Alphabet of Niteschach (M-R)
Fandom: Watchmen
Title: The Alphabet of Niteschach
Characters/Pairings: Dan/Rorschach, every last one.
Summary: Exactly what the title says it is. One drabble for every letter of the alphabet.
Ratings/Warnings: Mostly PG, some PG 13 and a handful of R-rated for spice.
Notes: Some of these are approaching seriousness. A few (W for sure) are just plain silliness. Ficlet ‘E’ takes place in the Zombie!verse again. Ficlets ‘H’ and ‘T’ are intended to be in Steals_Thyme’s ‘Poor Hand’ verse (though you might not notice). Ficlet ‘U’ is very dark.
ALSO! Live Journal hates me, so this has been cut into three parts. M-R is here
M is for Meaning
The point is that it has no meaning, and Dan knows that, but sometimes when Rorschach is curled over him, pulling back from a kiss or arching away as he sinks inside, Dan finds his mind absently following the ever shifting pattern of the mask, mapping the ink. Now a bird, now two faces bowed together, now a glare. Ever shifting, consuming itself and regurgitating something new and wonderful.
He wants to see the face under the mask when they’re like this, and when they lie together afterwards. There is no point in guessing what the mask means because it is supposed to mean nothing. No matter what suggestive imagery might cross his mind as it alters and blurs, it does nothing to help solve the mystery of the man lying beside him.
He wants to see the other man’s face as he is undone by pleasure and unwound in sleep, to study it and know its nuances as he knows the body language and verbal tics. He wants a visage that shifts with some kind of purpose, not random as heat chases through the flesh beneath. He wants a face he can understand, not a face that flouts comprehension.
N is for No
Most of the time, what Rorschach says is what Rorschach means. He’s not subtle with the important things, not delicate or allusive about things he deems worth discussing.
And usually, when he says no, it means exactly that. It might be accompanied by any one of his thousand noises, making the meaning twist just slightly, from please stop touching me, thanks to never again and if you suggest it I’ll hurt you. But no is mostly no, dressed up however the situation might demand.
It has to be ‘usually’ and ‘mostly’ though, because there are a few times - just a handful, not very many at all - when Rorschach says no in the softest voice, with the least gravel in his growl. He turns the word up at the end, not quite enough to make it a question, and looks away from Daniel.
That is the only way Dan has ever heard that syllable said that has made him shiver. It’s no, but it’s really convince me, and the difference is huge and yawning. The word is no but it’s the softest challenge, and one Daniel enjoys taking on.
O is for Options
Rorschach knows Daniel has options; that he has the funds and the personality to do whatever he really wants to with his life. It’s just knowledge, not anything he envies or dwells on.
It strikes him, every now and then, that Daniel doesn’t have to be here, the partner at his back on patrol, the menacing bulk behind him as he’s interrogating an informant, the pilot of a ridiculous and indulgent (but useful) machine that can sweep them across the city in minutes. Daniel could have comfortably given up with the rest of them after Keene’s Act was passed.
Rorschach doesn’t envy him having options, because it means constantly picking sides, weighing values. He does, however, feel cutting warmth in the hollows of his heart every time the other man falls in step with him for another night. He knows Daniel had the option of giving up and moving on, and that for some reason, he had chosen not to.
A childish and hedonistic part of him insists the impossible, that Daniel chose because of him, and the thought makes him curl his lip and shudder.
P is for Paregoric
Despite all his silence and unfailing stillness, Daniel knows that all the stitching, all the set bones, all the reduced dislocations, hurt. Rorschach doesn’t make a sound, save sometimes for the slow hiss of breath through his teeth, during Daniel’s treatment of his wounds.
For a long time it bothered Dan, that the other man would take nothing to give him respite from the pain. It was clear he felt the pain; from the way his fingers would hook into the flesh of Dan’s forearm and cling, the way his lip would come out bloody from between his teeth when everything was done. He could never make much of a deal out of it, because Rorschach took to leaving if he pressed the issue of painkillers. Maybe it was selfish, but Dan preferred having the smaller man sitting near him, sometimes sagging against him in a wordless request for contact.
“I want…” he says one night, Rorschach’s head heavy on his shoulder, their fingers tangled together between them.
“No,” the other cuts him off without moving. His breath is still ragged and he sounds drowsy, which means he’s really beyond exhausted and fighting it. The fact that they can only touch like this while he’s in such agony strikes Dan suddenly and painfully, and he shifts uncomfortably, closer to the tense form huddled against him.
Licking his lips, he leans to rest his temple against the crown of the other man’s head. “I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he mutters.
Rorschach has been relaxing into him in grudging increments, and all at once he slackens, molding against the other man with a nose that is half pain and half comfort, lost in a muddling between the two that seems to be satisfaction for him. “Fine like this,” he mumbles, and refuses to say any more on the subject.
Q is for Question
The other man presses his lips tightly together, his mouth becoming little more than a scar across the lower half of his face. The furrow in his brow deepens and his eyes narrow and Dan knows he thinks he's avoiding the question. He's not. "Answer, Daniel."
A sigh, and Dan leans back against the wall, his smile disappearing. Why does everything simple have to be made complicated? Two words should not inspire this reaction. And it felt so right, with Rorschach pressed against him, his hands fumbling to open his stubborn shirt and his mouth working on Rorschach's neck. Two words, completely honest and uncensored, breathed against hot flesh, and suddenly the body in his arms was stiff and unresponsive. Two words, and suddenly Rorschach was shoving back, away.
"I don't know, man." He says, and he's still being honest. He has no idea what Rorschach wants to hear- would have thought he'd have wanted to hear what had already been said.
Rorschach is trip-wire tense, staring into Daniel's eyes with such concentration it feels like an effort at telepathy. Like if he can stare hard enough he'll scour out the truth. "Know I'm ugly, Daniel. Lacking looks, excuse is usually personality." The last word is exhaled with venom, implying that it is not a viable answer either. The tone reveals a level of self-loathing previously undiscovered.
All of this for two little words that Dan doesn't know how to defend. Confessions of love never seemed so stupid; he should have watched his mouth… but the phrase has been on his lips for months, pulling at his heart for even longer. It deserves to be said, and Rorschach deserves to believe it.
He moves without thinking, taking two small steps forward and closing the distance between them. His hand is gentle on the other man’s face, holding him in place when he leans down and kisses him soundly. It’s not gentle or chaste, not forceful or lusty; it’s the kind of kiss that makes a point, almost a sort of punctuation. “I love you,” he repeats, and maybe the pronoun will help it sink in. “There’s nothing to question.”
R is for Ravish
It’s not like anything Daniel’s ever done, just as pleasurable (sometimes so much more) but with a spark of danger and passion that’s never existed in his life before. Nothing is this risky, this assuredly life-threatening, and that includes all the years of raids and knife fights and desperate out-numbered-and-backed-against-the-wall situations. He’s never felt so helpless or so completely wanted in his life, and there is something bizarre about how well those two feelings go together.
Sometimes it’s not like this, either. Sometimes the power is more evenly balanced; sometimes he’s the one taking charge and exerting control. Sometimes they can’t do more than kiss without Rorschach getting spooked, seizing up and pushing away. He doesn’t know what does it… but it helps, he’s noticed, to let Rorschach do as he wants, and if what he wants is complete control, Dan trusts him enough to give him that.
A lot of times, Rorschach is violent. Not in a kinky, bites-and-kisses fetish way. Violent in a fast, need-but-mustn’t have way, all sharp motions and growling breath and hard, fast, finish-and-flee.
Very rarely is it like this, not quite slow, but not so urgent either. Rorschach stretched across him, shushing him when he tries to say anything, hands exploring and lips caressing in very distracting ways. Like this, every subtle shift of muscle is to bring them closer, every twitch entangles them further. Rorschach’s teeth graze his throat, not perfunctory or punishing but almost teasing, and his whole body crawls with the knowledge. He feels hot and wanted and consumed, and the word that springs to his is ravished, you’re being ravished, and then Rorschach moves just so and his brain stops making words.