He was so broken, so frail, so emotionally exposed despite his tense muscles and rigid figure. To some extent, Dan was pained with guilt by being a part of this, yet he felt sort of honored in a strange way. A man Dan had viewed as stone was actually human; made of flesh that was warm, bones that could break, and eyes that begged for him silently. A man who took punches like they were only rain droplets that had fallen onto his trench coat, had been scarred by time, pink bumps of flesh, stretched by healing, were surrounded by an ocean of his birth given pale freckled skin. This was his partner in justice (it was possible you could even call it crime), lying timidly in the mass of white sheets that ruffled around his sharp, built body. If Daniel looked back years before this moment, he would have thought this impossible, perhaps a little disgusting, then again, he hadn't really known himself back then, hadn't known what he wanted and needed. However, as different as the past was, he was in the present now, skin bare form head to toe, masks and clothing discarded carelessly during their intricate dance towards the bed, leaving two humans who need each other for the time being, maybe forever.
Rorschach lay in his bed before him uncomfortably. Daniel was so used to the morphing, undulating ink blots covering his friend's face that it was odd seeing his actual one. It was haggard and his countenance was something between sheer hate and loathing and a burning desire and admiration; a combination that produced an almost ugly expression, but seemed to fit Rorschach and who he was. His fiery red hair spiked up in tuffs while other clumps lay flat or mangled: bad hat hair to be exact. A mix of colored stubble poked from his chin and those piercing orbs stared back into Daniel's own. He could read the face unlike the mask, though the mask was more familiar. The desire in his eyes was almost palpable, yet behind those sockets was a mind that was raging with an internal conflict. This level of intimacy was difficult for Rorschach, Daniel knew it. He could see the red head's bottom lip quiver slightly with sorrow, guilt, or some other emotion that Daniel wished would disappear, wished HE could make disappear.
Daniel extended his hand and caressed Rorschach's cheek, the stubble pricking the inside of his palm. Absorbing the sensual heat coming from his partner's body, Dan ran his thumb over Rorschach's chapped bottom lip. His partner flinched away at first; his eyes widened with a mild sense of panic and a you-should-have-told-me-next-time-I'm-gonna-kill-you look in response to Dan's gentle touch, but soon let himself melt into the affection. Daniel knew it was only the rigid man's habitual façade when Rorschach cautiously let himself soften into the hand of his lover.
"You need to relax. I can't have you looking like you're going to punch me every time I touch you," Daniel cooed into his partner's left ear. A shiver went down Rorschach's spine as the hot moist breath from Daniel's mouth settled on his ear lobe, goose bumps quickly following suit. "Can't relax. Never done this before," he paused and for the first time Dan saw human venerability in the 'tough as nails' vigilante as he averted his eyes, "Having second thoughts, " he muttered like there was sand in his throat.
A shot of pain tore through Daniel's heart, but he kept his composure and forced the betrayal and pain away before it leaked into his facial expression. Rorschach was having second thoughts? Daniel bit his bottom lip and examined the red head's eyes for the truth. Rorschach's eyebrows had sunk to a lower position and he was completely avoiding eye contact, which he seemed to be extremely good at. The red head's sore expression gave away his mixed feelings. Daniel frowned. It had taken him forever to get to this point in their relationship, all those clumsy steps over Rorschach's personal ocean of thin ice, the times he had punched Daniel in the gut for only attempting to hug or kiss him, yet Daniel never gave up; he endured the neglect and the pain, all in the hopes that his friend would cave in, give up the fight and throw in the towel, so Daniel could have the feisty red head body and soul, get their own happy ever after in the fucked world they lived in. He knew the happy ending was more than a stretch, but couldn't he at least have Rorschach?
Dan sat back in Rorschach's lap and sighed loudly, running a weary hand through the tangled mess of brown hair on top of his head. Their night had started out so passionately, searing kisses that were rushed and exploratory followed by hands that covertly found their way into the other's shirts and pants, peeling off leather, latex, Fedora's, trench coats, whatever clung to their partner's sweaty skin. When had it gone awry? Daniel knew Rorschach had been enjoying himself by the bulge that had been counted present previous to his "dilemma".
"So do you want to fuck or not?" Daniel growled in exasperation.
"Don't use fuck! Not some cheap one night stand!" Rorschach roared sitting up abruptly causing Daniel to fall backwards off the bed and onto the cold hardwood floor. He relaxed on the ground like it was meant for him. Exhaling in defeat, Daniel though in a dismal realization, "Just like my life: warm and comfy one second then tossed out into the cold the next."
He lie there for a while not even venturing to get up from his uncomfortable, frigid spot below the foot of the bed. The floor was fine. He figured, in a way, it was his fault for being too forward or insensitive or some other bullshit only Rorschach would ever know. His prime sense of comfort in his depressing train of thought was the shifting sounds of the coarse sheets as Rorschach stirred on the bed restlessly. Daniel smiled lazily. Maybe their relationship was doomed. He couldn't change the short red head nor did he was to. In a sense, Daniel enjoyed how messed up his partner was. Daniel wouldn't be able to handle a normal person. Rorschach provided an edge to his mundane. He needed Rorschach plain and simple, but the million dollar question was: did Rorschach need him?
"I love you," Daniel said with sincerity practically pooling in the back of his throat. If their romance was to be the brief candle before it flickered out and died, if they were somehow destined to fail, Daniel wanted Rorschach to know it was real. He loved that man. It had been a sudden epiphany that night when the rain had come down like tears from the sky, matching his own trailing down his cheeks. Maybe Rorschach had had his own epiphany at some point in their relationship or before. He'd most likely never know. Rorschach wasn't the "I'm going to spill my guts to you" kind of guy. Dan took in a deep breath and continued, ending the moment of contemplative silence. "You would never be a one night stand. If you ever are, you have permission to kill me."
Still remaining stationary, Daniel listened as Rorschach rustlings halted. The brunette tensed up immediately. Had he said too much again? Was Rorschach ready to pounce and rip out Daniel's jugular vein in his signature ferocity? A low moaning creek came from the springs in the bed and the slow careful sounds of the smaller man moving again. His head popped out from the foot of the bed like a disgruntled fox from his den.
"Say it again," he commanded hoarsely.
In confusion, Daniel peered up at his scruffy fox, "Say WHAT again?" Rorschach glared down at his prey as if he had just committed a murder. Daniel felt hurt and threatened without the red head ever uttering a word; there was no room for words to pass through those lips that were pursed together making the flesh pinched and white. His eyes were piercing and demanding and, somehow, Daniel found himself lost in them. Daniel knew what Rorschach wanted. It's what any insecure, multiple personality, purity maniac would need to head more than once: "I love you," Daniel repeated staring his friend square in the eyes.
They stared intensely at one another as if there was a psychic debate firing through their synapses. Rorschach's eyes were oppressive, filled with heated emotions more powerful than one of his bone crushing punches. Daniel had witnessed the gruesome capability of his partner's fist, the gloved hand coated with the thick oozing crimson after he finally pulled his fist out from the criminals face, blood splattered on the morphing ink blots. Daniel feared the man's scrutinizing gaze more than that fist. He'd held that hand, kissed and caressed it, but that look… that look was lethal. He could feel the weight pushing down on his shoulders, crumbling slowly under his lover's silent will. He wanted desperately to avert his eyes, to escape the painfully captivating blues, but Daniel knew if he so much as glanced at anything other than his insecure partner (be it a knife in his leg or an explosion outside the window), Rorschach would somehow find a lie hidden in Daniel's words and dismiss them as disgusting ways to get into his pants.
God knows Daniel tries. Lying freshly showered with only a small loose clinging towel to keep him "hidden" and intentionally being caught in the act of self gratification, but Rorschach practically had and electrically charged chastity belt on! And he was attracted to it like a dull witted house fly, just one touch and he was fried, but Daniel had worked so hard to have Rorschach even lay nude before him. He was like the stray cat he had found as a child; skinny to the point or protruding ribs, fur that was patchy and ratty due to mange, a weak mew that was barely audible, yet it held his interest. Daniel wanted to touch the disgusting animal, he wanted the cat to trust him and need him. Luring it closer week by week with salty bits of tuna, Daniel watched its timidness with curiosity. It was hungry, right, so why wouldn't the feline devour his offerings greedily. Daniel would if he was in its position, its jutting ribs attested to its starvation, so why refuse and let itself slowly shrivel and die?
Upon the second month of coaxing the feline into his reach, Daniel realized why the cat had been so apprehensive. The animal's skin was covered in pink bulging scars, crispy circles of cauterized skin where the cat had been burned by cigarette butts, and fresh bruises accompanied by trenchant wounds; some infected and pussing. The young Daniel had gazed upon the damaged feline eating out of the palm of his hand and had felt the consuming choking feeling of extreme sympathy and affection: love. It was the same way he perceived Rorschach. He had treaded carefully, luring the red head out of his shell slowly until he was able to see the scars, asses the damage, and understand.
Daniel regarded Rorschach with a swelling of love as his partner's expression changed from stony reluctance to one of acceptance, a nuance only Daniel would notice. A small grin found its way to Daniel's countenance and even though the red head's face remained the same, he knew his battered fox smiled so beautifully on the inside.
"Can I kiss you?" Daniel cooed gently placing his hands at each side of his fox's strong jaw. Rorschach stared, hesitation lacing the passion swirling in his eyes. There was a nod, insignificant enough to be read as a twitch, but Daniel had noticed it. The brunette brought his face forward and softly locked his lips with Rorschach's, the pink flesh melting together. The red head's response was slow and timid, but soon his lips came into play. Daniel soaked in the sensation and lost himself in the soft sound of their lips connecting over and over again, a gentle moist popping noise. Rorschach was the only man who could make Daniel melt and lose himself and, as he opened his left eye for a quick peek at his partner, Daniel discovered the same was true for Rorschach. His fox had opened up. He was ready to touch Daniel and to be touched by him, even if it was only a small amount at first.