Scratch
Summary: Rorschach gets sick. Dan has to take care. The same old song and dance with a bit of a twist.
Oh my god, more self indulgent fic? What the heck is your problem, self? *sighs* Okay, blame my friend for this! She demanded I write this! I regret nothing (or everything…)!! (my friend is a spoiled girl and the sooner she realizes this/gets an LJ the better!
Daniel had learned a long time ago when starting out the business that “expect the unexpected” was everything but a cliché. And partnering with Rorschach was mostly a confirmation of that old adage. However, usually when the unexpected occurred, it was usually a bad unexpected. This was another result of partnering with Rorschach, as the man seemed to have a “bad things” magnet attached to his hat or something. But all things considered, there were times when Daniel knew without a doubt that it was all worth it.
This was definitely one of those times.
Dan was already suited up and ready when Rorschach came stalking down the tunnel, almost a half and hour late. Daniel, who was beginning to worry, grinned and waved when he saw his friend who, predictably, did not return the gesture.
“Hey, man!” he called out to Rorschach down the tunnel, “I was beginning to wonder. You’re never late. What took you so long?”
“Mrrg.” Rorschach responded grumpily and Daniel knew enough of the Language of Rorschach to be able to translate that into “I am in a bad mood and do not wish to talk at this present time”.
“Alright, then,” Dan said, keeping his voice cheery, “Let’s get going.”
Rorschach made another non-noise and Daniel suddenly noticed that his partner was walking very… oddly. Daniel frowned, “Hey. Hey, are you okay, buddy? You’re walking really weird.”
“Fine, Daniel,” Rorschach responded, rubbing at the front his neck, near his adam’s apple, “We should go.”
“Okay,” Dan nodded, deciding to let it go just this once, “Let’s go.”
***
There was something wrong. Daniel just knew it. For one thing, Rorschach was fidgeting like crazy. True, it was a slow night, having only stopped two would-be carjackers and an attempted burglary, but they’d only been out for a few hours. And Rorschach couldn’t sit still. When he actually was sitting, he would wriggle in the seat, cross and uncross his arms, fiddle with the bottom of his mask, mess with his hat and kick his legs slightly. When he noticed Daniel staring at him, confusion and concern evident through Nite Owl’s goggles, he made a frustrated noise and stood up, opting to pace back and forth around Archie’s cabin, idly cracking his knuckles and rubbing at his arms as if he were cold. Maybe that was it. It was in the middle of winter. Maybe Rorschach was just trying to keep warm.
“You know,” Dan said, turning around to face Rorschach, “If you were cold, all you needed to do was tell me. I can turn up the heat if you want.”
Rorschach paused in his incessant movement to stare at him. “What are you talking about?” He snapped irritably. Daniel stared back.
“Are you cold or something?” Dan asked curiously.
“No.” Rorschach responded shortly, rubbing at where his mask met his scarf, “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t really know,” Dan confessed, nonplussed, “I’m just trying to figure out why the hell you can’t seem to sit still tonight.”
“I’m fine,” Rorschach snapped and Daniel suspected he was trying to sound stern and threatening. But he just ended up sounding miserable. Dan was instantly concerned and a little bit annoyed.
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, standing up, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Rorschach insisted, rubbing at his arms again. Daniel frowned, watching Rorschach’s movements and piecing them together. Jerky walk, general discomfort, scratching…
“Hey, roll up your sleeve,” Dan said, stepping forward.
“What? No.” The words came out in quick succession and Daniel almost laughed. Almost.
“No, really. I think you have some kind of skin irritation or something, just let me look at it.”
“No. Leave me alone.”
“No.”
“Dani-ennk!”
Dan grabbed at his arm and jerked up the sleeves with some difficulty. It was hard enough trying to pull up three layers of sleeve, but it was made doubly hard by Rorschach deciding that now would be a good time to start squirming. Dan struggled, “Come on, man, stop being a baby. I just wanna… oh.”
The skin of Rorschach’s forearm was impossibly pale and strung out with tendons and stringy muscle. Yet mounted on the pale skin, overpowering even the freckles, were tiny, vividly red mounds dappled all over his arm. It almost looked like…
“Chicken pox?” Dan asked, incredulous, “You have the chicken pox?”
“No,” Rorschach snapped, jerking his arm back, “I have a skin irritation. Blame it on the shower you made me take last week after the sewers. Told you there was fluoride in the water. Probably gave me a disease. Am holding you resp--”
“Rorschach,” Daniel interrupted, smiling slightly, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a rotten liar? You tend to ramble.”
“Hurm.” Rorschach responded and Daniel was always impressed by the amount of feeling he could inject into one non-word. “Fine. I may possibly have contracted childhood virus. Am currently unsure how.”
“You didn’t get it as a kid?” Dan asked incredulous.
“Obviously not, Daniel, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Rorschach snapped, scratching freely at his arm with one gloved hand, all discretion gone now that Daniel had learned his secret. Dan swatted his hand away.
“Quit that,” he scolded, “You’re not supposed to scratch them. You’ll break the skin and get it infected.”
Rorschach stared at him for a moment, mask moving slowly. “Worth it,” he responded shortly, resuming his scratching. It made Dan itchy just watching him. Subconsciously deciding that he didn’t really need nice, not broken fingers anyway, he grabbed at Rorschach’s arm and pulled it away.
“Daniel,” Rorschach growled warningly. Daniel ignored him.
“Let’s go back,” He offered, “I may have some anti-itch cream or something in the first-aid kit back at the Nest. Okay?”
Rorschach jerked his arm out of Dan’s grasp, ripped off his hat and began scrubbing at the top of his head through the mask. He looked ridiculous, hunched over on himself, digging into the top of his head with both his hands as the inkblots on his mask swirled furiously. Daniel winced sympathetically before firmly grabbing his arms.
“No.” He chastised firmly, hoping Rorschach wouldn’t notice that he was being scolded like a puppy, “Just-just sit there and hang tight, okay, man? When we get back, I’ll find something for you to put on it.”
“Ennk,” Rorschach mumbled, sounding abjectly miserable as he squirmed in the chair, “Unnecessary. Just a delayed childhood illness. I can handle it.”
“Hey, come on,” Dan said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I got it when I was about eleven, which is pretty late for chicken pox. I remember how bad it was. Don’t worry about it.” Dan scratched his neck and chuckled, “Look, now you’re making me itch.”
“So sorry,” Rorschach muttered sardonically, opting to remove his scarf to rub at the livid red dots on his neck, “How unfortunate for you.”
Dan laughed, “All right, all right, we’re going home. Grouch.”
“Keep it up, Daniel.”
“What did I say about scratching?”
***
“All right, buddy, I found it!” Dan held up the white bottle triumphantly, “I bought it when I was going on a bird watching expedition up in the mountains. To treat poison ivy and all that. But it should work. Here.”
He tossed the bottle at Rorschach, who caught it without looking up from the act of digging into his leg through the fabric of his pinstripes. He’d shed his suit jacket and trench coat and Daniel had made the interesting discovery that Rorschach was a suspenders man. Which… wasn’t that much of a surprise, all things considered. Dan busied himself with his Owlsuit as Rorschach smeared the white lotion all over his arms and neck.
“You can stay here tonight, if you want,” Dan offered, out of the blue, “Now that you know that there’s no fluoride in my water, a shower might feel good. And you can take the guest room.”
Rorschach stared at the bottle in his hands, “Unnecessary. I will be fine.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Dan chuckled, “I just know that there’s nothing worse being all by yourself when you’re sick.”
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated. Dan shrugged.
“That’s okay. You should at least have some food before you go.”
Rorschach considered him for a moment, idly scratching behind his ear. Slowly, he nodded, “Food would be appreciated. Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem,” Dan grinned, “I enjoy the company.”
And so it followed that Daniel made Rorschach some soup, which he ate in his usual voracious manner, and migrated eventually to the living room to review evidence and talk about things. Rorschach ended up falling asleep on Daniel’s couch and Dan made no move to wake him, opting instead to throw a blanket over his shoulders and shuffle into his own room.
Rorschach was gone by morning, taking the bottle of lotion and leaving behind a messy kitchen and a note reading:
.][.
Yeah, there were times when partnering with a grouchy, crabby, bad-things magnet was completely worth it.
Oh my god, more self indulgent fic? What the heck is your problem, self? *sighs* Okay, blame my friend for this! She demanded I write this! I regret nothing (or everything…)!! (my friend is a spoiled girl and the sooner she realizes this/gets an LJ the better!
Daniel had learned a long time ago when starting out the business that “expect the unexpected” was everything but a cliché. And partnering with Rorschach was mostly a confirmation of that old adage. However, usually when the unexpected occurred, it was usually a bad unexpected. This was another result of partnering with Rorschach, as the man seemed to have a “bad things” magnet attached to his hat or something. But all things considered, there were times when Daniel knew without a doubt that it was all worth it.
This was definitely one of those times.
Dan was already suited up and ready when Rorschach came stalking down the tunnel, almost a half and hour late. Daniel, who was beginning to worry, grinned and waved when he saw his friend who, predictably, did not return the gesture.
“Hey, man!” he called out to Rorschach down the tunnel, “I was beginning to wonder. You’re never late. What took you so long?”
“Mrrg.” Rorschach responded grumpily and Daniel knew enough of the Language of Rorschach to be able to translate that into “I am in a bad mood and do not wish to talk at this present time”.
“Alright, then,” Dan said, keeping his voice cheery, “Let’s get going.”
Rorschach made another non-noise and Daniel suddenly noticed that his partner was walking very… oddly. Daniel frowned, “Hey. Hey, are you okay, buddy? You’re walking really weird.”
“Fine, Daniel,” Rorschach responded, rubbing at the front his neck, near his adam’s apple, “We should go.”
“Okay,” Dan nodded, deciding to let it go just this once, “Let’s go.”
***
There was something wrong. Daniel just knew it. For one thing, Rorschach was fidgeting like crazy. True, it was a slow night, having only stopped two would-be carjackers and an attempted burglary, but they’d only been out for a few hours. And Rorschach couldn’t sit still. When he actually was sitting, he would wriggle in the seat, cross and uncross his arms, fiddle with the bottom of his mask, mess with his hat and kick his legs slightly. When he noticed Daniel staring at him, confusion and concern evident through Nite Owl’s goggles, he made a frustrated noise and stood up, opting to pace back and forth around Archie’s cabin, idly cracking his knuckles and rubbing at his arms as if he were cold. Maybe that was it. It was in the middle of winter. Maybe Rorschach was just trying to keep warm.
“You know,” Dan said, turning around to face Rorschach, “If you were cold, all you needed to do was tell me. I can turn up the heat if you want.”
Rorschach paused in his incessant movement to stare at him. “What are you talking about?” He snapped irritably. Daniel stared back.
“Are you cold or something?” Dan asked curiously.
“No.” Rorschach responded shortly, rubbing at where his mask met his scarf, “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t really know,” Dan confessed, nonplussed, “I’m just trying to figure out why the hell you can’t seem to sit still tonight.”
“I’m fine,” Rorschach snapped and Daniel suspected he was trying to sound stern and threatening. But he just ended up sounding miserable. Dan was instantly concerned and a little bit annoyed.
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, standing up, “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Rorschach insisted, rubbing at his arms again. Daniel frowned, watching Rorschach’s movements and piecing them together. Jerky walk, general discomfort, scratching…
“Hey, roll up your sleeve,” Dan said, stepping forward.
“What? No.” The words came out in quick succession and Daniel almost laughed. Almost.
“No, really. I think you have some kind of skin irritation or something, just let me look at it.”
“No. Leave me alone.”
“No.”
“Dani-ennk!”
Dan grabbed at his arm and jerked up the sleeves with some difficulty. It was hard enough trying to pull up three layers of sleeve, but it was made doubly hard by Rorschach deciding that now would be a good time to start squirming. Dan struggled, “Come on, man, stop being a baby. I just wanna… oh.”
The skin of Rorschach’s forearm was impossibly pale and strung out with tendons and stringy muscle. Yet mounted on the pale skin, overpowering even the freckles, were tiny, vividly red mounds dappled all over his arm. It almost looked like…
“Chicken pox?” Dan asked, incredulous, “You have the chicken pox?”
“No,” Rorschach snapped, jerking his arm back, “I have a skin irritation. Blame it on the shower you made me take last week after the sewers. Told you there was fluoride in the water. Probably gave me a disease. Am holding you resp--”
“Rorschach,” Daniel interrupted, smiling slightly, “Has anyone ever told you you’re a rotten liar? You tend to ramble.”
“Hurm.” Rorschach responded and Daniel was always impressed by the amount of feeling he could inject into one non-word. “Fine. I may possibly have contracted childhood virus. Am currently unsure how.”
“You didn’t get it as a kid?” Dan asked incredulous.
“Obviously not, Daniel, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Rorschach snapped, scratching freely at his arm with one gloved hand, all discretion gone now that Daniel had learned his secret. Dan swatted his hand away.
“Quit that,” he scolded, “You’re not supposed to scratch them. You’ll break the skin and get it infected.”
Rorschach stared at him for a moment, mask moving slowly. “Worth it,” he responded shortly, resuming his scratching. It made Dan itchy just watching him. Subconsciously deciding that he didn’t really need nice, not broken fingers anyway, he grabbed at Rorschach’s arm and pulled it away.
“Daniel,” Rorschach growled warningly. Daniel ignored him.
“Let’s go back,” He offered, “I may have some anti-itch cream or something in the first-aid kit back at the Nest. Okay?”
Rorschach jerked his arm out of Dan’s grasp, ripped off his hat and began scrubbing at the top of his head through the mask. He looked ridiculous, hunched over on himself, digging into the top of his head with both his hands as the inkblots on his mask swirled furiously. Daniel winced sympathetically before firmly grabbing his arms.
“No.” He chastised firmly, hoping Rorschach wouldn’t notice that he was being scolded like a puppy, “Just-just sit there and hang tight, okay, man? When we get back, I’ll find something for you to put on it.”
“Ennk,” Rorschach mumbled, sounding abjectly miserable as he squirmed in the chair, “Unnecessary. Just a delayed childhood illness. I can handle it.”
“Hey, come on,” Dan said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “I got it when I was about eleven, which is pretty late for chicken pox. I remember how bad it was. Don’t worry about it.” Dan scratched his neck and chuckled, “Look, now you’re making me itch.”
“So sorry,” Rorschach muttered sardonically, opting to remove his scarf to rub at the livid red dots on his neck, “How unfortunate for you.”
Dan laughed, “All right, all right, we’re going home. Grouch.”
“Keep it up, Daniel.”
“What did I say about scratching?”
***
“All right, buddy, I found it!” Dan held up the white bottle triumphantly, “I bought it when I was going on a bird watching expedition up in the mountains. To treat poison ivy and all that. But it should work. Here.”
He tossed the bottle at Rorschach, who caught it without looking up from the act of digging into his leg through the fabric of his pinstripes. He’d shed his suit jacket and trench coat and Daniel had made the interesting discovery that Rorschach was a suspenders man. Which… wasn’t that much of a surprise, all things considered. Dan busied himself with his Owlsuit as Rorschach smeared the white lotion all over his arms and neck.
“You can stay here tonight, if you want,” Dan offered, out of the blue, “Now that you know that there’s no fluoride in my water, a shower might feel good. And you can take the guest room.”
Rorschach stared at the bottle in his hands, “Unnecessary. I will be fine.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Dan chuckled, “I just know that there’s nothing worse being all by yourself when you’re sick.”
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated. Dan shrugged.
“That’s okay. You should at least have some food before you go.”
Rorschach considered him for a moment, idly scratching behind his ear. Slowly, he nodded, “Food would be appreciated. Thank you.”
“Hey, no problem,” Dan grinned, “I enjoy the company.”
And so it followed that Daniel made Rorschach some soup, which he ate in his usual voracious manner, and migrated eventually to the living room to review evidence and talk about things. Rorschach ended up falling asleep on Daniel’s couch and Dan made no move to wake him, opting instead to throw a blanket over his shoulders and shuffle into his own room.
Rorschach was gone by morning, taking the bottle of lotion and leaving behind a messy kitchen and a note reading:
.][.
Yeah, there were times when partnering with a grouchy, crabby, bad-things magnet was completely worth it.