The Universe's Mixer

Effie hummed as she pulled the pie out of the oven, setting it aside to let it cool before putting in the roast chicken, her skirt swirling around her legs as she moved. She looked like a throwback to the ‘ideal’ of the forties, the perfect little house wife every man dreamt of, even then.

At least until she started cursing as she burnt her finger.

Sucking on the wound, she hip-checked the door closed, before turning back to her pie, inhaling the berry sent and turning her focus on the homemade whipped cream. Damon had left a few hours ago, and Effie set out to make her husband(!) a good dinner for when he finished in the lab, dancing around to the pop sounds coming over the radio.

--

Dear God. That smell.

It was enough to draw anyone with any measure of sense from whatever rock they were living beneath, which was exactly the effect it had on the scientist. Unable to deny his senses, Bruce almost knocked over his stool as he rose to follow his nose, heading out of the lab. Despite them being on different floors, that smell travelled.

Bruce wondered if Jarvis secretly captured it and was making it pour through the vents in order to get the petite scientist out of the lab. Anyway, Bruce was hooked.

After an inquiry as to where the heavenly scent was coming from, Bruce found himself standing in the kitchen area where his wife currently was.

"What is that smell?" Bruce inquired gently, trying to keep his salivating to a minimum as he approached her. "It's pretty terrific."

When he reached Effie, he stepped up behind her to peer over her shoulder at what she was doing, arms sliding around her gently. Being with her was Heaven in itself and Bruce couldn't have asked for anything better than that. He was lucky. Most couldn't say they had the fortune he had, even despite the drawbacks of her past and lifestyle. He wouldn't have traded any of it.

He loved her as much then as he did when he first saw her. Maybe it was a little mushy, but he couldn't help it. She was his dream wife, and no matter what she would always be perfect.

( Stepford Wife )

Edward grunted as he moved, his body taking painstaking care as it tried to shift normally so he could get where he needed. He didn't have to walk, but he had grown tired of the asylum, the constant screaming and crying was enough to drive him insane (more than he already was) and his restless nature wouldn't keep him down for too long.

Which is how he found himself in the warehouse, a place that seemed to call him back time after time. As if the place held a special meaning or spot in his heart. Like a home would.

Despite the pungent scent of old, dried blood, pet dander and bullet casings, Edward was finally able to claim some measure of solace.
He sighed, coughed, and huffed before settling down into a dander covered computer chair. A layer of dust coated Bruce's old workstation, the bunnies thicker on the floor. Edward had left tracks on the floor as he'd moved and even the bodies he'd left after his Death Trap were covered in the thick mat of dust.

He didn't care. None of that mattered. His mind was too busy trying to decide the best way to get back at that little bitch for dropping a car on him. He had just wanted to scare her, and she went and pulled a Hulk move.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie shifted in his seat. One palm was carefully wrapped around a crutch, the middle part but only to keep it upright, and the other palm curled around the top part of his cane. Edward had taken care of his cane in his down time, turning it into a Penguin-style weapon. It wasn't an umbrella, but it was close. And it could kill someone in a second. Oh death. Beautiful, wonderful death.

If only his death would stop evading him, perhaps he would actually be happy.

What was happiness anyway? Who knew. Who really knew.

( Liars and Cheats )

(Warning: Violence against loved ones)

Jonathan glared at his husband as he dragged himself into Jonathan’s office, highly tempted to shoot the man’s other leg and make sure Edward couldn’t leave the asylum. “I do so hope your day was productive,” he hissed, angrily signing his name to an order, tearing the paper.

He shoved the order away from himself, flinging the pen at Edward in frustration. “Have you re-injured yourself yet?”

--

Edward rolled his eyes at the angry tone of Jonathan's voice as he hobbled slowly into his husbands office. "It actually was very productive, thanks for asking."

Edward grumbled under his breath and settled himself down in a chair to get off of his leg. He couldn't help but smirk as the pen hit him, shrugging off the gesture of anger, "Not yet. It feels a little bit better actually."

Leaning back in his chair some, using his good leg to push the chair into a tilt, Eddie relaxed, "Effie put ice on it for me. She's a swell kid, you know?" His smirk widened, unable to help it.

"If everything works out, you'll have a new toy soon to play with, baby."

( Plotting a Date )