Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it.
Rorschach pushed Dan into the wall of a crumbling building, fury threatening to spill over and consume him. Never had he been the victim of such a perverted act, and now he felt severely unclean. He wanted to take steel wool to his lips and scrub them raw, even though there hadn't been any skin-to-skin contact. The fact that it was his only friend, someone he occasionally thought about trusting, who did this to him just fueled the urge to break bones.
Dan was absolutely horrified. "I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have - . . . "
"Filthy," Rorschach growled, shoving his partner even further against the wall. "Don't ever touch me like that again." He made sure it sunk in before he finally released his partner, immediately turning towards the street and heading out to find someone's ribs to break.
It wasn't until Rorschach was out of sight that Dan slid down the wall. He hadn't been afraid of the shorter man like that in years. His hands were actually shaking. As he started to calm down, he thought about whether he regretted it or not. Even though Rorschach would probably be furious with him for a good month, he didn't feel any regret. It was just another "mistake" that he'd wait to blow over. He'd made them before, and Rorschach always came back.
But Dan was worried that Rorschach would take his anger out on some unfortunate mugger. Not that Dan felt any sympathy for criminals. He just didn't want his partner killing anyone.
"Better go find him," he mumbled as he ran out into the soft glow of the streetlights.
It wasn't hard to do. He merely had to follow the screaming and pathetic begging. Once he reached the alley, he witnessed the masked vigilante relentlessly beating a man's face in. All of the howling and begging had ceased. Instead, the man hung limp from Rorschach's grasp, one arm bent the wrong way. Dan winced, not realizing how much his spontaneous show of affection would affect Rorschach. Geez, Dan, are you an idiot? Of course he'd react badly to that, he scolded himself.
It took a great deal of effort to pry his partner from the criminal—dear God, he hoped it was a criminal. The severely beaten man was unconscious, but thankfully, he was alive.
"Don't touch me," Rorschach hissed, slightly out of breath.
"Take it easy, man. Look, I'm sorry. I mean it." He spoke his words calmly and evenly, hoping he sounded sincere enough. In reality, he wasn't sorry at all. What he had done was stupid, yes. But those few seconds before Rorschach had reacted were pure ecstasy. "If you . . . If you really need to beat on someone, let it be me. Take it out on the person who made you this pissed off."
Rorschach's whole body was shaking with barely suppressed rage, but seeing Dan's pleading eyes behind the goggles forced him to calm himself down. Eventually, he roughly shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked deeper into the alley.
"Hey, wait," Dan called out, following him. He knew he was being idiotic, but he couldn't help it. Surprisingly, Rorschach actually stopped, although Dan could sense the anger that was just beneath the surface. "You can hit me if you want . . . if that would make you feel better."
"No. Wouldn't make me feel better." His voice sounded deeper, if that was even possible, but it lacked an edge as he went on. Rorschach couldn't help it. He always had something of a soft spot for the taller man. "Don't want what you want. Can't want. Must understand this, Daniel." Then he kept walking, having no doubt that his partner would realize what he truly meant by those words.
Dan didn't go after him, a sad grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. In some way, he couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. Rorschach was so stuck in his way of thinking that he couldn't act out, or accept, even the most basic forms of affection. And having those feelings probably tore his mind to shreds on a regular basis. In retrospect, Dan realized that he'd merely been selfish and had inadvertently forced Rorschach to feel uncomfortable in his own skin. There was no way he could change the man. The only thing he really could do was wait and see if Rorschach's willpower ever weakened to the point where he allowed himself to actually feel.
At least Dan knew it was there, even if just slightly. Although, it had to be enough for Rorschach, who was a little bundle of violence, to say that hitting him wouldn't help.
Sighing, Dan walked out onto the street, where Archie was waiting for him. After contacting the police about the unconscious man—and apologizing for his partner's excessive force—he decided to call it a night. But, of course, he stumbled upon some idiots on the streets below that had to be taken care of, for his own peace of mind. It wasn't until three hours later that he finally returned home.
Freshly peeled out of his suit, Dan climbed the stairs sluggishly, only wanting a glass of cold water and a good six hours of sleep. He definitely didn't expect to find that his kitchen had been raided. That usually didn't shock him, but after what happened that night, he thought Rorschach wouldn't want to be within five miles of his apartment.
A few items from his cabinets were missing, but he wasn't annoyed until he saw that his sugar jar was completely empty. "I just bought a new bag yesterday. How much sugar does that man need?" he muttered. Dan had to roll his eyes as he wondered if his partner did it out of spite.
Then he walked to his front door to assess the damage, too tired to get irritated any more. Dan was surprised for the second time when he saw that the lock was intact. Rorschach only used a window once or twice in all the years he'd known him. Apparently, this was one of those rare times when he decided to spare Dan the aggravation of buying a new lock. His bedroom window was wide open, letting in a gentle breeze that still managed to make him shiver.
After Dan closed it, he sat on his bed and contemplated everything that had happened in the past few hours. Eventually, he just had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. It was then that he noticed a scrap of paper on his nightstand. It had Rorschach's signature on it and nothing more, but Dan knew that it was his unique way of apologizing.
Without getting that glass of water he had wanted earlier, or even shutting off the lights in his apartment, he took his glasses off and pulled the covers back. But before he lied down, Dan folded the paper that bore the scribbled "r"s and slipped it into his chest pocket. He knew to appreciate the little things when it came to his partner.