Rearrange the Rosies

They'd come to an agreement, Crane and herself; something that had happened with far more ease than she'd expected. He'd barely put up a fuss, and he'd allowed her the time she wanted. She'd been prepared for a tantrum, a rage, or cool derision and disagreement. Something she'd been willing to meet with her own maneuvers, none of which Crane would have appreciated.

So his capitulation had both eased her and made her suspicious. Crane always had an ulterior motive and she had a feeling that he'd be pushing for something else soon enough.

For now, she waited for him to show, since he'd said he'd be picking up his supplies and bringing them here. The guest room-- his room, had been prepared; clean sheets, dusted furnishings, open window and she'd even put in a few small plants, hoping Johnny would like them. Now, it was just a matter of him slotting his things in their appropriate places and allowing her time with her favorite man-child.

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And soon enough, Jonny arrives, carefully holding a cardboard box filled with Crane's makeshift lab equipment, a small suitcase by his side. He's quite excited, really, to be moving in with Ivy. He's never felt quite as safe and protected as he does here, and Ivy's been so kind to him.

Setting the box down, he knocks excitedly on the door, bouncing on his toes while he waits for Ivy to come let him in.

The knock has a smile lighting her face before she even notices, and she gets up, moving to the door. She's about to throw it open when she realizes she's not sure which one of them is going to be standing there waiting.

Taking a small breath on the off-chance it's Crane, she opens it sedately, a refined smile in place. It widens, however, as soon as she sees the nervous energy and the smile on his face. "Jon, darling. I'm glad you're here."

Reaching out, she pulls him into a hug, arms sliding around him and holding him close.

Jon bounces happily and hugs Ivy tight, nuzzling against her neck. "You invited me here, of course I'm here," he says, as though she's being quite silly. "Dr. Crane doesn't like physical work, so I brought our things. He made me promise to be very careful, and I was. Not one thing broke on the way here. I got to take a cab!"

Crane had decided that transporting everything required a vehicle, just in case. And this way, with Jon dressed in the sort of clothes he likes (jeans and a longsleeved shirt, bundled up in a winter coat Crane had stolen off a failed test subject), without the glasses, if the cab driver asked any questions, Jon could answer honestly that no, he wasn't Dr. Crane. He was just another man in Gotham. Besides, best to put Ivy at ease and give her Jon right off. An olive branch, if you will.

She saw the act for what it was, Crane's way of assuring her that he meant to keep up his end of the bargain; lobbing the ball of responsibility into her court. Smiling, she slid her hands through Jon's hair, turning and giving him a kiss on the cheek before letting him go. She bent and picked up the box, careful of the contents; her own olive branch as she hustled Jon in and took the box and its fragile contents into the room she'd set up as 'Crane's Work Room'.

"You did wonderfully, dear. I'm sure Crane will be pleased, which I'm hoping means that tonight is our night, dearest." She'd spent her part of the day shopping for things she thought a young boy would like, and she'd brought most of them into her room, since she didn't think Crane would appreciate anything of the sort near his work.

"I think so! He'll probably want to work, tomorrow, though." Jon pulls the suitcase behind him, waiting while Ivy set Crane's things in the work room.

"Where is the guest room? I should hang his suits up. And put my coat away."

"Over here, dear. But it's your room now, love. And you're no longer a guest here. You live here, Jon." She took his free hand, lacing her fingers with his and leading him to his new room.

"It's simple, but it has a comfortable bed and more than enough space for whatever he'd like to make it his. You, on the other hand, are welcome to keep your things in my room. Anything you like that you don't want getting thrown out or put away somewhere, you're welcome to keep with me."

Jon thinks for a long moment, then digs in his bag, shyly holding out a plush toy (http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41g--KnT9aL._SL500_AA300_.jpg).

"Dr. Crane let me go to the fair, last time it was in Gotham. I won this -- he wanted me to throw it away, but I like it. Batman protects Gotham from the Scarecrow, so I thought maybe he could protect me, too. Will you keep it for me? Just in case."

She looks at the toy and her first reaction is to throw it in the fireplace. Even though it's not on, it will be, eventually. But.. that look on his face makes it impossible for her to do anything except take it gently from him, placing a light kiss on the side of his head. "I'll keep it in my room, love. You can have it any time you want it."

Though, she'd be doing her best to find him something, anything else to replace that toy with.

Jon clutches it to his chest, biting at his lower lip. "I know you hate him. You and Scarecrow and Dr. Crane and everyone does, because he thinks you do bad things. And Scarecrow does do bad things. Awful, hurtful things and Batman stops him and I think maybe if you just talked to him, he'd understand that what you're doing is good? The Batman doesn't mean to hurt people.

He kept me safe in the warehouse, and he didn't let Scarecrow hurt me. So he's a friend."

Though it's not entirely clear whether he's talking about the plushie or the real man.

"I think he needs a bath, though. The warehouse wasn't very clean. Would you help me wash him?"

She didn't want to tell him that the possibility of her and Batman 'working things out' was about as likely as Scarecrow suddenly reforming and handing out candy and hugs to orphans; it felt too much like telling a child that Santa wasn't real.

"I don't hate him, dearest. I just wish he'd mind his own business." Which was partially true. She wouldn't care at all what Batman did do anyone else, as long as he left her alone.

Looking at the toy, she smiled. "We can toss him in the washing machine, love. Then he'll be as good as new." And Ivy might take a bit of cathartic joy in picturing the pummeling he'd be getting.

Jon grins and kisses her cheek, happy with the arrangement. "I should wash my clothes, too. They have warehouse germs. And Dr. Crane's suits need to be dry cleaned, I think. He's very picky about his suits." Jon's tone implies that it's silly to be picky about suits when one is living in a warehouse.

"May I wash my clothes? The ones I have on are fine for now, but I ought to wash the other before I put them away."

"I'll be sure that Crane's suits get cleaned properly, love. Don't concern yourself about them. And as for yours, my house is yours now, Jon. If you want to wash your clothes, you're more than welcome to. The fridge is yours. The living room is yours. I don't ever want you to feel uncomfortable in your home. All right?"

"Oh!" Jon nearly drops his toy in excitement, setting him safely on the bed before he hugs Ivy tight. "I've never had my own home. Thank you. Please don't be upset if I keep asking you for permission for things, promise? I always have to ask, first."

She lifts her hands to run through his hair, bending to kiss the top of his head. It ran briefly through her head that in that somewhere in that mind lurked Crane, watching and judging everything she did. She pushed that out of her thoughts. So what? He already knew she adored Jon.. If he didn't like the fact that she was touchy with his body.. well.. too bad.

"I can't be upset with you, Jon. You're far too adorable." She grinned, lifting his head up by his chin.

"Now, why don't you go throw what you need to in the wash and we'll figure out what you'd like to do with your day, yes?"

"Will you show me? Just to be sure. I'm used to the laundromat, yours could be different. It doesn't take quarters, for one thing. I don't want to break anything." He lays Crane's suits out on the bed, the rest of his clothing jumbled up at the bottom of the suitcase, which he picks up.

"Do you mind? If you have other things to do, this can wait."

"Darling, I don't mind in the slightest. Our days are for us and I have nothing planned other than spending time with you."

She gathers his clothes up, leading him out of the bedroom and into the laundry room. A quick tutorial in the usage of both machines takes place and once they're on the way to being clean, she pushes him gently out of the room. "You, my dear, need to be fed."

"Bossy," he giggles, grabbing at her hands as she pushes him. "What are we eating? Can I help? I want to make dinner for you some night, but I need to learn how to make things, first."

"I am not bossy," she chided, grinning since she knew she very well could be.

"Mm.. I was thinking of something simple, since Crane seems to object to anything with actual taste or substance. Though, we'll build up to more exotic and flavorful things, dearest. You enjoy pasta, don't you?"

"He always orders our Chinese food with tofu instead of chicken," Jon pouts, leaning his chin against Ivy's shoulder. "Let's make exciting pasta!"

"Darling, not a speck of tofu will cross this threshold." She turned slightly, brushing her cheek against his, fingers mussing up his hair.

"Exciting pasta, hmm? Not just simple spaghetti? I suppose I could make a lasagna. Perhaps a baked one with far too much cheese in it. I think you'd enjoy that."

"You said exotic," Jon points out. "Spaghetti isn't exotic. But cheese is good, I like cheese."

He closes his eyes at the fingers in his hair, purring happily. "I like it when you do that. I feel like a kitten."

"Perhaps that's what you are, dearest. My little kitten." She could stay like this quite contentedly, this pleasant warmth pressed against her and his smile lighting his face.

But.. the boy needed feeding. "We can snuggle all you like after dinner, kitten. Right now, we need to start things cooking so we can put a little meat on these bones of yours." Her head turned further and she placed a light kiss on his cheek.

He growls playfully, biting lightly at her hand, and kissing her cheek in return. "Will you tell me what you're doing as you cook? So I can learn?"

She grins at the rather adorable growl and nodded. "Mm, if you like. We can build up your cooking repertoire. I think I'd be quite happy if you never had to rely on cheap take-out food for sustenance again, dearest."

Moving to the kitchen, she begins pulling out what she needed, preheating the oven and letting him know about temperatures and cooking times as she began to prepare their meal.

And Jon takes everything in eagerly, hovering close but quickly hopping back if he gets out of the way. Crane never bothers to teach him anything, or help much, so the opportunity is most welcome.

"How long does it need to cook?" he asks, sitting at the table with his chin propped in his hands.