made the chef laugh quietly to herself. Her door bell rang through the din in her store.
"Hey, it's the kid!"
"Sup, little man!"
"Mama Chef's in back."
"Kid, tell Pancha here I get last soup."
"Nice sweatervest!" Alexandera slapped the back of Smith's head as she walked by. "Ow! I meant it! It wasn't a dig!" The Chef gave her best 'Fuckin' really' face, before setting the soup down in front of Mouse. Grumbles of discontent rang out, upset they didn't get the last bowl. Last bowl was always free.
"Hey Alfred. What's up, Smokebomb." Alexandera wiped her hands on her apron, shaking hands with the Butler before giving a light punch to Damien's shoulder.
"Lady Chef, are you awar-"
"I'mma stop you right there, Kid." Alexandera held her hand up. "Yes my hairs blue. I can rock it. Next order, please."
"We have come to give you Christmas gifts." The Chef ran a hand over her hair.
"Ah hell, didn't think ya'll would, too." Damien cocked his head to the side.
"Is something the matter? If you would prefer to do this on a different day, or have religious reas-" Alexandera shook her head.
"Nah, it ain't that, I just couldn't think of- well you know what, come in back." The Chef beckoned them to follow, turning heel to her office. "Tazer, make sure nothing breaks!"
"No promises, Mama Chef." Alfred and Damien followed the woman into the back of the kitchen, making their way to the woman's tiny office. She was crouched on the floor, opening her safe.
"May I inquire as to what your doing?" Damien refrained from peeking over her shoulder to see the code.
"So I haven't done this whole gift thing in years, and kinda forgot that this was what normal people do." The Chef's tone was light. "I got an idea though, on what I can give you." Damien thought on her words.
"Why wouldn't you have participated in gift giving?" Alexandera stood, holding something behind her back.
"Kid, you and Alfred are my first friends in years. Why would I waste money on gifts if I had no one to give them to?" Alfred felt a tinge of pity towards the blonde. He remembered when Bruce was young. Damien on the other hand stood straighter. This was the first time Lady Chef had outright called him a companion, and it set his mind racing. Alexandera thrust a book in Damien's direction. "Here."
Damien grabbed the worn book before reading the title.
"The Winnie-the-Pooh Cookbook?" Damien looked to the woman quizzically.
"Look, your way too good to be learning from that book, but it means a lot to me." The Chef scowled, hating being sentimental. "That book right there is the whole reason I became a chef." Damien opened the cover, the first page had LExiE written in crayon. "I've had it since I was five." As Damien flipped through the pages, he noticed many of the recipes had multiple shakey checkmarks next to the ingredients, and other childish doodles on the margins of the pages, stains on every page.
"Lady Chef, why would you give this to me?" It wasn't a hostile question, and the way he asked it made Alexandera smile.
"Come one, Kid. Every apprentice learns a secret from their teacher. You just learned I love Winnie-the-Pooh." Alfred placed a hand between Damien's shoulders blades.
"Thank you, Lady Chef. I will ensure it is well cared for." Damien gently cradled the book in his arms, before looking to Alfred. The butler held a festive bag towards the Chef she hadn't noticed earlier. "These are our gifts to you." The Chef grabbed the offered bag.
"I'll have to get you something later, Al." Alfred watched her pull the first box out. This was Damien's gift, and even he didn't know what the boy had done. The Chef lifted the lid and looked at a plainly bound book. Lifting it she open the page and was met with elegant writing and a recipe for something called kabsa, the next page had something called matchbous. "What is this?" The Chef asked in wondering scanning page after page.
"These are recipes I saw my mother cook when I was young." Damien replied, not noticing the double take Alfred gave him. "I did my best to remember the recipes as I saw then, and wrote them down for you."
"You made me a cookbook?"
"It's seemed appropriate." Alexandera grinned at the cocky tone, before she swooped down to give him a quick one armed hug.
"Thanks Kid, this means a lot to me." Damien fought a blush.
"You have another gift. Please open it." He didn't like the close proximity, even with his budgeoning delight. The woman pulled away and reached in for the second and final box.
"This from you?" She asked looking to Alfred.
"Yes Ma'am, I figured you might need this." Alexandera opened the box, silent as she looked at the knife, then laughed.
"You caught me!"