#kitchen makeout

I wake up to a faint sound of clatter.

The setting sunlight seeps through my blinds and I can tell that I've had a long sleep because I know the sun only welcomes itself into my side of the house in the afternoon.

I got home late. And by late, I mean 10am after an overnight patrol mission with Tim. I'd been out for over 30hrs and had my head bouncing in a struggle to keep awake. By 9am, Tim insisted I'd head home and I too finally caved into the craving for my duvets.

Tim on the other hand was set on continuing himself, hunting for clues on a bigger case we were uncovering for Bruce. I honestly don't know how he does it. Run on enough juice to function for 48 hours plus. While I, knocked out cold in an empty house the second I got home.

By the sounds of it Tim's just arrived back.

4:09pm the clock shows. I swear he's a vampire.

I lazily make my way downstairs only to spot a shirtless, tanned, muscular back donning a messy look with his tousled jet black hair, crouched down and rummaging through a cupboard under the sink.

Ah, source of the clatter.

And that's not Tim.

"Uh... Dick?"

Dick Grayson jolts up, turning to face me. And whatever he was looking for and found flies straight behind his back.

"Y/N! Hi! You scared me...." he nervously chuckles.

His sapphire eyes twinkle at me. His perfect abs staring back too.

"What are you..."

As I inch forward, he shifts to block whatever is on the counter with his body from my view. He keeps the arm behind his back. Hiding something.

And now that I'm closer, I see it.

White dust all over his bare chest and lingering in the crooks between his neck and clavicle. I scan his body top down. 

"Are you... high?!?!" I gasp.

I get closer to his face, his woodsy scent suddenly overwhelming me more than the traces of whatever he's been downing.

Dick's brows shoot up, then furrows rapidly at the accusation.

"What?!" he blurts.

"There's white power all over you, and your pupils are dilated," I shoot back.

His cheeks flush a light shade of pink.

"They are?" he asks, turning away from my eyes and rubbing at the back of his neck. "Well maybe that's because you're looking at me like... nevermind."

The concern in me boils.

"Dick, what's on the counter?" I ask flatly.

His puppy eyes bat at me. And his mouth... twitches. Like it's about to...

Laugh? Like he's fighting an urge to smile?

I swear, if Dick is high I'll actually slap the daylights out of him. After it's out his system of course. If I ever get to knowing what is in his system. 

Dick doesn't move from blocking my visual on his suspicious kitchen counter activity.

"Dick," I warn.

"Move. Or am I gonna have to tell Alfred you are high as a kite, wreaking havoc and roughing it in his kitchen?"

A warm laugh suddenly erupts from him. Rich and carrying a dangerous charm.

"I am so not wreaking havoc!" he protests, but he doesn't stop giggling.

"Oh, Y/N. You know you're kinda cute all demanding," he sniffles, folding his arms over his chest. Unmoving. 

"You done?" I ask with hands on my hips. 

Dick finally sighs. Defeated. And slowly retreats from his guard.

"Y/N, I'm not high... it's just-"

I don't let him finish explaining, but shove him aside to reveal a large, standing, bag of...

"Flour?"

A bag of flour lies open, its white powder spilling over the counter. Next to it is a bowl, brimming with smooth ivory cream and an 8-cup tin of crimson cupcake batter.

"Surprise!!!" Dick exclaims, and the whisk he was hiding behind his back makes an appearance as he accompanies the exclamation with jazz hands.

Now I'm just outright confused. Relieved, but confused.

"Don't tell me you forgot..." he continues.

"Forgot... what?"

"Oh my gosh Y/N, you did!" Dick puts down the whisk, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Does tomorrow happen to be... a certain day... when a certain special, beautiful, accusatory woman was born?"

Oh my gosh. I did forget. I had been so busy the past few weeks I didn't even realise it was already my birth month.

"It's [your birth month]?! I thought that was next month!" I ask, surprised. Or honestly just saying my thoughts out loud really.

"Well, I actually thought you were out with Tim, and a part of me was counting on your busyness to not notice me," Dick continues. "Red velvet's your favourite right?"

I turned back to him. And I can't help but smile so wide I feel it to my ears.

"You remember that?" I asked.

"Of course, Y/N. I remember everything you tell me," he answers, gently.

"Including, newly... you accusing me of being high as a kite, and wreaking havoc thank you very much! You know I'd never touch that stuff to keep this up..." he waves his fingers from his chest to his abs.

I let out a small scoff, but smile at him. 

"Thank you," I say, stepping towards him. "And sorry I ruined the surprise."

"Actually, this is perfect," Dick beams.

"There's still a few hours left and I don't exactly know what perfect red velvet tastes like..."

He shifts to move behind me and opens the oven, revealing what looks to be a batch of red velvet cupcake base, still in their tin uniced and steaming.

"So you can taste test this for me and give me enough time to bake you the perfect set," he says cheerily, reaching for the tin.

"Wait, Dick-" I begin, but the warning doesn't come out not fast enough. 

He grabs the metal tray and suddenly yelps, jolting, and sending the tray clanging against the oven racks as he drops it.

"Nnyow!!"

He exclaims at the touch of the burning hot metal he's grabbed for, and shakes his hand rapidly in the air in an attempt to cool it off.

I rush to the sink situated to the right of the oven, turning on the faucet to ice cold.

"Here," I take his burning hand and run it through the cold water.

"Ahhsss..." he hisses in pain as the water makes contact with the burn. His wet hand grips onto my hold under the water and his free hand grasps at the sink's edge. 

I turn off the running water and grab a kitchen towelette hanging from the handles of the oven.

"Man takes the circus out of the circus and into the kitchen," I joke at him as I dry off his hand. There's a slight red line imprinted on his index finger from the edge of the hot tray. I pull it closer to my mouth and blow puffs of air on it in an attempt to cool it off.

Dick stays silent. 

I look up at him to see him just staring down. At me.

Pupils dilated.

Oh. So he wasn't high.

I feel my cheeks go hot as I let his hand go.

"Thanks, for baking for me," I say shyly. "Let me get some aloe for your finger and then try the batch. Aaaand, let's use oven mitts this time. I don't want you getting injured on my account."

"Hey, no," his brows draw together, shaking his head at my remark.

"For you I'd take on a burning building. This is nothing, don't worry," he reassures me, smiling.

My cheeks feel hotter, and I'd place bets that they are as red as those red velvets.

Guy's a walking parmesan.

A walking parmesan phased by nothing.

"But, I am serious," Dick continues.

"I need you to taste test this. But that batch needs to sit in the oven for a few more minutes."

His lip puckers to one side as he ponders for a bit, then spots the bowl of icing.

"Ah hah!"

He reaches for the bowl and the small spoon which rests on a paper towel.

"Try this for now,"

He scoops a bit of icing from the bowl and raises the spoon up to my lips.

I part my mouth, gently, to let a white, rich creamy texture enter.

Holy heavens.

My mind goes slightly dizzy at the sweetness.

"Dick it's..."

Anticipating, he keeps his eyes on me. My mouth. Eyes blazing with a quiet heat.

"Fucking perfect!" I squeal. "Where the heck did you get this recipe?"

He lets out a relieved breath.

"Oh, Thank God, I was just messing around..." he breathes.

In other words, Dick Grayson is just a natural at everything.

I snatch the spoon and bowl from him and take another scoop.

"Mmmrnn," I moan out.

He laughs at me enjoying the unbaked batter of icing.

"Plenty more where that came from, and it's not even on the cupcake yet," he teases, and I frown as he swiftly grabs the bowl back from me back on the counter.

"Fuck, now I'm gonna be lurking around here and waiting until midnight," I sigh.

"Don't worry, it'll be midnight before you reali..."

He stops mid sentence. And just... gazes.

With his ocean eyes and dilated pupils. At my mouth.

"What?"

"Y/N/, you have some..." he points to the side his mouth to signal that there's icing on the side of mine.

"Oh..."

My tongue darts out to try and clean it.

Those entrancing cobalt blues stay on me. My mouth. 

"Gone?" I ask.

"Nearly..." 

His eyes go hazy.

"Here..." he whispers, hand reaching for my chin. His touch sends a shiver through my throat and I feel every nerve in body twitch. My heart is racing faster than any of those speedsters can run. And I swear, I hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I wait for it. Expect him to use his thumb to wipe off the icing residue.

He doesn't.

Instead, his fingers guide my head to tilt up at him, and his lips come crashing into mine.

"Mmh..." 

I feel the heat of his breath and taste sweetness from his mouth. His tongue softly darts for the icing before plunging into my mouth. A twisting mess of sugared, slickened tongues. His warm lips work into mine, heavily. I can't stop the deep groan lodged in my throat from coming out, the sound spilling from my mouth and into his. I break the kiss slightly, both of us gasping for air like swimmers turning to the surface. 

"It tastes good..."I murmur against his slightly parted lips. "Really... good..."

As I press my mouth back, I feel a deep hum escaping from his mouth into mine, vibrating in my throat.

My stomach can barely handle this. This heat.

"Tell me what tastes good, Y/N..."

His voice is deep and low, the heat of his breath caressing my cupid's bow.

"Is it the icing? Or, is it... this..."

In one swift motion his arms slide down, grabbing me from under my legs and lifting me up onto the vacant space on the counter, parting my legs as he situates himself in front of me. His soft lips presses deeper, tongue colliding with mine, and his hands roam down to my hips to keep me stable. My arms fly to wrap around his bare back, feeling his muscles beneath my fingertips. My legs instinctively wrap around him, the heels of my feet resting on the bands of his blue flannel pants, right above the curves of his perfect rear.

"Nnngh... both," I groaned, answering his question.

One of my hands slowly trails up his neck, fingers skimming his soft jet black strands as his head dips, lips brushing my jaw then making it's way between my collarbone and neck. His soft, warm lips slowly kisses me there. The lingering heat of his breath on my skin makes my head float. Holding him, my head tilts back on reflex, sensitive to his touch, eyes fluttering, breaths shallow.

"Dick we shoul-"

Suddenly, I hear the main door burst open.

"GUYS, IS ANYONE HOME?"

I hear Tim call out, breaking me from my trance. Breaking Dick from his too as he springs back, retreating his hands from my hips to gripping the counter with each arm by my sides. His head dips down as he grunts in frustration. No doubt at the interruption. I bite at my swollen lip to stop a chuckle at his reaction and grasp at his bare slumped shoulders.

But then, his head snaps up, looking up at me, brows knitted.

And it hits me too. Registers at the same time.

The piercing sound.

That's not Tim.

We realise at the same moment the unending sharp siren, wailing through the house.

The fire alarm was going off.

Shit, how long was that going off?

I quickly hop off the counter, and Dick lets me hold onto his shoulders to keep balance. But I'm not quick enough for a rushing Tim.

Tim Drake leans on the fridge, eyebrow raised at me. Us.

"Distracted?" Tim teases, eyes darting between me and Dick.

Busted. Tim saunters his way to a framed Monet, reaching for the frame's edge which opens a hidden panel on the wall. The intermittent shrills cutting through the house stops.

Dick and I make eye contact. Eyes wide. He blinks once, then can't resist as one corner of his mouth lifts, revealing a dimple. I cannot believe we were so distracted we didn't notice how long we left the cupcakes, or hear the fire alarm.

I hear Dick begin fixing up and smell the waft of burnt cupcakes as he opens the oven door. And as I turn to thank Tim, I notice he's... froze. 

"Hm." Tim mutters. A hand to his chin. Thinking. Looking at Dick intensely.

"Is Grayson... high?!?" he gasps, exaggeratedly.

I'm officially howling. I'm laughing so hard my stomach begins to get stitches. Mostly because there is no doubt someone as sharp as Tim missed the bag of flour and he is asking merely to spite Mr. Perfect Grayson. 

Dick rolls his eyes, taking out the burnt cupcakes. This time wearing mitts.

"Why does everyone keep asking that," Dick grumbles.

"He's baking," I respond, gleaming at Tim after I catch my breath and calm myself from hooting.

"That's practically the same thing. As in, on the scale of unlikely things for Dick Grayson to be doing," Tim shrugs.

Dick lifts his hands as if to say, "Really?". Tim just sticks his tongue out in response.

"I'm heading back out, I just rushed in 'cause I was nearby and the alarm systems sent me an alert," Tim says, beginning to walk off.

"You can keep... baking. Or whatever is going on here," the world's best detective winks.

I glare at a smirking Tim as he leaves.

Turning back to face Dick, I watch him with arms folded, looming with a tight lip over the now brown cakes.

"So... we've got plenty of hours. Let me help you, and I'll go get that aloe for you," I begin, squeezing his arm lightly and patting him as if to let him know I was still proud of him.

"Yeah, you do that. I'll start another pan," he sighs out.

Giggling, I walk, making my way upstairs to get the remedy. But as I'm about to begin the flights of stairs, he interrupts.

"Oh, and when you get back..." Dick calls out.

"I'm gonna need you to taste test this new batch."