mcu slut @joey-101-blog - Tumblr Blog

under the influence, pt. II

synopsis: Vigilante goes viral, you prove you’re terrifyingly good at your job, and Adrian Chase keeps showing up: in your apartment, your camera roll, your personal space - and for you. Somewhere between forced happy hours, misguided Instagram stories, botched first-aid attempts, late-night patrols, you try to get better at a new skill: convincing yourself this is still just part of the job.

gif by @/chris-hargreeves

pairing: adrian chase/vigilante x reader tags: (former) enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, post-Season 2, Checkmate related antics, publicist!reader, second person POV, f!reader, canon typical violence/language, blood/injury, improper medical treatment, imposter syndrome, internet references abound, things get a little angsty for a bit i'm so sorry word count: 13.1k a/n: hello! first and foremost, thank you for the absolutely lovely reception on part one of this - I've been working on it since November, and sort of holding onto it, unsure if/when I wanted to post. I am so glad I did! also, whoops this part in particular became very long but I felt so adamant that this was three parts because I was thinking of it like a three act play in my brain lol! so enjoy! oh, also, cross-posted on ao3 (usually next day there) if that's your jam! lastly, was thinking a lot of about the djo song "egg" during this, make of that what you will!

part one

part two: something else entirely

“I can’t believe I'm saying this, but…Vigilante’s doing remarkably well on socials,” you announced to the table, clicking to the next slide in your presentation. The entire team was sleep deprived - and, you’d noticed, rather beat up, especially Adrian - but your promise to deliver caffeine and baked goods had dragged them to the late morning meeting. You tried not to ask about missions so much - frankly, you didn’t need to know, and you knew you’d just spend every minute the team was away worrying about them all. You’d grown to somehow both cherish and despise the days that found you utterly alone in the office.

“Me?” Adrian perked up. You took a sip of your own coffee and then nodded. He smiled so wide his lip started to bleed again.

“Um…Chase, your - your mouth?” you attempted but he waved you off, his focus locked onto you like a hapless puppy.

“Who cares! I want to hear more about me doing better than everyone else,” he chirped.

“Well, I didn’t say better than everyone else…”

“It’s okay. You can say it. They’re basically asleep anyway.”

“Fuck you, Adrian,” Ads groaned from where her head was nestled in her arms on the table.

“Your traction has gone up considerably with the, um, 18-40 demographic?”

That was enough to grab everyone’s attention. Adrian, however, seemed perplexed. And perhaps, if you were reading his furrowed brow correctly, disappointed?

“Oh,” he said simply, slumping back into his chair.

“Oh?” Chris echoed. “Every chick 18-40 wants to bang you and all you can say is ‘oh’?”

“Actually, it’s not just the female-identified base…”

Adrian’s head whipped back to you. “Wait a minute? Is ‘traction’ code for ‘everyone wants to bang me’?”

“Well, no,” you clarified. “Not everyone. But…a lot of them…yes.”

“It’s my cool moves, isn’t it?” Adrian said, angling his chin up slightly. He was preening like a goddamn bird that Fleury wouldn’t be able to recognize.

You cleared your throat and suddenly found the tablet in your hand very interesting. “It’s uh…it’s the mask, mostly. I’ve gathered. From my…research.”

You didn’t want to have to explain exactly how that research had been conducted. You were still trying to forget the depravity of r/Vigilante.

“Sounds kind of…kinky,” Adebayo parsed quietly.

“Anyway, kink aside, it is boosting Checkmate’s branding significantly. So keep being sexy, I guess?”

Harcourt choked on her coffee. “Jesus Christ.”

“Speaking of Jesus and further proof he doesn’t exist,” you plowed ahead, swiping on your tablet. “Peacemaker and Harcourt are also doing numbers.”

“Well, of course I’m doing well, I'm the titular superhero,” Chris said, crossing his impossibly broad arms over his chest.

“Peacemaker is the titular superhero of…Checkmate?” John asked, barely suppressing a shit-eating grin. You knew you were approximately 60 seconds from losing the group altogether down yet another linguistic rabbit hole. There was at least one of those a week, sometimes several if you were particularly unlucky. You’d started building “tangent time” into all meetings after your second month.

“Yes,” Chris replied simply.

“Dude, I don’t think you know what titular means,” Adrian chimed in. Harcourt rolled her eyes.

“Oh good, now Adrian is offering grammatical advice,” she drawled.

“What? How am I wrong on this?” Chris asked, genuinely perplexed.

Economos sighed. “If this company were named Peacemaker Inc or whatever the fuck, that would make you titular. As in, in the title.”

“I don’t think that’s right, but whatever, what do I know?” Chris said sarcastically and you bit your tongue to keep yourself from intervening on telling him exactly what he didn’t know. These last few months had been a real crash course in managing personalities. Somehow more than any of your work before. Actors and politicians and conglomerates had never been quite so difficult.

“Well, also I should have clarified. You two are doing well together. As an…entity,” you managed to finally interject into the general cacophony of the table.

Harcourt glared at you. “Please tell me ‘entity’ doesn’t mean what I think it means?”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly tight. You turned over how to spin it in your mind. You certainly weren’t about to tell Emilia Harcourt that people were drawing fanart of her and Peacemaker kissing all over the internet. “I…think…that…people have taken an interest in your dynamic as a…duo. And they are…speculating…about what your interpersonal dynamic is.”

“You’re a good bullshitter but I’m going to need you to do better than that,” Harcourt replied.

“It’s not her fault that even dweebs on the internet can sense your palpable sexual chemistry,” Adebayo chimed in with a grin. Luckily Chris was too busy eyeing Harcourt with open want to bother pulling your chain much more. You moved on expeditiously before Harcourt could go on her well trodden path about the evils of social media.

“Adebayo! Your charitable work is doing great numbers, your personal, not quite as strong,” you said, referring down to the spreadsheet you’d been compiling. “I think people just don’t have a sense of you.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need to be a poster child for all this,” she replied, gesturing vaguely at the absolute chaos around the table. “I just want to help people.”

You caught her eye and nodded firmly. You knew she was reticent to be so public facing after the conference she’d held after their first big mission. The one that kind of blew everything up, putting them all on the map in some capacity - for better or worse. So you wouldn’t push - Adebayo had become a friend and in this line of work you had to look out for friends where you could find them.

A glance down at your meeting notes indicated you were almost through - you could practically taste the almond croissant you were so close to enjoying the second it was over. You kept going, “Noted. Bordeaux, Lane called from The Daily Planet asking about doing a front page story on you, and I figured it could be some good rep? She and I go way back, so we can trust her not to dogpile you with some kind of gotcha journalism, but she means business and she isn’t going to take it easy on you. You’ll need to bring your A game. Thoughts?”

“Any journalist not afraid to take down Lex Luthor is cool with me,” Sasha replied.

You nodded. “Great, we’ll get it on the books. John, that tech conference reached out again? Have you changed your mind?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” he replied with a middle finger salute, but you knew better than to take it personally. You’d been cutting him slack ever since he saved your ass rescuing content from a hard drive that had been damaged in the field. (Note to self: hard drives are not bulletproof and Adrian will insist you’re no longer allowed in the field.) You gave him a middle finger right back and he smiled.

“Rip, do you know what ‘edits’ are?” you asked, casting one someone had made of Superman to the song “Starman” by David Bowie to the screen. Rip crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes.

“Girl.”

“Right, sorry, forgot you’re basically addicted to TikTok,” you muttered under your breath. Adrian laughed just a little too loudly and you swallowed down a slight smile.

“Cheetos wants to do their very own Judomaster collab edit,” you announced with a proud smile. Rip sat up in his seat.

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he asked.

“Rip, you know I would never joke about something so sacred,” you said seriously. “There’s a PR package on your desk.”

“I’m sorry for ever doubting you. I worship at your altar,” Rip said. You gave him a slight bow.

“Great,” you exhaled, clutching your tablet to your chest. “Any questions?”

“What about my numbers?” Fleury asked, startling you. You’d forgotten he was even there. You pretended to scroll furiously on your tablet already knowing the answer was that he didn’t register with the populace (or you, apparently) at all, but you didn’t really want to hurt his feelings.

You wrenched your gaze up from your screen and gave a thumbs up. “Keep up the good work, Fleury.”

“I knew it,” he whispered as he pumped his fist.

Before you could even properly get out the words, the meeting room cleared in a blizzard of grabbed pastries and cups of coffee passed from one hand to another.

“Good meeting, boss!” Adrian cheered from behind you. You spun around and Adrian’s grimacing face matched yours. You both shook your heads. “Nope, not right. I could feel it the second I said it. I’m going to keep trying though.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You also couldn’t help but notice the way Adrian’s smile widened when you did. “It’s okay. Really! I’ve never been much of a nickname person, anyway.”

“But then how will you know you belong?” Adrian asked so earnestly you were sure your heart stopped beating for a second. “For example, Economos is Econogoat, right?”

“Questionable nickname, but sure…”

“And people call me Vij, and sometimes Ade, and Ads is Ads.”

You stifled a laugh and nodded. “Mhmm.”

“So…?”

“Oh, what, you’ve moved past ‘camera girl’?” you teased, but you couldn’t help the slight catch in your throat at the sight of Adrian’s fallen expression. “Such a shame, I really liked that one.”

“Chris says I was a dick to you, you do know I’m sorry, right?”

“Chris is right about very few things but he is right about that one,” you replied. You hated the doe-eyed frown that resulted. You nudged him with your elbow before you resumed gathering your stuff on the table. “But I do know how sorry you are. Mostly because you tell me every other day.”

He started stacking empty coffee cups at the other end of the table, lingering the way he always did after meetings now. He was doing that thing again - when you knew he was play acting at being casual, but the man didn’t have a casual bone in his body. “Hey, so, do you think you’re gonna come out for drinks with everyone tonight?”

You winced, thankful your back was to him. Nearly every Friday was drinks at a local spot. And you hadn’t gone to a single one. In the months you had now worked for Checkmate. You knew how it probably seemed to everyone else. But it wasn’t that at all - you wanted to. You really did. You’d just…never really been a part of a workplace where people actually wanted to be friends. And they’d all been friends for so much longer, bound together by near-death experiences, and bonding in the field and saving the goddamn planet. You weren’t sure there was a way to slip into a picture like that and not mess up the whole image.

“Oh shoot, I don’t think I can tonight. I have…I have a date,” you lied through your fucking teeth. A date with my couch, you thought.

“Oh!” Adrian said, seeming surprised. His posture straightened slightly and it was his turn to nudge you with his elbow - except when he did it, it fucking hurt. “So, who’s the lucky guy? Or, oh shit, sorry, girl? I don’t want to presume. Ads says I shouldn’t project heteronormativity onto people - which, I really usually don’t! I swear. My dad’s gay. So.”

“Just some dude from Hinge,” you said, trying to keep the lie simple. Less webs to get tangled up in later on. Of course, Adrian Chase did not understand the concept of simple.

“What’s he like? And also what’s his full government name - like, just in case? And also do you know his address? If not, full government name will do. I’m not going to…stalk him or anything. I just need to know. In case your body is, like, found face down in the river tomorrow or something.”

“Hey, Adrian? What the fuck?” you asked in disbelief. “Let’s not manifest my death, perhaps?”

“Uh, it’s called being prepared.”

“You’re catastrophizing, and it’s freaking me out,” you muttered.

“Well, it’s not like you’re never going to die!” he argued, tossing his hands up. You sighed a sigh that was dredged from somewhere deep within your soul. Many things had changed in the past few months, but Adrian Chase was not one of them. The only difference was now he liked you - you suspected there was a chance you’d surpassed Rip in the friendship rankings at last, but Adrian had neither confirmed nor denied.

“I’m not going to tell you this guy’s name so you can stalk him, Adrian,” you said finally. Well, that, and because, of course, he did not exist.

“I just said I’m not going to stalk him. I’m starting to think you don’t listen to me sometimes,” he moped. You grinned, unable to resist the bait as he followed you out into the hallway.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

You were freshly showered and sprawled out on the couch with no plans but eating a bunch of junk food and watching garbage television so you could fully turn your brain off. Or, at least, make an attempt. Unfortunately, you never really could turn your brain all the way off. Something work-related always managed to find a way in.

But then, there was the sound of something at your front door: the knob turning with its distinctive scrape that you’d never gotten around to texting your landlord about and the sound of your front door slowly opening. Footsteps approached down the hall and you were, once again in the face of imminent danger, completely frozen. Your first thought was, oh my god, they are gonna find me face down in the river tomorrow. I can’t believe fucking Adrian Chase was right.

Your second thought came out of your mouth at the same time you managed to finally do something, “Adrian?”

He caught the remote you’d chucked at him with alarming ease.

“Oh, hey!” he said calmly, with a lift of his eyebrows. But you could tell he was full of shit by the quick rise and fall of his shoulders as he caught his breath and tried to act like he hadn’t been, what - running? It was almost like he was surprised to see you in your own living room. The kind of delighted surprise of when you run into a friend at the grocery store. The oddity of it all almost tricked your brain into thinking: right, of course Adrian is here in my living room. That was the great con of Adrian Chase - he was so disarming it sometimes made you question your own sanity. And worse still, he wasn’t even doing it on purpose.

“Uh, hey Adrian, what the fuck?” you gasped. He was a little busy looking at your legs. You snapped your fingers and his gaze latched back onto you. “Hello?”

“Your legs are so shiny,” he said quietly.

“I just moisturized - sorry, again I ask - what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh I’m here to take you to the bar!” Adrian grinned.

“Adrian, I’m not going to the bar.”

“You said you had a date but then I looked at your location and I saw you were still at home and I was like well that’s weird! And then I thought your date probably cancelled - not that I can imagine anyone ever canceling on you but why else would you be sitting at home at prime date time - and that you were probably bored and that I should come pick you up.”

Your brain still hadn’t quite jolted out of there’s a stranger breaking into my apartment and into the weird, contorted comfort of seeing Adrian. You would have been more perturbed by Adrian’s absolute misuse of the agency’s tracking system if 1) he hadn’t already done that to you before, and 2) you were stuck on something else.

“Wait, how did you get in?”

“You have a key under your mat.”

“Well, not anymore,” you mumbled to yourself. You crossed your arms over your chest. “You can’t just be breaking into people’s apartments, Adrian.”

“It’s not breaking in if you have the key,” he said, clearly confused. You groaned and slid down the couch until you had practically sunk straight to the floor. For some unexplainable reason that was where you needed to be.

“Adrian, you stole the key from under my mat.”

“Uh, I feel like if it’s just out in the open it’s not stealing. Besides, isn’t it for emergencies? This felt like an emergency,” he said simply. Somehow, the point was sailing straight past him. You might have been touched by the idea that he thought you being stood up was an emergency, if it hadn’t also involved him busting into your apartment and scaring the shit out of you.

He continued, shifting his weight slightly. “Actually, maybe I should keep the spare. Just in case.”

You sighed and held your hand out towards him, palm up. “Chase.”

He rolled his eyes and then finally came closer, pressing the key into your awaiting hand. He folded your fingers around the warm metal. And then, inexplicably, he sat down on the edge of your couch.

“Are you okay? Is this about your date cancelling on you?”

“It’s not about -

“I read somewhere that it’s better to be around people when you’re feeling big feelings. I dunno how true that is, but I think we should try it,” Adrian interjected. You dropped your head onto the coffee table with a decisive thud. You knew you should just be honest - you lied because it was easier than saying the strange truth out loud. That you didn’t know how to be wanted.

“Adrian…” you groaned.

“All your drinks are on me?”

You sat up and looked at him. “Deal.”

“It’s a little on the nose for the team, isn’t it?” you asked, staring up at the flickering neon sign for the bar. The Gunner.

“What do you mean?” Adrian asked, staring back at you blankly, his breath a small white burst in the freezing night air. You cocked your head slightly, waiting for him to process. The moment did not come.

“Like…” You lifted your hands up, fingers bright red from the cold, and made finger guns and pointed them straight at Adrian’s chest. “You guys spend like all day with guns, and then you choose the one bar in Evergreen that’s called that?”

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed with a slight nod of his head. But he did not laugh. The night was not off to a roaring success. “That is kind of funny.”

You frowned and pressed your finger guns against Adrian’s jacket. “Bang, you’re dead.”

His mouth slipped into a wide grin and he just stared down at you for a long, quiet moment. “You’re kind of a fucking weirdo, aren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ha. So original. So funny.” But Adrian still looked at you in such a peculiar way, like he was considering his next words. That was very un-Adrian of him. You shifted your weight nervously.

“C’mon. If you’re going to drag me out of my apartment you’re going to make it worth my while.”

“Holy shit!” Adebayo cheered before the two of you had even finished crossing the threshold. She snatched a beer from Chris’s hands and met you two by the door. She pressed the cold beer into your hands and beamed at you. “Please tell me Adrian did not physically kidnap you to get you here.”

You chuckled. “No kidnapping required. Just some good old fashioned peer pressure.”

The three of you joined the group around a tall table and you slid the beer back to Chris. He started to protest but you waved him off. “Please, my tab is going firmly on the credit card of one Adrian Chase.”

Adrian leaned over and murmured in your ear, “I, uh, actually don’t have a credit card. Because of the whole secret identity and everything.”

You turned your head to give him a look. “Adrian.”

He pushed his glasses up. “Is this going to be one of those times that you tell me I’m being pedantic again?”

You nodded slowly and he rolled his eyes. “Well, sorry, for trying to be factually accurate!”

“Adrian, why don’t you go get the girl a drink?” Ads offered with a less than subtle elbow into Adrian’s side. He nodded and took off without even asking what you’d like, but frankly, you’d take nearly anything to take the edge off.

“So, Adrian broke into my apartment tonight,” you supplied, leaning your elbows on the high top. Chris snorted over his beer and Harcourt sighed.

“Yeah, he does that sometimes,” she said with a pointed look at Chris. Chris shrugged.

“That’s just Adrian,” Chris said, somewhat defensively.

“One time he took my pants off and laundered them while I was passed out,” John muttered.

“That’s…”

“Unhinged?” John supplied.

“Deranged?” Harcourt offered.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Both. And also kind of sweet?”

Chris leaned over the table until he was eye level with you. “Speaking of pants…”

Adebayo punched him in the arm. “Chris, do not!”

“Don’t what?” Adrian chimed in, slipping between you and John, making an Adrian-sized space where there wasn’t one before. He put three beers down in front of you and only one in front of himself and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought maybe I’d get you an espresso martini since you have a serious - and kind of concerning - caffeine addiction,” he started, with a gesture towards the beers in front of you, “but the bartender told me to fuck off, so, I guess they don’t make those here. I didn’t know what kind of beer you like but I brought options.”

You tilted your chin up at him and studied the frantic, wide-eyed way in which he was looking at you. It should have been disconcerting, the ways in which he concerned himself with you, but instead it made you feel sort of warm. And you hadn’t even had any alcohol to blame it on. Was this what it was to finally make a work friend?

You picked up the closest beer, tapped the rim of Adrian’s glass with your own and chugged the entire thing in one go. Chris cheered the entire way and Adrian’s eyes were locked right onto you. You came up for air, gasping, wiping beer foam from your lip and Adrian smiled - something kind of blinding and all consuming and you could only smile back.

Considering the sour ale taste at the back of your throat, your smile converted to a grimace. “Okay that one was disgusting.”

“Dude, just show her the texts,” Chris sighed, raking a hand over his face. Adebayo, John and Harcourt had all gone off to the bathroom together, leaving you alone with Chris and Adrian. Come to think of it, Adrian hadn’t left your side again since his first drink run. He’d been in the middle of explaining several things he’d seen at work during the day that he’d wanted to tell you about, but you’d been stuck in meetings most of the day.

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about!” Adrian replied through gritted teeth. His eyes darted about nervously, like he was planning an escape route.

Your brow furrowed. “What texts?”

Chris reached around Adrian with one strong arm and pulled his phone from his grasp. Adrian scrambled for it but Chris unlocked it with ease and opened Adrian’s Notes app before tossing it to you. You looked down at the phone in your hands and your brain tried to make sense of what you were looking at. But utterly devoid of context and a few beers deep your brain was swimming against the current.

“What am I looking at?” you asked as you kept scrolling. Memes, links to articles about various topics - some crime, some celebrity news, one seemingly about seahorse migration? - and fragments of text. Things that didn’t really seem to make any sense at all together, but had a weird kind of familiarity to it. At the very bottom of the (long) note, you read:

hey hope you’re having fun on your date! but don’t have too much fun if you know what i mean do u own pepper spray btw?

You looked up at Adrian, still squinting in focus, and found him watching you intently.

“Every time I want to text you something I put it in here instead,” he said simply. “You never gave me your number, so.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to parse through the peculiarity of it all before you looked back at the phone in your hand and opened his contacts. Adrian reached for the phone but you brushed him aside.

“Oh, uh, hold on, wait!”

But you didn’t get very far because there, at the top of his contacts was: ✨🧜‍♂️ Camera Girl 🧜‍♂️✨You held the phone up towards him with a frown. “I thought you said I never gave you my number.”

“I said you never gave it to me. I didn’t say I didn’t have it,” he scoffed.

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. The whole thing was so, so absurd. Just a few months ago Adrian was perfectly content to insult you to your face and now he was scared to send you a text. You might have been smug about it, but instead it just made you a little bit sad and you weren’t totally sure why.

“You can text me, Adrian,” you said with a slight wince. You knew you were maybe opening the floodgates.

“I can?” he asked, strangely breathless. You studied the features of his handsome face, the way his eyes had sparked a new fire in them. Oh god, you were going to regret it, weren’t you?

You nodded tightly. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he said. He smiled crookedly. “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

Adebayo returned only to drag Adrian with her to the bar to help transport another round of drinks. You joined the conversation John and Harcourt were having but felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your screen glowed in your palm, one unread text message on display.

Unknown Number: hey 🧜‍♂️

You looked up and found Adrian grinning at you from across the bar. He gave you a slight wave and you shook your head in disbelief but waved back anyway. Panic crossed his face suddenly and he looked down, his face cast in the blue-light glow of his phone. Your phone vibrated again.

Unknown Number: it’s Adrian btw

“Do people really think I’m sexy?” Adrian asked suddenly, perched on the edge of your desk. You’d given him a slinky and it had managed to silence him for approximately two minutes.

“‘Sexy’, ‘hot’...other things I’m not going to repeat. You would not believe what my eyes have seen on the internet, Adrian Chase,” you replied, amused, picking up your most-definitely cold cup of coffee.

“Do you think I’m sexy?”

You spit your coffee back into the cup rather ungracefully. You couldn’t say you had ever thought Adrian Chase would be asking you that question. Truthfully, you were uncertain how to answer. It wasn’t like it’d never crossed your mind. Adoring fans on Tumblr were one thing, but you’d seen Vigilante in action in goddamn real life. And better still, you’d had the bizarre pleasure of getting to know the weird, kinda sweet dork behind the mask. Denizens of the internet, eat your heart out.

So, you decided to be honest. Sort of. “Vigilante is sexy, yes.”

“But not me?” Adrian asked, blinking slowly, his head cocked in that way he sometimes did when he was trying to truly understand something.

“I didn’t say that,” you replied, finding yourself oddly uncollected. You didn’t know how to discuss this without offending him, but also without giving him the wrong idea. Because you and Adrian Chase were never going to happen.

A genuine grin spread across his lips. “So you do think I’m sexy?”

You let out a laugh and looked down, realizing suddenly as you gazed at your lap that your knees were awfully close together. You dragged your gaze back up to his face and you watched his expression shift from something you feared was resembling adoration back to his version of neutral.

“I think you’re something else entirely, Adrian Chase,” you said. It was an admission, of sorts. And it was also the truth. How could you possibly put a single adjective on the tornado of a human being that was the man standing before you? He smiled tightly, but mercifully seemed to move on.

“How do they know I’m hot or whatever if they don’t even know what I actually look like?” he asked suddenly.

“You’re a faceless vigilante in a skin tight suit, of course they think you’re sexy. They can project whatever they want onto you. And that’s with you publicly being wanted for murder. Imagine all the dropped panties if they saw you saving a kitten from a tree or something!”

You turned back to your monitor - you owed the Park Service team at Olympic National Park a feature on Eagly by the end of the day. Adrian had actually had a few helpful comments at the beginning, but it had quickly devolved into a disarray of questionably accurate animal facts.

“We could do that.”

“We could do what?”

“Save a kitten from a tree. Or…I don’t know…something…cute. I don’t know! You’re the genius here, you’ll come up with something good.”

You must have stared at him in disbelief because he continued, “It would get Checkmate some good buzz, and you’d come across like super smart and savvy and I’d get people wet? I think it sounds good for us all.”

“You’d really be down for that?”

“For you? I’d be down for anything.”

“Why’d you delete that post of Judomaster?” Adrian asked, a peculiar lilt to his tone. As it turned out, strolling the streets of Evergreen looking for something good was harder than it seemed.

“What?”

“Was it because he’s a little demon twink?” Adrian asked, turning around so he could walk backwards in front of you.

“First of all, where did you even learn that phrase? Second of all, no, I deleted it because someone kept spamming the comments saying his logo just looks like someone splashed cum on his chest and I was getting annoyed.”

“I mean…it does,” Adrian replied simply. “Is he not a demon twink?”

You laughed so sharply it also caused you to snort. You could see Adrian’s eyes crinkling with a grin even through the red visor of his mask. “I thought you and Rip were finally getting along?”

“We’ll never get along,” he said seriously. His eyes narrowed. “Not really.”

“And why’s that?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Because he knocked me out one time and then my balls got electrocuted and my pinky toe got cut off!” he exclaimed.

“You’re missing a pinky toe?” you asked, trying to take that very seriously. It was so very Adrian to not let something like that go - no matter how many times he’d been punched, shot or stabbed.

Adrian looked down and kicked at a small pebble. “Well, no. I still have my pinky toe. But I almost lost it and that’s what matters.”

He looked back at you and groaned. Clearly you were not doing a great job at masking your amusement. “It was very stressful!”

“Hey, I believe you,” you said breezily, lifting your hands up in defense.

“You’re a real sick freak, you know that?” Adrian chastised. You were hard pressed to take it seriously. “Torture is so not funny.”

“What about when you’re doing it?” you asked.

He paused and seemed to give it genuine consideration. “I don’t torture. Usually. I kill. There’s a difference.”

You smiled tightly and tried to consider it in the way you imagined Adrian did. You’d spent enough time around him to understand that to him, killing quickly and efficiently was the more moral thing to do. Torture prolonged the inevitable. A small part of you longed for the days when the things you had to consider looked more like Meyers or Colbert? and less murder or torture?

Unfortunately, you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to side-step the rather large hole in the concrete and you promptly ate shit.

Or, you would have, had Adrian’s fast reflexes not clicked into place and his arms not wrapped around your waist tightly.

“Holy shit!” you yelped, your fingers clawing at his armor for leverage. You were safe and secure but still basically perpendicular to the ground and you couldn’t help the feeling he’d let go and send your ass straight to the concrete. As if he could read your mind, he stood upright, hauling you with him and planting you straight back onto your feet. But he didn’t let go and, in fact, his hands drifted to your hips.

“You really can’t take me anywhere, can you?” you managed through laughter.

The look on Adrian’s face, even through the visor, was one of consternation. You patted your palm against his chest plate. “I’m fine. Seriously. Consider me another citizen of Evergreen saved. Vigilante, my hero.”

Adrian’s eyes darted back and forth across your face and his gloved fingers pressed firmer into your skin. Oh. He liked being called a hero. His eyes widened and he released you from his firm grip suddenly and took a step back.

“I have an idea,” he bounced nervously on his toes. “Gimme your phone.”

Like you were positively possessed, you handed Adrian your phone and posed at his side when he ushered you closer to take a picture. He handed you back the phone and you were still laughing as you looked at the photo. You’d both tossed up a peace sign - Peacemaker would love that one. Maybe you’d get it framed for his desk. “Unfortunately, we cannot just post me on the Instagram, Adrian.

“Why not? It’s a good face. A great face, even,” he said with absolutely zero sense of irony. You ignored the heat that was crawling up your neck.

“Well, thanks. But that’s not really how things are done. We post this and someone recognizes me and then is like ‘wow, so they’re faking content’ and then what?”

“We are kind of faking content, aren’t we?” Adrian asked innocently.

“No, we’re merely looking for a convenient opportunity,” you corrected with a cheeky grin. “Besides, if you’re going to fake content the whole point is to not get caught.”

“Okay,” he said seriously, with a firm nod. He took your phone again and then held the camera high, posing in the same way. Only this time he moved his peace sign-making hand to directly cover your face. You barely managed to keep it together for the photo, certain you were more of a blurry form than anything else, but Adrian seemed satisfied.

You were still laughing, even as he opened Instagram, humming quietly to himself. He flipped to the Checkmate profile and opened a story, typing furiously atop the photo you’d just taken.

“Another…thankful…citizen…rescued…on…the…streets…of…Evergreen. Face covered for privacy reasons. Obviously,” he narrated. “Hashtag agirlwalkshomealoneatnight.”

“You can’t hashtag it that,” you laughed, reaching for your phone.

“And why not?” Vigilante protested, holding the phone high above your head. You were not going to indulge him. “It’s like a PSA.”

“It’s also the name of a movie from 2015, Adr - Vigilante,” you at least remembered to correct yourself.

“It is? What’s it about?” he asked, distracted enough to lower his arms. You took the phone back and moved a few paces away as you cleaned up his typos. Tactical gloves weren’t exactly easy to type in.

“Uh, it’s sort of about this girl who looks like a young innocent woman but really she’s a vampire and she preys on bad guys. I mean, there’s more to it than that but you’d just kind of have to see it,” you replied, distracted by your impulse to delete the imperfection. Normally you wouldn’t post something like this at all, but you felt an argument could be made for a kind of…Instagram Takeover charm. It was spontaneous. It was candid. It was a kind of unpolished insight that people would eat right up. Vigilante: fun and relatable.

“Does she fight crime? Because I would totally fight crime if I was a vampire.”

You looked up at Adrian, catching your own expression in the reflective red visor. “You already fight crime.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point!”

A notification popped up before you could even close out of Instagram.

adebangyo: adrian give the phone back right now!!!! checkmatehq: don’t worry, phone is safely back in the proper hands adebangyo: girl… adebangyo: why’s this kind of cute? adebangyo: i’m screenshotting adebangyo: saving for later adebangyo: 🙂

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Another notification popped up.

mrsvigilante: OMG and he’s funny??? 😭❤️🤤 mrsvigilante: who’s the girl tho 😵‍💫😡

Your head snapped up as you pocketed the phone. You were sure your smile was gone now. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like it when you smile at your phone like that. A phone shouldn’t make you smile. I should make you smile.”

You nudged his shoulder with yours and grinned, wide and false at him. “Happy?”

Adrian winced. “Ew. No. Your face looks all weird like that. Stop!”

You widened your eyes, fake grin spreading. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re freaking me out!”

“Good.” You stopped smiling and enjoyed the slightly frantic pant of Adrian’s chest. Then you promptly cleared that thought right out of your brain. “And for the record, Vig. Never tell a woman to smile.”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I was actually telling you not to smile,” he argued.

“Wow, so you just like telling women what to do with their bodies, hm?” you taunted.

“Fucking excuse you, I’m a feminist!”

You could feel your phone vibrating repeatedly in your pocket but you just smiled at Adrian (a real one this time) and ignored it.

“Would you kill a vampire?” you asked as your eyes drifted from the movie to Adrian sitting beside you. Adrian hadn’t forgotten about your little A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night anecdote, and had bothered you for two weeks straight about coming over to watch it with you.

“I think the preferred term is a Dracula.”

You nearly choked on your popcorn. “What?”

“I think vampires prefer to be called Draculas.”

“What? I mean, first of all…no they don’t? They’re fictional. And second of all, Dracula is a specific vampire, not like a whole species. He’s just some guy!”

“Ha! Okay, and, I’m about to be sarcastic here: whatever you say,” he said with a wink. You rolled your eyes at him.

“You really are an idiot sometimes, you know that, Chase?”

“Yeah but you hang out with me anyway so, what does that make you?” he replied with a sort of waggle of his head.

“Oh definitely also an idiot,” you laughed. “But at least I can admit it.”

“That’s actually a really easy thing to admit. You’ve got like, a million and a half secrets - admit one of those to me right now.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Uh, because we’re friends? And friends tell each other secrets, right?” he asked like he himself wasn’t actually certain. “Like, for example, I have a secret room in my mom’s basement where I keep all my Vigilante stuff and there’s like…a lot of cocaine in there.”

“Why do you have a lot of cocaine?”

“What else am I supposed to do with it after I break up a drug ring?” he asked in a tone of voice that he implied he thought you might be stupid. You didn’t know what to do with that information at all. “Okay now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t have any secrets,” you said simply, ignoring him and turning back to the movie. He huffed and grabbed the bowl of popcorn from your lap. You protested faintly until you looked at Adrian holding the bowl to his chest and rapidly shoveling popcorn into his mouth.

“Popcorn penalty until you tell me a secret,” he said, mouth full, and popcorn spilling all over your couch.

“Okay, okay! Um…oh, Harcourt has been teaching me to shoot!” you admitted. It was true, you’d taken her up on her offer. You didn’t need to be out in the field, and frankly, it was better for everyone if you weren’t, but you thought it might behoove you to at least learn the basics.

Adrian chewed slowly and then swallowed. A frown pulled at his lips. “I already knew that.”

“What?” you gasped. “How? I didn’t tell anyone and I know for a fact Harcourt didn’t tell you that.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I knew because you stopped wincing at the sound of gunfire so much. And also, every time you two come back you smell like gunpowder. Seemed kind of obvious to me,” he said simply. You leaned forward and dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, giving up.

“You’re kind of terrifying sometimes, Adrian,” you admitted. Up so close you could feel, rather than hear, him inhale sharply.

“But you’re not scared of me, right?”

You lifted your head to look at him, feeling guilt wrenching at you with the tender and quiet way he asked the question. He was so close, your knee pressed against his hip, and suddenly you found that your answer to the question had changed.

“Of course I’m not scared of you,” you lied with a smile. Adrian’s eyes searched yours for a moment but if he detected the falsehood he didn’t press. You grabbed the popcorn bowl from his lap and made for the kitchen to refill. You didn’t have to turn to know that he followed close behind. He leaned up against the counter as you tossed another bag into the microwave.

"You should let me teach you to throw knives," he suggested like it was a normal, casual statement to be making. Though, you supposed, for Adrian it was.

"Why?"

"Because Harcourt gets to teach you something and you guys are barely even friends!"

"Okay, bold claim to be making right now..."

"Also throwing knives is sick as hell and I think you'd probably look hot doing it," he continued. You crossed your arms over your chest and listened to the popcorn popping for just a moment.

"I'll think about it."

“Would you ever wanna play D&D with me?” he asked suddenly, slamming down his can of Coke on the counter. Sure, a natural segue between knife throwing and table top RPGs. Well, actually, now that you thought about it...

“Oh, I - I mean, isn’t it like, very time consuming? I have a lot of work on my plate right now.” Because you and Peacemaker tag-teamed blowing a man’s brains out in broad daylight last week, you thought but didn't say.

“We’re hanging out right now, though? It’d be exactly that but we’d also be roleplaying. I’ve actually had this idea for a campaign that I think you’d really like!”

When you don’t say anything one way or the other he continues: “So I was thinking a lot about your skillset in real life and I was like hmm, that kinda reminds me of a bard! Buuut I think it could be cool to have it be so that your bard was, like, cursed by a wizard or something to have their natural charm and persuasion work backwards. Because you’re really clever and charming and smart naturally, so you’d basically have to fight those instincts. Anyway, totally your call when creating your character, but something to think about. If you want to play, I mean. Which, you totally don’t have to.”

It took you aback slightly. You couldn’t really make heads or tails of what he was suggesting but he was excited and that was enough for you. “Okay, sure.”

“Wait, really?”

“Anything for you, Adrian Chase.”.

“Really?” he asked, mouth agape. He pumped his fist and then muttered as you walked back to the living room, “Watch out, Eagly.”

It sounded like something had been thrown against your front door. You sighed and sunk back into your couch, waiting for the sound of the front door opening and Adrian’s voice calling out as had become something you were hesitant to call a habit, but it had happened no less than three times. A few quiet seconds passed and there was no bright, loud…everything Adrian. Something wasn’t right - it was as if someone had plucked a string inside your chest and it was reverberating a song of warning inside your skull. For a split second you considered reaching for one of the knives Adrian had given you. There was one in the coffee table drawer, one tucked into the side of the couch... But you were out of your blanket and practically launching yourself over the back of the couch in a split second. You unlocked your door, fumbling with the chain Adrian had taken it upon himself to install for you. While you weren’t home, mind you. It was just so hard to be mad at him sometimes.

You pulled your door open and Adrian nearly fell on top of you, his body leaned haphazardly against the doorframe. He was dripping blood onto the doormat. He managed a breezy, “Oh hey!”

“Jesus Christ, Adrian!” you hissed out, grabbing him by hooking your hand into the collar of his chestplate. You slammed the door behind him and he was already reaching up to drag his mask off. “What happened to you?”

“How’re your sewing skills?”

“Absolute shit,” you replied, confused. His brow pinched and his mouth quirked like he’d expected that answer. And yet he had chosen your door to bleed all over. “Come on, let’s get you into the bathroom.”

Once Adrian was situated on the edge of your bathtub and you had scrounged out your First Aid Kit you decided to ask.

“Why are you here?”

“I needed somewhere to lay low.”

“And bleed out, apparently.”

“I thought you might be able to help?” he said like he was unsure of the truth of it himself.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s the real reason?”

“Um, you posted on your Close Friends story like 15 minutes ago so I knew you were still awake.”

“You got shot and your first thought was to check my Close Friends story?”

“I got stabbed, and actually my first thought was ‘ow’, so.”

You froze. “Wait a second, since when are you on my Close Friends story?”

“Since you left your phone on your desk and I thought you’d probably forgotten to add me. Since we only just became Close Friends in real life.”

“Adrian.” But he just flashed you a pained but genuine smile and your resolve disappeared. He wasn’t totally wrong anyway - you had forgotten. “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my phone!”

“Buuuut if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have known you were awake and that you could save me and I probably would have bled out in an alley somewhere instead.”

“Adrian, you could have gone to a hospital. Or…or, I don’t know! Called Chris, or Ads or Emilia or anyone more equipped to help you than me.”

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t want to die in anybody’s arms but yours.”

Your hand flexed against his wound and he hissed through his teeth. “Fuck! Sorry!”

“It’s okay! It doesn’t hurt that bad anymore!” he said weakly. When you looked up at him again he was pallid, his head lolled against his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ! Adrian!” you shouted. He didn’t stir. You cursed under your breath repeatedly as you leaned up between his legs to fumble for a pulse. It was there - thready and slow, but still beating. Still, you needed him awake. You fumbled for your phone and started to search YouTube for wound treatment videos just in case, blood smearing across your screen. An ad blared to life and you dropped your phone onto the bathroom sink to wait it out, returning to check his pulse again.

You leaned forward, prepared to pull back and slap him straight out of unconsciousness, when you were halted by the sight of him. Something about him so still, and so, so quiet made your chest hurt. He wasn’t meant to be like that. Not Adrian.

With 30 seconds still remaining on an ad placement for fucking Purdue University and desperation coursing through your veins, your hand met his cheek hard and he gasped awake, jolting forward, connecting his forehead with your nose.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaimed, clamping a hand over your nose. You could already feel the warm heat of blood oozing out.

Adrian’s eyes were wide, frantic. He was alert, even if his posture was still slack. “What was that?” he gasped. “Were you trying to kiss me?”

“What?” you asked in disbelief, garbled through your hand and blood. His abdomen tensed and blood rushed from his wound again. You cursed once more and gave up on your nose, grabbing more gauze from the First Aid kit and pressing it to his wound. He hissed.

“Whoah…what happened to you?” he asked, one gloved hand weakly reaching for your chin before falling back into his lap. His head rolled back again, like it was too heavy for his neck to hold upright. You grabbed hold of the front of his suit by the neck and yanked him upright.

“Stay with me, please, Adrian,” you yelped. “I can’t do this without you. You need to talk me through this. Otherwise we’re getting our medical advice from YouTube.”

“There’s actually some pretty good stuff on there,” he slurred.

“Adrian!”

“Right! Right, okay…” he said slowly. “We gotta get this off.”

He gestured vaguely at his uniform with his chin. You reached for the pair of scissors and he squirmed. “No, no, sewing this thing is a bitch. Just…just lemme…”

He reached over his shoulder and began unbuckling various straps until his armor dropped to the floor. Then he pawed uselessly at the zipper at the nape of his neck. He dropped his arm to his lap, panting. “You might have to…it’s just a zipper…”

“Oh!” you exclaimed and stood up to hastily pull the zipper down his back. You sort of tucked his face into your shoulder, leaning his torso forwards so you could reach. You held the back of his neck with one hand, while you unzipped with the other, your fingers weaving into the matted curls at the nape of his neck.

Once Adrian was maneuvered out of the top half of his suit and his undershirt had been tossed aside, you had to take in what was actually before you.

“Holy shit,” you muttered. The blood was actually a good distraction, otherwise you would have had exactly too much time to think about the thick muscle of his chest.

He looked down at his chest. “Oh that’s not so bad.”

“Not bad?” you asked in disbelief. Blood was oozing from the wound in his side - you came to your senses and grabbed a stack of gauze and leaned forward between his legs to apply pressure.

“I’ve had worse,” he said. You weren’t sure how that could be true. Sure, his torso was smeared with blood, but you could see that the skin was smooth. A couple of mottled bruises in various states of healing, but no scars.

“Apply pressure until bleeding stops, clean wound, dress,” he rattled off, his voice sounding distant. You pinched the skin of his arm and he yelped in surprise. “What the fuck!”

“Stay awake, you idiot,” you hissed, but it lacked your usual vigor. It was a desperate sound, and you hated the way it tasted in your mouth. You sat back, taking care to keep the pressure behind your fingertips against his wound. You weren’t sure how long it would take to fully stop bleeding so you tried to make yourself comfortable - well, as comfortable as one could be on the cold tile floor between the knees of a bleeding man. You rested your elbow on his thigh and leaned and let yourself shift some of your weight against his leg.

“You’re bleeding,” he said again, faintly. You glared up at him through your eyelashes and turned your head to wipe your nose on your sleeve.

“Yeah, well, getting headbutted will do that,” you replied. You dropped another blood-soaked piece of gauze into the sink basin.

“What - who the - who the fuck headbutted you?” he asked through gritted teeth. He leaned forward, reaching for your face but you batted his hand away.

“You know you’re a really piss-poor patient for a guy who has made a habit of getting injured,” you muttered.

“Well maybe you’re just a really bad nurse,” he bit back. You arched an eyebrow and sat back on your heels.

“Yes, Adrian, I am a bad nurse! I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing!” you exclaimed. “They pay me to do PR, and arrange brand deals, and interviews, and sort your public images and, and I don’t know, sometimes make graphics in Canva!”

“Is that what your job is?” he asked with a grimace.

“That’s not the point! The point is you can’t just scare me like that! I thought my best friend was going to die right in front of me and there was nothing I could do to fix it. Fuck you, Adrian! Fuck you for, for getting hurt, and for making it my fucking problem!”

But Adrian just grinned. “I’m your best friend.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t really a statement either. It felt like a declaration of something more important.

“And I’m your goddamn fixer,” you muttered, wiping sweat from your brow on the back of your other bloodstained sleeve.

Adrian’s eyes lit up as he repeated, “My fixer.”

“Now don’t go changing my contact name to Fixer,” you grumbled as you peeled the gauze back to take a look. The bleeding had finally seemed to stop, so you made quick work of cleaning it and placing a fresh piece of gauze on top.

“I really think you’re going to need stitches.”

“Okay,” he said simply. “Do you have a needle?”

“For like…human skin?” You shook your head. “I think I have a sewing kit somewhere.”

“That’ll do,” he replied, looking somewhat lucid and concentrated. You pushed yourself up from the floor and raced into your bedroom, terrified to leave him alone. You scrambled through your desk drawer until your fingers found a tiny, absolutely untouched sewing kit. It would have to do.

You cleaned the needle off with alcohol and handed it over to Adrian.

“Okay, I’m going to get into your bathtub for this part,” he explained, already in the process of lowering himself in when you grabbed him firmly by the arm and helped him the rest of the way in.

“Is this for the blood?” you wondered aloud. It seemed a moot point - blood was effectively everywhere in your small bathroom.

Adrian managed a kind of wheezy laugh. “No, it’s just easier for me to do it laying down.”

The next five minutes passed in painful silence as Adrian hissed and cursed his way through stitching his own gaping wound back together and all you could do was watch on helplessly. You couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck you were doing on the team at Checkmate after all - PR was one thing, you could do that in your sleep. But saving a life? First aid? Backup? You were useless. Your role was basically perfunctory - Checkmate didn’t need you at all.

“Did you slap me?” he asked suddenly. You exhaled sharply. It might have been a laugh if you weren’t covered in your…Adrian’s blood. You could only nod in confirmation. “You can do that again. Any time.”

“Don’t be weird, Adrian.”

“‘m not being weird. I’m being honest. It was kind of thrilling.”

“Yeah, a real thrill to backhand you out of the grip of Death,” you muttered back.

“And it was kinda hot,” he said with a slight shift of his hips against the acrylic floor of your bathtub. You dragged your eyes away from his pelvis and found his gaze still firmly focused on his neat stitches.

“Sorry I can’t really help with this part,” you murmured, changing the subject. Adrian paused and looked at you, the thread pulling taut in his grasp. He extended the bloody needle slightly towards you, as far as it could, still tethered to his skin and all.

“You should at least try once,” he said. “What if next time your hot slap doesn’t work and I stay unconscious?”

“Adrian Chase, there will not be a next time!”

“You sound really confident about that.”

“I’m terribly confident. Because I’m going to kill you myself first.”

He grinned at you, a stupid, lazy, half-thing of a smile - and your heart clenched in your chest. His eyes were still heavily lidded, but you could still feel the weight and certainty of his gaze.

“Fine. Give me that. But you’re going to have to show me how,” you said with a sigh. Perhaps stabbing him with a needle was exactly the revenge you needed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand the whole way through.”

Adrian didn’t stop holding your hand, even as you insisted that he stay still after he tied off his stitches and immediately tried to get out of the bathtub. You’d firmly planted yourself on the floor, your torso half draped over the blood-stained edge. He’d muttered something about just needing a quick nap and yanked your hand closer to him. You rested your chin on your arm and didn’t protest. For a little while you watched the rise and fall of his chest, felt the weight of his hand in yours, firmly grasping. If the whole way through meant just a little longer, well, that was okay, too.

You’d awoken in the morning, tucked into your own bed, with Adrian nowhere to be found. Wandering around your apartment as you tried in vain to stretch out your sore limbs (Note to self: sleeping on the bathroom floor was not a good idea drunk in college, and it certainly wasn’t now) you came to the bathroom. It looked like a fucking crimescene. Blood had somehow managed to touch every single surface. You took a look at yourself in the mirror and found your face clean of blood and your hands, too. Had Adrian washed you up before he put you to bed? You tried to imagine him carrying you - you’d never been carried anywhere before - and found it stirred a strange feeling in your chest.

In the middle of your mirror was a sticky note.

brb - Adrian :)

He came back later that morning - thankfully not bleeding this time - armed with two coffees (both for you, as it should be), a bag full of snacks and a shocking amount of cleaning supplies.

While he insisted you should leave him alone while he cleaned your bathroom, you still found yourself perched atop the closed toilet lid, watching him intently. You were reluctant to leave him alone. If you were being honest, you were worried about him. And also the idea of Adrian Chase loose and unsupervised anywhere in your apartment was enough to give you heart palpitations. You weren’t sure how disconcerted to be about how good he was at cleaning blood up. It was almost mesmerizingly efficient - it was clear and focused. It was the same way you’d seen him be in the field.

That, of course, didn’t stop him from rattling off animal facts and asking you to quiz him like you were just two buddies hanging out and not like you were watching a man who’d almost bled to death the day before clean up after himself. You scrolled through an article on manta rays, looking for something good.

“You should let me take a look at those stitches,” you said with a feigned disinterest. You hadn’t stopped thinking about his unblemished skin and now he was here before you very much not moving about like someone who had been nearly gutted not twenty-four hours prior. You also maybe hadn’t stopped thinking about what his torso would look like when it wasn’t stained with blood. How was he hiding all that muscle under every charmingly 90s sitcom dad outfit?

“Oh, sure,” he said simply. He dropped his scrub brush and wriggled free of his rubber gloves. You looked up from your phone and he had already lifted his shirt, exposing his smooth torso to you. “I told you I really just needed to sleep it off.”

You bit down on your lower lip, chewing over the thought that had been plaguing your mind since the night before. “Adrian…have you ever considered you might be metahuman or something?”

He scoffed. “You sound so fucking stupid right now.”

“Adrian, I’m serious. This is like…very healed for a wound you got hours ago,” you said, running your fingers gently across the well-healed skin. He recoiled slightly, his muscles flexing visibly under the skin.

“Don’t touch me like that,” he said tensely. You pulled your hand back but he caught your wrist firmly between his fingers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to - um, it’s just that - okay, so, it’s like - you know how most people claim they really like being touched gently?”

“Sure…?” you replied, pondering the very specific use of the word ‘claim’.

“Well I don’t like it.” You waited for more explanation that did not seem to be coming. You pursed your lips and nodded thoughtfully.

“Is it like a sensory thing? Or a ‘you don’t think you deserve to be touched gently’ thing?” you asked quietly. You weren’t sure you’d meant to ask it so directly.

Adrian’s face contorted into an expression you’d grown to know, one where he was really, genuinely considering something for the first time. His gaze would get far away, like he was searching the middle distance for something tangible.

“I don’t know,” he finally replied.

“That’s okay, you don’t need to know,” you assured him. You bit down on your lip slightly, trying to stop the words. “But you should know that you do. Deserve it, I mean. If that’s what you want.”

“From you?”

You regretted the tiny shake of your head, but you knew it was for the best. “From anyone.”

“Can we stop talking about this?” he asked, his tone darkening. His chin jutted slightly as he clenched his jaw.

“Yes, yeah, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…um…” you looked back down at your phone, desperate for anything to slice the unbearable tension between you. You’d never seen Adrian look like such a storm cloud, and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault. He moved away from you and resumed scrubbing the sink.

“Hey, um, okay, what kind of feeder is a manta ray?” you asked.

Adrian was still looking away, funneling all his energy into the tangible task beneath his hands. It was a mission of its own kind, and hadn’t you learned not to be in his way in the field?

“A filter feeder, duh,” he mumbled, seemingly responding to the sink and not you. “They strain their food from the water, like how whales use baleen. Except manta rays have these like, built in filters in their mouths, kind of? They swim with their mouths wide open and that sort of rakes the water over their gills which separates the food from everything else.”

“Wait…that was right?”

You consulted your phone one more time just to be absolutely sure and then looked around like you wanted to share your disbelief with someone else, but you were alone in your bathroom with Adrian Chase.

“Well, duh. I know a lot of animal facts.”

“Right. But um…” you cleared your throat. The question that you held back. Did he know he was really fucking bad at animal facts? His brow furrowed.

“You’re looking at me weirdly. Like you’re trying not to say something,” he assessed. He turned slightly towards you, his elbow brushing against your knee as he scrubbed the counter. “Okay, so I know I get things wrong sometimes…”

“So you do know?” you asked, like you were gasping for air.

Adrian looked down. “I just get…I don’t know…overwhelmed? I want to share all these cool ass animal facts that I know I know and then they come out of my mouth all wrong.”

“Well, I’m glad you got this one right.”

“It’s easier with you.”

Your tucked up leg dropped to the floor with a decisive thud. There were pins and needles in your foot but you couldn’t even focus on that because your brain was busy playing his words on repeat.

“Me?”

Adrian chuckled slightly. “You know you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“‘Me?’” he pitched up his voice in a grotesque approximation of you. You punched him in the shoulder - hard - and he treated you to a smile. “I don’t get why you say it like that. It’s always you.”

“Where have you two been?” Fleury asked with his hands on his hips. Whatever silly thing Adrian had been in the midst of saying was lost as you two emerged from the kitchen into the main area of the office. But all the chairs had been rearranged into one big circle.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. Then you pasted on a smile and tugged Adrian by the shirtsleeve to join everyone else who were already seated and looking abjectly miserable. “Sorry, just needed some extra caffeine!”

You and Adrian grabbed the two open seats, side by side. He mouthed, “What is this?”

You double checked to make sure Fleury’s back was towards you before you mouthed back: “Team bonding.”

Adrian’s eyes widened for a moment before Fleury’s voice made you both jump. He tapped on the whiteboard behind him which just said: TEAM BONDING.

“Team. Bonding,” Fleury apparently felt the need to reiterate. He launched into a spiel and you caught Ads’ eye. She looked rapidly back and forth between you two and then mouthed something you couldn’t make sense of.

“What?” you mouthed back.

She attempted again.

“What?” you said, this time out loud. You clamped a hand over your mouth as everyone turned to look at you. Fleury cleared his throat and you waved him on with a sheepish smile. You shrugged at Ads and she pointed down at her phone in her lap. Your pocket vibrated.

Leota Adebayo: what were u and ade up to in the kitchen? You: we were just making coffee Leota Adebayo: uh huh Leota Adebayo: seemed like a lot of giggling for making coffee 👀

You rolled your eyes and held your phone up slightly in your hand so that Ads could see you actively turning it off - something you never did - just to ignore her.

“Great, why don’t you start us off, then?” Fleury said. You looked around for who he was talking to, only to realize he meant you. “Go around the circle and tell everyone what you admire about them.”

“Right,” you coughed. And then nodded. “Of course.”

You glanced around the circle and found everyone surprisingly attentive for once. Go figure.

“Well, Fleury, starting with you I…really admire your initiative in creating the Team Bonding sessions. So…honored to kick off this first session like this,” you said, sure a little ass-kissing wouldn’t go amiss.

“Sasha, I admire your drive. Rip, I admire your tenacity. Harcourt, I admire your fearlessness. Ads, I admire your selflessness,” you continued, feeling like you were sort of getting the hang of it. It wasn’t so bad. And none of it was a lie - you did admire them all. “Chris, I admire your persistence. John, I admire your ingenuity. And Adrian, I love your…”

Chris laughed and you furrowed your brow, ignoring him and concentrating harder. There were a lot of things you admired about Adrian, trying to distill it all down into one thing seemed like an impossible task.

“Adrian, I love your authenticity.”

“Great!” Fleury clapped his hands together. “Who’s going to go next?”

“So,” Chris interrupted. “You love Adrian?”

For a moment you swore your heart had stopped beating entirely.

“What?”

Chris grinned. “You said things you ‘admired’ about the rest of us but you said what you ‘loved’ about Adrian.”

“That’s not what I - I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, assessing the expressions around you. They were oddly…cheerful in a way that caused your palms to start sweating instantly. You shifted in your seat, crossing your legs and then uncrossing them. “Well, yeah, I mean, I love Adrian how I love all of you. And besides, you all love each other! It’s not my fault you’re all too emotionally repressed to say it out loud.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Fleury interjected.

“It is?” you and Chris asked at the same time. Fleury pointed at you with his expo marker and then turned back to the whiteboard and just wrote the word LOVE on it. Then he took a step back, examined it and then stepped forward again to underline it before turning back to the group.

“Now you’re all going to have to say something you love about each other,” Fleury instructed. There was a collective cacophony of groans.

“How is that any different than what we were doing before?” Ads exclaimed before burying her head in her hands. You let out a relieved laugh and turned to look at Adrian. But he was staring at seemingly nothing, his eyes wide, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles blanched.

“Ade? You good?” you asked, your throat suddenly tight as you touched his arm. His head jerked back to look at you, like he’d been shaken awake from a dream.

“I…” he trailed off, speechless for once. Then he pressed his lips into a firm line, a slight furrow to his brow and nodded.

“You haven’t looked at your phone once tonight,” Adrian said.

“What?” you laughed around a mouthful of sandwich, and thought, for a brief moment, you were about to choke to death as Adrian slapped your back. You felt for the brick beneath you and steadied yourself on the ledge you were seated on. The roof of the old movie theater downtown had become a meet up spot for you both. Somewhere for Adrian to take a break from patrolling and for you to…well, anyway, the stoned teens who basically ran the place didn’t give a shit, and it did have the best view of Evergreen of all the rooftops you two had tried. The sandwiches Adrian would make for you both were a nice bonus.

“Do I need to do the Heimlich? I’ll do it. C’mere, stand up,” Adrian said, voice rising in pitch. He grabbed at your arm but you shook him off. You placed your hand flat against his chestplate.

“Adrian,” you managed. You reached back for your water and swallowed hard. “I’m okay.”

“Whew! That would have been a really sad way to go.”

“Choking to death on a sandwich on a rooftop with an absolute weirdo as the only witness? Yeah, I’d say so,” you replied. You wiped your mouth on your sleeve. “You know, people would probably think you murdered me.”

“No,” he replied flatly. “Because they’d do an autopsy and find sandwich stuck in your throat.”

“Hmm and what if everyone was like ‘I heard Vigilante killed a girl with a sandwich’?”

Adrian blinked at you, as if he were attempting to genuinely consider the situation. You moved your hand to his arm and shifted slightly towards him. “Adrian. I’m joking.”

“Right. And I knew that!” he replied, nodding a little too emphatically. He shifted slightly too, leaning in towards you. “You know I wouldn’t do that, right? Kill you? With a sandwich or otherwise?”

Your reply came quietly on your lips, “I had a feeling.”

And then your sandwich slid off of your lap and into the alleyway several stories below. You both bent at the waist, peering over the edge. Adrian’s hand gripped at the back of your shirt, like he was suddenly afraid you might fall. When you sat back upright you could only look into his wide eyes and burst into laughter.

“Fuck!” you lamented, eyes watering as you continued to be consumed by laughter. Adrian’s hand flattened out against the small of your back and it did not escape your notice that it lingered. You missed it the moment it was gone.

“Oh no,” you whined. “Ugh, now you do have to kill me.”

“What?” Adrian asked in disbelief. You gestured vaguely to the darkness the sandwich had disappeared to its death into.

“Littering.”

He was quiet for a moment before he burst into his wide, disquieting, strange laughter. He actually and literally slapped his knee.

“Good one!” he exclaimed. Then his face shifted quickly back to something serious. He lowered his voice like you were sharing some secret. “Okay, but it will bother me if we don’t clean that up before we leave, so - ”

“We will clean it up, I promise.” You held your pinky up to him and he wrapped his gloved one around yours. He looked at your intertwined hands.

“Did you know otters will hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart in the night?” he asked, his voice low and humming with a particular kind of intensity. You actually did know that, but you smiled anyway and shook your head.

“That’s kind of sweet,” you remarked.

“Do you remember when you held my hand all night in the bathtub because you were afraid I was going to die?” he said quickly, green eyes searching your face for something.

“Of course I do, Adrian. That was like…only a few weeks ago.” You didn’t feel the need to correct him on the matter - he’d been the one to take your hand and not let it go. And you weren’t the one about to die in that scenario, so what had he been afraid of?

“Maybe we’re kind of like otters,” Adrian said.

“Maybe,” you agreed.

Adrian was quiet for a long moment, and you said nothing else, afraid it’d be the wrong thing and you’d accidentally disassemble the clumsily built something between you.

“Okay, I know I just said we’re like otters and otters just hold hands but I would really like to kiss you right now, so maybe forget the otter thing for a second so we can kiss. If you want to, I mean. Which, you might not want to and that’s okay, too. We can actually just be otters, actually, and forget I said the thing about kissing and - ”

You inclined your head towards him and met his mouth, whatever words he was about to say next dying on your lips. You started to lift your hand towards his face but you dropped it back into your lap, unsure how to touch him, if at all. But before you could give it much other thought at all Adrian had pulled back and was staring at you intently.

“I was thinking about yesterday at Team Bonding? And how you said you love me?”

You didn’t mean to laugh. But you couldn’t help it. It came from your mouth like some kind of defense mechanism. “Adrian, I…”

“Just let me finish. Please? I was looking at you and I was thinking, 'wow, someone should make her sandwiches every day for the rest of her life' and then I thought, maybe that someone should be me. Even if you dropped them all, I'd still keep making them. I don't even know if that makes sense, but I think it does? And, I don't know if that's what love is, but I think it might be?”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. It was equal parts endearing and utterly painful. Something cold and familiar wrenched itself loose in your chest.

“You don’t mean that, Adrian.”

“But I do! I’ve thought about this a lot. Like, more than is probably normal probably.”

You winced. “You don’t know me. If you did really know me I don’t think you’d like me very much at all.”

“Bullshit,” Adrian cursed. Then he threw his hands up. “Sorry. But it is bullshit. All these months - all these late nights just the two of us…I feel like - no, I do know you. I know your favorite foods and your favorite color and how you firmly believe people shouldn’t butter their popcorn, or that the TV volume should only ever be set at an even number or multiples of five, or that you didn’t really have a Hinge date that night you first came out to drinks and that you were totally using that as an excuse because you were afraid everyone would see whatever incorrect version of yourself lives in your head. But you and I both know that person doesn’t exist. The person that does exist is really smart, and funny, and hot, and looks out for me even when I don’t make it easy, and is, like, surprisingly good at D&D.”

He ducked his head slightly, looking away from you. “And above all that you still like me despite knowing me. I can’t say the same for most people.”

The bank alarm blared suddenly, piercing the quiet night and sparing you from having to form your lips around any words at all. You think you may have just asked him to kiss you again. Or maybe you would have said something awful instead - opened your mouth and ruined everything because that was easier than getting what you wanted. You guessed you’d never know.

“Please stay here,” he urged as he swung his leg over onto the fire escape ladder. He paused and looked at you for a moment that may have been an hour, or the space between heartbeats - you really couldn’t be sure. Not when he was looking at you like that. Then he slipped his mask back over his head and dropped out of sight completely.

You leaned over the ledge and watched as Adrian approached the would-be bank robbers with a kind of casual ease. You could tell from his posture and the way he moved his hands that he was talking, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he might be saying. He was always so much more physically animated when he was in the suit. But the leader of the group stepped towards him and he pulled the machete off of his back and sliced the man’s throat in one fell swoop. Your fingers flexed against the stone with each punch, each blow, each impact of the fight below. And you watched on, horrified and impressed and maybe just a little turned on, as he dispatched the rest of them with the same amount of energy expended as if he was just taking a stroll in the park.

Worse than the bodies littering the ground was the feeling that came over you. Something you’d been able to tamp down for months now. Something that would surely swallow you whole if you let it.

In that moment you knew two things with absolute clarity:

You were in love with Adrian Chase.

and

You needed to leave Evergreen as soon as fucking possible.

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