Story 4: Smashed
Genre: Comedy, Friendship
Characters: Rorschach and Nite Owl II
Universe and time period: Comic-verse, late 60's
Warnings: Written for kinkmeme. A little on the goofy side. Rated PGish. 'Bromancy' but no slash.
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The two of them were in perfect sync that night, matched blow for blow, felling one enemy after another with a kind of precision that would make it seem as though the opposition was simply offering itself up to them. It was moments like this that made Dan so aware of what a perfect team they were.
Dan's excitement rose as they weeded the gang down to but a few remaining players, the rest were sprawled piteously about their feet. In the distance Dan could hear sirens. The police would be there in minutes to clean up the mess. Another flawless win for the Nite Owl-Rorschach team. Dan's eyes flitted around the alley. Rorschach was bearing down on the last remaining gangster thug, a lean young man with an almost nervous quickness about him. Dan relaxed and waited, straightening his cowl and keeping an eye on the fallen criminals. Rorschach would be done with that kid in no time. He leaned back, casually waiting for his partner to finish with his foe when something entirely unexpected occurred.
The slim gangster ducked Rorschach's left jab with a swiftness that the masked man clearly had not anticipated. Riding the momentum of his evasion, the little thug slid to his knees, scooped up a crowbar from the slack hand of one of his unconscious allies, and popped back up onto his feet all in one sweeping fluid movement. Then, in an altogether ungentlemanly action that said nothing short of "Fuck you, I'm out of here", the brazen kid swung the heavy metal weapon low and brought it up, with all the force his lean body could muster, straight between Rorschach's legs.
Dan could not hold back an immediate reflexive cringe, and a small snort of laughter. He felt a wave of guilt for this, but he couldn't help it. Rorschach, The Rorschach, just got nailed in the balls. Hard. Stuff like this never happened.
The gangster kid, having squarely hit his mark, dropped the weapon and bolted. Dan knew he should take off after him. He knew that was what his partner expected from him, but given what had just happened Dan's attention was entirely on his friend.
Rorschach was leaning against the brick wall, and as Dan slowly approached him, trying his damnedest not to snicker at his partner's plight, he could see that he was shaking. This, coupled with the fact that he had not swallowed up the pain and tore down the alley after the thug was proof enough that he was hurting bad. The thought then occurred to Dan that there was a possibility his partner was actually damaged down there, and any trace of humor he had found in the situation evaporated.
"Rorschach. Buddy, are you alright?" Dan lifted a tentative hand and reached for his friend's shoulder.
"Nnnnggh," Rorschach replied through clenched teeth with one of his many non-words.
"I saw that. Damn, man. Ouch." Dan squinted at the very thought of the iron bar smashing into the tender flesh between his partners legs with enough force that the weapon appeared as nothing short of a blur before contact. Dan swallowed hard as he tried to figure how to go about asking Rorschach about the state of his genitals in a way that would not send the smaller vigilante staggering away in horror.
"Rorschach, I'm serious. Is everything, alright…err…down there."
"Is-Is- f-f-f-f-fine," The masked man stammered helplessly, his voice sounding forced and strangled.
Dan couldn't help but smile sympathetically at his partner as he cautiously laid a hand on his bent back and gently rubbed the quivering shoulder blades. Rorschach was so taken by the agony he was in that he offered up nothing in protest.
The red and blue lights of police cars illuminated the dark alley, and Rorschach stiffened immediately.
"N-Need…to…to get..a-aw-away," Rorschach sputtered, still unable to properly form the words.
Trying to salvage whatever dignity he had left, Rorschach stumbled down the dark alley and disappeared around the corner in the direction of the Owlship. Dan followed, still not quite able stifle the grin that played on his lips at the sight of the poor vigilante attempting to escape, all curled in on himself, unable to quite bring his legs together, clumsily limping in the most awkward and indescribable fashion.
When the two of them were finally alone in the ship, Dan turned to his partner who was now leaning against the wall of the ship masked face pressed into his forearm.
"You should, um…check yourself," Dan said carefully, still worried that the injury could be worse than a bad bruise.
"Will. Check. Will check later." Rorschach choked out.
Dan scratched his head. He felt all twisted up inside. He wanted to comfort his partner who was obviously in unspeakable pain, but condolences where difficult enough to administer to Rorschach; let alone condolences for an what was undoubtedly the worst hit to the balls Dan had ever witnessed.
"It might help to scream," Dan offered shyly with a kind smile. "Just let loose. That's what I'd do."
The smaller vigilante paused for a brief moment and gave a weak nod before burying his face into his sleeve and screaming until there was not a trace of air left in his lungs. The hoarse primal roar would have been terrifying if Dan wasn't aware of what it stemmed from, and he was more than a little grateful Rorschach muffled it into his coat.
"Better?" Dan inquired when his partner seemed to have caught his breath.
"Somewhat. Thank you."
"I think we're done for tonight, lets head back to the Nest," said Dan as he took his seat in the pilot's chair.
"Yes. Agreed," muttered Rorschach, who remained standing the entire ride.