Jervis was... an affectionate drunk. More affectionate than was normal for him when lucid, far more than when 'mad'. The Goon bar Tazer literal hole in the wall, inside a dilapidated warehouse on the edge of Old Gotham Docks, the entrance hidden behind a dumpster. Technically, she needed the password to enter, but The Chef's reputation preceded her. Add in a Rogue was tailing behind in giddy bouncing steps, that wasn't an issue. It was more of a hassle to get the goons, many of whom she recognized from her diner leave her and Jervis alone for their date. Many ribbed her lightly, nudging her with lewd remarks, others stepped back, but kept close on on the pair. They knew Jervis wasn't always... calm.
And while The Chef could hold her liquor, half of which was shit she didn't order, goon after goon ordering for her, Jervis tried his best to keep up...
He was a lightweight.
An absolute lightweight!
But he was fun. Pulling her into a ridiculous dance, hanging off her as only drunks could, laughing when he stumbled, reciting poetry shoddily, slurring his words.
They ended up at a half burnt, cracked table, sitting on rusty halved oil barrels, playing cards with various goons. Some in Joker Purple, some in the black and white of Two-Face, there was even a talking plant named Frank, who roasted everyone at the table, The Chef included. Jervis did decent with poker, despite being drunk, The Chef dominating Bullshit. She had some practice in bullshitting, nowadays.
It was around four when she carried Jervis out, Mouse giving them a ride home.
And here she was, the worlds angriest teddy bear, held tightly by Jervis on her mattress. Arms locked around her waist, his legs entwined with hers. He slept in a fetal position. She hadn't even had the chance to kick off her shoes. In spite of the buzz, and the late hour, Alexandera stayed up, phone in her hand as she waited for her text.
A knock at her window.
Panicked, The Chef pulled the covers over Jervis, hiding him from sight, before turning her phones flashlight on, waving it at the window. The light passed over Damian, still in his uniform, and she watched as he cocked his head, questioning. The Chef answered by illuminating her middle finger, waving him off. He sat for a moment longer, before leaning back, falling off the fire escape. Alexandera felt her heart drop, even knowing he had that grappling hook.
She was putting him on dish pit, next time he came to the diner.
'Reckless show off'
She sent the text, then one to Marcus, letting him know she'd be out today.
Then, she wiggled herself into a comfier position, and fell asleep.
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The Chef woke to a cacophony of noises. Her phone was dinging with notification after notification, the sound of violent retching, and harsh knocking on her door. The sun was shinning far to bright than was legal in Gotham.
Heaving herself off the bed, The Chef wiped at her eyes, the sleep crumbs itching, and grabbed her phone, stumbling to the bathroom. Poor Jervis was hunched over the toilet, body convulsing.
"Hey, Jervis." She reached down, rubbing between his shoulder blades, as he whimpered, gagging.
"This is why I drink tea." The Chef couldn't stop the laugh, she didn't even try.
"I can see that. I'll go make ya something to help your stomach, okay? Try taking a cold shower, always helped me." Jervis nodded shakily, gagging again, though nothing came up. Closer the bathroom door, she made her way to her front door, opening it.
"A date?!" Edward barged in as soon as the door handle twisted, door scraping the side of her shoes, still on after falling asleep. "A date with Hatter?!"
"Good fucking morn-" The Chef looked at her phone, 1:26. "Good fucking afternoon to you, too. Do come in. Want some food?" Damn, she slept late.
"Do you realize how dangerous that was! Alone, with Hatter!" Edward tossed a taped box onto her couch with little care, before pacing the length of her living room. "Scarecrow filled me in, he was mad! He could hav-"
"Puzzles calm the fuck down!" The Chef huffed, rolling her eyes. "It was handled, I'm fine."
"You are smarter than that! You should know better!" Edward through his hands up, looking up at her, shaking his head in anger, before glaring at the floor, still pacing. "Hatter is almost as unstable as The Joker! He's arguably more dangerous, what with his fixation your 'His Alice'!" He pitched his voice high, mockingly.
"Dangerous? Dude, the entire client base to my diner is cons and dealers and goons. I'm technically harboring two wanted fugitives in my home right now, I am an accessory at the very least to fucking murder after my little torture vacation." The Chef reached under her dress, pulling out the vial from it's thigh holster. "I have a Class A bio weapon on my person at all times, and a fucking phone that is roaming probable cause! Don't fucking say shit about dangerous when all I wanted to do was run my fucking diner!" Alexandera tried not to shout, no need for Marcus to get a call from her neighbors. Edward stopped his pacing, mouth opening and closing as he thought and rethought his response, before he shoved his fists into the pockets of a green pullover hoodie she hadn't noticed him wearing, his mouth a thing tight line as he glared at her.
"You..." He grumbled petulantly, sounded more like a child than The Kid. "I... Ugh. I'm sorry." He sounded sick saying the word.
"Forgiven. Who the fuck pissed in your cheerios, anyway?" Edward huffed, turning his head away, unable to look at his.
"It's nothing." His nodded his head to the box on the couch. "That was at your door." He wandered into the kitchen, head down, muttering insults, and The Chef let him as she picked the box up, looking for the label, though there was none. She could hear her cabinets opening and closing sharply. Edward still bitching under his breath. Tearing the small box open, it only held two items.
A box of Plan B.
And a red origami bird.
"Where the hell is your vodka?" Edward came barging back into the living room, inspecting the empty bottles along her windowsill. Alexandera shoved the box into Edwards hands, as she opened the back of her couch, flipping the fabric so in hung over the backrest. "Clever girl."
"That old medic fuck and Marcus wouldn't let me drink." The Chef squatted down, pulling a mostly full bottle of vodka from the shelf. "Straight or chaser?"
"Cosmo. Whose this from?!" Edward held the Plan B in shock. "You didn't?"
"Not that it's you business, but no. Jervis can't hold his liquor, and I don't fuck on the first date." The Chef walked to her kitchen, and rummaged through her fridge, pulling out eggs and juice, she could hear the shower pipes running through the thin walls. "And it's from the fuck who nabbed me."
"I'm sorry, I believe I misheard you." Edward laughed in disbelief.
"Mmm, nah, you heard me. He sent his helmet while I was recovering from his shitty aim." The Chef poured a heavy amount of liquor into a canning jar. "Also, last night, on the way to Penguin's, the cab driver was on his payroll. Gave me a message and another little bird."
"Why didn't you tell us?!" Edward was yelling again, slamming his hand on the door frame in frustration.
"Didn't seem important." The Chef shrugged, a twinge a pain from the gunshot.
"Didn't seem- You! You! Infuriating woman! Stupid-" He cut his words off when she gave a side eyed glare. "UGH! I could have used a hair sample to try and find him!"
"He's smart, I checked, no hairs, and it smelled like bleach. He cleaned it before sending it. And that package was hand delivered. No address, and I bet if you dusted it, only our prints would show up."
"Why are defending him?" The Chef slid the cup to her side, offering it to Edward, before bending to grab a bowl big enough for shredded potatoes.
"I'm not. He's up to something, no doubt. But he ain't dumb enough to pull that shit again, how many people died again?" Edward didn't say anything, hissing at the burn of alcohol. "And I got constant supervision, he's trying to intimidate me. Us. Wash your hands." Edward strayed in the doorway a moment, before sighing, pulling the hoodie off, to reveal his usual vest and button down.
"You are too frivolous with your life." Edward rolled his sleeves up, sighing. "What am I doing?"
"Scrambled or omelets, either works." The Chef grabbed potatoes from her lower cabinets, shredding for hash browns. Something greasy and filling for Jervis. "I trust y'all. You and the assholes that keep my diner going. I know y'all have my back." It was quiet in the kitchen. The pipes rushing with the sound of water, the faint sound of retching.
"You... You look lovely." Edward whispered, The Chef almost didn't hear him. Alexandera forgot she was still in the beautiful white dress.
"Thanks, Puzzles. Mind passing the salt?"
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Jervis ended up staying the night again, poor thing still dealing with a wicked hangover, throwing up at least three pots of tea. He at one point wailed he may never drink tea again. The Chef grimaced in commissary, memories of her teenage self in her early drinking years surfacing. Edward left shortly after eating, annoyed at Jervis's mood. Her day consisted of being a human plushie to Jervis, he was unwilling to let her go for long, as they watched easy to digest movies. Mostly Disney, but she did sneak a Ghibli film in. He was fond of Ponyo. He passed out quickly after his draining day, finally stomaching an easy meal of grilled cheese and Tylenol. Tucking him into her blankets, and using a pillow as a body decoy, The Chef fell into her couch with a sigh.
Jervis was sweet, but damn, she hadn't had to babysit someone with a hangover since Gene. She forgot how tiring it could be. It didn't help that he had a killer headache, and it appeared someone was moving in next door. Heavy thuds and footsteps tracked back and forth in the hall. Someone was finally gonna buffer her and the dealer down the hall. Sucks to suck, new guy was gonna hear them fighting now. A knock at her window, and The Chef craned her neck back, waving at Damian as she watched him upside down. Instead of leaving like usual, he knocked again. The Chef shoulders dropped in annoyance.
"I just sat down, Kid." She mumbled to herself, heaving herself back up. Walking to the window, she opened it. "You good?"
"Did you use a condom?" The Chef bristled, tensing up at his 'greeting'.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Brat!" She slammed the window closed, running her hand through her hair. He was smirking at her reaction. She flicked him off, closing the blinds. "Little Shit!" She yelled at the window, hearing his laughter. Smart ass fucking brat! It seemed her sex life was the topic, if the texts from Harley and the lewd innuendos from the Diner's twitter account were anything to go off of. She had texted Marcus to threaten a twenty percent up charge at any mentions of her love life. Her phone had stopped buzzing twenty minutes after she sent that text.
Settling into her couch again, she laid down, planning on doing some reading before bed, her little pile of manga dwindling down. She made it through two before she passed out herself.
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She woke with a start, jolting at the feeling of something on her forehead. Jervis was hovering over her, face bright red as he stuttered. It smelled like Irish Breakfast tea.
"Dear! I-I-, it's-, I'm sorry!" Jervis was rubbing his hands together nervously. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to bother you! I should have asked!" The Chef blinked tiredly, brain catching up.
"Jervis, you're fine... You heading out?"
"Y-yes. I assumed you'd need... I apologize for my behavior... the past few days..." Jervis looked so downcast.
"Jervis I had a great time." The Chef gave a small grin, pushing herself up. Jervis fretted, hand hovering to help, but not touching. "We should do it again, just... stick to maybe two drinks." That got him to giggle.
"Trust me, I don't believe I'll be touching anything distilled for some time." Jervis's face pinched, eyes darting a moment. "I made you tea..."
"Thank you." The Chef looked at her phone, she would need to charge it when she got to the diner. "It's still pretty early, you gonna be good to get home?"
"Yes, the earlier I leave the better, would hate to be caught by the Jabberwocky." The Chef narrowed her eyes at his phrasing, he held his hands up in appeasement.
"Batman! Batman..." Alexandera nodded in understanding. He wasn't in Wonderland. "May... May I have a hug, before I leave?" Huffing in a laugh, The Chef held her arms open.
"Sure." He latched on quickly, holding her tightly. "I'll be sure to get some clothes in your size, just in case you stay the night again."
"I do apologize for... the mess." He was referring to the vomit in the shower.
"Ah, I've dealt with worse. You don't even wanna know." The Chef was the first to pull back. "Go. Be safe, text me when you get to... where ever the hell your lair is set up."
"It's not a lair!" The Chef shook her head at his indignant tone, laughing.
"Sure it's not. Go on." Jervis smiled at her, and leaned in, kissing her forehead.
Oh... that's what woke her up.
Her ears and neck felt hot.
Jervis gave a Cheshire grin at her blush, proud, and left, quietly closing her front door.
Well... That was...
Standing, The Chef stretched, joints popping, scar twinging as she shuffled to the still steaming tea pot. Her window rapped, but The Chef was still miffed at the Kid, she just reached a hand through the side of the blinds, flicking off Damian again. She could hear his laughter through the window. Rolling her eyes, she checked her phone. Another text from Harley, just a winking face, an eggplant, and a kissing face. The Chef sent a '-_-' back.
Someone knocked on her front door. The Chef didn't even think.
"It's open!"
It took a minute, before she heard the handle twist.
"Did you forget something?" The Chef didn't look up, thinking Jervis may have left something behind.
"Umm..." She didn't recognize the voice, and whirled around, grabbing the mug off the table, ready to throw the cup at the intruder. "I... Oh! It's you!"
Head poking through a crack in the door, was a dark haired man, eyes striking and jawline sharp.
"Who the fuck are you?" The Chef growled out, mug posed to throw.
"It's me! Todd, from the sushi restaurant! You taught me how to read those comics!" He smiled, teeth straight and gleaming white. "I'm your new neighbor! I heard the door, and thought I'd ask for a screwdriver, I need one for my bed frame."
Jesus fucking Christ. Some fucking newbie, not in the know. You don't ask strangers for help in Gotham, especially this close to the Narrows. She lowered the mug back to the table.
"No, no tools. Hardware store is off of Quincy, but it don't open for a few hours." The Chef glared at the smiling idiot.
"Oh... Well worth a shot. It was cool seeing you again, neighbor! I'll, uhh... get outta your hair. Bye." He started to pull his head from the entrance, but stopped. "Umm... maybe you should lock your door? Never know what kinda crazy could be out here." He laughed, and then left, closing the door.
Great... Just great... A fucking goody-two shoes.
Maybe she could scare him off?
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'Hey bitch. Tuesday night. Midnight. Out past Old Wayne Manor, in the woods. Wear that sacrifice dress.'
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Jervis: *Huggles and kissies* =3
The Chef: What the hell is this? Genuine affection? Disgusting.
Jervis: =(
The Chef: Bitch, I didn't say stop.
Jervis: =D