Part of a little Super AU concept I had. Most likely, this will be a series of oneshots.
He followed her like her own personal shadow as they walked through Dublin's streets. The streetlights fell in thick cuts around them, illuminating the moths flying lazily through the night. Her pale hand reached for a lamp post, and she twirled her body around it with a practiced elegance, and she clung there, watching the silent man make up for her over eager steps.
She was partial to the image he cut, long tan overcoat open as he strode confidently, a tall, handsome figure. Peculiarly, instead of approaching her at her new perch, he veered off into another direction, approaching the road's curb. He threw a handful of coins into a cup of a homeless man sitting there, arms rested on his bent knees.
The young woman's body relaxed, claws letting go of the pole, and she raised an eyebrow, looking innocently curious. He gave her the very slightest glance over his shoulder as he paused there, shoulders wide in his perfectly tailored coat.
Rolling her shoulders up in a tiny shrug, she scooped some change from her purse, and threw it in a perfect arc towards the man, several feet away from her.
He caught it, and smiled at them with imperfect teeth, muttering a blessing at them from his whiskery mouth. She was a little stunned to see the man in front of her smile back- and such a charming one, too, but she managed to pull her mouth upwards in a gentle smile of her own.
It was a little genuine, too. After all, she could fully appreciate the irony. Dublin's worst, the vile Darquesse and the dark Lord Vile, giving to the poor.
It was almost funny, actually.
Without another second of delay, he began walking again, leaving the girl to be the one to catch up now.
As she had always known him, he was a man of few words, even out of the armor. Shadows lapped up at their heels like faithful pets as they walked among the alleyways. Darquesse eyed Vile's gloved hand, wondering how he'd react if she'd reached for it. Tear her arm off? No, too many people around.
Their meeting tonight was just a casual outing. Casual. Fake faces and discussion, no gore. Compromises and give and take. She supposed she should have been horrendously bored, but she was, in a strange way, excited. It was the first time they had seen each other since figuring out their identities… Yes, she thought. Tonight would be interesting.
She licked her lips, running her fingers up Vile's dark blue suit sleeve to get his attention. He turned in a smooth, vaguely inhuman motion.
"Over here," she said, pointing at the restaurant. It was a small, cluttered thing, with a sizable bar and poor lighting. The food was decent at best, held a mild potential for food poisoning at worse. It operated into the early morning, and that was what was important. (It was only about nine, but who knew how long negotiations with a silent man would take? Maybe she'd have to play charades just to figure out what he was trying to say.) Darquesse had been there many times before, occasionally still recovering from past battles at 3am, pressing her hands into her wounds to heal as she walked into the doors. Sometimes, she just went after the rare day where she decided to attend university.
He frowned at her, brow furrowed in an image of perfect confusion. He wasn't exactly a master of subtle facial expressions.
"I'm starving, your Lordship," Darquesse told him in an undertone, and it was true. She was always hungry. It wasn't as bad as it had been when she was a teenager, but her metabolism demanded plenty of food, and often. He glanced in another direction, presumably his house. Hideout. Whatever.
"Getting a bit ahead of yourself. Got to take me to dinner before you murder me." She could swear she saw him sigh- the slightest heave in his chest- before he started for the bright lights and cozy atmosphere.
Darquesse fell into the booth seat, swinging her bare legs underneath the table smoothly. She could feel a broken spring in the seat, and she briefly considered tearing through it and tossing it across the restaurant.
They probably wouldn't appreciate it. Even if it was bothering her.
Lord Vile, or, Detective Pleasant, as that was whose face he wore that day, sat across from her, quiet, still. She sat there patiently, waiting for him to speak up, but as always, she her sensitive hearing caught nothing, not even a breath. But she wasn't going to be the one to break the silence.
She was forced to run her foot down his leg just to get a reaction.
The brief irritation that flickered across his handsome face was glorious. Darquesse had no time to stage any other irritations, as they both caught a blur of movement out of the corner of their eyes. They were prepared for the approach minutes before anyone else in the diner would even notice. A waitress with curls that looked more like springs one would find in a mechanics shop interrupted her small flirtation/irritation battle, pad of paper and pen at the ready.
"Anything I can get you guys to drink?"
"Dark Coffee, extra hot. And orange juice," she added. While the waitress was interrupting her glorious alone time with Vile, she was thirsty and hungry and had to appreciate her for that. She was too distracted by the thought of food to realize Vile was about to speak.
"Nothing, thank you," came a voice that was impossibly smooth, impossibly velvety, impossibly gorgeous.
Darquesse snapped her head around, long brown hair nearly taking out the customer sitting behind her as the waitress tottered away, not noticing anything out of the usual, like the two main villains of the city politely ordering (and declining) drinks.
"Where were you hiding that?" She demanded, staring attentively at him.
"Hiding what?"
"That voice. I've heard you speak before, you sound like a raspy old man. Where did this come from?"
"I've always had it," he said, in that mystified tone people had who had never heard their real voice before, and wondered why it was considered anything out of the ordinary. "That 'raspy whisper'… it comes with the helmet. It didn't bother me, really. I always thought it fit better." She decided not to ask why he felt like an old man.
"Cities would fall for a chance to hear that voice." She was falling, melting, into the table, at that very moment.
"Would they?" The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.
"You wouldn't have to do a single thing. Speak, and the world be yours." She smiled, gloss drying on her lips.
He spoke in a whisper, inviting her to lean closer to him."You seem to hide a few fair features of your own, Darquesse."
Vile reached out and grabbed her chin, holding her with his index finger and thumb, running his middle finger down her jaw line.
"I'm always beautiful," she said, leaning into his touch. He slid back a little, released her. Good. She would always win this game.
"But masked," said Vile, referring to the black mask she normally dawned, that fell over the top half of her face and disguised her features.
"Not all of us have our own fake face maker, Vile," she said smoothly, leaning all the way back in her seat and reaching for her coffee without wondering when it got there. It was as hot as she liked it, painful to hold and burning her tongue instantly.
"Of course," he said softly. His gaze fell onto the table. "A face you now recognize."
"How could I forget it? It's a lovely one."
"And likewise, I know yours."
"Also lovely."
"So what are we do? We hold each other's secrets. In a minute, I could call the Guards. Or perhaps directly the Brain Sucker herself, no need for a middle man." He spread his hands, fingers turning and curling over one another as he spoke. "I would be alone in the city; no competition from a newcomer who stole it from me a few years ago."
He had almost destroyed her for good the first week she showed up. The hero at the time… what was his name?- didn't even have an opportunity to get a punch in.
It was the best welcome she could ask for.
"Oh, but you'd be lonely," Darquesse said, face and voice equally sympathetic. "No more monster friends."
"I don't want any friends."
"A partner, then!" She suggested brightly, a smile dawning her face.
"I work alone."
"A companion, then?"
"How is that any different from a partner?" He said dryly.
"There are other things a companion does."
He gave her a look of disgust. Oh, that one hurt. She sighed, drumming her fingers on the table.
"Then I suppose we should just go on as we did before, as long as you're good and promise to never break into my apartment again," Darquesse offered.
"I-"
Their waitress returned again, smile apologetic. "Sorry I didn't take your orders the last time, you two looked… busy."
Darquesse smiled, kicking Vile under the table. After a moment, he smiled as well.
"You two are cute," she said mindlessly, shaking her head. "What can I get for you?"
"He already ate," she said, gesturing her thumb at Vile, ordering for him, and then gave the menu the quickest of glances. "Hmm. Bowl of stew, pot pie, mashed potatoes, annnnd fish and chips, please?"
The waitress blinked at her, stunned. Darquesse was ready for her go to usual statement to brush people off, (I'm a cheerleader!) but had no need. She smiled after she got over her shock.
"Always thought girls your age should get more to eat. Coming right up."
Vile's expression was politely curious.
"The kicking and flying and destruction takes a lot out of a girl," she explained. "You wouldn't know." She'd miss eating, if she was him.
"So this is who you are when you're not yourself," he said, gaze falling on her jacket, the simple necklace chained around her neck. "University student who eats a little too much, sleeps with a white comforter, lives alone."
"Wow, you even noticed my bed spread. Flattered, and surprised you caught that before you threw me through a window." It wasn't until she was tumbling down the fire escape before the thought that Detective Pleasant wasn't exactly who he said he was came into her pretty little head. He was fast.
"There's not a lot I miss," said Vile, a tone of pride barely heard in his smooth voice.
"So the badge is real, huh?" He blinked and his mouth tightened. She grinned, canines pronounced.
"You're not the only one who can do a little snooping. Face it, Detective Pleasant. It's a compromise or pretending this never happened."
He didn't speak for a long time. "It is," he said finally. "And you are right. It would be the best for the two of us, to keep quiet. Go back to the way things were. This doesn't mean I trust you," Vile added.
"Of course not. You're a fairly intelligent man."
He grimaced at the compliment. "You'll be quiet, then?"
Darquesse's voice dropped to a whisper. "Not a peep."
Her food soon arrived, plates and plates of it, and she took upon it with gusto, combining meals and eating where it seemed fit. Vile made a quip that actually made her laugh (Do all young women eat like that, now a days, or just the murderous ones?) and wonder, vaguely, what exactly was Vile's history.
But she didn't ask.
They weren't partners, after all. Just two intelligent adults with an agreement. After that, they didn't speak again. He paid for her meal, nodded at her, and left.
The night was quiet, and the stars hung like fairy lights against the inky blue night from outside her table's window as Darquesse sat alone, finishing her desserts. It was too bad no one there knew whom they were, the young woman thought to herself. Maybe they would be impressed, the two villains being able to pass so well, so quiet and comfortable in this little restaurant.
Or, more likely, they would be terrified.