Angel Puppy
[Adrian Chase x Female Reader]
Synopsis: Adrian doesn’t know what to do when you fall asleep on his shoulder [GIF Creds: @javier-pena].
WC: 1769
Category: Mega Fluff, Adrian’s POV {TW: Foul Language, Very Canon Compliant (Terms of Personality)}.
My drafts have officially been cleared now. And ironically, this had initially started out as a drabble and idk what happened 💀
『••✎••』
He was not prepared for this. Firefights and covert ops? Sure, yeah, no problemo. Even one of Peacemaker’s unhinged rants about obscure '80s hair metal bands had him thinking he was well-equipped to handle any situation. But this…? This?!
No, this was worse. So much worse. You, the badass new recruit to the 11th Street Kids, had fallen asleep on his shoulder. His shoulder. And now his brain was short-circuiting like a malfunctioning murder drone.
He froze, mid-breath, with his eyes wide as saucers behind his red-visored mask—which he’d momentarily pushed up onto his forehead because, well, you guys were just chilling in the safehouse after a mission. The TV was droning on with some reality show Harcourt had picked, but Adrian couldn’t hear it over the deafening thud-thud-thud of his own heartbeat. Your head was right there, nestled against his shoulder, your soft breaths tickling his neck.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
"Okay, okay, stay calm," he told himself. He was the fucking Vigilante, for God’s sake. He’d stabbed dudes through the eye socket without flinching. He’d jumped off rooftops. He’d eaten an entire ghost pepper once on a dare from Economos and only cried a little. But this? This was uncharted territory.
His hands hovered uselessly in the air, like he was afraid moving them would detonate a bomb. Move, and he might wake you. Don’t move, and there’s a good possibility he might die of a heart attack.
But even then, what if he had woken you up? What if you woke up and realized you were touching him and then punched him in the face? Or worse, what if you didn’t punch him and just… stayed there?
Oh God…. He needs help.
"Dude… psst!" he hissed, his voice a panicked whisper, head whipping toward Peacemaker, who was slouched on the other end of the couch, munching on a bag of chips and looking way too awake. Chris's eyes flicked over, one eyebrow raised.
"What?" Peacemaker mouthed, clearly annoyed at being interrupted during Celebrity Dumpster Diving or whatever this crap was.
Adrian’s eyes widened further, if that was even possible. He jerked his head toward you, still asleep, your hair brushing his cheek and smelling like… shampoo? Gunpowder? Perfection? He didn’t know, but it was short-circuiting him. "She’s on me," he whisper-yelled, voice cracking. "What do I do?!"
Peacemaker snorted, crumbs flying. "Chill, dude. She’s just sleeping. Don’t make it weird."
Adrian was sure that it was some sort of cosmic joke, because it was already the most awkward thing that had ever happened to him. He didn't know why you were so comfortable with him, and that made him feel a little funny. It felt... nice.
"Oh," he squeaked, looking back down at you. You really were asleep, snoring lightly, one hand resting on his chest. You looked peaceful and so, so beautiful. His stomach dropped, a sudden realization dawning on him. "She looks like a little puppy from this angle. Like a puppy that’d rip your throat out but, like, in a heavenly way," he whispered, awestruck. "A heavenly angel puppy."
Peacemaker looked unimpressed. "She is literally the opposite of an angel."
"You know what I mean, P. It’s like that family dog you love but is actually an asshole, you know? Like it will try to bite you if you come near it, but sometimes it lets you pet it and falls asleep on your lap, so you still love it and you still keep coming back and-"
"Jesus Christ, dude," Peacemaker grumbled, shaking his head. "Just... shut the fuck up. I'm trying to watch this. I think that chick with the weave got a boob job."
But Adrian didn’t shut the fuck up. In fact, he started rambling at top volume, his nerves getting the better of him. "Should I wake her up?" he asked, sounding more worried than a kid in a haunted house. "Or let her sleep? Do I need to get her a pillow? A blanket? Oh, maybe she needs water or a snack! Does she eat snacks while she sleeps? Maybe she needs to be in a bed, do you think she would want to go to a bed, or is that too much-"
"Shut up!" Both Peacemaker and Harcourt were glaring at him now, annoyed, but you stirred, your nose scrunching adorably.
"Noisy..." you mumbled, still asleep, your eyes fluttering as you nuzzled closer.
And Adrian nearly had a heart attack. "Fuck. Me. That was the cutest thing I've ever heard in my life," he gasped, feeling the urge to take off his mask to grab his glasses and see better. But his hands were still hovering awkwardly, his brain not having recovered from the initial shock. "Did you guys hear that? Did you fucking hear that?"
"I hear the sound of your stupid ass voice," Peacemaker deadpanned. "Seriously, dude, I will throw this remote at you."
"You know, Adrian, it is late," Harcourt said, pointedly turning up the volume on the TV and rolling her eyes. "We should all probably get some sleep. Maybe you should, uh, lay her down or something. Let her sleep. I think she had a rough day."
Adrian stared at you, eyes wide and mouth open, and then glanced back over at his friends.
"Lay her down," he repeated. Huh. That could work. He could do that. He could definitely do that. He turned back to you, still frozen. "Yeah, I can do that," he breathed, trying to convince himself.
"Fucking finally," Peacemaker settled back down into his seat, grabbing a handful of chips.
Adrian was still staring, his breath shaky. "How should I do that? Like a fireman carry? Or maybe just an over-the-shoulder hold, like in the movies when the dudes are carrying unconscious people and it's kind of sexy, but I'm not really a firefighter, and I don’t want to make her feel like a sack of flour or anything, so-"
It took only five extra minutes before Adrian was walking down the hall with you in his arms, a pillow and blanket tucked under one arm, and his heart hammering away in his chest. It was only because of Harcourt's death stare and the threat of imminent dismemberment by the other 11th Street Kids. Not because he'd been scared or anything, but... it was a lot of pressure.
"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this," he kept muttering under his breath. You were still fast asleep, drooling a little on his suit and clinging to him like a koala bear, and he was about ready to pass out. He could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears, his brain going a thousand miles a minute. He wasn’t used to being so close to someone. Being touched. But somehow, with you, it felt… normal. Good. Natural.
"I can do this, I can totally do this. No problem."
You stirred slightly, mumbling again, and Adrian had to bite his lip so he didn’t scream. He had no idea how you could still be sleeping, but he wasn't complaining.
He kicked the bedroom door a tad harder than he should have, and the reminder of that half-chopped pinkie toe gave him a pang of nostalgia for the simpler times, physical pain being his primary source of distraction.
The pain was gone by the time he reached the bed, however, and he was once again hyperaware of his current situation. With a gentle touch, he lowered you down and slipped the pillow beneath your head. Then he unfolded the blanket and laid it over you. You rolled, hugging the pillow and burying your face into the sheets, and he nearly melted on the spot.
"Total angel puppy," he whispered, a dopey grin on his face.
But as soon as he stepped back, you stirred, making a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper. "Wait..." you murmured, reaching out unquestioningly. "Stay."
And, well, he couldn’t exactly say no to that.
He walked back around the bed, still in his suit, and sat gingerly on the mattress, not sure if it was okay to be there.
But the second his weight sank into the mattress, your eyes fluttered open, and he held his breath, not knowing what would happen next. Would you scream? Laugh? Throw a punch?
But none of that happened. Instead, your face softened, and you blinked at him, your eyes still glazed over with sleep. Your expression was warm and gentle, and his heart did a weird, stutter-stop-jerk thing.
Your hands motioned him closer, tugging on the edge of his suit, and he leaned forward, confused. He watched, mystified, as you reached up, tugging at the collar of his costume.
"What are you-"
His breath hitched when he realized you were attempting to take his mask off, and for a moment, he watched in amusement because you, for some reason, couldn't seem to get it right.
"How do you get this off?" you mumbled, eyes narrowed, your fingers fumbling with the material. "It's in the way."
In the way of what? Adrian wanted to ask, but he didn't. His throat was too dry, and his tongue was suddenly too big for his mouth. He decided to ignore the weird feeling in his stomach and went along with it. You were still half-asleep, after all, and probably weren’t fully aware of what you were doing.
He reached up, lifting the bottom of his mask and pushing it up onto his forehead, exposing his face and the dark hair underneath.
You smiled, satisfied, and your hand came up, trailing your fingertips across his cheek, then over his stubble, and then into his hair. Your thumb rubbed small circles on his forehead, and it was soothing, relaxing, and Adrian couldn’t remember the last time anyone had ever touched him like that.
"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, your eyes slipping closed.
He was going to ask what for, but the words died in his throat when your hand slid behind his neck and tugged him down enough to give a small kiss on his cheek. It was light and soft, and it sent shivers racing through him, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
And before he could truly process what had just happened, it was like you turned into a fish with the way your body flopped back down and rolled over, curling up, and drifting off again.
You left him sitting there, heart pounding, skin tingling, and unable to move. Unable to breathe because holy shit.
Holy. Shit.
