Larry's not sure how long he sat there, hand on his cheek and eyes far.

A kiss. An actual kiss. Not her usual cheek semi-kiss, the kind she gave him to say hello or goodbye in that casual, Penguin way of hers. No, this had been different.

He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against the cool leather of the steering wheel. His fingers gripped it loosely as he stared down at his legs, his breathing uneven. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, a steady, thudding rhythm that only seemed to grow louder the more he thought about it.

She kissed him. Like… kissed him.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, trying to make sense of the whirlwind in his chest. His lips twitched into a crooked smile despite himself. "Damn it, Penguin," he muttered, voice soft and fond.

For a moment, he let the thought hang in the quiet of the truck, the only sound the faint rumbling of the engine as it idled. His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, and a wide grin started creeping across his face before he could stop it. It wasn't just the kiss — though, holy hell, the kiss — it was the way everything today had felt so... perfect. Like it was all falling into place without him even realizing it.

His forehead pressed harder against the wheel as he replayed it all, his heart thudding faster with every little detail that popped into his head. The way she'd slipped her hand into his, like it was the most natural thing in the world, even if only by accident. The way her cheeks flushed when he laced their fingers together, that shy little grin making his chest ache in the best way. The way she didn't let go, not even once, all the way to her house.

And then she kissed him.

"Holy shit," he said out loud, his breath hitching as his hand drifted back up to his cheek. His grin widened, sharp and boyish, as his fingers brushed the spot where her lips had been. His heart was racing again, pounding so loud he swore it could be heard outside the truck.

He leaned back against the seat, a huff of breathless laughter escaping him. This wasn't her being shy or leaving hints. This was her taking a chance, stepping out on a ledge, and hoping he'd catch her.

His fingers tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel, the giddiness bubbling up in his chest until it spilled over.

He couldn't believe it — she'd kissed him. Penguin, his Penguin, kissed him.

He let out another breathless laugh, shaking his head. "Man, I'm really losing it."

It took him a moment to notice the truck was still idling, the low rumble of the engine vibrating beneath him. A quick glance at the clock made his stomach drop.

How long had he been sitting there?

His grin faltered, embarrassment prickling at the back of his neck. If she peeked out her window and saw him still here, parked in her driveway and staring into space like an idiot… yeah, that'd be awkward.

With a groan, he finally shifted into reverse, the truck rolling back out of her driveway and onto the street. The drive home was a blur. He couldn't focus on the road, couldn't think about much besides the warmth of her hand in his, the way her lips lingered on his cheek. It was honestly a miracle he didn't hit a curb.

When the apartments finally came into view, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Relief flooded him as he pulled into the parking lot, the familiar sight grounding him just a little. But when he stepped out of the truck, his legs wobbled more than he wanted to admit. Seriously? She had him this shook? He leaned on the hood for a moment, hands gripping the cool metal as he tipped his head back to stare at the night sky.

"Get it together, man," he huffed, running a hand through his hair.

The walk to the building felt longer than usual, his thoughts swirling as he navigated the dimly lit hallways. By the time he reached the elevator, he caught himself tapping his fingers against his leg, the restless energy refusing to fade.

When he finally approached his apartment door, he paused, pressing the heels of his hands to his face. He could feel the goofy grin still plastered there, and it made him cringe, even if the happiness bubbling in his chest was impossible to contain. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open and headed straight for his room.

The second he closed the door behind him, he let his head thump back against the wood, his eyes shutting briefly as he exhaled. In the safety of his room, there was no one to judge the ridiculous, ear-to-ear smile that stretched across his face.

A breathless laugh escaped him, pushing out before he could even think to suppress it. If someone had told him this morning that Penguin would kiss him, he'd have laughed in their face and told them to stop messing around. Yet here he was, grinning like a complete idiot, teetering dangerously close to breaking into a full-on giggle fit.

He twisted his bracelet absently with his free hand, watching it spin in lazy circles around his wrist. The sight brought back a flood of memories. His chest ached in that same stupid, wonderful way it always did when he thought about her gifts. And now, on top of that, there was the kiss.

His heart stuttered, and he groaned, loud and long, dragging his hands down his face.

"You okay, Larry Face?"

The groan pitched into a very manly shriek as he jumped, his hands flying down to his sides as his head snapped toward the voice.

Sally Face.

He was lounging on the couch, his posture relaxed but his head tilted curiously. His prosthetic dangled loosely in his hands like he'd just been about to put it on, his thumb brushing idly along the edge. The way he was looking at Larry — head cocked, one eyebrow raised — had embarrassment prickling at the back of his neck and heat crawling up his face.

"Dude," Sally started, his tone somewhere between confused and amused, "what the hell's got you all jumpy?"

He scratched the back of his neck, doing his best to appear casual. He moved toward his bed, flopping down on it with an exaggerated sigh. "I'm not jumpy, man. You just scared the hell outta me. What're you even doing here?"

Sally smirked, sitting up straighter on the couch. "You said you were going to do a supply run with Penguin. Figured I'd wait around for you. You know — pseudo-brotherly bonding and all that."

His jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, leaning back on his elbows. "Yeah, well, here I am. Congrats. You saw me flail like an idiot."

He tilted his head, watching him with the kind of sharpness Larry knew all too well. "Uh-huh," he said, drawing out the words. "So… how was it?"

He shrugged, avoiding Sally's gaze as he fiddled with his bracelet again. "It was fine. We grabbed the stuff we needed and—"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't mean the boring project stuff. I mean her. You've been glowing since you walked in, dude. Spill."

His lips twitched, betraying the grin he was trying to hold back. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" Sally shot back, raising a brow. "Come on, man. It's me. I know when something's up. Did something happen?"

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the edge of his bracelet as he sat up and shuffled back enough to lean against the wall. His eyes flicked to Sally, who was watching him expectantly, and then to the ceiling like maybe the answers were written there.

Should he tell him?

On one hand, Sally was his best friend — practically his brother. They told each other everything, even the embarrassing, stupid stuff. Hell, especially the embarrassing, stupid stuff. But on the other hand… this wasn't just stuff. This was Penguin.

And, God, the kiss — his chest did that weird clenchy thing again just thinking about it. It meant something. But saying it out loud, admitting to it, felt like crossing a line he wasn't sure he was ready to cross yet. His jaw worked as he stared down at his bracelet, turning it over and over between his fingers. The silence stretched, and he could practically feel Sally's curiosity radiating off him in waves.

"Larry," Sally prompted, leaning forward like he could reach across the room and nudge the answer out of him.

Larry groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Man, I don't even know where to start," he muttered, his voice muffled by his palm.

Sal raised an eyebrow, his prosthetic resting on the couch arm as he motioned vaguely at Larry. "Well, just… start from the beginning, man. What happened? You went to the mall, right?"

He nodded, leaning back against the wall and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, we hit the mall. Nothing groundbreaking — just a supply run for the project."

Sal waved his hand in a 'keep going' motion. "You're already underselling it. C'mon, man, details. What'd you do? Did you hold the door open or— oh, did you carry her bag like a total gentleman?"

Larry let out a snort, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Dude, you're not writing a rom-com. Relax. We were just wandering around, you know? And, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I might've taken her the long way to the craft store."

"The long way?" Sal asked, one eyebrow quirked.

"Yeah," Larry mumbled. "Just… figured it wouldn't hurt to, y'know, hang out a little longer. She didn't seem to mind."

"Oh, you figured, huh?" Sal teased, his grin widening. "Smooth."

"Shut up," Larry muttered, a small grin breaking through despite himself. "Anyway, we get to the craft store eventually, and we're just digging through stuff, trying to find what we need. She, uh…" He paused, his expression softening. "She found these colored tapes or something. Got all excited about 'em."

Sal chuckled, his head tipping back against the couch. "Sounds like her."

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice a little quieter. His gaze drifted, the memory of Penguin's enthusiasm tugging at his chest.

Sal's tone shifted, just slightly. "You're smiling like an idiot right now, just so you know."

"Am not," Larry shot back, his grin refusing to leave.

"You so are." Sal jabbed a finger at him. "Look, if you're already this whipped over her getting excited about craft supplies, man… you're doomed."

He let out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. "She's just — whatever, man. You're reading into it too much."

"Sure," Sal drawled, his smirk making it clear he didn't believe a word.

"Anyway, we finished up there, and she says she's hungry. So I start leading her to the food court, right? Just minding my business, and then—" His words faltered, his grin widening despite himself. "She just… slips her hand into mine. Like it's nothing."

Sally's grin matched his now, his voice light. "Did you say anything?"

"Nope," he shook his head, still smiling. "Didn't wanna spook her, man. I just held her hand and kept walking like it was normal."

"That's smooth for you." Sally didn't waste any time on getting up and joining him on the bed, giving him a playful shove. "Look at you, Larry Johnson, being all casual and shit. Bet you were losing your mind inside."

"Pfft," Larry scoffed, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. "You have no idea, dude. I was just trying to act normal, not trip over my own feet or something."

Sal raised an eyebrow. "Man, you're like six feet tall. You can't trip without causing a minor earthquake."

"Thanks for that, Sal," he deadpanned before softening, his grin coming back. "So, we're getting close to the food court, right? And I feel her hand start to loosen, like… like she realized what she was doing and was gonna pull away."

Sally's eyebrows shot up. "She was gonna bail?"

"Yeah, man," he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. "But, uh…" He grinned sheepishly, his mind replaying the moment. "I wasn't having any of that."

"Oh?"

Larry shrugged, though the sheepish grin creeping across his face gave him away. "I tightened my grip. And then…" He paused, letting the moment hang for effect, his voice dropping slightly as his face warmed. "I changed it. Laced our fingers together."

Sal let out a low whistle. "Damn. Larry Johnson with the moves."

Larry couldn't help but smile wider. "You have no idea. She looked up at me, like — really looked at me, you know? Like she was trying to figure something out. But I just…" He gave a soft laugh, the memory making his chest ache in the best way. "I tugged her a little closer. And, dude, she blushed so pretty." The memory hit him like a wave, and he had to fight to keep his grin from getting too ridiculous.

Sal threw his hands up in mock alarm, leaning back with an exaggerated gasp. "Woah, hey! Don't start fantasizing, man. I'm right here!"

Larry, caught off guard, hissed out a low "Shut up" as he gave Sal's shoulder a halfhearted shove, his face heating up fast. "Anyway," he tried again, determined to push through the snickers Sal couldn't quite keep in, "we got to the food court, grabbed some shitty burgers, and ate 'em. Didn't talk much… but then, when we went to toss out our trash, she kept looking at my hand. Like, really obvious."

Sal's grin widened immediately, but he stayed quiet, letting Larry continue.

He shifted in his seat, his fingers drumming against his thigh as he spoke. "So… I grabbed her hand first."

He blinked, then slowly started grinning like the Cheshire cat. "You grabbed her hand first?"

He shrugged, though the sheepish twist of his lips gave him away. "Yeah, well… I mean, she wasn't letting go before, so I figured… why not?" He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck as he tried to put it into words. "It just felt right, you know?"

"Right, huh?" Sal echoed, his grin turning sly as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Look at you, Mr. Smooth. Stealing hearts and holding hands. What's next, you gonna write her poetry?"

Larry groaned, tipping his head back against the wall with a laugh. "God, can you not?"

"No way, dude," Sal shot back, his tone gleeful. "I'm living for this. Besides, it's about damn time. You've been crushing on her for months now."

"Not that long," He muttered, though the darkening flush on his cheeks didn't do him any favors.

"Uh-huh," Sal drawled, his grin sharp. "You were practically vibrating when you found that bracelet in your locker a month ago. Don't even try to act like you haven't been losing your mind over her since, like, forever."

He snorted, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Okay, fine. Yeah, I've been into her for a while. But still, I didn't want to mess things up." He glanced at Sal, his voice dropping just a little. "It's not like I've done this before, man."

Sally's teasing grin softened into something more thoughtful. He tilted his head, his single eye focused as he considered his friend. "Well… I don't think you're messing it up. You're taking it slow, right? Making sure she's comfortable?"

"Duh, man, I'm not a fucking asshole," He said with a dry laugh, though the corner of his mouth quirked up. "If she wanted me to let go, she wouldn't have been subtle about it. With how much Travis whines about her breaking his nose the first time they met? Yeah, she'd probably throw a mean right hook at me if I ever got too… I don't know, asshole-ish."

"That's sure a word," Sally snorted, adjusting his position to sit cross-legged. "But yeah, I believe it. She'd probably drop you like a sack of bricks."

"Mm, I do love me a woman who can beat me up…" Larry sighed dreamily, letting his head tilt back as if he were envisioning it, only to crack up when Sally made an exaggerated gagging noise.

"Okay, okay, moving on from that," Sally interjected quickly, waving a hand as if physically pushing the thought away. "Holding hands can't be the only thing that's got you all blushing and grinning and giggling—"

"I wasn't giggling," He cut in, his voice loud and defensive, though the way his face lit up with color completely betrayed him.

"Sure," Sally drawled, arching a brow so high it practically disappeared under his hairline. "So, what is it? What happened that's got you like that?"

He had a million goddamn deflections locked and loaded at the tip of his tongue — "Nothing happened," or "Don't worry about it," or maybe even a flat "Dude, leave it alone." But instead, what tumbled out of his mouth, completely unfiltered, was:

"She kissed me."

Sally's lazy sprawl vanished in an instant. He shot upright, scrambling to his knees and practically crawling across the bed to close the distance between them. His single eye was wide and sparkling with an almost childlike glee. "Really?! Are you serious?!"

"I didn't mean to say that—" He stammered, throwing his hands up in defense, but Sally was relentless.

"Where?!" he interrupted, his voice rising with every word. "Your hand? Your cheek? Your li—"

"CHEEK!" Larry's voice cracked, his face flushing an impossible shade of red as he flailed slightly. "She— she kissed my cheek, okay?! Can we move on now?" He buried his face in his hands with a loud groan, but his brain had other plans.

Because, oh no, it had decided now was the perfect time to start replaying the moment in vivid clarity. The memory hit him like a freight train — how soft her lips had been against his cheek, how impossibly warm her hand had felt in his.

His thoughts spiraled, unbidden. What if she'd kissed his knuckles instead, her lips brushing against his skin with that same featherlight touch? Would he have just straight-up melted into a puddle right there on the mall floor?

And then, before he could stop it, his mind took the nuclear option: 'What would her lips feel like against mine?' Would she hesitate, her eyes darting between his before closing the gap? Or would she just—

Nope. Nope, nope, NOPE.

He slammed the brakes on that train of thought so hard it felt like his brain had screeched to a halt. Shaking his head almost violently, he snapped himself back to reality. There was absolutely no way he was letting himself spiral into that — not here, not now. Not with Sally Face sitting barely a foot away, watching him like a hawk, his expression already a mix of mischief and giddy anticipation.

"You're totally thinking about it, aren't you?" Sally's voice cut through Larry's panicked spiral, and he peeked through his fingers to see his friend shaking with barely contained laughter.

"No, I'm not," He shot back instantly, though the burning heat in his cheeks and the break in his voice completely betrayed him.

"You so are!" Sally crowed, his grin practically splitting his face. "Dude, your face is about to catch fire! What, you already imagining your honeymoon or something?"

"Shut up!" He hissed, grabbing the nearest pillow and hurling it at Sally with probably more force than necessary.

He caught it with a laugh, hugging it to his chest as he rocked back on his heels. "I'm just saying, man. You're gone. Like, completely gone."

He groaned, letting his head thunk back against the wall. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Sally teased, his grin as smug as ever while he shook his arm like an overexcited puppy. "Oh man, if she knew you were sitting here daydreaming about her kissing you senseless, she'd probably think it's adorable."

"She'd think I was a creep, dude," He muttered, shoving at him half-heartedly.

"Nah," Sally said easily, dodging the shove without missing a beat. "She'd just blush as hard as you are right now. You two are, like, made for each other — blush city."

Larry let out a strangled groan, dragging his hands down his face. "You're the worst."

"You love me," Sally quipped, plopping back onto the bed like he owned the place. "And, admit it, you love her too."

"Get out," He snapped, grabbing another pillow and chucking it at him. Sally batted it away with another laugh, but Larry didn't give him the satisfaction of more banter.

Instead, he flopped down on the bed fully, rolled onto his stomach, and shoved his face into his own pillow. The muffled sound of Sally's laughter followed him, but he tried to tune it out, willing his racing heart to just calm the hell down.

It didn't work.

Her hand in his, the way her lips had felt so soft against his cheek, that shy, almost uncertain glance she'd given him — everything about her stuck in his head like glue.

He felt a small, involuntary smile tug at his lips, hidden against the pillow. His face burned all over again, heat creeping up his neck as the thought whispered through his mind.

Maybe Sally wasn't entirely wrong.