Poisonous

Chapter 28 - The Cook Off

A/N: This song has absolutely nothing to do with the chapter. I just found it.

A few days have passed since I we bought the dresses. Bruce and my mother's wedding was all over the news. Not just Gotham's news, it was national. From Maine to California, everyone knew Bruce Wayne was getting married. Little did anyone know he would be marrying Poison Ivy.

My cold never went away. I was sick in my apartment and there was nothing I could do about it. My mom was out with Bruce picking out cakes. I was watching some sappy movie I wasn't even paying attention to and eating popcorn.

There came a knock at the door. I got up slowing, dusting the tissues and blankets out of my way. I walked to the door and peeped through the peephole. A certain black haired, green eyed boy stood on the other side. I opened the door and greeted him with a sneeze.

"Hello to you too," he said. "I thought you said you don't get sick."

"I don't. It's just a cold. It'll pass soon," I said, my voice sounding hoarse and weak. "What brings you by?"

"Your mother's bouquet came in. It was shipped to our house instead of yours. I came by to give it to your mother."

I took the small box the flowers were wrapped in. "Thank. . ." sneeze, ". . .you."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep. I went to the drugstore and bought some over-the-counter stuff. I'll be fine by the wedding. Promise."

"Is you being better by the wedding a good thing or bad thing?"

"I don't know."

"Do you need anything while I'm here?" Damian asked.

"You know how to cook?"

"Yes. I know how to cook. Do you?"

"Yes. Do I hear a challenge?"

"No. You hear me winning." he smirked.

I started laughing which led to a small coughing fit. I then laughed it off. "Even sick I'll beat you! You may be good in combat, but I'm a pro when I comes to cooking!"

"You're on, Red."

He walked into the apartment. I showed him the kitchen (which was only about two feet away). I started getting supplies out. I grabbed some pots, chicken, and noodles.

"What are we making today, Chef Eva?" Damian held out a wooden spoon to use as a microphone.

"Today we will be having a cook off while making chicken noodle soup. 'Cause, y'know, I'm sick and need the soup."

"Well then, may the best chef win!"

Damian and I raced for the sink to fill our pots up. I pushed him out of the way and filled up my pot. He swore under his breath as I did so. I turned the burner on high so the water could boil fast. I saw Damian do the same thing.

"Don't copy me, D!"

"It's not copying if I did it first!"

Once the water boiled, I poured some noodles into the pot. I placed my chicken breast on a pan to cook. By the time the chicken was done, so were the noodles. I shredded the chicken and put it into the soup. I added a teaspoon of lemon juice to the mix. I found a bowl in the cupboard and poured the soup into the bowl. I topped it off with a little garnish. I didn't see what all Damian did. The soup looked like it came out of a restaurant. I just hoped it didn't taste as good as it looked.

"How do we decide who's the winner?" Damian asked.

As if on cue, a knock came from the door. I opened it. Alfred was standing on the other side not looking very pleased.

"Is Damian with you?" he asked. "After a few minutes I assumed he started talking with you. But then he didn't come down for quite some time."

"Er, yeah. Sorry. We had a cook off and guess lost track of time. Can you be our judge?" I asked, trying to throw the other topic away.

"Sure. Why not?"

I opened the door wider so Alfred could come in. I showed him the kitchen table where we moved the soups to.

"Hello, Pennyworth," Damian said when seeing Alfred.

"Master Damian," Alfred said in a polite manor. "I see you cooked . . . chicken noodle soup?"

I grabbed a spoon and handed it to Alfred. He took a sip of the soup on the left, my soup. There was a pleased look in his eyes. When he took a sip of Damian's, however, the same look was still in his eyes.

He pointed to Damian's soup. "While this one was beautifully displayed, it lacked flavor." He pointed to my soup. "This one is full of flavor but isn't quite as charming."

"So, who won?" Damian and I asked at the same time.

"The bowl on the left wins the taste, and the bowl on the right wins the design," Alfred said.

"It's a tie?" asked Damian.

"I do believe it is."

"Ha!" I shouted. "Guess whose soup got the better taste?"

Damian grumbled something not audible.

"It's okay, D. Maybe next time you'll win."

"Yeah, yeah. Ready to go, Alfred?"

"Whenever you are, sir," said Alfred.

I opened the door to let them out. "Thanks again for the wedding flowers. I'll make sure my mom gets them. See you in a few days," I said as they walked out of the door.

I shut the door. I let out the sneeze I'd been holding in. I grabbed my soup and walked back to the living room. I started watching the sappy movie again.