[FIC] Watchmen - Dan/Rorschach - PG13 - "Worried"
Title: "Worried"
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Nite Owl II/ Rorschach
Word Count: 910
Warnings: Man-tears.
Summary: A continuation of " Confused" and " Frustrated"
Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen. I never will. I just love and adore the characters of Watchmen.
Daniel hadn't heard from Rorschach in two weeks.
He had heard of him from others, but hadn't been able to track him down himself. To say he was worried would have been an understatement. He was also freaked out, and sad. From what Ozymandias had told him at their last meeting, Rorschach had gone completely insane. He'd killed the last three men he'd found to be breaking the law, and had been witnessed breaking a man's fingers for no other reason than, “Was thinking vile thoughts.”
Daniel sat in his kitchen, nursing a coffee and watching the hour hand of his clock move slowly towards the four. He'd barely returned from his patrol, a patrol that had been rather uneventful as he'd spent most of it searching for his partner.
Ex-partner?
He didn't like that thought at all. He took a sip of his drink, willing the strong brew to wash the bitter taste from his mouth that had been there since he realized Rorschach was avoiding him. He deeply regretted ever having accosted his partner, felt his stomach twist sickeningly at the realization that he'd ruined everything. Years. It had taken years to get the man to trust him enough to call him partner, and he had thrown it all away in a night, because he couldn't control his hormones.
Daniel was distracted, fidgety, and his fingers were shaking. When he picked up his coffee mug to take another sip, it slipped free. The lukewarm liquid splashed down him, soaking through the t-shirt and boxers he'd stripped down to, and the mug shattered against the floor. He cursed, standing quickly, edging around the ceramic shards on bare feet, and sought out the broom.
He swept three times, the spilled coffee making it difficult to get all the smaller pieces of shattered ceramic up, then collapsed back into his chair. His clothing was damp and stained, and the smell of not-fresh coffee on clothing was not an attractive one. He buried his face in his arms on the table, breathing unevenly, an awkward ache in his chest. Why couldn't he have had feelings for someone else? Veidt would have been a better choice, despite his arrogant attitude. At least Daniel was fairly certain that the man was gay, and he could have sworn he'd caught him checking out his butt on more than one occasion.
But no, it had to be Rorschach.
With his dark persona, his mysterious, aloof ways. His unconventional means of getting information.
Daniel sighed, standing up, and hissed, sitting back down. Twisting his leg so he could see the bottom of his foot, he frowned. He hadn't managed to sweep up all the shards after all. He picked at the wound, blunt fingernails failing to grasp the tiny shard, and winced as his actions only made it worse. His actions were always making things worse. He sniffed, loudly, his eyes watering as his frustration over the shard grew. He sniffled, felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks, and cursed himself as he tried to dig it out.
“Hurm.”
He looked up sharply, brown eyes locking on Rorschach's form. His inkblot mask was as inscrutable as ever, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
“Daniel.”
The name was said like it had always been said. As though nothing was different, and Daniel heard himself sob, a wet and unattractive noise, gesturing to his foot helplessly.
“I stepped on glass,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I can't get it out.”
He watched as Rorschach's arms slowly unfolded, leather gloves pulled off one finger at a time to reveal freckled skin. His partner slowly approached, setting the gloves down on the table, and crouched so he could see Daniel's foot. His head tilted, fingers carefully grasping his foot, and the younger man hissed as the wound was prodded. A pathetic trickle of blood had run down the pale underside of his foot, and Rorschach wiped it away from where the shard had embedded itself with his pinky.
“Hurt?” the masked vigilante asked.
“A little,” Daniel whispered, his cheeks burning.
“Hurm,” was the response he received. “Be more careful.”
Very slowly the shorter man's fingernails caught the little shard, giving a gentle tug to pull it free of Daniel's skin. It was set on the edge of the table. A tiny, insignificant shard, too small to do any real damage, and Daniel had lost all composure. The gloves were collected off the table and pulled back into place.
They stared at each other for a few moments of silence, each unwilling to say the first word. Daniel was fidgeting, and when he really looked at Rorschach, he realized that he was too.
“I...” Daniel trailed off, “I was worried.”
“Ennk,” Rorschach responded, his fingers twitching. “Not worry. Am fine.”
“I missed you,” Daniel offered, eyes searching the inkblots for any sign of anything.
They shifted shapes, “Was aware of your absence.”
The closest he would probably ever get to, “I missed you too.” Daniel smiled, standing.
“I need to change,” he said, heading for the kitchen door. “I smell terrible.”
A hand on his arm stopped him, and he turned to find Rorschach standing incredibly close. “Need to get back to work.”
“Tomorrow?” Daniel asked.
The shorter man nodded.
“Alright,” he said, “I'll see you tomorrow then.”
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Nite Owl II/ Rorschach
Word Count: 910
Warnings: Man-tears.
Summary: A continuation of " Confused" and " Frustrated"
Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen. I never will. I just love and adore the characters of Watchmen.
Daniel hadn't heard from Rorschach in two weeks.
He had heard of him from others, but hadn't been able to track him down himself. To say he was worried would have been an understatement. He was also freaked out, and sad. From what Ozymandias had told him at their last meeting, Rorschach had gone completely insane. He'd killed the last three men he'd found to be breaking the law, and had been witnessed breaking a man's fingers for no other reason than, “Was thinking vile thoughts.”
Daniel sat in his kitchen, nursing a coffee and watching the hour hand of his clock move slowly towards the four. He'd barely returned from his patrol, a patrol that had been rather uneventful as he'd spent most of it searching for his partner.
Ex-partner?
He didn't like that thought at all. He took a sip of his drink, willing the strong brew to wash the bitter taste from his mouth that had been there since he realized Rorschach was avoiding him. He deeply regretted ever having accosted his partner, felt his stomach twist sickeningly at the realization that he'd ruined everything. Years. It had taken years to get the man to trust him enough to call him partner, and he had thrown it all away in a night, because he couldn't control his hormones.
Daniel was distracted, fidgety, and his fingers were shaking. When he picked up his coffee mug to take another sip, it slipped free. The lukewarm liquid splashed down him, soaking through the t-shirt and boxers he'd stripped down to, and the mug shattered against the floor. He cursed, standing quickly, edging around the ceramic shards on bare feet, and sought out the broom.
He swept three times, the spilled coffee making it difficult to get all the smaller pieces of shattered ceramic up, then collapsed back into his chair. His clothing was damp and stained, and the smell of not-fresh coffee on clothing was not an attractive one. He buried his face in his arms on the table, breathing unevenly, an awkward ache in his chest. Why couldn't he have had feelings for someone else? Veidt would have been a better choice, despite his arrogant attitude. At least Daniel was fairly certain that the man was gay, and he could have sworn he'd caught him checking out his butt on more than one occasion.
But no, it had to be Rorschach.
With his dark persona, his mysterious, aloof ways. His unconventional means of getting information.
Daniel sighed, standing up, and hissed, sitting back down. Twisting his leg so he could see the bottom of his foot, he frowned. He hadn't managed to sweep up all the shards after all. He picked at the wound, blunt fingernails failing to grasp the tiny shard, and winced as his actions only made it worse. His actions were always making things worse. He sniffed, loudly, his eyes watering as his frustration over the shard grew. He sniffled, felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks, and cursed himself as he tried to dig it out.
“Hurm.”
He looked up sharply, brown eyes locking on Rorschach's form. His inkblot mask was as inscrutable as ever, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
“Daniel.”
The name was said like it had always been said. As though nothing was different, and Daniel heard himself sob, a wet and unattractive noise, gesturing to his foot helplessly.
“I stepped on glass,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I can't get it out.”
He watched as Rorschach's arms slowly unfolded, leather gloves pulled off one finger at a time to reveal freckled skin. His partner slowly approached, setting the gloves down on the table, and crouched so he could see Daniel's foot. His head tilted, fingers carefully grasping his foot, and the younger man hissed as the wound was prodded. A pathetic trickle of blood had run down the pale underside of his foot, and Rorschach wiped it away from where the shard had embedded itself with his pinky.
“Hurt?” the masked vigilante asked.
“A little,” Daniel whispered, his cheeks burning.
“Hurm,” was the response he received. “Be more careful.”
Very slowly the shorter man's fingernails caught the little shard, giving a gentle tug to pull it free of Daniel's skin. It was set on the edge of the table. A tiny, insignificant shard, too small to do any real damage, and Daniel had lost all composure. The gloves were collected off the table and pulled back into place.
They stared at each other for a few moments of silence, each unwilling to say the first word. Daniel was fidgeting, and when he really looked at Rorschach, he realized that he was too.
“I...” Daniel trailed off, “I was worried.”
“Ennk,” Rorschach responded, his fingers twitching. “Not worry. Am fine.”
“I missed you,” Daniel offered, eyes searching the inkblots for any sign of anything.
They shifted shapes, “Was aware of your absence.”
The closest he would probably ever get to, “I missed you too.” Daniel smiled, standing.
“I need to change,” he said, heading for the kitchen door. “I smell terrible.”
A hand on his arm stopped him, and he turned to find Rorschach standing incredibly close. “Need to get back to work.”
“Tomorrow?” Daniel asked.
The shorter man nodded.
“Alright,” he said, “I'll see you tomorrow then.”