Disclaimer: don't own Watchmen, no way no how.
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~ Slump ~
by Lady Scale
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It was dawn break in New York City and in one of the modest apartment homes, Daniel Dreiberg, still clad in his blue and white striped pajamas, rubbed away at the crust in his eyes while entering the kitchen. Putting on his glasses and trying to make out the date on his calendar, which ironically enough showed a picture of on owl, he marked another day with an X before turning on the tap in the sink. Drinking a glass of water, the unpleasant cottony taste in his mouth washed away, and now he was idly looking in the overhanging pantry, planning to have a warm morning tea while reading the newspaper.
Still half awake, but now with a steaming mug complete with teabag in one hand and the Tuesday issue in the other, he entered the livingroom, graciously answering the imaginary call of the comfy inviting couch.
His back to the couch, he set the mug on the little coffee table, and then stepped back with paper in hand, letting out a content sigh while he plopped himself down on the cushions.
"HNNNnnK!"
Eyes snapping open, Dan jumped and turned around, letting a yelp of surprise, newspaper flying from his hand only to land in an undignified heap. A messy fedora, brown coat, purple pin-striped pants and worn shoes meeting his foggy gaze told him the couch was already occupied. "R-Rorschach!"
The characteristic 'hurm' and a "Hi, Daniel." coming to his ears confirmed his hunch, and panicked he began to stutter "Oh oh my, d-did I hurt you?"
A gloved hand rose to console him, and a rough voice emitting from somewhere between upholstery folds and what little he could see of the monochromatic mask under the hat spoke "Fine. Don't think I was using those ribs anyway." Muffled, and trying an oddball attempt at humor obviously did not work on the middle-aged man which had the receiving end of an out-of-the-blue wake-up call.
"You scared me half to death! What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to calm down from the panic attack he got.
A short pause ensued as if he was actually recalling what he was doing before he got sat on, after which Rorschach simply answered tiredly "Oh. Was just lying here on my face."
Daniel looked at the way the vigilante was propped up on the couch: face-first onto the cushions with feet lazily over the armrest, one arm hanging over the edge and other no doubt squished between his body and the upholstery, though hidden somewhere under the coat. Face was planted firmly in the mounds of leather, worn hat lay askew over the back of his head.
Dan took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, then looked behind into the hallway, suddenly reminded that if Rorschach is now present, then that would mean…
"Used tunnel entrance." Oh. No need to call another carpenter then.
Looking back at his partner, he steadily began to notice the more minute details which composed his current state, such as: the fact that his mask and shoulders seemed wet and, even more peculiarly, a piece of ladies' undergarment which was caught in the belt buckle of his coat and yet another one looped over his ankle. Daniel's expression at that was what could be best described as a Kodak-worthy moment. "…so what happened?" he finally managed to ask, leaning closer to hear him more clearly.
Rorschach breathed in a long breath before letting it out slowly. If there was probably one indication if his friend was mildly embarrassed to say anything, that would be it. "Was following gang member to hideout… Was on tiled roof when drainpipe gave way."
Dan slightly gasped "Oh dear!" mind suddenly in hyper-drive, fretting at what the outcome was and the fact that Rorschach may most likely be badly hurt.
"Two stories down, managed to grab windowsill." Rorschach said before Dan could say anything else. "Window was open so thought could climb in and go out the door." Rorschach's head slightly turned to the side over to face the other, voice clearer now.
Dan could now see one half of the swirling patterns which characterized the mask under the fedora. "...and?" he inquired further, curious. Another long pause before his friend finally said "Half-dressed woman saw me…"
The brunet blinked in surprise.
"Both of us screamed. Got flowervase to head and lost grip… Fell three more stories through clotheslines… landed on pile of old mattresses… Called it a night and got here."
With the story out in the open now, Dan couldn't help but imagining a cartoony lady going all 'Eeek! A peeping tom!', and managing to tickle his funny bone. But he held that in fearing it would result his fingers getting twisted by the obviously embarrassed vigilante, friend or not. At least that kind of explained the mysteriously procured lacy lingerie. "Can I get you anything?" Daniel asked.
Another breath intake and sigh, much longer this time, making him feel out of place in the silence. "Ror-?"
"Ibuprophen..." Rorschach mumbled finally.
The man had to pause a bit and think what that meant until he realized it's a brand of painkillers. Rorschach wanted painkillers. "Oh yeah! Right away." He got up to head for the bathroom's medicine cabinet.
"Oh. And Daniel?" a mumble from the couch interrupted him.
"Yes?"
"Lose some weight."