I love your writing! And I'm also a villian x hero enthusiast! Can you do this prompt?
The hero interrogates the villian but it seems they have more history than the others thought.
(maybe they grew up together, used to be friends as kids, etc etc and nobody knew that they knew each other this well)
"Am I?" the villain raised an eyebrow.
"You always cross your legs when you lie."
The villain's legs immediately twitched, as if to sit properly on the chair, only to pause. As if the very act of adjustment damned them. They scowled at the hero.
The hero beamed sunnily back.
The detective looked between the two.
"Yeah, well," the villain said, "you wouldn't be so good at reading people if you weren't trained to be a desperate people-pleaser to avoid setting off your shitty parents."
The hero's smile dropped. "You're bringing family into this? Really?!"
The villain shrugged. "I find it's good for you to yell at someone occasionally. I'm happy to provide you a much needed outlet for your anger issues, darling."
"I don't have anger issues."
"You're dodging the question!" The hero stabbed a finger in the villain's direction. "We know you were at the gallery when the painting was stolen. The only question is who took it."
"I'll never tell you where it is."
"You didn't take it," the hero said, rolling their eyes. "That would imply you have taste."
"Do you, though?" the hero asked. "Because I've seen your bedroom and-"
"-I'm sorry," the detective said, "you've what now?"
"-I was fifteen!" the villain snarled.
"God, that carpet. Tragic."
"Get it all out," the villain said, venomously. "There you go. You want to call me daddy to really add to the fantasy of being able to stand up for yourself?"
The hero's hand twitched violently and they took a step forward.
"O-okay!" The detective swiftly stepped between them, eyes wide. "So I'm sensing some not professional tension here."
The room was quiet, for a long moment.
The hero drew in a long steadying breath and let it out.
The villain sighed and uncrossed their legs, as if slumping in their chair dramatically, head tipping back, properly masked the gesture.
"Anyone want to explain the conflict of interest?" the detective asked. "Before my investigation is completely screwed?"
"We knew each other as kids," the hero muttered.
"We never put a label on it."
"That's because you have commitment issues."
"I committed to stopping you, didn't I?"
"And yet," the villain said. "The painting is gone. And you're wasting your time whining at me instead of chasing the thief."
"So I was right and it wasn't you."
The villain paused, jaw twitching.
"Well," the detective said. "Isn't this just fascinating. I love my job." They sounded like they were trying to remind themselves of this pertinent fact.
"Does that mean I can go?" the villain asked.
"No," the hero said. "It means you can tell me what you saw before I call your grandmother."
"Now who's invoking family."
"She wouldn't tolerate your calls half as much if she knew we'd broken up."
"You didn't tell her we broke up?!"
"Neither did you," the villain pointed out.
"That was for information."
"Are you listening, detective? I'm pretty sure that counts as getting evidence illegally."
"They're not technically under our employ," the detective said, stare turning to the one way glass, as if for back up. "Different rules for civilians."
"I'm not a civilian," the hero said, sounding mildly offended.
"Well," the villain said. "Now I'm definitely not chatting to you about the painting."
"Are you really so incompetent that you didn't see anything?" the hero asked.
"Your bait is obvious and beneath you."
"I'm not the one who can't identify a suspect and had my painting nicked beneath my nose."
"I thought you said I'd never take Love is Altitude Sickness because I had no taste?"
"It's cute," the hero said, "that you care so much about what I say and what I think."
The villain once again ended up scowling. The hero once again summoned a sunny, biting smile.
The detective pinched the bridge of their nose.
"You know what," they said. "I don't care anymore. I can't do this. Both of you out."
"WHAT?" Both hero and villain turned, outraged, to the detective. "But the painting?"
"But my sanity," the detective said, blandly. "Go on. Shoo."
"You need to undo my cuffs," the villain said.
"Oh, please," both hero and detective said, "you unpicked those at least five minutes ago."
Both hero and detective turned to look at each other, perturbed.
The villain considered, then shook their cuffs free, standing up.
"You can't shoo me," the villain said. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Unhelpful," the hero offered.
"A walking migraine," said the detective. "If you wanted to kill me, you could have already done so."
The villain pouted. "And if you wanted information, you could ahve got on your knees and asked nicely."
The hero scoffed. Barked an incredulous laugh.
"And you could try a pretty please some time too, hero," the villain said. I know you're good at it."
The hero whirled after them.
"I know that you're an utter ASS! You-"
The detective watched them go, bickering, and sat down on the chair head in their hands.
"Give me five minutes," the detective said. "It's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine."
Five minutes later, on the dot, the door opened. A regrettable prediction.
The hero stood there, shoulders squared, a touch of pink on their cheeks.
"So," they said. "I know who took the painting."
"Uhuh," the detective said, dryly. "I don't want to know."
"-I really don't want to know," the detective said. "Just stick to filling me in on the suspect on the way, okay?"
They did their best to never talk of it again.
2087
dailybridgerton
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