"No, Daniel."
"Rorschach, please."
"Never compromise. Will not take bath."
Dan ground his teeth together at the stubbornness of his friend and forced himself not to plug his nose purely because he didn't feel like getting punched in the jaw. Rorschach's trench coat was spattered with the usual amount of blood and dirt. It also smelled a little, but that wasn't surprising. It was the stench of body odor and unwashed hair beneath the trench that bothered Dan, not the stink of the city.
"You reek," Dan said, hoping to sway his partner via unflinching honesty.
The inkblots seemed to stare back for a moment before Rorschach yanked the lower half of his mask up and popped a sugar cube into his mouth. "Good," he said.
Dan rubbed his temples wearily. Christ, he should probably just let it go. But then, Dan was stubborn, too.
"You are not," he said pleasantly, "sleeping in my bed unless you take a bath."
Dan saw Rorschach's lip quirk. Gloved hands pulled the mask back down. Much to Dan's amusement, the only sound in the room was the crunching of sugar cubes.
"Not fair, Daniel," Rorschach said.
And then he turned and left without giving Dan the chance to reply.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, Dan thought, sinking miserably into the nearest chair at the tiny kitchen table. Threatening someone as unpredictable as Rorschach had been an extremely stupid thing to do. Dan considered himself lucky not to have a black eye for the next few days, but he figured he'd rather have bruises than be without the vigilante for that long. When Rorschach left pissed, he was apt to take a while to return.
Self-pity had never been Daniel Dreiberg's strong suit. In fact, the sound of running water upstairs was all it took to snap him out of it. Dan grinned, and then he sprinted up the steps two at a time.