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Red found herself anticipating the nightly visits from her savior. They became more and more frequent. She would go to work at the library, come home at night, make dinner (enough for the both of them), and like clockwork he would slip in through the window at eleven.
Sometimes they talked. Well, she did most of the talking. But he did answer her whenever she asked him something. His one or two word responses were slowly but surely becoming more lengthy and elaborate.
Sometimes they just sat together. Red figured the silence would be awkward but it was the exact opposite. She would read, watch tv, make dinner. And he would sit as still as a statue, apart from his head following her movements.
Normally, someone staring at her gave Red a sense of unease. But his piercing gaze was quickly becoming familiar to her. Sometimes, when she was walking home from she felt it. It was less intense, but she could sense that he was watching over her. Quite possibly, protecting her?
And it was no different this night. Red had just left the store, juggling grocery bags from hand to hand. Hurrying, she rushed home to get a headstart on dinner. Smiling, she thought of how much Rorschach enjoyed her food. To her, it was the highest of compliments.
Four top knots began tailing her, and it was not lost upon her. She felt the sharp prickle of their gaze at the back of her neck. She quickened her pace in the hopes that she would lose them before getting to her apartment. She definitely did not want them to see where she lived.
But they did not let up. Their boots clomped after her. Can't believe this. I'm a danger magnet. Can I go one day without being mugged or assaulted?
***
Can't believe it. Vermin tailing her. Can she not go one day without being in distress?
I sigh. Well, I do get exercise. If ever need find bad guys, can just look for Red.
I drop down from the roof top. Silent. Hands tighten into fists. No one touches her.
***
Red rounded the corner. Two more blocks and she would be home. She sighed. If she was going to do something, it would have to be now. A block away, she stopped just past the last alley. She turned around abruptly.
There was no one. Uhh, where'd they go?
Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. A gruff chuckle leaked from the alley. She knew that sound.
She peeked around the corner. A tall, broad shouldered figure towered over the bodies of the four top knots. She shook her head.
"I should have known. Rorschach." She nodded, venturing farther into the alley.
"Red." He inclined his head, straightening the collar of his brown leather jacket.
A thrill went through her as she heard his nickname for her fall from his lips. He had never asked her real name. It was fine, she was Red to him. It was nice to be that just for him.
She batted her eyelashes at him. "Oh! I just don't know what I'd do if you weren't here all the time, saving me from the dangers of the big city." She smirked.
"Maybe if wore less makeup and revealing clothing would look less like prostitute and would be less of target." He stated, popping a sugar cube into his mouth.
She stared at him, wide eyed, before breaking out in light laughter.
He shifted from foot to foot, his arms crossing his chest in almost in defense of his statement.
Laughter sounds like tinkling of bells. Soothing.
"I love your honesty. But I don't really consider my work skirt and blouse revealing. And besides..." She eyed his face. "I shouldn't have to change myself... just so I won't be a target."
Never compromise...
She was always doing this to him. Taking his beliefs and spinning them on their axis. Proving him right and wrong at the same time. He always believed things were black and white. Good and bad. But this girl... Girl is frustrating. Hair may be red but she tells me things are grey. Confusing.
She saw his head quirk to the side. She knew this meant he was deep in thought, so she decided to change the subject.
"So, are you coming over now? Or should I wait a little while to start making dinner?"
He snapped out of his reverie. His mouth watered. Her food was bound to turn him into a glutton if he did not watch himself. He always had to watch himself around her. But that had not stopped him from coming back.
"Not now. Must patrol." Chomp, chomp, chomp go his teeth against the sugar cube.
He saw her face drop for a second before it was back up again. He felt an unfamiliar feeling at her momentary lapse of emotion. He pushed it aside for later analysis.
"There are other accident prone red heads that need saving?" She quipped.
His face cracked beneath his mask. Another smile.
"That's just you." He replied, voice low.
"Was that you engaging in banter with me? I think I might faint." She smiled, face lighting up.
"Am going now." He said, turning to go. He did not wait for her reply.
She smiled a secret smile. Then she went home to make dinner.
***
He got there later than anticipated. She had left the window open for him, like she did every night. He climbed the fire escape up to her window and shouldered his way in.
He could hear clanging coming from the kitchen and knew exactly where to find her.
He watched, the kitchen doorway framing his body. She was seated at the table.
"There you are." She said without turning around.
How'd she know? Silent approach.
"I can feel you watching me." She explained.
She neglected to say how much she liked it when he did. So much time spent invisible, it was nice for someone to notice her. But she knew how conservative he was. He would never think of her like that. Ever.
He huffed and went to sit down across from her. Must practice stealth.
She smiled warmly at him, got up and went to the stove, and came back with kettle full of soup. She ladled the soup into two bowls. His mouth watered instantly.
"Ham and potato soup." She clarified.
She watched him, like she always did, as he peeled his mask upward towards his nose.
She ate a few bites of soup, trying to concentrate on eating. But her eyes always found his mouth. Watching him as he took bites from his spoon. The way his teeth would sometimes come out to bite and his lips wrapped around the swell of the spoon. She shook her head, physically shaking the thoughts from her head. What's wrong with me?
But her mind always found its way back to his exposed skin. After seeing his mask all the time, it was fascinating. The square of his chin. The straightness of his teeth, almost as straight as his rigid posture. His lips thin, but nice.
He'd never see me again if he knew how much I think about him. I learned that much. The way he talks of women and prostitutes. Unforgiving. Relentless. Black and white. He avoided all talk of his family. Perhaps his rigid beliefs stemmed from there. Was this some sort of hero syndrome? Do I think of him that way because he saved me? No, saves me. Again and again.
He could feel her eyes on his lips again. His belly did flip flops as her eyes slid towards his mouth again and again. He was becoming uncomfortable. Hot underneath. He quickly sucked what was left of his soup from his bowl with a loud SLUUURP.
She looked at him, dumbfounded. Then she laughed, delighted.
"Wow, the vigilante eats like a three year old."
He blushed beneath his face. "Not three." He sulked.
She was curious. "How old are you, exactly?"
Her eyes watched his lips. He had not replaced his face yet. He did not know why.
"Old."
He was curious. "And you?"
She smiled. "I'm 20."
He was shocked, lips pursed into a thin line. Her eyes caught the movement.
So young. Dimples. Was too late in alley. Dimples. Blazing hair. Pretty. Pretty? Where did that come from? So young. Feel like dirty old man. But I don't want that. Could never feel that. For anyone. For her? Best leave.
He scooted his chair back abruptly.
"Hey, wait. Don't go. Did I say something?" She rushed in front of him to intercept him.
He stopped, sighing. Again her eyes watched him, he noticed. His hands went up to his face and pulled it back down over his chin.
And she made a decision. A life altering one.
"Wait." She breathed.
She comes closer and he feels that he should maybe run.
Her hands go toward the edge of his mask. He immediately stiffens up. She holds her breath.
Two words.
"Trust me."
He held his breath.
Her hands gently curled the edge of his mask up over his neck and chin. His hands almost went up to stop her going any farther. But she stopped at his nose. Trust me she said.
She saw his adams apple work furiously up and down.
And she did it.
She lifted up onto the tip of her toes... he was tall after all. And she pressed her lips to his.
He froze in place. He did not move a muscle. Electricity licked his spine.
All he could think was: Soft.
He could smell her. Sweet and dangerous.
She pressed her lips more insistently against his and he told himself that this was not bad.
It certainly did not feel bad. Not wrong...not so bad.
He felt her tongue lick against his bottom lip and he jumped back, knocking his chair over.
"Oh, I'm sorry." She blurted out. "Wait!"
But it was no use. He yanked his mask down over his face and ran out of the kitchen.
She raced after him only to see his graceful form leap from the window.
Tears spilled over her eyelashes. She blinked them out of the way.
She knew she had crossed the line with him and she felt a sense of dread.
Dread because she knew she may not be able to fix things.
She could not forget his taste.
Tangy... but faintly sweet. Must be the sugar cubes...
***
Rorschach paced back in forth.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Got too close!
His fist lashed out and slammed against the brick wall of the alleyway.
Felt things. Should not have.
He shook his head, pacing again. Prowling like a cat.
So young. So goddamn young. So good. Pure. Red.
Lips soft. Red. Pressure. Friction. Hot lick of tongue.
He groaned. He struggled.
Fighting the urge to go back to her apartment.
Red...
