Dan watches Rorschach slowly open the door and step inside, hesitation in his every movement. A smell of general cleanliness follows him into the room, and dew left from his recent shower still clings to his shoulders and chest like translucent leeches. His pants sit loosely on his hips, unbuttoned and drooping enough that Dan wishes he had the courage to get up, walk over, and rip them off. Tonight, however, the pale skin that glows like a ghost in the moonlight is exposed of its owner's volition, and the terror of the underworld stands at the foot of his bed clad only in dingy boxer shorts and his wife beater. Dan almost reaches out, but his partner needs no cue, and slides to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Fluoride in water has yet to kick in," Rorschach says, clasping his hands above his knees. "Probably only have a few hours left." Dan has to smile, and stretches to graze his back with the tips of his fingers.
"You smell a lot better," he says, and tries to ignore the sad, lonely way his friend arches into his touch and pulls away all at once. Rorschach grunts, refusing to budge on his fluoride conspiracy, so Dan decides he must compromise. "If you've only got a few hours of sanity left, you should spend them doing something worth remembering." He knows how that sounds, regrets it, and Rorschach involuntarily recoils. To make up for his slip (he never pushes Rorschach into something he's uncomfortable with), he falls back onto the pillow and leaves one arm outstretched. "Come here."
It's a gentle entreaty, full of emotion, and Rorschach chooses to believe it. Sliding between the sheets, he scoots until he's close enough to Dan and stops there. Dan sighs and draws him to his chest, tired of the silly games his partner plays, for now. Rorschach seems tired of them, too, because he loops his arm around Dan's waist and tucks his head underneath his strong chin without objection. Red hair, still damp, entices him to brush his nose against Rorschach's head and inhale. He smells like himself, still, grime and typical odors predominant, but he also smells like soap – his soap – and perhaps a tint of aftershave.
"Tired," Rorschach murmurs, and Dan has to guess whether it's a question or a general statement. He hates that, but it's impossible to rewire him, so he decides to ignore it after all and strokes the small of his back. This feels… he has to think for a moment, wondering if there's a word that can sum up the feeling of angular, jutting bones pressing against his thicker frame, or the way decorative freckles span across the whole of his skin like constellations, begging him to find patterns in them.
After a moment, he finds one.
"Good," Dan says, and his hand crawls up a few inches before sinking down again, scrawling illegibly along Rorschach's spine. He shivers, only for a second, giving Dan that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that means a million things at once. "You don't sleep enough."
"Enough to keep going."
"That's not enough. You've never just… lain in bed before, have you?" Dan asks, even though he already knows the answer. Rorschach has never been the sort to indulge, and sleep is a luxury… a necessity that must be ignored when possible and met when needed. Even lately, when more often than not he spends the night in Dan's room (which, to his partner, is indulgence in itself), by the time Dan rolls out of bed, Rorschach has gathered himself and is puttering around the house.
He can feel his friend shake his head, stubble scratching ever so slightly. In response, he tightens his grip, pulling Rorschach's upper body almost flush with his in a brief hug. "You will tomorrow," he murmurs, and he feels Rorschach opening his mouth to argue. Instead, Dan scrunches down a bit and kisses his forehead, which silences him immediately. To his surprise, Rorschach leans up and kisses him again, chaste and brief, before nestling back into his chest.
Dan wonders idly if he can hear how fast his heart is beating.
"Don't have that long anyway," he mutters, breath skirting along Dan's collarbone. "Fluoride. Will be dead or insane soon." He almost says some kind of retort, about how he really can't get much crazier (then again, Dan's the one in bed with him), but quells it. He knows that in Rorschach's quirky way, harping about fluoride poisoning is the closest he's going to get to a joke.
"Mm-hmm," he mutters, refusing to patronize him. All of a sudden, it's horribly difficult to keep his eyes open. Rorschach seems to sense this, as he always does, and nudges his face so far into Dan's body that it almost feels like he's trying to be absorbed into his skin. There's a small rustling, and he feels a slender hand curl about an inch underneath and up his button-up pajama shirt. It's funny, but even though he has spent several nights with the city's worst nightmare, and even though he's become accustomed to Rorschach's shy touches, it's that single gesture that breaks his heart.
"…Won't lay in bed tomorrow. Things to do." It's almost like dealing with a child – a particularly stubborn child that always has to be arguing about something. He's never going to change… and maybe it's sad, but that's why Dan loves him.
"Of course you won't." Dan kisses feathery strands of red and lets his eyes slide shut, feeling Rorschach's breathing ease beside him. Limbs rest against him somewhat uncomfortably, scrawny bones pushing into his body, and he still can't make himself mind. It feels… nice.
The next morning, he wakes to the sun in his face, and wonders drowsily if it's worth getting up and closing the curtains. When Dan tries to pull away, he is surprised to realize that Rorschach's body is still twined around his, and his eyes are startlingly wide open. He almost asks 'what happened to the fluoride,' but manages to clamp his mouth shut. He doesn't want to ruin this… whatever it is.
"Not staying long," Rorschach growls, a sound that isn't threatening at all. Dan grins, unable to get over how his partner seems to surprise him at every corner.
"As long as you like."
They drift in and out of sleep for another hour, and each time Dan wakes up again, it gives him a little thrill to realize that Rorschach is still there.
Dedicated to the people who started "Words" thinking there would be Dan/Rorschach fluff at some point, and even after figuring out the opposite, kept reading. :) Or just my readers who like Dan/Rorschach in general. If you look closely, I even slipped in a little reference to Words – talk about self-promotion.
This was already posted on LiveJournal in two separate communities, but I figured the people that don't hang out on LJ might enjoy this too. I also edited it a bit to take out the poorly written bits and fix a few mistakes. Looking back, it seems almost awkward to me, but the awkward is a fair price to pay for Dan/Rorsch fluff, of which there isn't enough. This was the first thing I'd ever written with Dan and Rorschach being overtly romantic towards each other, and the setting/time is completely unknown even to me. Could be pre-Keene, could be pre-Roche, could be in a crazy AU where things turn out okay. :) You pick.