Cat’s 3K Series
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
Part Four
The villain talked.
Their ears were red and they were worked up. Angry wasn’t the right term to describe their condition. No, the hero had seen them angry before. Spitting fuck yous and threats was their usual reaction when it came to wrath. Not this.
“What were you thinking?” they asked in a lulled voice. “Going out like this on your own…you could’ve been killed.”
Without thinking, they pulled down the suit’s zipper. If the hero hadn’t been so exhausted, they probably would’ve blushed or maybe they were doing just that, no matter the level of their sleepiness. They didn’t know, for they were too busy with staring at the villain’s fingers. The villain helped them out of the sweaty and bloody suit, cold digits going over bruised ribs.
“God, you look awful,” the villain whispered. The colourful band aids were still on their body, one stretching over their jaw with a panda on it. It looked so adorable…
“I was angry. Stupid,” the hero answered. And then, their voice was hoarse. “You look hot.”
The villain shook their head.
“Don’t do this. Don’t start flirting because you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You always flirt when you’re nervous.”
“Not true.” The villain sighed and took the bandages out of the first aid kit. They fidgeted with them, stared at the hero’s torso, looked back at the bandage and decided to pick a different one that was sturdier.
“Can’t believe you went out there alone,” the villain mumbled again. Slowly, they wrapped the bandages around the hero’s torso, stabilising the broken bones. Thankfully, their device hadn’t shown any damaged organs.
“I think they mixed up the villains. The evaluation sheet they sent to me was wrong.” Though, the hero didn’t really think that. They suspected a clever plan to teach them a lesson. As punishment for not responding and skipping work. “God, I’m so tired.”
“Do you need any more painkillers?” the villain asked. Working quickly yet undeniably efficiently. Mesmerised, the hero studied them and how precise they were. I’m no expert either. Sure.
“No.”
“Do you want to talk?” the villain asked. For a moment, the villain looked at the finished product, made some other adjustments and then proceeded with cleaning a wound on the hero’s shoulder. Definitely a perfectionist. It was hard to see them as the scary big villain with the panda band aid on their face. The hero’s heart was melting and they didn’t even know it.
“Already told you about the agency.”
“Your panic attack, I mean.” The villain sterilised the needle the hero had used to stitch their wounds a few days ago but they had problems with the thread. Automatically, the hero helped them, fingertips brushing against fingertips.
Both didn’t dare to look at each other. It was much more personal than stitching up a reluctant villain. Both knew that.
Not only was the villain’s behaviour a mystery to the hero, they were also not really sure about their own. The hero hadn’t had much energy left. Hell, they had never been this close to death in their entire life. If the villain hadn’t shown up…they were sure they would’ve choked on their own panic attack and then died due to internal injuries.
The hero was quiet, their mind wandering back to the moment. How helpless they’d been, how stupid it was. Most of the time, they wasted their life with flirting or stupid jokes or a smile on their face. Pretending was easy and yet…they could’ve died tonight, not only because of their anger but because they wouldn't work through their emotions.
“Do you get them often?” the villain asked.
“Not really.”
“I used to have them, too,” the villain said. “Talking about it might help. What might have triggered it? What did you feel?”
The hero looked out of the window and bit the inside of their cheek. What a violent memory this conjured.
“I…I survived a plane crash,” they said, voice shaking. “It triggered my powers. Situations of immense stress can do that.”
They swallowed and bit into their cheek again when the villain started with the stitching. It hurt like hell.
“I was the only survivor of that plane crash and it was…it was horrible. I saw people around me, parts of people. I believe I survived because of my powers but honestly, I wish I had died. Of course, the government found out. They sent me to the agency and started experimenting on me. They basically own me.”
The villain was working quietly, closing the wound with each painful stitch. Was it illegal to be attracted to that?
“I flipped when they said experiment. One stupid word.” There was a stinging in the hero’s nose and they knew tears would follow soon. They wanted to get angry again, to go away and make stupid jokes and have fun. But they had nowhere to go. Had nothing to do.
The villain stopped working on them and observed them.
“I know what it feels like to be used,” they said. “You didn’t deserve what they did to you.”
“Huh, now you like me or what?” The villain gave them a warning gaze.
“No flirting. And yes, maybe you’re not that bad. I thought you wanted to torture me for information. But treating my wounds? Making food? Protecting me? Letting me go? I guess I was wrong about you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say so much in my life.”
The villain smiled. Smiled. It was crooked. Cheeky. Absolutely adorable. The hero heard the drumming in their chest grow louder.
“Maybe not.”
And then the hero felt brave. Felt brave enough to ask, to find out something about the other as well.
“Who hurt you? The same person who did this?” They gestured down their battered body.
The villain seemed more careful now, back to their old stoic self who wasn’t willing to share anything about their life. Slightly frowning however, they nodded.
“Yes, it was them. Don’t worry, though. You are pretty good at patching me up. Give yourself some more credit.”
They continued with their work on the hero, stretching skin and pulling the thread through it.
“What did they do?”
“…I don’t wanna talk about that right now, is that alright?” the villain asked. Out of a sudden they seemed distant again, like they were gonna stop talking. As if they were gonna leave the hero again.
“Of course,” the hero said, suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, listen…”
They grabbed the villain’s forearm gently, feeling the strong muscles, squeezing a little once they weren’t sure anymore. Just as surprised, the villain looked up from their work, ears burning.
“You saved me,” the hero said.
“And you saved me.” The villain’s eyes were widened, pupils dilated. They held the needle between their fingers, making them look oh so professional.
“I was so stupid. I always thought I could leave all of this behind, I could smile and move on. Forget about the dead and the survivor’s guilt. About the experiments and the control. I thought I could push it away but it only hurts. It hurts and hurts and I swear, I would’ve died without you.” The hero’s eyes dropped to the villain’s lips. The villain had saved them, had given them something to think about.
“You saved me too, you know. I was an ass to you and you decided to help me. Sometimes, I’m afraid to move on as well. But I’m also so tired of fighting.”
And the hero didn’t know why but words had never resonated with them so well. They had never felt this seen, this understood in their entire life.
What followed were actions of desire and exhaustion mixed together. The hero palmed the villain’s jaw and without thinking twice, they kissed them tenderly. They could feel the hesitation and the surprise in the way the villain kissed back. The hero almost thought they were inexperienced but when the villain moaned their name against their lips and got a possessive grip on the hero’s hips, they rethought it.
“Thank you,” the hero said between kisses. “Thank you, thank you thank you—”
It made the villain chuckle sweetly, a thick sound that made the hero feel all warm and fuzzy. How could a big and scary person like the villain be so gentle and soft? The hero didn’t know.
Somewhat clumsy, the hero pushed the first aid kit off the couch to make more room for them.
“You on top,” the villain whispered, demanding even that softly. The hero nodded and pushed them down, turning the kisses into something more passionate and blasphemous. They couldn’t remember when they’d been ever touched like this. As if the villain had remembered their injuries, they avoided every part of the hero that could hurt.
However, the fun was over when the villain pulled back and stared at their shirt, then back at the hero’s stomach. A wound had open again and blood was dropping onto the villain.
The hero didn’t really care, though. They wanted to continue, wanted to love the villain. Thank them for saving them, for showing them there was an end to suffering. An end to feeling like shit every day. Thanking them for seeing them, listening to them. Showing them they cared.
But that didn’t happen.
“Stop it,” the villain whispered. They took the hero’s hand. “Hey, stop it.”
They gently pushed them away and picked up the first aid kit. The hero was out of breath and stared at the stains they had left on the villain.
“Let’s take it easy, alright?”
