Hello guys! I bring you my first Nite Owl II / Rorschach fanfic! Hope you enjoy it!
Warning: MALE x MALE relationship! I don't own Nite Owl (Daniel), Rorschach (Walter) or Watchmen!!
xX – Paradoxical Emotion - Xx
You feel drowsy all over, your eyelids heavy and nothing else seems significant as you march home on autopilot, hoping to hit the pillow as soon as possible. The silent darkness of streets you pass intimidates you and after a few more steps you feel sorry for your ordinary little self. Ordinary. You became ordinary the very minute you put away your hero armor – some people call it costume, but it is armor nonetheless. You don't feel like even going down there, to your basement – everything there reminds you of the days gone by. And you feel empty when you go, anyways.
The rain has no mercy as its huge drops crush your coat, over and over again. You're soaking wet, you can barely see two feet ahead of you, and you involuntarily hiss something indecipherable as you step into a goddamn puddle.
This day isn't worth shit. You sigh bitterly, adjusting your glasses.
The rest of the way home does not have any unpleasantness; it actually surprises you to a certain extent.
You reach the desired destination – your home – only to find your front door broken; realization of possible danger waiting for you kicks in only when you open the door with an awful creek. Anyone, any felon, from ordinary thief to merciless killer might as well be waiting for you there, but somehow you know that's not the case here.
You don't turn on the lights, feel that it's not necessary. Take off your coat and brush your soaking wet hair to the side, so that you can see a passing silhouette, at least. As you advance forward into the darkness of your own apartment you can clearly hear a splashing sound of water. To your astonishment, you were right.
You quietly open the door to the bathroom and are not surprised to find a reflection of inkblots changing its patterns in your mirror. He doesn't say a word, regardless that you know that he knows that you're standing behind him. All of his senses are always on maximum, always tensed, and always prepared to strike back in case of an attack. You mused back then when you two were partners and still you do not have a proper answer to the question of what happens if he ever lets his guard down.
Most probably you never will.
The second thing you notice is his lack of coat. Only moments later your brain registers the piece of dark clothing lying on the floor. He glances behind his shoulder and you just stare at him for a few seconds; you cough to break the silence while collecting your thoughts of what to say.
'Long time no see,' is all you can come up with and it seems a ridiculously stupid thing to say to your partner, whom you haven't seen for hell knows how long.
The patterns on his 'face' shift and he turns to his reflection once again.
Only now you notice a couple of bloody stains on his shirt and waistcoat and your face changes.
'Rorschach, what happened?' you ask, voicing your concern.
'Not lethal,' comes his reply.
Somehow you begin to doubt his words as you come closer to see just how big the bloodstain is. And you are right to doubt the man in front of you as he lies once again.
You could swear that you hear a pained hiss behind the mask as the wet piece of cloth he held in his hand makes contact with his injury.
'You don't want to take those off?' you ask about his upper body garments, with no ill intention in mind.
He glares you for an instance. 'No.'
'You really should; besides, let me help you. Show me your wound, why don't you?' Once again, no ill intentions.
You feel the same glare on you, but you ignore it as you reach for his waistcoat's buttons. You stop, dumbfoundedby what in blazes you are doing. Your hands gone cold, you just stand still, your fingers intact with Rorschach's bloody waistcoat, expecting a direct bone-breaking hit straight to your jaw.
But all you feel is a tensed gesture of brushing your hands away, as he comments that invading his personal space is considered a threat. You have nothing to say to this.
He takes of his garments, letting them fall to the ground around his feet. You stare. His skin is white with some amount of freckles on his shoulders and back. You stare. Uncountable amounts of old and new scars leeched away the purity of his white skin, but you still feel mesmerized. You see the new wound on his left side, blood escaping, dripping down his skin, staining his pants with crimson.
Rorschach's muscles tense as he places a wet strip of cloth to his side. Clearly, that hurt like hell.
As he bends down a bit to reach the running water in the sink to wash the blood away from his hands and the cloth, you catch yourself thinking about how well-built he is, and how distracting his ass looks in those pants without his usual coat covering them. Somehow you wonder, will sinking your teeth into that neck will count as an injury or not? You wonder about many things, but somehow they all come down to your ex-partner.
In one instant, you feel sick; sick all over from the thoughts that invade your head. You massage your temples, trying your best to keep your cool and block away foolish ideas. You sigh. He stays quiet. You sigh again.
You take another look at his ever-changing 'face' reflected in the mirror and your mind goes blank as your legs move on their own. You're fast and the element of surprise does its miracle to Rorschach as he does not see it coming. In one swift motion you get rid of his mask, revealing a shock-stricken, freckled face, blue eyes open wide with shock, surprise and, perhaps, panic.
You are taller, so without hesitation, while your brain is still malfunctioning, you lean down. Direct contact. Lips touch. Heartbeats. Blood rushing to your head. Hands are no longer part of your body, as they wander on their own, grabbing a fist-full of ginger hair.
You lay on the titles of your bathroom, your jaw probably broken. You hear his voice; he's saying something, but you can't make it out since your head is ringing like church bell.
You lift your body from the cold floor; you seemed to have blacked out. His clothes are no longer lying scattered across the room. Rorschach is nowhere in sight.
The sudden pain comes back to you as you try to open your mouth. Seeing a doctor tomorrow is a must, you note to yourself bitterly.
Regardless the pain, you are filled with a paradoxical emotions burning in your chest. You smile to no one in particular. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Smile again, knowing that…
No pain in the world will make you regret what you did tonight.
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