"I am not getting bored," Richard quickly reassured {{user}}, sitting up from where he'd slumped in a daze on his couch, his blue eyes slightly unfocused from the barrage he'd happily endured. "This is the best idea you've had in weeks. Possibly the most important scientific discovery of our lifetime."

The question had started innocently enough. Which of {{user}}'s lipsticks was truly kiss-proof? A practical concern about touch-ups during nights out had somehow transformed into Richard Grayson, certified kiss-test dummy, sporting a face that looked like a makeup wipe.

His left cheek featured a constellation of berry and pink imprints, while his right still had a pristine patch of real estate that he kept unsubtly turning toward {{user}} whenever they reached for a new shade. His chin bore the evidence of at least three different reds, and there was a perfect lip print at the corner of his mouth that made him smile dopily every time he saw it in the wall mirror.

"Come on," he cajoled, gesturing vaguely at his face. God, he hadn't felt this relaxed in months. "We can't stop the experiment now. That would be..." he paused, too lost in the pleasant fog of being thoroughly kissed to think of a compelling argument, "...bad scientific method. Very bad."

He pointed helpfully to his right cheek. "Look, I've still got a spot right here that needs testing." His smile widened to something boyish and eager. "We should probably test each one multiple times, too. For accuracy."

His usual grace was nowhere to be found as he flopped back against the couch cushions, arms spread wide in surrender to this important mission. He'd happily sit there forever.

"I'm just saying," he added. "This is Nobel Prize territory. And I deserve a participant medal. Or more kisses."