[fic] Watchmen; That Old Black Magic
Title: That Old Black Magic
Rating: G
Pairing: Dan/Rorschach
Warnings: None
Summary: Halloween night between a couple of guys who dress up in costumes all the time anyway. Late sixties, D/R established relationship fluff, and I do not apologize!
Halloween night was one of the busiest they had in their particular profession. Some people never seemed to grow out of the mischievous spirit (not that Dan ever had either), which resulted in a wave of exactly the type of crime that was up their alley. And a lot more that wasn't. Some years, it meant miserable on-foot patrols clear until morning with a grand finale of Archie getting egged. Other years, they made a month's worth of progress on their cases in the space of a few hours. It was the one night a year when they were just two masks among many, and however it went, it would be eventful.
Judging from the tense set of Rorschach's shoulders as he clambered up through Archie's hatch, he was expecting the bad kind of year.
Dan raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, just pulled back the thrusters while Rorschach hunched moodily in his seat. Maybe the cold was aggravating the shoulder he'd pulled last week, but Hell if Dan was going to risk accidentally implying he wasn't superhuman by asking about it.
"So, you get any trick-or-treaters tonight?"
Rorschach's mask regarded him with twin vacant blobs, its owner's way of indicating that the topic was inane. Dan stared back pleasantly, waiting out the answer with sheer stubbornness.
"Third floor," Rorschach said eventually. "I don't get many visitors."
There it was again-a deliberate sliver of information about his daytime life. His name was still a mystery, Dan had no clue what he did for a living, and had only seen the back of his unmasked head in pitch darkness. But if this was Rorschach's best way of acknowledging there was something else between them now than just a crimefighting partnership, Dan would take it.
The dark blanket of night broken by lights and the rise of buildings floated along beneath them, and it apparently required Rorschach's full concentration for an entire minute before he finally gave in to curiosity. "I take it you have information, Nite Owl."
He grinned, gamely slipping into work mode and already relishing tonight's sure bust. "Remember that guy back in July, 'Jimmy the Hatchet?' "
"Yes. James Anthony Hatch. Our friends have clever nicknames these days."
"Word is, he's having a little party tonight. Everyone who's everyone'll be there. Including the Dillinger crew."
From the way Rorschach was adjusting his gloves, the news had brightened his mood considerably. "It would be impolite to miss Mr. Hatch's party."
"My thoughts exactly. It's time for some public relations."
//
They'd gotten all of the other entrances secured and the one pathetic guard subdued without a hitch. Only one thing left to do. A low baseline pulse of music rattled the peeling warehouse doors in front of them. This was it.
Nite Owl stepped aside graciously, bowing and sweeping his hands in a silent after you. He'd never dream of depriving Rorschach the chance to make a dramatic entrance. Rorschach touched the brim of his hat in appreciation, then settled it securely down. The doors burst inward after a single enthusiastic kick that probably shattered any possibility of a lock on the other side.
Assorted pirates, mummies, aliens, and vampires turned to look at them in unison, speechless under the blaring music. The smarter ones who could tell the difference between V-Mart vigilante costumes and the real thing had the presence of mind to look appropriately frightened. Rorschach cracked his neck for effect.
"Trick or treat."
//
It was a long night, long and satisfying. The bust had gone even better than they'd hoped. Police dispatch had actually been able to send squad cars their way to pick up the trash, they'd taken down the entirety of the Dillinger crew, and about ten thousand dollars worth of a Quaalude stockpile was riding home to its very own evidence locker. Even better was netting a tip on "Fish" McGee an hour later.
It was one of those nights that reminded him why they put up with the sleep deprivation, the grime, the media scrutiny, and the complete lack of a social life. Nite Owl had even been able to convince Rorschach that they didn't need to patrol for teenage vandals wielding toilet paper this year.
A line of tension ran up Dan's neck when Red Hook slid into view, even as he tried to push it away. Maybe his luck would hold. Casually, he adjusted one of Archie's controls and kept his voice as level as possible. "So. Am I dropping you off?"
Rorschach was quiet so long Dan started wondering whether he'd have to circle back around, or worse, ask again. Then he rolled his shoulders under his trench coat and leaned forward to check the proximity radar.
"Don't know. Are you?"
That was the answer he was hoping for.
//
By the time Dan was fully changed and back upstairs, Rorschach's hat and gloves were sitting primly in their preappointed spot on the kitchen table. Dan grinned stupidly at them.
"Hey," he shouted through to the living room as he rummaged for the Jiffy Pop. "I rented some Halloween movies. Pop one in? Whatever looks good."
"Hmm." Someone less experienced would have jumped a mile at that particular rumble coming from less than a foot behind them. Dan just kept shaking the popcorn pan over the burner.
"Movies. Popcorn. This looks premeditated."
A habitual denial rose to the tip of his tongue, unnecessary, but he bit it back. "So what if it is?"
Rorschach absorbed that, then hoisted himself up on the counter top with athletic grace and a double handful of Dan's leftover candy. It was impossible to figure out exactly how, but his partner's demeanor sometimes was just different lately. Something in the tone of voice, maybe. Only when they were off the street and only when no one else was around. Those were the times when he was called Daniel instead of Dreiberg, and was allowed to do things like grip his friend's knee in a warm kitchen.
"Candy is very bad for you, Daniel," Rorschach mumbled around a mouthful of caramel as he handed Dan a lemon drop.
Most of the popcorn and a disturbing amount of candy disappeared into Rorschach's black hole of a stomach during the first half hour alone of The Bride of Frankenstein. And with the way Rorschach kept surreptitiously moving closer and closer, Dan hardly paid attention to the end of the movie anyway. After being convinced that no children would be coming to the door at four in the morning, and that they couldn't magically see through the walls even if they did, Rorschach leaned into Dan about an inch more than he usually did.
They made it through another movie and a half before the early hour finally defeated the twin effects of adrenaline and massive sugar intake. Dan woke to a vision of blurry black-and-white and a slightly gentler than normal jab to the ribs.
"Hey. Sorry, I guess you gotta get home, huh?"
"Yes."
Rorschach took a short breath like a swimmer going underwater, rubbed a hand down his own leg, and pressed his mouth against Dan's so quickly it almost didn't happen all. Dan's expression felt wobbly and he wondered just how giddily demented he looked right then.
"Daniel. Holidays, usually-" He looked down somewhere around his knees, then seemed to reconsider. "It was a good night."
"Yeah, buddy, it really was."
Rorschach was gone about a second later, disappearing almost into thin air like usual. Dan dutifully hit rewind, set his glasses on the side table, and stretched the length of his still-warm couch. And decided he needed to go stock up on a lot more popcorn.
Rating: G
Pairing: Dan/Rorschach
Warnings: None
Summary: Halloween night between a couple of guys who dress up in costumes all the time anyway. Late sixties, D/R established relationship fluff, and I do not apologize!
Halloween night was one of the busiest they had in their particular profession. Some people never seemed to grow out of the mischievous spirit (not that Dan ever had either), which resulted in a wave of exactly the type of crime that was up their alley. And a lot more that wasn't. Some years, it meant miserable on-foot patrols clear until morning with a grand finale of Archie getting egged. Other years, they made a month's worth of progress on their cases in the space of a few hours. It was the one night a year when they were just two masks among many, and however it went, it would be eventful.
Judging from the tense set of Rorschach's shoulders as he clambered up through Archie's hatch, he was expecting the bad kind of year.
Dan raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything, just pulled back the thrusters while Rorschach hunched moodily in his seat. Maybe the cold was aggravating the shoulder he'd pulled last week, but Hell if Dan was going to risk accidentally implying he wasn't superhuman by asking about it.
"So, you get any trick-or-treaters tonight?"
Rorschach's mask regarded him with twin vacant blobs, its owner's way of indicating that the topic was inane. Dan stared back pleasantly, waiting out the answer with sheer stubbornness.
"Third floor," Rorschach said eventually. "I don't get many visitors."
There it was again-a deliberate sliver of information about his daytime life. His name was still a mystery, Dan had no clue what he did for a living, and had only seen the back of his unmasked head in pitch darkness. But if this was Rorschach's best way of acknowledging there was something else between them now than just a crimefighting partnership, Dan would take it.
The dark blanket of night broken by lights and the rise of buildings floated along beneath them, and it apparently required Rorschach's full concentration for an entire minute before he finally gave in to curiosity. "I take it you have information, Nite Owl."
He grinned, gamely slipping into work mode and already relishing tonight's sure bust. "Remember that guy back in July, 'Jimmy the Hatchet?' "
"Yes. James Anthony Hatch. Our friends have clever nicknames these days."
"Word is, he's having a little party tonight. Everyone who's everyone'll be there. Including the Dillinger crew."
From the way Rorschach was adjusting his gloves, the news had brightened his mood considerably. "It would be impolite to miss Mr. Hatch's party."
"My thoughts exactly. It's time for some public relations."
//
They'd gotten all of the other entrances secured and the one pathetic guard subdued without a hitch. Only one thing left to do. A low baseline pulse of music rattled the peeling warehouse doors in front of them. This was it.
Nite Owl stepped aside graciously, bowing and sweeping his hands in a silent after you. He'd never dream of depriving Rorschach the chance to make a dramatic entrance. Rorschach touched the brim of his hat in appreciation, then settled it securely down. The doors burst inward after a single enthusiastic kick that probably shattered any possibility of a lock on the other side.
Assorted pirates, mummies, aliens, and vampires turned to look at them in unison, speechless under the blaring music. The smarter ones who could tell the difference between V-Mart vigilante costumes and the real thing had the presence of mind to look appropriately frightened. Rorschach cracked his neck for effect.
"Trick or treat."
//
It was a long night, long and satisfying. The bust had gone even better than they'd hoped. Police dispatch had actually been able to send squad cars their way to pick up the trash, they'd taken down the entirety of the Dillinger crew, and about ten thousand dollars worth of a Quaalude stockpile was riding home to its very own evidence locker. Even better was netting a tip on "Fish" McGee an hour later.
It was one of those nights that reminded him why they put up with the sleep deprivation, the grime, the media scrutiny, and the complete lack of a social life. Nite Owl had even been able to convince Rorschach that they didn't need to patrol for teenage vandals wielding toilet paper this year.
A line of tension ran up Dan's neck when Red Hook slid into view, even as he tried to push it away. Maybe his luck would hold. Casually, he adjusted one of Archie's controls and kept his voice as level as possible. "So. Am I dropping you off?"
Rorschach was quiet so long Dan started wondering whether he'd have to circle back around, or worse, ask again. Then he rolled his shoulders under his trench coat and leaned forward to check the proximity radar.
"Don't know. Are you?"
That was the answer he was hoping for.
//
By the time Dan was fully changed and back upstairs, Rorschach's hat and gloves were sitting primly in their preappointed spot on the kitchen table. Dan grinned stupidly at them.
"Hey," he shouted through to the living room as he rummaged for the Jiffy Pop. "I rented some Halloween movies. Pop one in? Whatever looks good."
"Hmm." Someone less experienced would have jumped a mile at that particular rumble coming from less than a foot behind them. Dan just kept shaking the popcorn pan over the burner.
"Movies. Popcorn. This looks premeditated."
A habitual denial rose to the tip of his tongue, unnecessary, but he bit it back. "So what if it is?"
Rorschach absorbed that, then hoisted himself up on the counter top with athletic grace and a double handful of Dan's leftover candy. It was impossible to figure out exactly how, but his partner's demeanor sometimes was just different lately. Something in the tone of voice, maybe. Only when they were off the street and only when no one else was around. Those were the times when he was called Daniel instead of Dreiberg, and was allowed to do things like grip his friend's knee in a warm kitchen.
"Candy is very bad for you, Daniel," Rorschach mumbled around a mouthful of caramel as he handed Dan a lemon drop.
Most of the popcorn and a disturbing amount of candy disappeared into Rorschach's black hole of a stomach during the first half hour alone of The Bride of Frankenstein. And with the way Rorschach kept surreptitiously moving closer and closer, Dan hardly paid attention to the end of the movie anyway. After being convinced that no children would be coming to the door at four in the morning, and that they couldn't magically see through the walls even if they did, Rorschach leaned into Dan about an inch more than he usually did.
They made it through another movie and a half before the early hour finally defeated the twin effects of adrenaline and massive sugar intake. Dan woke to a vision of blurry black-and-white and a slightly gentler than normal jab to the ribs.
"Hey. Sorry, I guess you gotta get home, huh?"
"Yes."
Rorschach took a short breath like a swimmer going underwater, rubbed a hand down his own leg, and pressed his mouth against Dan's so quickly it almost didn't happen all. Dan's expression felt wobbly and he wondered just how giddily demented he looked right then.
"Daniel. Holidays, usually-" He looked down somewhere around his knees, then seemed to reconsider. "It was a good night."
"Yeah, buddy, it really was."
Rorschach was gone about a second later, disappearing almost into thin air like usual. Dan dutifully hit rewind, set his glasses on the side table, and stretched the length of his still-warm couch. And decided he needed to go stock up on a lot more popcorn.