Watchmen Kink Meme 2: Electric Boogaloo. Or not.
Alright, alright, I'm back now. Here ya go kids. (You're just lucky the other one didn't run out in the middle of my vacation grumble grumble)
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work ( Read more... )
Now it’s different, when she thinks about Danielle. She can imagine wanting her there. It would be nice to have something soft, something that’s clean and only wants to be there as a guest. Her fingertips scrape across that little ridged spot, and she shudders. She still can’t understand why anyone would want a man. They’re uglier than she is, and she hates the way they smell. But this friction, this sweet, slow drag in and out… She can see how someone would want that. She cries afterwards, though. Because there is no reason for Danielle to want her.
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She doesn’t kill them. She leaves them trussed up like a good girl, but only because she knows Rorschach wouldn’t want her to be a killer. Keening like a wounded animal, she goes to look for his body. She doesn’t see the trainwreck of blood and gore she’s expecting, and her voice rises to a howl. She needs something of him, she can’t be left here with nothing. Clanging from a dumpster shuts her up for a moment, and she goes over to investigate, her body moving with its usual grace even though her chest feels like something small and strong is trying to claw its way out.
“Don’t cry, Danielle.” Rorschcach croaks, half-buried in trash. “Not dead.”
And then she does cry. And laugh, and whoop as she calls Archie down, tears still streaming down her face. She’s glad Rorschach is so skinny, because she can scoop him into her arms and carry him aboard. “God.” She whispers, stripping off his reeking trenchcoat and dumping it on the floor. “God, Rorschach, you’re the only person I know who’d be able to pull that off.” Her hands are shaking as she lays him out on the cot, frantically checking his vital signs. Finding him in no immediate danger, she slumps onto the edge of the cot and buries her face in her hands, sobbing. She collects herself quickly, and goes to take the ship up and report her battered captives to the police, her voice cracking.
Rorschach tries to fight her off before giving in and submitting to some first aid. Wanda hurts all over and isn’t sure that nothing’s broken, but she doesn’t dare let on. She’s terrified that Danielle, good, sweet Danielle will insist on taking care of her and will find out what she is. And then the way Rorschach protects Danielle, the way he goes quiet when their hands or legs brush, and the way his breath quickens when she pins him down when they spar will be wrong. Danielle will know and it will all be over. She almost gets away with it, but as they’re limping down the ramp, she stumbles, and the sound that comes out of her mouth is horrible enough that Danielle snarls and frog-marches her to the bathroom.
She’s not expecting Rorschach to fight her like a cat about to be bathed, and that surprise combined with not wanting to hurt him more than he already is makes her almost lose him as he frantically climbs over her shoulder, rasping, “No no no no no no no...” like some kind of mantra. Danielle sits him down on the closed lid of the toilet and holds him there.
“Dammit, if this is about your secret identity I won’t take off your mask, but stop being an idiot! We don’t know what kind of shape you’re in , and you smell like a fucking dumpster!” She tears his jacket off as well as the dress shirt beneath it, three buttons popping off and pinging against the side of the bathtub. Rorschach suddenly goes limp, like his suit is all that gives him strength, like she’s somehow pulling a Delilah on him by undressing him. Whatever it is, it makes it easy to pull off his undershirt, revealing an Ace bandage wrapped tightly around his chest. “Shit, where you hurt already?” When Rorschach only responds with silence, she finds the end of the binding, and carefully unwinds it. “…Oh.”
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“Rorschach…” Danielle’s voice breaks. “Rorschach, it’s okay.” She wraps her arms around Wanda, pulling her close. “Look, I don’t care what you are. I just want to take care of you.” Rorschach finally nods, latex sticky against Danielle’s shoulder. “All right.” She tenderly presses Rorschach’s ribs, working her way down from her chest to find one dislocated and none broken. The bruises are bad, but she’s seen worse. Since Wanda is fit enough to take a shower, Danielle leaves her to it, going to gather aspirin, ice, and her composure. JesusAllahBuddhaRorscharchisawomanholyshit. She had tried not to look, and really, she had been more worried about Rorschach’s ribs at the time; but it had been impossible not to see, and now it’s impossible not to remember. Rorschach’s tits are smooth and pert, the kind a woman can cup in her palm, and now Danielle is sure she’s a redhead, because her skin is milky-white and dusted with freckles that shade from her shoulders to her chest. Her nipples are probably the size of gumdrops when they’re hard, redder and possibly sweeter than the candy. Danielle can feel how they would press into her palms, and she actually whimpers with the sudden and painful desire to see Rorschach’s face.
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THIS MEME NEEDS MORE LESBIANS.
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Someone really needs to write time-travelling, as well as '63ed lesbians. So what if there are no good lesbian ships in canon? Let's make some.
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“There you are.” She smiles over the pile of folded clothes in her arms. “Everything I own is gonna be too big, but these should do until your laundry’s done.”
“…Thank you.” She takes the pile and ducks into the bathroom again. Danielle’s scent is on everything, and Wanda is weak enough to peel the mask up and bury her nose in the soft fabric before she changes, drawstrings on the pants helping them cling to her skinny hips. The top is large enough to hide her chest, and when she looks in the mirror, she looks like Rorschach on his day off, ready to park it on the couch and watch the soaps. She giggles because she can’t help it, half-way to hysterics, and rests her forehead against the mirror.
“Rorschach? There’s food.”
Wanda’s stomach growls and she glares down at it. Another reason to hate her miserable body. “Should go.”
“Without your clothes? Come on.” A moment of silence, and then the soft sound of Danielle leaning against the door.
“Rorschach, nothing’s changed, okay? We’re still partners, and if you don’t want me to, I swear to god I won’t tell anyone. If you want me to keep using male pronouns I will, okay? If you feel like you’re really a man on the inside, I’ll treat you like one.”
“…No. Definitely a woman.” And the way she says it is sadder than she meant it to be. “Will come out and eat.”
“Y’know, it’s not always such a bad thing to be.”
“Always.” She mutters.
Later, she doesn’t know how she’s been talked into this. It has something to do with Danielle being so sweet, and so gently curious about her. She’s not like a man. She doesn’t grab, and as she points out, unless it’s Elvis under the mask she’s probably not going to recognize her anyway. So Wanda peels it off, revealing her ugly snub-nosed mug and her clumsily bobbed hair. And then they’re in the bathroom, and she’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with a towel around her shoulders as Danielle improves it. Wanda would really prefer a crewcut, but no respectable woman wears her hair that short, even if she is as profoundly homely and repulsed by men as Wanda is. So she just hacks it off at her earlobes without a mirror and cuts her bangs well above the eyebrow so that they don’t interfere with her vision at all. The entire effect is to make it look like a bad wig. Danielle murmurs about what pretty hair Rorschach has as she carefully trims it, making what she calls a pixie cut that’s barely long enough, but even less in her way than before. As Danielle works, Wanda is riffling through the drawers of the vanity, simultaneously fascinated and repulsed by Danielle’s cosmetics. They’re like nothing she’s ever seen, since she refuses to buy any for herself, and her mother’s were cheap, gaudy, and oily.
“Whore’s paint.” She murmurs, curiously extending a stick of Cinnamon Kiss to its full length, turning it and watching the light catch the faint golden glimmer woven into the color. Danielle stiffens above her. “Not you, Danielle.” She retracts the stick. “Do you wear it? I can’t tell.”
“Not on patrol, silly. There’s no point.” She blows lightly on the back of Rorschach’s neck, sending red fuzz flying. “But yeah. I don’t see anything wrong with being pretty.”
“Beautiful without.” It comes out before she can stop it, and she feels the tips of her ears going red and wishes for her mask.
Danielle laughs, combing Rorschach’s hair out. “Thank you.” Her hands are as gentle as her voice when she says, “You know, you’re not so bad yourself.”
Wanda snorts. “Shouldn’t be flying an airship.”
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Wanda has a complex relationship with her hair. It’s the only beautiful thing she has ever had in her possession that she hasn’t treasured. She’s acutely aware that it’s a brighter version of her mother’s, and she can’t help but see it as a badge of shame. At the same time, sunlight makes it light up like fire, and whenever little wisps of it get away from her, they soften the uncompromising lines of her face. The one time anyone had ever made a pass at her had been when she had been running down the Underboss as Rorschach, leaving Wanda no time to cut her hair. Over weeks of intense investigation, her bangs had gotten long enough that her bright brown eyes made her look like a cat peering out from under a bed, and the rest of it had been loose and soft around her bony face. The night Rorschach and Nite Owl had made their catch, it had been so hot that Danielle ran into combat in her goggles, tights, and a tank top plastered to her skin with sweat, . Rorschach had nearly gotten himself killed staring at his partner’s chest and its titanic bounce, but two days before that, Wanda is shaking her bangs out of her eyes, a men’s undershirt clinging to her because it is too damned hot for decency. She’s too small to need a bra, but her nipples bother her enough that she puts bandaids over them to keep them from being outlined by the thin fabric.
She doesn’t know it, but she looks elfin, her pointed chin more obvious than her square jaw, and the line of her back lithe and beautiful as she holds a piece of work up to the light. Delivery boys are hauling fabric in, a job she’s glad she doesn’t have to do in this heat. When one of them comes and dawdles by her work station on his way out, she has no idea what the hell he’s trying to do. He starts talking to her, and she answers him as politely as she can, wondering how Nite Owl’s doing on the lead she uncovered last night, and reliving how good it is to be Rorschach. Every fight she’s ever been in, there’s been that initial snort of disbelief that this skinny little girl thinks of herself as a legitimate threat. She shows them every time, the fruits of battering her bony little hands on a speed bag until they bleed through the tape, of running until she vomits and then going another mile out of sheer bloody-mindedness. No one is ever prepared for Wanda’s speed and strength, and that can be an advantage, but the best thing about being Rorschach is the way no one ever doubts. He’s not really any bigger than Wanda. The shoes only make him five foot seven, but something in the way he stands up straighter and wears his skin better makes all the difference. People talk around her a lot, and she knows the one thing no one thinks is behind Rorschach’s mask is a woman. Even though she hates men, this pleases her in a way she can’t quite name.
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“Sorry.” Wanda croaks. “Didn’t mean to.” He snivels a little, and she sighs. “It’s not broken, it just needs some ice.”
Looking at her troublesome hair now, she doesn’t know what to think. It’s almost… cute. “Look like a girl leprechaun.” Is what she finally says, in tones of dubious wonder.
Danielle bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe a little. But a pretty girl leprechaun, and this will grow out better.”
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ILU for this
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