Adrian finds out he’s your emergency contact when he gets a late-night phone call, and he freaks out.
tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, hospital setting, mention of a car accident/drunk driving and related injuries
Thank you @embeanwrites for the beta!
Masterlist
When Adrian’s phone rings late on Saturday night, he assumes it’s Chris, so he picks it up without really looking, shoving it between his shoulder and his ear so he can continue to use both hands. He’s squinting through his glasses, prying apart his Vigilante visor, mid-repair–the frame cracked last week when he got punched in the face on patrol–and he remains focused on his work as he absentmindedly says, “Hello?”
An unfamiliar female voice speaks. “Hi, I’m trying to reach Adrian Chase?”
He pauses what he’s doing, sets his mask on the table, and pulls his phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. The number’s not saved to his phone.
“Who’s asking?” He’s on guard, always wary about his secret identity. Adrian doesn’t go around giving his phone number out to just anybody, so how did this lady get it?
“My name is Clara, I’m a nurse at Mount Rouge Health Center. I’m calling on behalf of a patient who has you listed as her emergency contact.” Then she says your name, and his heart drops down to his stomach and then climbs right back up his throat in less than ten seconds.
“Emergency?” He repeats the word like he’s never heard it before, like he can’t comprehend what he’s hearing. “What–what the hell happened?” You were just supposed to be out to dinner and a movie with your friends. Also–when the fuck did you make him your emergency contact?
“There’s been a minor car accident–”
“Oh, fuck, is–is she okay? What–I’m on my way. I can be there in, like, five minutes,” he says, keys already in hand. He tucks the phone back against his shoulder as the nurse continues speaking so he can shove his feet into his sneakers, hopping on one foot at a time and nearly toppling over. Then he’s racing out the door of the apartment that you share, the lock sliding shut with a click, Vigilante uniform abandoned in pieces on the kitchen table.
Adrian nearly trips and tumbles down the stairs on his way out to the car, in such a rush that he’s losing control of his body. He hates it, and it scares him–as someone who keeps himself in peak physical shape, the way that his worry over you reduces him to a fumbling mess is frankly concerning. He can barely even get his hands to work properly, almost dropping the keys at least twice in the parking lot, and his aim is off the first few times he tries to stick the key in the ignition. Then his beloved Vigilante-mobile won’t start, the engine stalling when he tries to turn it on.
“Shit, fuck, come on,” he says desperately, words growing into a shout as his frustration bubbles over. He hits the steering wheel and tries again, sagging in relief when the engine rumbles to life. The car jerks as he throws it into reverse and zooms out of the lot.
Adrian tries not to break the speed limit too badly, but–you’re hurt. You need him. And that thought has him pressing down a little harder on the gas pedal and caring a little bit less about the law, for once. Every minute that passes, he feels his anxiety ramp up further; until he lays eyes on you, sees for himself that you’re okay, he knows the panic will just keep growing.
He parks as quickly as he can, not caring that his car is technically crooked, and hurries through the automatic doors, giving your name at the desk like the nurse instructed him to. His foot taps with nervous energy and his fingers flex anxiously as the sympathetic secretary prepares a visitor’s badge for him and looks up your room number in the system.
Adrian’s muttering to himself, a whispered chant of fuck, fuck, fuck, and it’s like the world is moving in slow motion and he’s vibrating on an unreachable, distant frequency, and only you can bring him back from the edge. Once he finally has the visitor pass in hand, he’s taking off down the hallway, heart pounding as he scans the room numbers, until he finally arrives at the one he’s looking for.
When he pushes on it, with just a bit too much force, the door swings open so violently it almost hits the wall. He catches sight of you, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed in a papery gown, legs dangling, and his breath catches. The panic rises up his throat when he notices the butterfly bandage at your eyebrow and a few dark stitches holding your skin together at your hairline. Fuck. The nurse had called it a minor accident, but a head injury? Head injuries were serious. And there was a whole fucking cast on your arm, how was anything about this minor?
You look up at him like a deer in headlights, startled by his dramatic entrance, and he stares back at you, strangely silent. His eyes are wide, darting up and down your body, catching on every bruise and scratch he sees, no matter how small. It hurts, every one a pang in his chest, like they’re on his own body.
“Adrian?”
Your relieved voice snaps him out of his intense focus, sending him forward into motion. His hands reach for you, firm but gentle, tracing over every part of you that he can touch, fingers almost trembling with anger and fear.
“Fuck, are you okay, baby? What the fuck happened? They said you were in an accident, fuck, I didn’t–I–does it still hurt?” he babbles, scanning you over for more injuries, pressing his hands to your arms, your legs, your neck. When he doesn’t find anything immediately deadly or concerning, he yanks you into his embrace. Over your shoulder, on a side table, he sees a pile of dirty clothes, your clothes, covered in spots of blood. Without meaning to, he grips you even tighter.
“Adrian!” you exclaim, startled by his intensity.
“Sorry, shit–I’m so sorry, am I hurting you?” he apologizes frantically. You shake your head, but he gentles his touch anyway. He presses your head against his chest carefully, looking down at the stitched up wound on your forehead, fingers brushing over the bulky teal cast on your forearm, and you can hear the way his heart races through the thin layer of his shirt.
“When the fuck did you make me your emergency contact?” he blurts out. It’s not what he meant to say when he opened his mouth, but he’s definitely been thinking it since the nurse called. “Why would you do that? I’m the worst emergency contact ever. I’m constantly doing dangerous shit. I am the emergency, like, ninety percent of the time–”
He’s bordering on a panic attack, you realize with concern, and your good arm comes up to tighten around him.
“Hey, hey,” your murmur, moving your hands up and down his back in a soothing motion. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Just breathe, honey.”
At your instruction, Adrian takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. You breathe right along with him, calming your own racing heart, tucking yourself into him as close as you can. He rests his cheek on top of your head and closes his eyes, trying his best to shut out the sight and sounds of the hospital room and just focus on you. He has to search for a minute, but there, underneath the beeping machinery in the distance and the sharp antiseptic smell, he finds the soft exhalation of your breaths and the familiar scent of your shampoo.
“I made you my emergency contact because you are the one I want here, holding me,” you say into his shirt, voice muffled a bit. “You make me feel safe, and I know you’ll take care of me.”
He lets your words sink in, wash over him, because–he’s never felt wanted, not like this. Not in this bone-deep, important way that feels like it means something. His heart swells in his chest, a weird kind of love or pride, because he wants you to feel safe with him, and this is you telling him, showing him, that you do.
Slowly, as Adrian’s panic fades, another more familiar feeling starts to build deep in his chest–murderous rage. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, zeroing in on a faint red smudge just beneath your ear, like someone tried to clean away blood but missed a spot. His thumb brushes over it. He finally collects himself, but his voice is gravelly when he speaks.
“Tell me what happened.” His fingers come up and press ever so lightly at the bandage on your forehead. You wince, just barely, and he grinds his teeth.
“I was driving home from the movies when my car got hit,” you tell him. Your eyes are wet; you’re trying not to cry, and he can hear it in your voice. A tear rolls down your cheek anyway, and Adrian kisses it away. “It’s totalled. The cops said the other guy had been drinking. He ran a red.”
Though your arm is wrapped up in a cast, your fingers are free. You take his tense, clenched hands in yours, both of you shaking–you with fear and crashing adrenaline, Adrian with fury.
“You’re okay,” he says out loud, because both of you need to hear it. “You’re okay, baby, I’m not gonna let anything else happen to you.” There’s a darker promise there, too, in the words he’s not saying. Even if the man who hit you survived the crash, he won’t survive an encounter with a vengeful Vigilante.
He hurt you. He could have killed you. There’s no fucking way Adrian is letting that slide.
But that’s a problem for tomorrow.
The room has grown thick with tension, and you try to lighten the mood a bit. You hold up your injured arm, showing off the bulky cast. “They asked me what color I wanted,” you say, your voice still a little bit hoarse. You clear your throat. “I thought about you. Do you like it?”
It has the desired effect–the murder in his eyes lightening to something more playful, and he smiles, almost disbelieving.
“I wish you didn’t break your fucking arm, babe, but yeah, I like the teal,” Adrian says.
And he does. He’s weirdly touched, that in a moment of weakness and pain, you were thinking of him. That every time you look at your arm over the following weeks as you heal, you’ll see the color and think first of him and not the accident or the asshole that hit you.
You still look like a mess, but you’re smiling at him, and he can’t help but lean in to kiss you, cupping your face in his hands like you’re something precious. Because you are, to him.
He breaks away from you quickly when there’s a knock on the door frame, standing straight and tense, moving to stand in front of you like he’s about to face a threat. His protective stance relaxes just a bit when he sees it’s just a nurse that’s come to check on you.
“I’ve got your medications here,” she says. “I just need to review your treatment plan and then you’re free to go. Is this your partner?”
“I am,” Adrian says, and the nurse nods with approval. He stands at your side as the nurse gives him instructions regarding your pain medication dosage, the importance of monitoring for a concussion over the next few hours, and any concerning symptoms to be on the lookout for in the next few days. He listens attentively, taking notes on his phone and asking detailed questions. The exhaustion of the day is starting to catch up with you; your head drifts down to rest on his shoulder and you let him take the lead.
Once you’re finally cleared to go, Adrian has to head out to the parking lot to pull his car up to the front curb. He’s reluctant to leave you.
“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him, but he still frowns. “The nurse will bring me outside.”
“I’ll be quick,” he promises, and kisses you softly. He walks backwards on his way out the room, eyes on you for as long as possible before he has to turn away to jog down the hall.
Adrian drives up in front of the automatic doors just as the nurse rolls you out in a wheelchair, and he rushes to hop out of the car and head around to the passenger side and open the door for you. He holds out his arms, lets you use him to balance as you stand on your own, and gets you carefully settled in the car, pushing gently on your head so you don’t hit the door frame.
You’re too tired to laugh as Adrian reaches over you to buckle your seatbelt, but it’s adorable, the way he looks with his brows drawn together in serious concentration, fumbling until he hears it click into place. Then he grins at you triumphantly and presses a kiss to your forehead, like he’s just wrapped up a present and he needs to stick a bow on it.
“Are you comfortable?” he asks as you lean back, and you nod, closing your eyes. He shuts the door and heads back around to the driver’s side, sliding in and clicking his own seatbelt. He accepts your hand when you reach for him and squeezes tight.
“Alright, I’ve got your meds. We’ve got a fully stocked first-aid cabinet at home in case we need extra bandages and stuff. I just replenished everything last week after I got stabbed by that drug dealer. Are you hungry? I can stop and get you something to eat? Or do you just want to go home?”
“And you say you’re a shitty emergency contact,” you tease.
“Hey, I didn’t say that. I just feel like–” he cuts himself off, feeling–insecure? Vulnerable? He doesn’t really know, but it’s hard to get the words out. He looks at you, nervous, but you meet him with patience and understanding, and it’s suddenly easier to speak. “I’m a fucking mess, a lot of the time. Most of the time, really. You have a lot of better options than me.”
Adrian’s not used to this, to being wanted in this way. Sure, Chris calls him when he needs help with something. He’s useful, he’s dependable; he knows that. But he’s the friend that gets called when it’s time to blow shit up, or dismember and bury a body. Not the friend who gets called for emotional support or delicate situations. The times when it really matters.
“I can change it back to my parents, if that makes you more comfortable,” you offer. “I just like it when you take care of me. I know–”
“No,” he cuts you off firmly. “No, no, don’t change it. I–I like that you picked me. I just–don’t understand it, I guess. But I do want to take care of you.” He sounds so earnest that you feel like you might cry again. He sees the tears welling up in your eyes and his eyes widen.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? You’re not due for another dose for a couple hours.”
“No, I’m fine,” you insist, but a tear leaks out of your eye anyway. You reach up and brush it away quickly, embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m being stupid. I’m just feeling very loved right now. And it’s been a long night.”
He’s confused for a moment–tears mean sad, usually, don’t they?–but he kisses you, hard, missing the mark just slightly and hitting the side of your mouth. The angle is awkward across the car’s center console, and you’re too uncomfortable and sore to face him fully, but it’s sweet, and it’s Adrian.
“You are. Very loved, right now. All the time, really. By me,” he says. He pauses, swallows nervously. “Thank you. For trusting me to be there for you.” He’s still afraid, like you might take it back any minute, but you just smile tiredly and lean back in your seat, eyes fluttering closed because you’re too fatigued to keep them open any longer.
“Thank you,” you say softly. “For coming when they called.”
“I always will. I promise.”
“Me too.”
He thinks about that night months later, sitting at his brand new desk in the Checkmate office. Adrian may be providing the secret funding behind the business, but he’s been happy to sit back and let Ads and Emilia take the lead on the project. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s boss; he’s just happy to work with his friends and do something he loves and go home to you at the end of the day. So when people tell him what to do, he usually listens without too much argument, and today’s demands are no exception.
“Adrian, fill this out,” Emilia orders, holding out a sheet of paper. “Now that we’re all official and professional, Ads said we have to keep emergency contacts on file.”
Adrian takes the form. He glances at the framed photo of you on his desk, propped against his monitor. He picks up one of the teal pens you’d bought him as a birthday gift. And he writes your name and number on the line, and smiles.
Together in Another Timeline | Adrian Chase x Reader
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Best friend trope, Jealousy, and more. You and Adrian are best friends, that's all, but once you meet the other Adrian, you quickly realize that is not the case there.
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Disclaimer: Mentions of blood and violence.
Quick note: Thank you all for reading. All comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
Here is part 1
Part 2
“Breathtaking?” You repeated, making sure you heard him correctly.
He stood close to you, nodding. “Yes, breathtaking. You’re just as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He said with an affectionate gaze and instinctively held his hands up towards you to grab you, but he quickly stopped himself. He fiddled with his hands, as if he had to physically refrain from reaching out to you. You were taken aback, trying to find the right words to say.
Here you were, annoyed with Adrian, and now, in an alternate timeline, the other Adrian was complimenting you?
You looked at him, his hands still fidgeting. Now, usually, if this were a stranger (which he technically is), you would absolutely not reach back, but he looked exactly like your Adrian. His voice is the same. His curly, light brown hair was the same. What entranced you the most was his green eyes. They looked almost identical to Adrian’s, but there was something different; he hid deep emotions behind his. You could see a deep and inexplicable sadness in them. It broke your heart to see Adrian upset, even if he isn’t from your timeline. You felt drawn to comfort him; it felt natural. You didn’t know what possessed you, but you hesitantly reached out for his hands to comfort him as if he were your Adrian, but before your hands could meet, Adrian spoke up, “Um, what are you talking about?”
Were you about to hold hands with the alternative timeline Adrian that you just met? You quickly pulled your hands away.
“Oh, shit, sorry, dude, I shouldn’t be holding hands with your girl,” Earth-X Adrian said sheepishly, pulling away from you and standing back. “I just can’t believe y/n is also your girlfriend in your universe.WOW! Proof that we are soulmates!” He declared, with a lovestruck smile.
You froze once more, turning to look at your Adrian. You couldn’t read his mind as he stood there quietly, thinking for a second, before he broke out into a small laugh. “No way! I mean, she is my second-best friend, but we are not dating. That's actually crazy!”
Your heart dropped; you had never felt so offended in your life. Adrian was really pushing his luck today. “Yeah, that’s fucking insane,” You added, spitefully, rolling your eyes at him. Your eyes widened, suddenly processing what the other Adrian said earlier. “Wait! What do you mean you lost me? Did we break up?” You asked.
“ No,” His voice lowered. “You,” He paused as his lips quivered, as he took a deep inhale. His lips frowned, giving you the same look that Adrian gave you last night, right before he sobbed in your arms over Chris abandoning him. He exhaled and quietly murmured, “You died during a mission. I couldn’t save you.”
“What? I’m dead in this universe?” You said, shocked.
“You died over a year ago. It was all my fault. I should’ve known it was a setup. Fucking Christopher Smith. He did it with no remorse,” he growled, his eyes furious.
“Wait, Christopher Smith - Pacemaker? Are you saying he killed y/n? No way, he would never do that!” Adrian exclaimed.
“You know him? He’s the definition of a monster,” Adrian 2 scowled.
“Chris - Peacemaker, killed me?” You gasped, “What the fuck. Why?” You refused to believe this. Yes, it wasn’t exactly him, but in this universe, Chris murders you. You thought maybe your friendship would exist in every timeline. This made a knot form in your stomach.
“Because he’s the epitome of evil. We were on a mission, and he didn’t hesitate to kill you. He’s my arch nemesis. He’s the main reason I joined the Sons of Liberty!”
“Sons of liberty?” You and Adrian both asked at the same time.
Adrian 2 explained how, in this timeline, the nazis won during World War II and how Sons of Liberty is the only active force still alive that fights against this oppressive regime. He also shared that Chris was a racist, white, and powerful figure in this timeline.
“Oh my God, wait, fuck, fuck!” You cried out, placing your hands over your head in deep horror as the realization hit you.
You turned to Adrian, waiting for him to put the pieces together. “Ads!” You exclaimed. You got up, explaining to Adrian 2 that you came here with Adeyabo. Adrian 2 looked just as worried, explaining that you must all hurry or you might never see her again. You all three headed out quickly, making your way to Chris’s house.
You were walking quickly, trying to maintain your composure. You never felt so guilty for leaving Ads behind, despite her saying you shouldn’t. You were inhaling and exhaling, trying to calm yourself down. Meanwhile, the Adrians were following behind you, starting to ask each other about their interests and if they had any similarities. You could feel their smiles as they were happily saying the same answers.
You were walking ahead of them, silently thinking to yourself. Suddenly, Adrian 2 walked up next to you. “Is your favorite drink still (your preferred choice of Beverage)?” He asked.
You snapped your head towards him, breaking out of your thoughts. Before you could reply, you were interrupted. “ Omg yes, she totally loves drinking that!” your Adrian said, impressed.
“Do you still love (your second favorite animal)? Is your favorite color still (your favorite color)? Oh! And do you still do (your favorite hobby)?” Adrian 2 continued.
“ Dude! She totally does! She loves all of those except my universe’s y/n likes (your favorite animal)!” Adrian said with a grin.
You didn’t even know Adrian remembered all those things about you. You might have mentioned it, but you never could have imagined that he actually kept track of it. “Yeah, I do love all those things, but he’s right, I like (favorite animals) a bit more. It seemed like her and I were a lot alike.” You noticed. It felt odd talking about another you who died. It felt like reminiscing with a ghost; it almost pained you to grasp that she died such a gruesome death by Chris, of all people.
“(favorite animal) was always your second favorite,” He smiled, then paused, “Are you sure you two aren’t dating?” Adrian 2 asked curiously, regarding your relationship with Adrian.
“Fuck no, we are just friends, acquaintances even,” You snapped quickly, trying to beat Adrian before he could say anything offensive again about the possibility of being with you. You felt your jaw tighten.Yes, you two are just friends, but he couldn’t even mention you to his own mother! Fuck, why are you still so bitter about that!?
“Um, I think you mean great friends, y/n,” Adrian clarified, sounding a bit offended, but mostly puzzled.
You brushed off his comment and kept walking forward, trying to put distance between you and him. Adrian 2 walked closer to you, standing beside you now, his hand slightly brushing yours as you both walked. You instantly pulled away, thrown off. For some reason, that made you nervous, but not in a bad way; it was just something new. Something you weren’t used to, especially by Adrian, or in this case, other Adrian.
“Sorry,” He said quickly. You looked at him. Were you mad at Adrian? Absafuckingloutly. But you were going to take it out on Adrian 2? Of course not.
So you replied by giving a small smile. “Don’t be, I’m just not used to it,” You said, feeling your hands brush against each other again, but this time you didn’t pull away.
“I really missed you. Especially your voice,” He confessed quietly, so only you could hear it. You didn’t know how to reply, truly stunned. He noticed and quickly added.”I’m sorry if I’m being weird. You just mean the world to me.” He was wearing his helmet, but you could feel his eyes staring at you intensely behind his red visor. Why was he speaking to you as if you were her? I mean, technically, yes, but also no. You didn’t reply, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Oh! Dude, I have an amazing idea that’ll blow everyone’s mind,” Adrian cheered happily, being oblivious to your whole interaction. Adrian 2 shifted his attention back to him as they discussed their brilliant plan of asking everyone who is who. You wrapped your arms around yourself, walking steadily and trying to ignore how flustered Adrian 2 is starting to make you feel.
Once you all get to the bushes near Chris’s house, you spot Adebayo…and Judomaster? “Ads!” You cry out, relieved and throwing your arms around her. “Thank fucking god you’re alright. I am so sorry for leaving you! I promise, I will never leave you again!” Your arms tighten around her; you have never felt so grateful to see her. “Y/n! It’s okay, I’m fine, I promise,” She said warmly, hugging you back.
She looked past you, gawking at the two Adrians. You pulled away, acknowledging how crazy this is. “Oh yeah, we found the other version of him.”
“Wait! Ads, guess which one is me and which one is the other Vigilante?” Your Adrian said, you could already tell he was smiling widely behind his visor. Once Ads guessed correctly, he groaned.
You then looked at Judomaster, feeling a little awkward because the last time you saw him, you did hit him with a bat, but that was ages ago; he surely forgot, right?
He narrowed his eyes at you. You waited for his usual sassy remarks, but instead, Adrian broke the tension between you two. “Wait, what are you doing with him? I hate this fucking guy!” Adrian complained, glaring at Judomaster. Adrian 2 joined him as they both tried to make fun of Judo master, but were failing miserably.
“Pfft,” You stifled a laugh as Judomaster snarkily replied to Adrian 2’s cum joke. “Alright, guys, can we focus?” You said, trying to gain their attention.
Judo Master turned to you. “Yeah, guys, let’s shut up before she beats us AGGRESSIVELY with a bat.” He emphasized, glaring at you.
You groaned, knowing this was coming.“Oh, like you didn’t beat the shit out of me? God forbid a girl fight back.”
“You literally snuck up behind and beat the hell out of me,” He deadpanned.
You paused. He was right. But you had no regrets; he was a menace months ago.
He just continued to glare, waiting for your response. Instead of saying sorry, you felt the sarcasm escape your lips before you could control it, “Oh no- I am so sorry, Judomaster. I hope you can one day find it in your heart to forgive me,” You said dramatically, putting your hands out in a prayer, committing to the bit. “I will never bestow these hands for evil ever again!” You added, shaking your hands into the air.
Judo Master just looked at you, not entertained in the slightest.
Adrian laughed slightly, not fully understanding the situation very well, but he was pretty sure you were dissing Judo Master. He was still trying to get the hang of sarcasm. Meanwhile, Adrian 2 was watching you intensely, as if mesmerized by your sarcasm and theatrics.
“Y/n,” Ads sighed. “C’mon now.”
If it were anyone but Ads, you would’ve pushed it, but she was right. “Alright, alright, I’m locked in,” You focused, trying to brainstorm a game plan. You were pretty good at attack strategies, second to Harcourt. “And then. You three beat the shit out of these cops.”
“Y/n, why can’t we all just try to go through the back?” Leota asked.
“Because,” You paused, “To be safe, plus they’re nazis, so like might as well.”
Everyone shrugged, agreeing with your proposal. “Sounds perfect to me!” Adrian chirped.
“You’re right as always, babe,” Adrian 2 said, casually.
You felt your face warm up, eyes widening. You instantly knew it was Adrian 2. Adrian would never say that to you. Adebayo arched an eyebrow and looked at you, confused. Meanwhile, Judo Master scoffed, “I knew you two were fucking.”
“No, we aren’t!” You replied quickly, pointing at you and Adrian, trying to clarify this situation. “He’s the other version of him- not him him!” You explained, as if that would resolve this case.
This caused Judo Master to snort. He pointed at Adrian and mocked him, “Dude, she wants the other you. Not even in your timeline can you pull her.”
Adrian sneered at him, “ Hey! What the fuck, it’s not even like that-”
“Shit, I’m sorry, it’s just habit-” Adrian 2 said, putting his hands out to you to express his apology.
“Jesus fucking christ,” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. You could feel your cheeks heating up. You didn’t even know how to feel, but what you did know was that you could kill Judomaster right now.
Luckily, Ads saved the day. She threw her hands up in the air, sighing loudly, “Alright, guys, alright. We got shit to do.”
You sighed in relief and uncovered your face, sending Judomaster the harshest look you could give, to which he returned with a smirk. Little shit. You looked away and tried your best to avoid both of the Adrian’s gazes and walked forward, following the plan.
The night was hectic, chaotic, and bloody. The Nazi cops bombarded you all, shooting left and right. You were all running towards the main room with the portal door; meanwhile, the Adrians were working as a team. If you weren’t in such a life-or-death situation, you would’ve admired their synchronized skills.
You turned the corner, avoiding a policeman by an inch. You swiftly grabbed one of your knives from your back pocket and stabbed him in the shoulder with no hesitation. He screamed in agony and ran towards you with his pistol. “Fuck-” You ducked, but before he could pull the trigger, one of the Adrians shot him dead in the forehead and chest. His red blood gushed, sprinkling across the room. A drop hit your cheek. You grimaced slightly and wiped it. “Ew,” You whispered to yourself. You were used to near-death experiences in this team, but you hated how messy it could get.
“Are you okay?” The Adrian asked, you nodded and gave a quick thumbs up, flashing a smile. “Thanks,” You said, hurriedly following the others.
The whole group ran towards the main room as the last of the cops were shot, or at least the last ones who entered the house at the moment. Before you could enter the room, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you slightly behind. “Wait, y/n!" You looked behind and saw it was one of the Adrians. You pulled your wrist away and looked at him, confused. It was just you, the two of you, in the hallway, alone.
“Dude, we gotta hurry. What are you doing?” You said with bewildered eyes.
He grabbed you gently and closer to him. You couldn’t tell which Adrian it was, but he leaned towards you. “Listen, I know this is crazy, Y/n, but stay here with me.” It was Adrian 2.
“What?” You asked, surprised and taken aback.
“You can stay here with me,” He started, letting go of your wrist and grabbing your hands slowly with his black gloved hands. Your whole body felt stiff, your heart pounding against your chest, your mind racing. Was this real?
You felt your head shaking before you could find the right words to say. “I-” You were a loss for words.
“We can live here together, and I can hold you every night. Make your favorite drink every morning just the way you like it. We can kick ass together, every day,” He continued, waiting for your response, delicately holding your hands.” I can’t lose you again,” He said in a grave tone. It almost came out like a whimper.
You didn’t pull away this time, letting your hands relax. Once he felt you ease, he wrapped his fingers around yours, warmly and lovingly. “Please, just consider it,” He pleaded.
You looked into his red visor, trying to see his eyes to read his expressions, but you couldn’t from behind the mask. Your eyes were wide, glistening with panic, but your hands wrapped against his. You should’ve said no, instantly, but for some reason, you couldn’t. Holding his hand just felt right, like they were made to hold yours. You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but you just looked at him.
You had never felt so loved, so cherished? Were you considering this?
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Summary: Being a professional thief comes with its own set of occupational hazards, but being a professional thief in Evergreen, Washington? That's practically begging for trouble. But, fortunately for you, the local crime fighter, Vigilante, seems to have taken quite the liking to you and doesn't hesitate to come to your aid when you do find yourself in trouble.
Rating: General Audiences
Author Note: Gender neutral Reader, they/them pronouns (if any). Race neutral, nationality neutral, body type neutral. Reader has the skill set of Cat Woman, but isn't a Cat Woman!Reader and uses guns. Their criminal alter ego pseudonym isn't specified, so imagine whatever name you like. Reader does wear glasses, but I described their vision in detail so non-glasses wearers can easily imagine what it's like to have bad eyesight when you don't have your glasses or prescription visor on. One single use of Y/N L/N at the very end of the story. Takes place after season 1 and before season 2. We're pretending that Harcourt and Adebayo have been to Adrian's house before this. I love this dynamic and already have ideas for more fics with these two.
CW: Canon typical violence, canon typical humor, mentions of injuries (no graphic details), descriptions of pain.
Word Court: 6,093
Song Recommendation: "The Same Deep Water as You" by The Cure (inspired the title)
"Drop your gun."
"You drop your gun!"
"I asked you first."
"I asked you second!"
"Doesn't work that way bub."
"Neither does you asking first!"
You and Vigilante glared at each other from across the alleyway and down the sights of your drawn pistols.
Well. You were glaring at him, so you assumed he was glaring at you too, but you couldn't see his eyes through the red of his visor at this distance.
The two of you had a bit of a complicated relationship.
Well. Relationship was too strong of a word for whatever this thing was you two had going on. Enemies maybe? Nah, still too strong. Frenemies then? That didn't accurately describe it either but would do for now.
How you ended up as frenemies you couldn't exactly say. You were quite the mismatched pair. One could consider him the Best Hero in Evergreen if you used the word "hero" very loosely and one could consider you the Best Thief in Evergreen if you used the word "thief" loosely. He tended to kill anyone regardless of whether the punishment fit the crime, so sometimes he was a hero, sometimes he wasn't. You tended to steal things that had already been stolen once in order to return them to their rightful owner, so sometimes you were a thief, sometimes you weren't.
It was a gray area you both crossed into often, but it was that gray area that had kept you two from shooting each other multiple times. Some of the times you'd caught him working, he was killing someone that deserved it, and some of the times he caught you thieving, you were stealing something back for a client. Justice and property reacquisition, one might say.
However, now was not one of those times. Less than a minute ago, you exited the jewelry store you had robbed just in time to catch him executing a couple of guys who had been spray painting some rather colorful language on the side of the very building you were coming out of.
It was not a good look for either of you.
"Want to tell me what you were doing in there?" Vigilante asked, inclining his head towards the jewelry store.
"Not particularly," you said, then inclined your head towards the two corpses laying behind him. "Want to tell me why you killed someone over a misdemeanor?"
"Not particularly," he answered.
"Then we are at a stalemate," you said.
"Looks like it," he agreed.
Then you both fell into an oddly comfortable silence.
This wasn't the first time you had caught each other doing something nefarious, but since you both had a soft spot for each other, neither of you had ever made a move to end each other's careers permanently. Now you were both just waiting for a reasonable excuse to let each other go that wouldn’t involve either of you losing face.
But, in the meantime...
"So, uh...how've you been?" Vigilante asked, finally breaking the silence.
"Not too bad," you said. "I think I slept wrong last night though. My neck has been killing me all day.”
“Damn, that sucks. I hate it when that happens.”
“Me too. How about you? How’ve you been?"
"Pretty great actually," he said, then sounded excited. "Peacemaker got out of jail a couple weeks ago!"
"I heard about that," you said, smiling at him even though he couldn't see it behind your mask. "I also heard that you helped save the world from some aliens. Very nice work."
"Thanks, it was nothing though," he said, his voice bashful sounding, then he cleared his throat. "Just all in a night's work for Vigilante!"
You couldn't help but chuckle. Genuine compliments always seemed to get to him.
As you were opening your mouth to make him even more bashful, sirens started up in the distance. Neither of you spoke, listening intently, and soon it became clear they were heading in your direction.
"Looks like we'll have to continue this later," you said, a feeling of disappointment settling into your chest. "Temporary truce?"
Even from this distance, you could hear him sigh.
"Fucking cops," Vigilante muttered, then raised his voice to answer you. "Yeah. Yeah, guess so. Temporary fucking truce."
"Which way you headed?"
"That way," he said, tilting his head up to indicate the direction you were standing. "You?"
"That way," you said, tilting your head up to indicate the direction he was standing.
In perfect synchronicity, the two of you circled each other, guns still drawn, until you had switched positions in the alley. The sirens sounded even closer now.
"Until next time?" Vigilante asked, his voice sounding sad now.
"Yeah, until nex-"
You paused in mid-sentence as your gaze shifted from Vigilante to just behind him, where you saw the vague flashing of red and blue lights at the mouth of the alley. The cops were a lot closer than they had sounded.
"Shit, you're cut off," you said.
Vigilante quickly turned to look over his shoulder.
"Fuck," he said, holstering his weapon at the same time as you holstered yours, whatever game you were playing quickly forgotten. "There another way out of here?"
"Yeah, follow me," you said, then turned and took off down the alleyway with Vigilante close behind you.
While Vigilante knew numerous ways to slip through the city relatively unseen when he needed to, there were still quite a few paths that were known only to criminals. This was one of them. You led him through the city via connecting alleyways, up across rooftops, and back to the ground between buildings. By the time you came to a stop behind one of the larger law offices in Evergreen, you were several miles from the alleyway where you had held each other at gunpoint.
"Holy shit," Vigilante said, panting heavily as you both collapsed to the pavement by the dumpster. "That was fucking awesome!"
"Only you would think almost getting caught by the police is awesome," you said, laughing breathlessly as you shook your head in dismay.
"Oh, pfft, no, I didn't mean that," he said, waving one hand in the air as if he was knocking away the notion. "It was everything else that was awesome."
"Whatcha mean?" you asked, looking over at him.
To your surprise, Vigilante was fidgeting, his fingers flicking at the edge of the armor plate covering his left knee. He seemed nervous and it made you unsure if you should be nervous now too.
"Um, well," he said, then got quiet for a moment before continuing. "Like, doing all that running and climbing and shit with you. It's pretty fun to outrun the cops anyway, but you somehow made it extra fun."
You smiled, your cheeks feeling extremely warm behind your mask now.
"Yeah, actually, it was a lot of fun," you said.
Vigilante's posture relaxed at your words, and you heard him let his breath out in a rush, as if he had been worried about your response would be.
"Awesome!" he said, sounding happy. "Awesome, that's awesome. I'm glad you had fun too. Super glad, in fact. Really, really super glad."
The two of you were quiet after that, another comfortable silence falling between you.
Once you felt rested up, you got to your feet, and he followed suit.
"I think I'm going to call it a night," you said. "That was more than enough excitement for me for one day."
"Yeah, I should probably get back to patrolling," Vigilante said. "The night is still young and there's still crime a foot."
"Try to stay out of trouble," you said, then walked off, waving at him just before you rounded the corner of the building to make your way around to the front.
The parking lot was deserted as it was close to 2am now, as were all the surrounding businesses, so you had no fear of being seen. But, even still, you stuck close to the building in case you needed to quickly dodge out of sight as you made your way back in the direction you both had come from. Your apartment was about halfway between here and the alleyway you ran into Vigilante, so you were going to need to double back a bit in order to-
"Hey, wait a minute!"
Snapped from your thoughts of the best way to get home, you turned around to see Vigilante jogging to catch up with you.
"What's up?" you asked as he came to a stop a few feet in front of you, your muscles tense in case he had decided to go for round two already.
"Um, I kind of," he said, then stopped to swallow heavily. "I kind of wanted to ask you something."
"Okay," you said, putting one hand on your hip and taking a more relaxed stance. "What's on your mind?"
The masked man seemed nervous again. He shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other, then back again. You heard him take a breath as if in preparation to say something, but no words came out. After a moment, he looked down, started rubbing the back of his neck, then turned around as if he were about to walk away. But then to turned back around to face you.
"Do you ever get to thinking about," he said, then flapped one hand to gesture between you and him. "Us?"
There was a beat of silence as you tried to process the question.
"Us?" you finally asked, tilting your head in curiosity. "What about us?"
There was another beat of silence before he started talking again.
"Well, I was thinking the other night," he began explaining. "And I- actually, that's not true, I think about this pretty often, but it occurred to me again the other night how I always seem to have a lot of fun with you and-"
It was around that time you became more aware of a beeping sound coming from the main entrance of the law office you both were in front of. You'd been hearing it since you first rounded the corner to come this way, and it had only gotten louder as you got closer to the door.
"-and when you said you had fun tonight, I started maybe thinking this wasn't the first time that you'd had fun with me, so-"
At first, you had assumed it was part of their security system, but now that you were close to the door, you could hear it better. The pitch and tone were far different than any other security system you'd ever heard before, and you've heard quite a few.
"-so, I was kind of hoping that maybe it was something you had thought about before too and that you might want to-"
"Shhh!" you said, your eyes pivoting from the man standing in front of you over to the security keypad set in the wall by the front door.
Vigilante cut off in mid-sentence and mid gesture with his hands.
"Huh?" he said, confusion in his voice.
"I said, 'shhh,'" you said, the tone of your voice serious now.
In the silence that followed, your hearing was able to better zero in on the noise. Now you could tell that the little blinking light on the keypad that indicated it was armed was not in sync with the beeping you were hearing. This meant the sound was coming from another source.
Unfortunately, the silence did not last long enough for you to trace the sound to its actual source.
"You're shushing me?!?" Vigilante asked in dismay.
Your eyes flicked back over to him to see him now standing with his hands on his hips in a stance that indicated he was glaring at you.
"Yes, now shush," you said, then turned your attention back to the door.
But he did not shush. In fact, he did the exact opposite.
"I can't believe this!" he exclaimed. "Here I am, trying to open up and be emotionally vulnerable to you - which is extremely not easy for me to do, I might add - and you not only completely disregard my feelings, but you shush me!"
"I am not disregarding your feelings!" you said, turning back to him in dismay.
"Well, that's what it feels like!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air.
You stared at him through your visor, your mouth dropping open behind your mask in bafflement.
"Well, I'm not!" you exclaimed. "There's something weird going on here. If you would just give me two minutes to figure out what that sound is, then we can talk about whatever you wa-"
Suddenly, Vigilante snapped his head to the side to look at the front door of the building.
"Shhh!" he said, his head tilting to the side as if listening to something.
There was a small period of shocked silence.
"What?" you asked.
"I said, 'shhh!'" he repeated, the tone of his voice serious.
"Oh, now you're shushing me, huh?" you said, putting your hands on your hips and glaring at him.
"Yes, now shush."
But you did not shush. In your irritation, you did the exact opposite.
"Oh, so it's okay for you to shush me when there's a weird beeping sound but not for me to shush you?" you asked, crossing your arms across your chest. "That's not very fair! What if something bad was about to happen and me shushing you saved our asses because I heard it in time for us to take cover?"
Vigilante turned to you, his body language now as exasperated as you felt.
"I didn't know you heard a weird sound!" he exclaimed. "And why would hearing a weird beeping sound save our asses? It's not like there's a bomb ins-"
His words were suddenly cut off by a large explosion coming from inside the office building, resulting in shattered glass and smoke filling the air as all of the windows of the building burst outward simultaneously. The main lobby seemed to be the epicenter of the explosion as the door burst out of the frame holding it into the wall, sending it flying outwards.
Unfortunately, since you were standing right in front of the door, it slammed right into you, the force sending you flying across the sidewalk and right into a large blue mail drop. You grunted at the impact, then again as your body dropped to the concrete, and then a third time as the now twisted piece of metal and glass that used to be the door landed on top of you.
That's gonna hurt later, you thought as your vision started going dark.
You could hear Vigilante yelling and then gunshots, which was then followed by an inhuman sounding screech, but it all sounded very far away. Soon the noise and smoke was replaced by the silence and blackness of unconsciousness.
Eventually you started to become aware of your body again and, boy, did you wish you hadn't. Everything hurt to some degree or another. The back of your head was pounding, both sides of your torso were screaming, and the rest of your body ached worse than you would’ve thought possible.
You were a bit confused at first as to how you ended up in this state, but as your awareness returned, so did your memories of the explosion.
On the bright side, it didn't feel like you were laying on concrete and broken glass anymore. It felt like you were laying on something a bit softer now with a pillow under your head.
As you opened your eyes, you tried to lift your head and this made the throbbing at the base of your skull quickly turned into a sharp, stabbing pain. You groaned and gently laid your head back down, your eyes closing again.
A short distance from you, you heard what sounded like a squeaky office chair swiveling around.
"Hey you," said a voice coming from the same direction as the squeaky chair and it took you a second to recognize it was Vigilante. "You're finally awake."
You heard him stand up and walk closer as you tried to lift one arm and found you could barely move it. Trying your other arm was more successful and so you brought that hand up to rub your eyes.
"If I open my eyes and see I'm in a cart in Skyrim, I swear to God..."
Vigilante laughed as you let your voice trail off.
"Nah, that would be cool though," he said. "But you did take quite a beating, so go slow. Don't move too fast.”
You lowered your hand from your eyes and rested it on your chest as you opened your eyes and looked over at him. Your vision was extremely blurry, so even though he was crouched down next to you and fairly close, he was little more than a black and teal blob with no discernable features.
"Where are we?" you asked.
"My secret hideout," he said. "We needed to get out of there before the cops and firemen got there, so I grabbed you and high tailed it here."
"Ah," you said, then rubbed your eyes and blinked rapidly to try to clear your vision. "How long was I out?"
"Quite a while actually," he said. "It's almost noon now. You hit your head pretty hard, twice in fact, so that's not surprising."
You started to nod, then winced as even this made movement made the pain flare again.
"What happened after the explosion?" you asked, bringing your hand up to hold the side of your head where some of the pain was located. "I heard this really weird screech before I-"
As soon as you touched your head, you knew something was amiss, but it took a couple of seconds for your brain to register what was wrong. Instead of the smooth fabric of your mask like you had expected to feel, your fingers came in direct contact your hair.
Then it dawned on you that you had been rubbing your eyes, which was normally impossible considering your mask had a visor on it.
"Did-did you take my mask off?" you asked, voice hoarse with shock.
"Yes, but believe me I didn't want to!" Vigilante said quickly, hopping to his feet and jumping back like you might stab him. "I'm sorry! I really, really didn't want to, but you had a couple of gashes that were bleeding a lot, they needed stitches and I couldn't do that with it on."
Even though you couldn't see him, his voice sounded very remorseful, so you believed him.
Sighing, you moved your hand down to retrieve your glasses from your utility belt only to find you weren't wearing it anymore.
"Where's my belt at?" you asked in alarm.
"Oh, it's right here," Vigilante said, bending over to pick it up from the floor by the other end of the futon you were laying on. "I thought you'd be more comfortable if it was off, so I took it, your boots and your gloves off."
"Oh, uh," you said, a bit surprised that he was worried about your comfort. "Thanks."
When you went to take the belt from him, you found that you still couldn't move your one arm much and you sighed in frustration.
"The pouch just to the left of the buckle should have my glasses in it," you said. "Can you get them for me?"
He retrieved your glasses out of the pouch you specified then placed them in your outstretched hand. You flicked them open one handed and put them on, which made the world clear again.
"Oh, that's so much better," you said with a sigh, then looked up at him. "Thanks, I- holy shit!"
"What?!?" he said, looking behind him in alarm.
"You're not wearing your mask either!" you said, gawking.
He turned back to you with a guilty look on his face.
"I thought it was only fair that you see my face too," he said, reclosing the pouch on your utility belt. "I knew you'd be upset, I know I would be if someone took my mask off without my consent. So, I thought this might make things even again."
You had to admit; it was pretty sound logic.
You were both quiet for a minute. He was still holding your utility belt and was now fidgeting with the snap on the pouch he had taken your glasses out of. He was nervous now that you were looking directly at him, though you weren't sure why. He didn’t need to be.
"Huh," you finally said. "You're not what I expected."
"What were you expecting?" he asked, looking over at you as you shrugged. "So...is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"I'd say it's a good thing," you said, smiling at him.
His eyes widened a bit, a blush rising on his cheeks, and he stared at you for a second in a daze, then shook his head and cleared his throat.
"To be honest, you're a lot cuter than I expected too," he said.
Butterflies flapped around in your stomach at the complement, but this moment was getting a bit too sweet and mushy for your liking, so you pivoted it the other way.
"You didn't think I'd be cute?" you said, a serious tone in your voice as you raised an eyebrow at him.
"What? No! That's not what I meant! I- shit, I fucking suck at this. I just meant I didn't expect you to be THIS cute!"
His reaction was so cute it made you laugh, but your laughter was short lived and cut off abruptly with a loud groan of pain. The laughing had caused your torso to move and that had caused an explosion of pain on both sides of your ribcage. You squeezed your eyes shut and gritted your teeth, trying to breathe through it, but that somehow made it worse.
It was only after a couple long minutes of deliberately slow breathing did the pain finally ease up.
When you opened your eyes, you saw that Vigilante was once again crouched by the futon and was now grimacing in pain himself. That's when you realized he was holding your hand, and you were squeezing the shit out of his fingers.
"Fuck, sorry," you said, letting him go.
"Gah!" he gasped in relief, then started rubbing the hand you had been squeezing. "Jesus, you have a strong grip! I feel really sorry for any guy that gets a hand job from you, good lord."
Laughter threatened to well up in your throat, but you quickly swallowed it down and distracted yourself by thinking of sick kittens.
"If you make me laugh again," you began. "I swear, I will fucking shoot you as soon as I have my guns back."
"Promise?" he grinned, then his eyes widened, and he got a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry. It's fun to tease you."
You shook your head at him but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.
"Anyway," you said. "As I was asking before, what happened after the explosion?"
"Hmm? Oh!" he said, looking confused at first, then it was like he remembered the reasoning behind why he brought you here. "Right, so, after the explosion, some people in suits and regular clothes ran out of the building, and that seemed really fucking odd since it was so late at night but I didn't pay much attention to it at first cause I was worried about you, but then they attacked me."
He paused to take a breath then continued.
"It wasn't like normal people attack, it was like the butterflies all over again cause they were super-fast and super strong just like the butterflies were, and that got me super confused since we should have taken care of all them at the farm, but, low and behold, after I shot one, a butterfly climbed out of its head and-"
"What the hell?" you exclaimed.
"Right? That's what I thought too!"
"No, not that, this!" you said, wiggling the arm you could barely move.
While he was talking, you had taken the opportunity to look over that arm, but instead of finding it broken and immobilized with a makeshift splint like you expected, you discovered your arm was fine but it was handcuffed to the frame of the futon. Due to the angle in which you were cuffed and the cushion putting pressure on the chain, there was no give to it, which is what was making your arm immobile.
"Oh!" Vigilante said, then doinked himself on the forehead with his palm. "Sorry, I forgot about that. I was afraid you'd wake up when I was out of the room and didn't want you to think I kidnapped you."
You just stared at him for a moment, blinked at him a few times.
"And I wouldn't think I got kidnapped if I woke up handcuffed to a piece of furniture?" you asked, dismayed.
"Oh no, you would definitely think you were kidnapped," he explained. "But at least this way you wouldn't run off or attack me before I had the chance to explain, though now I don't think either of those would be possible with the state you're in."
You stared at him for another moment, blinking a few more times.
As badly as you hated to admit it, this twisted bit of logic made a lot of sense.
"Think you could let me up now?" you asked.
"Oh! Yeah! Let me grab the keys," he said, getting to his feet and moving away from the futon. "I keep them in a box on my desk, so I don't lose them."
"That's a good idea," you said.
"I thought so too. Anyway. What was I saying?"
"A butterfly crawled out of a guy's head," you said, watching him open a small box on the desk and pull out a small set of keys.
"That's right!" he said, turning around and starting to head back over to you. "So, I killed the butterfly and that pissed the oth-"
He was halfway to you when he was interrupted once again, but this time it was by someone pounding on a door. You couldn't see it from here, so you assumed it was on the other side of the room and around the corner you could see from here.
"Oh Adrian! Your friends are here!"
The voice calling through the door was muffled at this distance, but you could still hear the words clearly enough. It sounded like it belonged to a cheery older woman.
Vigilante came to such a sudden stop that he tripped over his own feet and nearly fell over.
"Adrian, huh?" you asked, a small smile coming to your lips.
A look of pure panic came across his face, his skin going so pale he looked like he saw a ghost.
"D-don't listen to her!" he stammered. "She's just a crazy old woman! Calls me a different name every other day!"
"Adrian, sweetie, it's Emilia and Leota," came the voice again. "Open up."
"You should probably let your friends in, sweetie," you said, now grinning at how mortified he looked.
"Fuck, I'm never going to live this down, am I?" he groaned, rubbing his forehead.
"Nope," you said, popping your tongue on the P.
"Adrian? Are you okay?"
"Fucking hell," he groaned, then turned and started heading for the door. "Alright, I'm coming! Chill the fuck out!"
As the man you now knew as Adrian started walking away, it suddenly occurred to you that you were still handcuffed to the futon.
"Hey! Wait! You should-"
Too late, he was gone.
A moment later, you heard several deadbolts being unlocked before you heard the door open.
"Hey guys, come on in," you heard him grumble, sounding uncharacteristically downtrodden now.
"Adrian, are you okay?" said the older woman. "You're not yelling like you usually do."
"I'm fine, mom, it's just been a long night."
"Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. It was nice to see you both again."
"It's nice seeing you too, Mrs. Chase," said a new, kind toned voice, this one belonging to a younger woman.
Adrian Chase, you thought. So that's his real name.
You heard the door close, and the deadbolts relock before anyone spoke again.
"Did you guys find anything?" Adrian asked.
"You alright?" asked the kind sounding woman. "Your mom's right, you're being way too quiet."
"I said I'm fine, just tired," he snapped. "Can we stay on topic please?"
"Jeeze, Chase, who pissed in your Cheerios?" asked a new voice, this one sounding a bit more severe. "But yeah, we did. Turns out that lawyers’ office was a safe house. We don't know who bombed it yet, but Economos is- what the fuck, Chase?!?"
It was at that point, they came around the corner and saw you handcuffed to the futon, and you got your first look at the two women. You gave them a little wave with your free hand. The blonde woman quickly wheeled on Adrian.
"Couldn't you have at least waited to call us until after you were done with your weird sex thing?" she demanded.
If you thought Adrian looked mortified before, that was nothing compared to how he looked now.
"This is not a weird sex thing!" he exclaimed.
"Hey, that's kink shaming and not nice," you said, trying to lighten the mood.
They all gawked at you, especially Adrian.
"Man, this day couldn't get any worse," he grumbled.
After a quick round of introductions, Adrian finally came over to let you up. Since he didn't know your real name yet, he introduced you as the pseudo name you went by in your line of work.
"The one they talk about in the papers?" Leota asked and you nodded. "I'm surprised he hasn't killed you yet then."
"He likes me but just won't admit it," you said, mostly joking as you rubbed your wrist now it was free of the cuff.
Adrian grumbled something none of you caught as he took both the cuffs and keys to the desk where he stuck them back in the box.
It was slow going to sit up and get your gear back on thanks to the broken ribs, but you managed. While you did that, Emilia and Leota filled you both in on their findings.
"As I was saying before," Emilia began. "Economos is working on hacking into the law firm’s database. We're hoping that if there are other butterfly safe houses in the area that they had information on them."
"And if there are other safe houses?" you asked, as you fastened your utility belt around your waist.
"We eliminate them just like we did before," Emilia answered.
"You want in on this?" Leota asked. "We could use all the help we can get."
You thought about it for a moment as you put your gloves on then shrugged.
"Sure, sounds interesting," you said. "But what exactly am I getting myself into."
Since you hadn't seen all of Leota's press conference, just bits and pieces, the three of them filled you in on everything you had missed. By the time they were done, it was almost the middle of the afternoon, and exhaustion was hitting you as hard as that door did the previous night.
"I hate to ask this but could you guys give me a ride home?" you asked as Emilia and Leota we're fixing to leave.
"Sure," Emilia said, then began to head out and you and Leota started following her.
"Could I talk to you for a sec?" Adrian asked you. "Alone, I mean."
"Sure," you said, then turned to the two women. "Give me a minute, I'll be right out."
They both nodded, then eyed Adrian suspiciously before heading out.
Once they were gone, you turned to him and saw he looked nervous again. Tired but nervous.
"What's up?" you asked.
"You, uh, almost forgot your mask," he said, as he handed it over. "I fixed it for you while you were out. It should be good to go now."
You quirked a brow at him curiously, then looked it over.
His mending was actually quite impressive. Unless you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t be able to see the lines of black thread on the black fabric. Hell, you knew what you were looking for and even you had a hard time finding them. You couldn't try it on yet thanks to the two bandages on your head but judging from how flat he'd gotten the stitches, it was going to lay just as comfortably on your head as it always did.
"Wow," you said, turning it over in your hands. "Thanks. You really didn't have to do that, but it's awesome."
Adrian shrugged and looked down, fidgeting with his fingers again.
There had been a noticeable shift in the man ever since Emilia and Leota arrived. He'd gone from the confident, nonchalant, and outspoken but somewhat off the wall Vigilante you knew to this more socially awkward, easily mortified and almost eager to please version of himself you were seeing now. It was like he was afraid he didn't fit in, but wanted to, he just didn't know how. That was a drastic change from what you were used to, but you liked getting to see this other side of him. It felt like you knew him a little better now.
Without warning, you stepped forward and kissed him on one cheek. He looked so shocked, you'd have thought you had slapped him instead. His mouth dropped open in surprise and his eyes widened as he touched his cheek with one hand.
"See you around, Vigilante," you said with a chuckle, then head for the door.
You were almost to it before he spoke again.
"Hey, uh, wait a sec."
You turned to look at him and saw he was going red in the face.
"I was trying to admit it," he said after a moment. "Before the building blew up.
"Huh?" you said, tilting your head at him in confusion.
"You told Leota I like you but just won't admit it," he said. "I was trying to admit it when the building blew up."
Your mind flashed to the memory of the rambly, run on sentence in had been in the middle of when you heard the ticking of the bomb and shushed him. In hindsight, it was definitely the speech of someone trying to get out their feelings but not knowing how.
"Oh," you said with a smile, your cheeks suddenly becoming warm.
He finally looked up at you then and smiled sheepishly, his own cheeks turning red under your gaze.
It didn't feel right to leave things like this, so it was at that moment that you said your real name aloud, both first and last.
Now it was his turn to be confused.
"Huh?" he said, tilting his head at you.
"It doesn’t feel right me learning your name the way I did," you said, shrugging. "You didn't have any say in it, so it's only fair that you also get to know mine."
He stared at you for a moment, surprised, then a delighted smile came to his face.
"Oh," he said.
You smiled back and the two of you just stood there, looking at each other from across the room, until you heard a car honk twice outside in front of the house, the universal signal for "it's time to go."
"That's my cue," you said, then smiled at him once last time. "It was nice to finally meet you, Adrian Chase."
"Yeah, it was nice to meet you too, Y/N L/N," he said with a big, happy smile on his face.
With that, you finally left him so Emilia and Leota could take you home.
On the way to your apartment, you made small talk with the two of them, but were largely quiet as you reflected on the events of the evening.
Despite the fact you felt like you’d been run over multiple times by a truck and were hurting in places you didn't know it was possible to hurt, you were rather happy with how everything had turned out and wouldn't change a thing. You also liked Adrian Chase, the Vigilante, just hadn't admitted it yet and knowing he felt the same made all the pain worth it.
Summary: The team finally sets out on their mission, and Adrian deals with the events of last night
Word Count: 8k
Warnings: feminine pronouns used (she/her), angst, bodily injury, blood, descriptions of violence, previous trauma, character death
A/N: hiii, welp. it's finally done. after ten trillion years of constant dread, over three rewrites, and chronic procrastination, she's finally here. my longest fic ever (i think). i hope you like it, i have no idea if there's still an Adrian Chase fandom, but to everyone that has stayed throughout my unofficial hiatus, thank you. as always, likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated, again thank you so much. please enjoy :)
Masterlist
part one
Adrian very rarely felt happy. Although perhaps that was an overstatement. A better way to phrase it, Adrian supposed, was that he very rarely felt the way he felt now: elated; ecstatic; euphoric; like his heart was about to burst out of his chest spewing nothing but love and joy and jubilee all over the room in some passionate, exuberant, macabre scene.
In fact, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt this way. The entire ordeal was entirely unique, Adrian realized. For one, there was nobody else in the entire galaxy that could ever compare to the woman nestled into his chest, with her small frown and pursed eyebrows even as she slept. And secondly, there was nobody else in the entire galaxy that Adrian would ever want so desperately.
There was no doubt in Adrian’s mind when he realized that nobody — not even Chris, who he admired with his whole being — could ever make him feel as exhilarated as she did. She was, in all ways, one of a kind.
When Adrian woke there was no longer the comforting weight of the coworker he had spent months pining over on his chest, and for a moment he feared the worst. Could the whole thing have been a dream? A cruel concoction created by his brain meant to torment and him? It wouldn’t have been the first time he dreamt about her, and he didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t be the last.
But when he got up, his heart beating out of his chest — for all the wrong reasons now — he realized that familiar scent that always lingered around her was stuck to his skin. That sweet, fresh, intoxicating scent that had a hint of something he could never quite place, had found a home on the planes of his torso, and Adrian realized that if he could, he would’ve bottled the fragrance and sprayed it on every article of clothing he owned so that he could surround himself with her.
“Oh, you’re finally up,” she said, staring at Adrian from the door of the bathroom, and Adrian scrambled to put his glasses on. She was rubbing something on her face, moisturizer or some fancy serum, Adrian guessed, and his mind was flooded with images of him rubbing his hands over her and savoring in the softness of her skin, before he rubbed his eyes, trying to rid his brain of the picture that had been burned into it.
“Uh, yeah. How long have you been up? I mean, I’m assuming it’s been a while, you look pretty great right now. I mean awake. You look awake, not great. I mean, it’s not that you don’t look great, but I feel like it’s weird if I say you look great so I was saying that you look awake. At least, I assume so. Since you’re doing all your makeup or something. Not that you need it. You’re really pretty alrea—”
“Ok, I’m gonna stop you right there before you say something you regret,” she cut in, and despite her light tone Adrian couldn’t get past the slightly critical look she was giving him. “Economos sent me the location,” she said, “get ready. We’re leaving in thirty.”
To his surprise, Adrian got ready surprisingly fast. He figured that considering the events from the night before, as well as the catastrophe of this morning, his neurons would be way too fried for him to even get out of bed, and yet thirty minutes later he was sitting in the driver’s seat of a Dodge Challenger, going sixty miles per hour down a desolate road.
Adrian let out a whistle, “So, what do you think Waller has us doing today?”
“God I hope it’s not aliens,” she sighed, reaching into the back seat for her bag. “But let’s be real, Leota’s press conference stunt did nothing but get us heat from Waller and the rest of the government. Stupid press didn’t even do anything. She’s probably found another deadly alien race that she needs us to kill. God knows we’re expendable enough to her,” she muttered, pulling out a small handgun and loading the clip.
“I don’t know, I enjoyed fighting the butterflies,” Adrian chirped, “plus, it felt super awesome when we told the Justice League that they could suck it because they were dumb weaklings that couldn’t even arrive on time.”
She paused what she was doing to give Adrian a quizzical look, “You didn’t even say anything to them, Chase. Chris was the only one that said anything and all he said was that they were late.”
“Still though,” he pressed, “I’m sure they could understand what I was trying to say. Wanna listen to the radio?”
“Uh, sure. Do they have NPR?” she asked, prompting Adrian to give her a disapproving look. “I’m joking,” she said after a beat, “lord knows your head would explode if you listened to anything other than 90’s bubblegum pop or whatever music Chris listens to. What is it, 80’s metal?”
“Actually, it’s 80’s glam-metal, and it’s amazing. How can you call yourself an 11th Street Kid if you think glam-metal is the same as regular metal?” he scoffed, “I mean, I’ve heard of a lot of insane things over the years, but that takes the cake.”
“What’s even the difference between glam-metal and regular metal anyways? It all sounds pretty similar to me,” she said, her eyes squinted in concentration as loaded the clip on another handgun.
Adrian laughed out loud this time, turning to look over at her with a fake look of shock painted on his face, “Ok, I lied about that last thing. This, this is the most insane thing I have ever heard come out of someone’s mouth. Glam-metal and regular metal are the most different things in the entire world. Chris told me all about it. Regular metal is lame and boring and is made for cowards, glam-metal is ten times better, it’s the most unlame genre ever made, and it’s made for real men. The difference is that glam-metal—”
“Hey, stop here,” she interrupted him as they pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store, “guess you won’t be able to tell me about how amazing glam-metal is. I’m devastated,” she said, climbing out of the car, and even Adrian could pick up on her sarcasm. “Grab your bag, I don’t want to get screwed over if someone tries to steal this car.” With a sigh, Adrian grabbed his bag from the car and slung it over his shoulder as the two of them walked towards the store.
If the half-fallen sign in the front of the building wasn’t enough indication that the place hadn’t been visited for years, the inside was. Shelves were knocked over, trash was piled in corners, and various assortments of canned goods lined the floors.
“Hey, look at this,” Adrian grunted, squatting down to pick a package off the floor, “it’s a pack of beef jerky. Think it’s still good?”
“I- No, Adrian. I do not think floor jerky from an abandoned grocery store is good,” she said incredulously.
But in typical Adrian fashion, the word of his peers was never enough, and so he opened up the years-old package and popped a piece in his mouth. “Hm,” he hummed to himself as he chewed, “you know, it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s a little stale, but given the price I paid for these, I’d say it’s a total win. Want one?”
“Oh my god Adrian,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes, “I- Just come on, We’ve gotta meet the others, I don’t have time to deal with you and your floor jerky.” With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Adrian followed her throughout the derelict store, chewing contentedly on his floor jerky until they reached a small room in the back. She stopped in front of the door, and with a deep breath, gave one sharp rap, followed by two quick ones and one delayed one. The two of them waited in silence for a brief moment before the door opened, revealing Leota by the door, Emilia leaning over a large map, John typing away at his computer, and Chris staring over his shoulder.
“Finally,” John sighed, looking up from his screen, “what took you guys so long?”
“Adrian ate ten year-old floor-jerky,” she explained, which caused a groan from everyone.
“What?” Adrian cried, “jerky is what you eat during the apocalypse, it’s made to be eaten centuries after it’s cooked.”
Leota scoffed, “That is not true, and also there are rats here man. How do you know your floor-jerky wasn’t part of some rat’s dinner?”
“Yeah, like I’m gonna die of plague, that hasn’t killed anyone since the year 200, Adebayo. And if I were to catch it, I could probably just sleep it off,” Adrian said, chuckling.
“Dude, you can’t just sleep off plague,” Chris butted in.
“Uh, I totally could,” Adrian persisted.
“Dude,” John said, “it’s plague.”
“Ok we get it,” she cut in, silencing Adrian with a look that only encouraged the butterflies in his stomach, “Adrian’s stupid and he’s probably gonna die. What else is new? Now can we figure out what the hell is going on with this mission?”
Emilia looked up from the map, passing out dossiers to each member of the team. “Ten weeks ago, the President’s secret service arrived in Maine to secure a location the president would be speaking at,” she explained, pointing to a circled area on the map. “Within the hour, all five agents were found dead on the scene. First responders noted a single gunshot right between the eyebrows on each agent, ballistics assuming that they were shot long-distance, presumably a sniper.”
“Wait, they’re assuming?” Chris asked, looking up from the file, “these nerds spend all day analyzing bullets and they can’t even find out what gun the bullet is from?”
“Well these ‘nerds’ are the only people we have so don’t complain,” Emilia said, “besides, it’s pretty hard to analyze a bullet when there aren’t any.”
“Wait,” Adrian said slowly, “so whoever shot them took the bullets back after they were done?”
“Hey, what’s this?” she asked, and her voice sounded like a symphony to Adrian’s ears. “The autopsy report stated that the cause of death was batrachotoxin? What in the world is that? And does this mean the shots were done post-mortem?”
“Batrachotoxin,” John started, bringing his laptop over to the center of the table, “is an insanely powerful neurotoxin found on, get this, the skin of poison dart frogs. Get less than a gram of this stuff into your bloodstream, and in less then ten minutes you’ll be suffering from paralysis and then death.”
“Well that doesn’t make any sense,” Chris started.
“Exactly,” Emilia cut in, “if the toxin was already gonna kill them, why bother shooting them?”
“Oh, that’s not what I was talking about,” Chris said, “I was talking about the thing Economos said. How do you suffer from death? You can’t be suffering from death because you’ll already be dead.”
“Ok, it’s a figure of speech,” John said.
“Yeah, a dumb one,” Chris said, chuckling, “you know John, I was actually starting to think you were smart when you were talking about all that poison stuff but then this?”
“Hey screw you!” John yelled, although his protest was diminished by Chris’ roars of laughter.
“Ok, everyone shut up!” Emilia yelled, clenching her fists together. “We’re not done here yet, keep your egos in check until we’re done, got it?” she asked, “good. Now, since then, secret service agents have been dying the same way whenever they go to scout out a new location. It’s always the same situation: death by batrachotoxin, a post-mortem bullet to the head with no bullet, no witnesses, suspects, or evidence.”
“So, what are we doing here?” Adrian asked.
“At 5 this afternoon, the secret service is supposed to scout out an outdoor speaking event for the president. Waller wants us to arrive beforehand and see if there’s anyone suspicious who may be our guy. In the event that we do see him, Waller has been very insistent that we do not kill him? Understand?” Emilia asked, eyeing Chris and Adrian.
“Hey, why are you looking at us?” Adrian whined.
“Because you’re not exactly Mahatma Gandhi, and if we kill our guy, Waller will kill us.”
“The deaths coincide with dates the president is supposed to talk about his new anti-nuclear weapon policy, is it possible this is a rival politician trying to stop the president from talking about his new policy?” Leota asked.
“That’s our current lead,” Emilia explained, “Economos has been looking into politicians that disagree with the president’s policy, we’ve been tracking their comings and goings, looking into their communications, and trying to find anything that might lead to our guy. However, given the fact that we were assigned this mission two nights ago and the concerningly large number of politicians that want more nukes, we’ve barely been able to get through anything.”
“You said the senator was coming in right Harcourt? That’s why our hotel was so booked up. And this poison has to be coming from somewhere, poison dart frogs are native to central america right? So shouldn’t we be checking whether or not any of these guys have made repeated trips down to the border? I mean, getting this stuff through customs can’t be easy,” she pointed out, and when Adrian looked over at her, he had to physically stop himself from staring at her for too long.
“You’re right. Economos, check that out. For now, Leota and John will stay at the hotel and research our politicians. The rest of us will go to the location and try and see if we find anyone. This,” Emilia explained, pointing to another circle on the map, “is where the president will be speaking. Me and Chris will be watching the park and the two of you will surveill the forest behind it. If these shots were done by a sniper, the forest would be a good place to do it.”
Adrian sucked in a sharp breath, he was nervous, to say the least. “Hey Harcourt?” he asked, “can I talk to you real quick?”
Emilia sighed, but she let Adrian pull her aside while the rest of the team continued to look through the case files. “What do you need, Chase?” she asked with a sigh.
“I’m not trying to be uncool or anything but do you think it’s possible that I could go with Chris instead? It’s just that we’ve got a real ‘Bert-and-Ernie’ vibe and I think it would be good for the mission.”
Emilia sighed, “Bert and Ernie? Like from Sesame Street?”
“Wait, that’s where it’s from?” Adrian asked incredulously, “I thought Bert and Ernie were just some really good friends from like 1934 or something, and then they were just known throughout town as being really good friends, and so when someone else wanted to prove how good of friends they were with someone else, they would just say that they had a Bert and Ernie friendship, since Bert and Er—”
“Ok shut up Chase,” Emilia demanded. “Is this about your weird little crush on her?” she asked, gesturing over to where she currently sat, rifling through the dossier with that familiar crinkle in her brow.
Adrian scoffed loudly, “Please, what? Crush? Who- Who said I had a crush on her? Please, that’s- How old am I? Twelve? I don’t… I don’t like her.”
Emilia stared at him, her lack of belief in his statement clear on her face. “Well then, if you don’t like her then you should be fine working with her,” she said, turning away from Adrian with a shake of her head. “But Adrian?” she said, turning back to face him, “if you mess this up because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, Waller won’t be the only woman looking for your head.”
“Got it,” Adrian said awkwardly, although Harcourt had already walked away from him. Puffing air out of his lips, Adrian walked over to where his roommate and subsequent heartstopper was standing. He allowed himself to admire her focused stare for a second before he cleared his throat. “So…” he started, swinging his hands around. “Guess we’re gonna be partners… again,” he said, laughing awkwardly. “Just… two normal coworkers… working together… no weird feelings. I mean, of course there’s no weird feelings, I don’t even have feelings like I said last night, which was a totally normal night where nothing happened, definitely not during the middle of the night when you were sleeping… so should we go to the car?” he said, after clocking her stare.
“You’re acting really weird Chase,” she said, looking him up and down. “Let’s just get this done alright?” she said, slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder. Adrian watched her walk away for a moment before following her, but before he could Chris stopped him.
“Dude, just admit it, you like her,” Chris said.
“Psh, uh- wha- huh? I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about Chris, I have no feelings towards her at all, and definitely not love feelings,” Adrian spluttered frantically.
“Jesus Christ you’re hopeless Adrian.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that anyone with two eyes and half a brain can tell that you’re way into her dude. And I don’t mean that you just like her romantically, you’re pretty much in love you idiot.”
“Ok, that’s just not true Chris,” Adrian protested, although he had to admit that he had thought about it, “you should know better than anyone else that love? That’s just not the Vigilante-way. You and I? We put criminals to sleep and take their women to bed. We don’t get hung up on love or relationships or dreaming about owning a two story house with a white picket fence or a New York apartment or whatever housing situation our lover likes the best because they’re the most important thing to us and we would do anything to make them happy. No, the only people you and I are interested in is criminals, and murdering them. I know your time in Belle Reeve changed you and now you’re like this peace-loving hippie that doesn’t want to kill anyone and has crushes on people, but that’s not me. That’s not Vigilante. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go join my work partner on a very normal drive which I will very much enjoy because she is my coworker, and the only feelings I have towards her are respect and friendship.”
Chris shook his head. “Whatever you say man,” he said, giving Adrian a hard clap on the shoulder and sending him away.
“Sorry about that,” Adrian said as he climbed into the passenger seat of the car.
“About what?” she asked, flexing her hands against the steering wheel.
“Well- Chris had to talk to me about… something, so that’s why I took so long to come out.”
“Oh,” she said, “I didn’t notice.”
The two of them didn’t say much after that; she stared silently ahead at the road in front of them while Adrian gazed out the window, his eyes only flickering over to her occasionally. He wasn’t sure why but there was something off about her now. She was a naturally stoic and silent person, he knew — after all it was one of the reasons why he was so obsessed with her — but there was something else beneath her constrained quietness. A difference in the air around her; usually it felt calm, serene, still. But now, he could almost sense something disturbed about it. As if her stony facade were a smooth pond that had been marred by outward-moving rings of concentric circles, and yet what had caused the disturbance was still unknown, its very nature hidden away in the depths of the water.
It was then that Adrian thought back to the night before. He mulled over their conversations, choosing to skip over his many social errs and follies, when he remembered something that had struck him as odd when he heard it. “What did you mean when you said the bed was ‘too big’ last night?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
“What did you mean when you asked Harcourt for a new partner?” she countered immediately, and to his surprise Adrian could feel a hint of emotion deep underneath her words, although the exact one was still unknown to him.
“I- That- It wasn’t what you think it was,” he tried to explain.
She chuckled dryly. “Is working with me really so horrible?” she asked, but Adrian could still sense that foreign emotion nudging at the edge of her words, yearning to free itself from its prison.
“No! No, not at all! It’s the opposite of that really,” Adrian said hurriedly. “It’s just that- I- You- I think… I think that you and I… I’m worried that we’re not… compatible? And… I guess that I’m just worried that you think I’m… you know,” he said, mumbling the last part.
“You’re what?” she asked, looking over at him, “weird? Annoying? Way too talkative?”
Adrian sighed, nodding glumly as he looked out the window. To his annoyance, it was ironically bright outside. The sun shining brightly overhead, there were no clouds in the sky, and the trees were rife with leaves as green as shamrocks. It looked like a scene from an oppressively happy movie — one that would be filled to the brim with cheesy romance, choreographed musical numbers, and shallow conflict that would be resolved in minutes. In other words, the exact opposite of his life.
“You’re right, I guess,” she said, her voice growing smaller now. “I do think you’re weird and annoying and way too talkative, but… for what it’s worth, I don’t really mind, and I don’t really mind… working with you,” she said, her voice now so quiet that it was barely above a whisper.
And it was then that the wool was finally pulled off Adrian’s eyes and he could see with startling clarity what he had missed before. The object that had disturbed the smooth pond of her aura, the hidden emotion that lurked beneath her words, he knew what it was now. He held it on the forefront of his mind and the tip of his tongue.
Betrayal.
She had overheard him asking for a partner change and she had felt hurt, she had felt offended, she had felt betrayed. And Adrian couldn’t have been more joyful. After what seemed like eons of searching for answers, for clues, anything that could’ve tipped the scales ever-so-slightly in his favor, he had found the very thing that would solve all his problems. Proof. Real, physical, audible proof that came out of her mouth that she cared. She cared about what he thought of her, even more, she enjoyed working with him. In all ways, it was a success, and Adrian had to fight to stop himself from bursting into giddy laughter right then and there.
“What are you grinning about?” she asked him, the betrayal no longer in her voice but instead replaced by something Adrian believed — hoped, really — to be playfulness.
“Nothing,” he said coyly, his smile growing impossibly bigger. “I mean, if I didn’t know any better I would say that you liked me,” he teased, grinning at her.
She glared back at him, but this time Adrian figured it held slightly less contempt that normal, “Say something stupid like that again and I’ll shoot you right now, got it Chase?” she threatened.
“Whatever you say,” he chuckled, “like you’re gonna murder the love of your life.”
“Good god,” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she redirected her attention back to the road.
When they arrived at the location there was nothing particularly absurd about it. It was a medium-sized field of green grass surrounded by a ring of forest behind it. There was a podium in the center of the field, its body covered by a banner of the President’s face, the background of which was covered with patriotic reds and blues. In front of it were rows upon rows of folding chairs, and behind the podium were six American flags, the cloth hanging limply in the windless air.
“Come on,” she sighed, “Harcourt says we have to surveill the forest so we better get set up.” The forest seemed to be well over a mile away from where they stood, and so with a groan Adrian grabbed his things and followed behind her.
The trek to the forest was tedious at best. By then, the sun was directly overhead and its suffocating rays beat down at them insistently. Adrian could feel his body begin to drip with sweat as they trudged towards the forest, which seemed to only grow further and further away. To take his mind away from the torrid atmosphere, he focused on the person in front of him. The way her hair jolted every so slightly as she walked. The resoluteness of each step she took, as if each was carefully planned to take her further. The way she had finally admitted to him that she had some sort of feelings towards him, even if her voice was so quiet he worried that he may have imagined it.
With his focus diverted to her, the arid walk to the forest seemed irrelevant, like an after-thought, and before long they were standing on the edge of the trees. It was here Adrian realized that what he thought had been a densely packed area of trees was really nothing of the sort. In reality, the forest was quite sparse and exiguous; in fact, if you looked up the sky was startlingly visible. Its cloudless, turquoise expanse looming over them.
“Well, shall we go in m’lady?” he asked, sweeping his hand outward. She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath but she went in regardless.
As she walked in, Adrian realized that they were sorely under-resourced for this kind of mission. The forest was impressively large, and even if it was relatively devoid of trees and shrubs, it would still take hours to search it completely. “Hey,” Adrian said, reaching for her shoulder to stop her from diligently soldiering on, “How are we supposed to find someone in here? This place is huge.”
She paused, scanning their surroundings, “You’ve got a point Chase,” she admitted, “I guess our best option would be to split up and look around, maybe find a vantage point a sniper might like. From there, if we don’t find them I guess we can find somewhere to meet up.” Adrian nodded slowly, although he was too preoccupied being upset that they would have to split up to truly understand what she was saying. She continued again, “I’ll radio Harcourt to tell her the plan, you go west, I’ll go east. We’ll walk to the edge of the forest and from there converge in the north. Check out high points and anything suspicious, if we find anything, radio each other. This guy is definitely a professional, so don’t engage unless we’re both there, or unless you’re one hundred percent sure that you can neutralize him without killing him. Remember, if he dies, Waller will make sure we do too. Got it?”
“Uh, yeah,” Adrian said, “hey if you want, I can go east. I was just thinking that there are more trees eastward and since I have a helmet and you don’t I’m sure you could use the shade. Plus, this suit is insulated so it’s like a meat freezer in here, if you know what I mean.”
“Ugh, gross,” she said, “but whatever. Thanks, I guess.”
Adrian nodded enthusiastically in response, but by then she had already turned her back to him, the duffel bag of gear swinging as she slowly disappeared into the trees. With a sigh, Adrian readjusted the strap of his own duffel bag and turned towards the expanse he was to explore.
For the most part, his scouting was relatively uneventful. Occasionally, he would hear a rustle of leaves or a snapped twig, but when he went to check it out it would be nothing but the wind or a small animal. He spent most of the time lost in his thoughts, consumed by the hurricane of events that had preceded what he was doing now. The hotel room, the cuddling, the confession; just a few hours ago he had felt abandoned. Like the earth and the sky and everyone else was leaving him, off to live their happily ever afters without him.
But then, she had said those magical words, and Adrian’s world changed. No longer had he been left behind; now he was one with the earth and the sky and everyone else. He was one of them, ready to live out his own happily ever after with her. He repeated her words over and over in her head like a mantra, I don’t really mind working with you, he whispered to himself, taking steps in tandem with his words.
I don’t really mind working with you. One step.
I don’t really mind working with you. Two steps.
I don't really mind work—
“Chase,” he heard, the staticky chatter of the radio pulling him from his thoughts. “I think I see him, I just sent you my loca—” But then her voice was interrupted by a sickeningly familiar sound. One that rooted Adrian to his spot and sent chills cascading down his spine. A brief whistle of air followed by a startling crack as loud as a firework.
A gunshot.
Adrian began to panic. A gunshot was bad, very, very bad. She hadn’t been wearing a bulletproof vest. He had convinced her earlier that it was a needless precaution. It was dangerously hot outside and it would only slow them down. Besides, it wasn’t as if they were going to take him down alone.
By now they had to have been at least a mile away from each other. Even if he sprinted it would take him at least eight minutes to get there, and he wasn’t sure she had that long. For all he knew he could she could be dead.
That thought startled him into clarity, and in his newfound rationality he dropped the duffel and began running back where he came, digging furiously through his belt for his phone. Her coordinates only brought more bad news. Like he suspected, she was over a mile away. If she had been shot in the heart — which wouldn’t be unexpected, considering how good of a shot their suspect was — she would probably have died by now. A shot to the abdomen wasn’t good either. A few more minutes and she would be dead.
For now, Adrian could only cling onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t been the one to get shot. Maybe she shot him, or it was just a hunter somewhere miles away. Anything other than face the possibility that he may never see her again.
While he was running — branches scratching at his arms and rocks digging into his shoes — he came to another terrifying realization. Like him and Chris, she had a life outside of this. A life that he didn’t know, and that didn’t know him. She had other friends and other coworkers, and there was a frighteningly real chance that if she did die, he would never make it to her funeral. He would never be able to say his final goodbye. Never be able to at least cling onto her palm, no matter how cold it was, and tell her that he always loved her and that he’d never get over her.
And then with a shiver he realized it was all his fault.
He had been the one to convince her to take off her vest. He had been the one to propose they switch sides. He had been the one to make her life hell these past days. With his incessant pestering and teasing and blabbering. He should’ve been the one coming face-to-face with their sniper. His suit was already bulletproof, there would be no harm to him. She would come for back-up, they’d take him down, and maybe Adrian would even ask her out.
And now he wouldn’t even have the chance.
Adrian kept running throughout the forest. It was all he could do. All he knew how to do. One foot in front of the other. One step. Two steps. Three steps. Just like she had done just hours before when they were entering the forest. Just like she had before she fell victim to its cruel inhabitant.
His mind would’ve only spiraled further if his thoughts hadn’t been interrupted. From his belt, his radio began to chirp its small, static song. Without slowing down, Adrian pulled at the radio, holding it close to his ear to hear what was coming out.
“Where are—”
“Hel—”
“He got aw—”
“Tell Har—”
He could hear her voice crackling in and out of the receiver. Her voice was small and croaky. As if every word was strenuous and difficult. It did, however, bring a glimmer of hope. If she was strong enough to click the button of the radio and strong enough to lift it to her face, then there was a chance that she would be strong enough to hold on a little longer.
“Just wait,” he whispered into the radio, more of a plea than a request. “Please god, just wait. Please. Please. Please. You can’t go. Don’t go,” he babbled, realizing that tears had begun to stream down his face, soaking the inside of his mask. He kept rambling into the radio as he ran, not really knowing what he was saying and not really caring either.
After what seemed like a painfully long time, Adrian arrived at her location: a brief clearing near a cliffside. For a moment he couldn’t find her, and his heart was seized with panic and fear. The sight was unsettlingly macabre. In the center was a haunting trail of sticky blood. The crimson liquid tainting the green grass beneath it. His eyes traced up its winding path until he saw her, slumped over against a tree.
Her hands laid on either side of her, their palms facing the sky. The sight of her reminded him of biblical paintings he saw during his childhood. Jesus, his palms up to the sky, praising the Lord and readying himself to ascend to the heavens. It also reminded him of a sacrifice. As if someone had propped her up against the tree to sacrifice to some cruel god. Although, Adrian supposed, it was clear now that all gods were cruel. Cruel because they let her get hurt. Cruel because they made it his fault. Cruel because they made him love her.
He realized then that he hadn’t moved since entering the clearing and so he hastily rushed over to her. His hands fumbled and shook as he reached for her wrist. It was limp and pliable in his grip, but he could ever so faintly feel the whisper of a pulse. “Come on,” he whispered to her, “wake up. Come on. Wake up. Come on. Wake up.” Over and over again he repeated this, although it worked more to calm him than to stimulate her.
The first thing he needed to do was stop the bleeding. And yet, there was so much blood that he could barely tell where it began. At that point, his hyperventilating had begun to fog up his helmet, and so he lifted it off so he could care for her, frantically shoving his glasses onto his face. The lack of his helmet, however, made everything seem so much worse. With the red tint of his visor no longer there to mask some of the damage, he was forced to face the extent of her wounds head-on.
Clenching his hands into balls, he took a shaky breath to steady himself. Carefully, he began to feel around her abdomen, caressing the smooth canvas of her skin until he found it. The divot of a gunshot. As far as he knew it hadn’t hit anything vital, although he worried that it was dangerously close to her spinal cord.
Adrian swiveled around, searching for the duffel bag. It would have first aid in it, gauze, bandages, painkillers, but it was nowhere to be found. He realized that their mystery sniper had most likely taken it, and then he remembered why they had the duffel in the first place. The mission. Quickly, he grabbed the radio off of his belt, cursing as he fumbled wildly with the controls until he could tune into Harcourt and Chris’ frequency.
“Help,” he said frantically. “Help. Help. We need help. She got shot. I’ll send you our coordinates, just get help,” he said, too frenzied to add anything more.
He had to stop the bleeding. He had to find something that he could use to wrap it, to apply pressure. There was no duffel, no gauze, no bandages, so did the only thing he could think to do. He started undressing. As fast as he could he started shedding his gear, cursing his past self for adding so many layers.
After a frustratingly long time, he was finally left in a long-sleeve black shirt. Hastily, he ripped a large piece off the bottom and prepared to lift her. Adrian sat down next to her, and trying to be as careful as possible, slowly lifted her into his lap so that her head was resting on his leg. From this position, it was much easier for him to navigate her body. For him to carefully and tightly wrap the strip of cloth around her waist. For him to gently wipe some of the hair off of her bloodied face. For him to grip onto her hand and whisper that everything would be alright.
But there was too much blood, he realized. It didn’t make sense, it wasn’t possible to lose such a large amount of blood from one gunshot, which meant there had to be another. He looked back at the trail of blood. She was the strongest person he knew, if she dragged herself to the tree he knew it would be because she had to. With a bout of clarity, he began scanning her legs until his eyes rested on another wound.
This gunshot was located on her thigh, just above her knee. It was slowly spitting up blood, the liquid oozing out in small rivulets. Cursing under his breath, he fished a knife out from his belt and, carefully, cut away the cloth around it. He hastily peeled off his shirt so that he could construct a tourniquet and began to tie it around her leg, just above the wound.
Adrian held his breath as he watched the wound on her leg. To his relief, it had slowly stopped bleeding, and he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to her, stroking some hair off of her forehead, “I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me, this is all my fault.”
Then, for some reason Adrian couldn’t understand, he was overwhelmed with the urge to be close to her. And very carefully, he lifted her from where she lay and pulled her close to him so that her back was against his chest.
In these moments while he waited for the team to find them, it was quiet. With her against him, Adrian felt oddly peaceful. He felt placid. He felt as if he were floating in the middle of an ocean. He let himself be buoyed by the waves, opened himself up to the gentle lull of their movement. And so because he was very tired — after all he had been through so much already — he let himself close his eyes. He let himself dream.
He dreamed that they were in Paris, sitting on a balcony and watching the sun set. Her, leaning against him like she was now, and him with his arm around her waist, stroking the plane of her side tenderly. Once the sun set, they would stare with awe and amazement at just how quickly the city transformed. How it became bright and vibrant. How the Eiffel Tower lit up the night sky. She would stare up at him, and in her eyes would be a twinkle so bright and loving that it would outshine every other light in the city.
Or if they weren’t in Paris, perhaps they were in the Bahamas. Where the sky was always clear and the ocean was always blue. Where the sun was always shining, but not as forcefully as it had before. Instead, the sun’s rays would be gentle, a delight instead of a torment. They would be sitting along the beach, the sand nestled in between their toes, and Adrian would smile lazily down at her, and she would smile back.
By the time she woke up, Adrian had been in the hospital for over a day. They had been lucky though. The team had found them quickly and their sniper was caught fleeing the scene. The surgery went smoothly, and when it was done the doctors informed that team that had the bullet had narrowly missed her spinal cord as well as several internal organs. She would be in a coma, they told him, due to her severe blood loss but she would be awake again soon.
Adrian didn’t consider that lucky though. Luck was not getting shot in the first place. Luck was never being assigned to this wretched mission at all. Luck was being able to live your life without worrying about which government official was going to risk your life for some stupid political campaign.
He couldn’t help but be mad. At the sniper, at the team, at himself. It was all so preventable. If he had just pushed Harcourt a little further for a new teammate. If he had just kept his mouth shut instead of suggesting they switch sides. If he had just gotten there a little bit faster or tied the tourniquet a little bit tighter.
“I said the bed was too big because of something that happened before I joined the team,” she said, her voice small and raspy, and Adrian looked up. He had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed her stir from her hospital bed.
“What?” he asked, too shocked to say anything else.
“A few years ago,” she said, letting out a deep sigh, “I was an A.R.G.U.S. agent. I was young and dumb and reckless and I became friends with a fellow agent, Jason. One day, we were working a mission. We were in a big clearing and I was stupid and walked right in without checking for traps. It was a set-up of couse, and I got shot.” Adrian took in a sharp breathe at this, but she waved her hand dismissively and continued. “It wasn’t bad, just nicked my arm.”
“But Jason had followed me, and he wasn’t so lucky. He got shot in the chest, and before I knew it he was on the ground. It was a terrible feeling. We were like some dumb animal, wandering straight into a trap where we could just be plucked off one by one. I had no shield, no cover, nothing. There were bullets flying around me and I didn’t know what to do.
“I wasn’t thinking straight and so I did the first thing I could think of and ran back where I came from, leaving Jason behind. Once I was in the forest, I could see what happened to him. He had been shot more times than I could count. None of them fatal, which is worse. Eventually the bullets stopped, but I couldn’t go back out there. I watched, less than six feet away as one of my best friends choked to death on his own blood. All because of me.
“I remember what it felt like attending his funeral. It was in a cathedral. The ceiling was so high and the whole place was so open. It reminded me of when he died. Of the openness, of the vulnerability, of the shame.
“I realized then why A.R.G.U.S. tells you not to befriend any of your coworkers. It’s because you get close to them. And when they inevitably die, you obsess over it. And they were right. I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about how scared I had been, and how scared Jason must have been. I was able to get away relatively unharmed, but Jason’s body had been mutilated so badly the funeral had to be closed-casket.”
“That’s why you dragged yourself to the tree,” Adrian whispered quietly.
She nodded, and there was a hint of sadness behind her smile. “Why’d you tell me this?” Adrian asked softly, “I mean, I appreciate it but, it’s not exactly ‘in-character’ for you.”
She laughed lightly, “Well you saved my life out there Adrian. If it weren’t for you I would just be another Jason. I owed you one, and now my debt is repaid.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time,” he whispered, reaching out tentatively to grab her hand.
She let him grab it, and when he did she squeezed it back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a terrible teammate.”
“Don’t say that, you’ve been perfect. You’re perfect,” he said.
Adrian smiled at her, and she smiled back. Once Adrian had considered her an enigma. A mystery. An equation waiting to be solved. But here in the hospital, with its fluorescent bulbs humming lightly and the dull buzz and whirs of the machines, he realized that she was anything but. At the end of the day, she was just a girl — a person, like him — who was scared. Who was haunted by the ghosts of her past. Who was more comfortable locking things away than presenting them freely. Who would rather be seen as someone intimidating and formidable than caring and emotional. And it was so simple, he realized, the basis of her being. Her motives, her desires, her wants. They were basic. They were human.
And yet as simple as they were, there was a layer of complexity to them. There was a layer of complexity to her. In a way, she reminded him of a bank vault. The mechanics of the door — the locks, the screws, the bolts — were intensely complicated. They were purposely designed to be impenetrable. Each facet was orchestrated so carefully so that the treasures inside would never be seen without the right password.
But now, Adrian had the right password. And when he was finally able to get past the vault's solid doors and view the treasure inside, he could finally appreciate just how beautifully simple it was. The luxuries inside were akin to diamonds, both in beauty and personality.
Like a diamond, she too had experienced a life of suffocating pressure. Pushing down farther and farther on her until finally, she did not crack, but instead became an impeccable jewel. A stone, unrivaled in its beauty and worth, with not even the slightest impurity to desecrate it. A diamond was beautiful because it was perfectly simple, just like her.
And it was this limbo, this teetering balance of complex simplicity that she was so comfortable in, that had drawn Adrian, like a moth to a flame, into her. It was this limbo that had allured him so intensely, so powerfully, that he could not bear to turn away. And it was in this limbo, Adrian knew, that he loved her, and that he would always love her. For he had become hers. And he knew this because his heart, his soul, and his livelihood had become clutched tightly in her grasp.
And while he watched her smile at him, her eyebrows finally uncreasing, he hoped that whatever god was out there would not be so cruel as to make her let go.
Summary: Adrian has to share a room with her, and he’s not sure how he feels about that.
Word Count: 5.6k
Warnings: feminine pronouns used (she/her), mild spoilers, brief mention of violence, brief suggestiveness, forced proximity (no smut), closed off/emotionally distant reader
A/N: hiii, lordy i can’t believe i’m finally done with this fic. this is my first adrian chase fic so forgive me if it’s not the best. i’m pretty proud of it and I’m open to making a part 2 if y'all want me to. thanks for reading, i hope you enjoy, and likes/reblogs and constructive criticism are always appreciated :)
Masterlist
part ii
Adrian doesn’t like emotions. They’re messy and nuanced and complicated, and try as he might, Adrian can’t understand them. As much as he loves to protest that he “doesn’t have emotions like normal people” and that he’s a tough, emotionless killer, deep down he knows it’s not true.
He knows it’s not true because when he spends his nights cleansing the streets of criminals and delinquents, he’s filled with a sick, twisted, perverted sense of pride and satisfaction.
Warnings: sexual harassment, lowkey lazy writing, not prof read, wrote this while I sat in the bathtub for 3 hours
Summary: reader works as a bartender and Adrian decided it was his duty to protect you from creeps at the bar, with or without your knowledge.
Adrian works as a busboy. He knows what the restaurant industry is like. The fast cash is addicting and convenient so he can’t blame you for wanting to bartend, even though he’s stated many times he doesn’t approve of the job for you. I mean, how could he just let his gorgeous, jaw dropping girlfriend make drinks for old men at late hours of the night with no fear?
So, logically, he follows you to work and slyly slips into the room whenever customers begin to come in. So far Adrian didn’t tell you that he basically stalks you, but he thought of it to be part of his duty as your boyfriend. You’ve caught him there a few times but he always plays it off like he’s surprising you at work.
Tonight was no different, a Saturday night plus a popular local DJ was playing which attracted a crowd. Adrian gripped his cup of ginger ale, it was on his tenth refill, as he watched you converse with another regular. He knew the regulars better than you did, as he’s followed a few of them home and done extensive research to make sure no criminal masterminds are plotting on you.
The regular that had his attention wasn’t a criminal mastermind, but almost worse. A beautiful and muscular tattoo artist who constantly offered you discounted tattoos. He tattooed multiple of your coworkers, so you felt obliged to be friendly with him. Adrians eyes stayed strained on the artist who had yet to cross the line enough to kill as the artist collected his drink from you. The artist used his free hand to thank you by gently caressing your own hand, a typical move he used.
But of course, he’d give you a huge tip, and Adrian held himself back (lowkey boundaries progress!! You two got in a little tiff over him being overbearing, but you still appreciate his protection). He was anticipating the artist to go back to his table to whichever girl he had recently found like always, but that never happened. Instead the artist remained seated at the bar, downed his drink, and got another.
Next you decided it was time for a bathroom break. As you left the bar you passed the artist, who stood up like he was eager to follow you. Adrian nearly lounged on him then and there,
“So where is my lovely bartender going?” The muscular artist asked as he stood to face you,
“Just to the bathroom. I’ll be right back don’t worry. You can ask anyone over there for a drink too.” You politely attempted to separate yourself from this man’s friendliness.
Right as you turned to leave, the artist gently tapped your butt cheek like it was some hug goodbye
“Don’t be gone long, sweet cheeks.”
Flustered, angry, and nervous, all you managed was to quickly look at him with a forced smile and sped walked to the bathroom.
Adrian, filled with rage, saw his opportunity to sneakily de-escalate the situation. Storming over to the artist with weeks of built up anger over his steady creepiness, Adrian bother holding back.
He grabbed the back of the artists shirt, tugging him backwards. Now Adrian could look him in the eyes as he drove his fist into the artists face, and quickly pulled him out of the room to discreetly finish his lesson.
After a few broken ribs, black eye, and bloody nose Adrian left the artist in the alleyway to sit with his pain. Wanting to see your face, he sat himself at the bar where someone who had watched him blow the first punch approached him.
“You the guy that punched that stuck up artist? He stole my ex wife, I’m buying a round of shots in your favor!”
Everyone cheered in his honor, Adrian happily reveling in his glory, proud to be appreciated.
As you returned from your overly long bathroom break (most of it was spent watching reels silently in the stall), you scrunched up your face confused since the man harassing you was gone and your adorable boyfriend was in his place, while everyone was cheering him on.
You were absolutely star struck by his impeccable timing and happiness overcame your confusion as you ran to into his arms. It felt much better to be touched lovingly by a man you trust after the douche from earlier. His arms tightly wrapped around your upper back as he gave you a huge grin before kissing you.
As you slowly pulled away, you quietly asked
“Uh, did I miss something?”
“Not really.”
He pulled you back in for another kiss, usikg his dominant hand to hold your face a gently pet your cheek with his thumb. When he pulled away, his expression got serious for a split second as he took his non dominant thumb and wiped something off your face.
“What was that?”
He gave you a suspicious face, “nothing. Hot sauce. Maybe ketchup. You should know it’s your face.”
He always got defensive when trying to lie. You glanced at his dominant hand, the one that was on your face, noticing just a smidge of dark red liquid smeared on part of his hand.
Then you grabbed his hands and observed his knuckles.
“Babe, what did you do?”
A part of you was worried he’d kill someone out of costume. And he knew that was exactly what you were thinking.
“I didn’t-“ he defensively pulled his hands away, but you grabbed his hand back instantly and guided him to the employee bathroom to clean him up.
“I didn’t kill him. I just gave him what he deserved!“
You kept aquaphor on you at all times since Adrian was no stranger to these situations. He watched lovingly as you gently applied the ointment across his knuckles.
“Incase you were worried, that’s mostly not my blood.”
A part of you was angry, since you had just talked about this. You were starting to connect the dots, wondering if those surprise visits were actually surprises or not. But when you looked at his face you realized it really didn’t matter. He stared at you like you were a god, hoping that the sacrifice offering was enough to appease you. And honestly, it was thoughtful. You couldn’t count the amount of times you felt unsafe at your job pre Adrian.
You hands held his face as you took a moment to admire his thoughtfulness and bravery. Not a lot of men would be as dedicated and loyal as he is.
Summary: It's laundry day but Adrian has seven different detergents for each day of the week. And you don't know which is which (alternate summary: Adrian Chase smells incredible and you just want to snort him up)
gender neutral reader
Word count: y'all. Come on
Warnings: just some smooches here and there
reblogs are greatly appreciated
You stare at the rack of detergents lined along the laundry room wall. Seven. Seven of them in total. One for each day of the week basically. And knowing your boyfriend's living habits, that was probably the case. One detergent for each day of the week. None of them were labelled (shockingly) and guessing which one was for today threw you for a loop.
"Come on, man. Seriously...." You mumble, taking one detergent down to open it for a sniff. It smelled incredible, just like Adrian always does. If there was one thing your man was conscious of, it was how he smelled. He always made sure his clothes were clean and he smelled immaculate before stepping outside the house.
There was a pile of laundry in a basket already placed beside the washer when you got up not long ago. Adrian had already left the house so you had no idea where he went but got why he didn't wash his clothes. His Fennel's uniform was thrown in there so he couldn't have taken a day shift at the restaurant. Who knows where that man went so early in the morning.
"Alright. Guess I'll just have to wing it," you say as you begin to pile clothes into the washer. Once they were all shoved in you stared at the line of detergents again before randomly picking one from the lineup. It was a cherry blossom smell; one you haven't used yourself before but have smelled it on Adrian numerous times. It was light and airy and didn't overpower your nose, so you poured some into the detergent drawer, closed it up and set the washer to casual.
An hour passes before you check on the clothes in the wash. They were just about finished so you pop them in the dryer and then shove your own clothes in the wash for a spin. You chose a different detergent; a lavender scent that you always adored on Adrian because it made him smell like a pretty flower. Having this scent on you would be like wearing him all the time.
"You're washing clothes?"
You jump at the sound of a voice behind you in the hall. Adrian stands in the doorway holding cleaning supplies and a duffel bag, confused wet puppy eyes on full display.
"Jesus, you scared me. Do I even wanna know what that's for?" You gesture the stuff in his hands.
He shrugged. "Chris. He had a party last night and didn't even bother to invite me. Wanted me to help clean up the mess everyone made."
"Oh. Well that's rude of him. Didn't invite you to the party but invited you to help clean up and you weren't even there."
"Exactly! And it looked like a bomb ass party too. Everyone was butt naked in all the rooms. Even in the bathtub. It was wild."
You cocked your head in confusion. "That sounds more like an....you know what. Doesn't even matter. It's Christopher Smith we're talking about. Chris is gonna do what Chris wants to do."
You watch as Adrian unloads the cleaning supplies from the bag and places them back in the cupboards in the laundry room. Bleach, scrubbers, sponges, just about anything you could think of cleaning wise, Adrian had it on him. There were even dirty towels in the bag that would obviously have to wait until your clothes were finished.
"Are you sure it was a party you cleaned up after and not a crime scene?" You asked, half joking.
Adrian rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure. There were no bodies apart from the live naked ones. The bleach was to clean the cu–"
"Okay! Say less. I was just kidding. But I wouldn't be surprised if that was actually the case. Again, it is Chris we're talking about –" the washer dings to indicate that your load of clothes were finished. "Here. Take your load out–oh don't grin at me like that–take your load out so I can throw mine in. Then we'll both be done with laundry for the day."
Adrian pops open the dryer to grab his clothes but pauses at the door. You hear him take a sniff and sigh heavily.
"Something wrong?" You ask.
"Oh. It's nothing. Except the fact that you used Thursday's detergent on today's laundry."
"......was I not supposed to?"
"It's Saturday."
You scoff. "Well it's not like you have them labelled so how was I supposed to know which one to use?"
He got to his feet and grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. "Here. Smell. This is Saturday's detergent."
You hesitate for a moment but eventually lean in to give him a whiff. Oh, he smelled heavenly. You were never able to describe smells other than "good" or "bad" and this one definitely smelled lovely. You bury your nose deeper into his chest until you could feel his heart beating under your nostrils.
"White amber and silk," his voice rumbles in his chest. "I use that one when I know I'm going to potentially do something that'll make me smell. Like cleaning up after a party."
"I thought this was Saturday's detergent," you whisper after another deep inhale.
"Well yeah. It is. But most of my Saturdays are rough. Hence why I planned out which detergent to use for each day. By determining that Saturdays are usually dirty days, I can work around that and figure out what to use for the rest of the week."
You're finished snorting him so you back up and sigh. "You smell amazing. You always do. I've never dated a man before who was so conscious of his clothes and the way he smelled. The way they smelled."
Adrian beamed. "Thank you. I save on money too by having seven different detergents. But I guess having you around would make them deplete faster...."
You shove him playfully. "What are you trying to say? You want me gone for the sake of saving money?"
"No! I was joking. I think. But it's also true in a sense. Two people using the same laundry detergent would make it go faster."
You wrap your arms around his neck. "How about this. Whoever uses up the last bit has to replenish it. Deal?"
He leans in and kisses you on the lips. "Deal. I'm gonna go take a quick shower but after that we can grab breakfast at the diner that you love so much. I'm starving."
You kiss him on one of his adorable dimples. "Sounds good. I'll fold the clothes and get dressed and then we can head out. I already showered earlier."
He smiles broadly, giving you a final kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. When the door shuts, you reach down to move his duffel bag out of the way and notice bolt cutters inside it. You sigh and roll your eyes.
"Adrian! Why are there bolt cutters inside your bag if you were supposed to be cleaning?"
A head of curly hair peeked out of the bathroom. "Bolt cutters? Huh? Oh! Maintenance," he said before closing the door again, the water of the shower drowning out any noise from inside the room.
Adrian doesn’t say ‘I love you’ he says ‘you’re my best friend’ because that is his I love you. Even when you’re balls deep in a serious relationship.
He refuses to let you go without knowing that you’re his best friend at least thirty to fifty times a day, much to the annoyance of everyone, but the delight of yours as the smile stretching across your lips might as well have given the impression that you were told I love you.
He doesn’t allow either of you to go to bed without reminding each other that you were each others best friends before sleep, it’s a need for him to know that he’ll be your best friend when you’re asleep and when you wake up again. His eyes shine bright and his smile might as well be splitting his face in two with how wide it was, especially after hearing you call him your best friend, but he’ll always ask to keep hearing you say it or reassure him that you words were true as you cuddled beneath the blankets.
‘Am I really your best friend?’
‘Yes Adrian, my bestest of all best friends. No one will take your spot as my number one.’
‘Number one?! I’ve never been anyone’s number one before, well I thought I was Chris’s number one only to find out his number one spot is for Eaglely which is fair, then for Adebayo to take the second spot-‘ he goes on about Chris’s list for far longer then needed that when he gauges you for an answer, you were more then fast asleep upon his chest murmuring;
‘You’ll always be my best friend, number one every time.’
Adrian would smile softly and reply. ‘You’ll always be my best friend, Chris has been replace as my number one, Eaglely stays at number two however though. So Chris is at number three at the moment.’ Again he goes on about this for far longer than necessary but it was apart of his charm that you loved more than anything. His best friend list means a lot to him.
Even after an argument he’s quick to say ‘you’re still my best friend, even if I’m really mad at you for putting yourself in danger on that last mission, leaving me to deal with the idea of living life without you which is something I don’t ever want to think about for even a split second.’ He means it as a way of reassuring you that while your anger towards each other was still there, he’s still very much in love with you and doesn’t want you to leave him, he’s already been dealt enough rejection in his life and he doesn’t want to loose his best friend because of a petty argument.
Even as anger fills your veins, all you could mutter in response was; ‘you’re my best friend even if you’re pissing me off right now. My bestest friend who I can’t go a day without, my number one.’ You didn’t want to walk away from a fight not reminding Adrian that he’s yours, that he’s your best friend and that would never change even if you did disagree on how much he was allowed to follow you on your walk home after work without looking like a weirdo.
But if Adrian were to ever say ‘I love you.’ Then he’s the most serious he’s ever been in his entire life. It’s chilling to hear him say it, but it’s only a pleasant change to having a stronger bond regarding your relationship. It’s soft, it’s deep, it’s not joking, it’s not a laughing matter, it’s serious and you should take it as seriously as possible because it’s only during the worst moments of his life: where he’s clinging onto you tightly within his arms, head hurried in your neck as he repeats the words. ‘I love you, you’re my best friend, my better half, my number one, my one and only sexy soulmate.’
The man could be in his vigilante suit, covered in blood, and holding your face in his hands as through the mask you’d hear him say: ‘they were looking at my best friend for too long, only I get to look at you like some idiot with a staring problem but more romantic, only I get to call you my best friend, only I get to do these things because I’m yours and you’re mine. No one else is allowed to call you their best friend when I’m right here.’ He’s being dead serious about this too, but you were more entranced in how well he looked covered in blood to hear anything he said in such a possessive tone.
You were both weird like that, but it was your thing.
Adrian doesn’t say I love you, he only says ‘you’re my best friend’ and even if he did, then it’s more serious than you could ever assume.
Summary: Your jealousy over your best friend’s sexual escapades gets to you.
[My Writing Masterlist]
WC: 2.2k
TW/CW: Graphic language.
A/N: that clip of Adrian saying sex is only for bonding with his bestie gave me an aneurysm and you guys this fic. Also peascemaker s2 drops tonight!!! Ahhh!!! Im so excited :)))
“And her tits, oh my god, bestie you should have seen her tits!”
You hummed and nodded, eyes focused on the movie playing in the background. It was some shitty Western movie that Adrian adored. It was not something you would have watched on your own, but you always let Adrian pick what the two of you watched.
The two of you were in his room (his mom’s basement) even though you guys had the place to yourselves. Adrian’s mom was at trivia night, and would be gone quite sometime. Still, Adrian felt more comfortable in his room than in the main house.
Adrian was going off about the most recent fuck he and Chris had. It was some girl that Chris had met on one his adventures and had invited your Adrian for a threesome.
And you were totally not bothered about it.
“Her tits were phenomenal, absolutely suckable.” Adrian held both hands in front of him and mimed sucking on a tit with his lips.
You couldn't hide the disgust that rolled over your face, scrunching your nose.
“Knock it off, Chase,” you groaned and leaned away from him. He kept making sucking and kissing noises with his eyes closed.
You shoved him roughly and stood up from the couch abruptly. You paused for a second, realizing you needed a reason to be up. People didn't just get up for no reason. You remembered your phone in your bag and stormed over to the bed where your bag was sitting. You dug out the phone and unlocked it.
“Are you mad at me?”
You looked over to see Adrian pouting over the back of the couch. He had his arms folded on the back and his head resting on them, tilted to the side.
Fuck those eyes of his always got to you.
You sighed and tossed the phone onto his bed. You walked over and carded a hand through his hair. It was much shorter than it had been last year, but the new style was growing on you.
“No, of course not bestie.”
Adrian tilted his head back, closing his eyes, with a soft smile. It tugged at something in your chest. He was so… perfect.
Adrian reveled in the feeling of your hand in his hair for a moment before opening his eyes.
“Well, it seemed like you were mad just now.” He sent you a questioning look, still leaning into your hand.
Great, he didn't drop it.
“No I'm fine,” you forced a smile.
“Are you sure? You usually tell me when you're mad…” Adrian frowned.
A pang of annoyance shot through you. Not because of Adrian, but because of you. Because he was right. You always told him directly how you felt. You never made him guess or doubt. You hated seeing him anxious like this.
He was anxious that he did something when the problem was you. Your stupid crush on your best friend. You needed to get over yourself.
“It's nothing you did,” you finally conceded, giving him a reassuring tug on his hair.
“But you shoved me and then got up, was I being too graphic? Usually you don’t mind when I’m graphic, though…” Adrian trailed off, thinking hard about what you could be mad over. You scratched the top of his head and his eyes fluttered closed.
“Bestie, it’s fine, it’s not you. It’s me.”
“Isn’t that what normal people say when it’s really me?” Adrian kept his eyes closed, pressing his head into your hand.
“Normal people, yes. But we’re not normal.” You gave his hair one last tug before you pulled your hand out of his curls. You stepped around the couch and sat back down, a healthy distance between the two of you.
“No, we’re not,” Adrian replied happily. He shifted then plopped his head into your lap, facing the television. He blindly reached for your hand, finding it after a few swings, and stuck it back into his hair.
You couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto your face. Adrian was just so cute.
You started scratching his head with your nails, tugging on his hair every once in a while. The two of you lapsed into a peaceful silence, watching the movie.
You were enjoying the moment of having Adrian all to yourself, when he suddenly jerked and flipped up onto his back. You kept your hand in his hair as he smiled up at you.
“I got it! I know why you were upset!”
You huffed and turned back to the television. “Addy, please let it go.”
“But I can’t live knowing my best friend is upset,” Adrian whined. “It’s because I didn’t invite you, isn’t it?”
“Invite me to what?” You looked down at Adrian in confusion.
“To the threesome! I guess it would be a foursome with you in it, but-”
“I don’t want to see Chris naked, like ever,” you fake retched over the side of the couch. “God no!”
“But it has to be about the threesome,” Adrian insisted. “You started being all weird when I started talking about it.”
You frowned at Adrian. “That’s… that is actually quite perceptive of you, Addy. I’m shocked.”
Adrian grinned proudly. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to pick up on people’s emotions better, my team has been helping me with that.”
“That’s amazing,” you gave him a genuine smile and ruffled his hair.
“So it was about the threesome?” Adrian pressed.
You sighed and looked back at the television. “It’s not a big deal.”
“If it matters to you, it matters to me,” Adrian pressed. You pressed your lips together and kept your eyes fixed on the television. You could feel Adrian’s stare burning holes in your chin.
Uncomfortable, you shifted and leaned forward to grab your drink off the table. You took a swig right when Adrian spoke up next.
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
You inhaled a good ounce of your drink, sending it down into your lungs. You coughed and spluttered, choking on the drink. Adrian shot up from your lap and began hitting your back. You waved him off, setting the drink down and coughing a few more times.
“Jesus fucking christ, you almost killed me!”
“I’m sorry!” Adrian’s worried hands hovered over you. “It was just a question!”
“A fucking insane question,” you snapped and coughed a few more times.
“Why?” Adrian tilted his head in that way he did when he was genuinely confused.
You had pretty much recovered now, so you turned on the couch to face him. “Because we are friends. Friends don’t have sex.”
“But sex is great bonding time,” Adrian asserted.
“I- Wha- you, what?” You spluttered and stammered, absolutely floored by Adrian’s statement.
“Yeah,” Adrian nodded. “I only do threesomes with Chris for bonding.”
“How does this track all the way to you having sex with me again?”
“Well, since I bond with Chris so much, I thought you might be jealous and want to fuck too.” Adrian said it like it was the most basic fact in the world. Like he was explaining to you that two plus two equals four.
“I don’t want to fuck you because I’m jealous of Chris,” you huffed angrily.
“So… you do wanna fuck me?” A small smile tugged at the corner of Adrian’s lips.
You froze up, immediately realizing your mistake. “I- uh, well. Friends don’t fuck.” You said it like it was your lifeline. Like if you said it enough it would knock some sense into Adrian.
“That’s your hang up?” Adrian chuckled. “What about friends with benefits?”
“But we aren’t,” you asserted.
“But we could be…” Adrian drifted closer, a smirk on his face.
You frowned. “I don’t want to be friends with benefits.” You didn’t. You wanted so much more. You wanted to be Adrian’s everything because he was already yours.
“Okay,” Adrian shrugged as if the answer was simple. “Then I guess we can date.”
You blinked. “You… guess…?”
“Yeah,” Adrian nodded. “I don’t want you thinking that you’re not the most important person in my life, so we need to have sex, but you won’t fuck unless we date, so we need to date.”
You blinked, your mouth opening and closing. “That… is some superbly fucked up logic.”
“How so?” Adrian pouted and tilted his head again.
“I don’t want you to date me because you feel like you have to!” You huffed angrily. “You need to want it.”
Adrian blinked slowly, then nodded. “Okay… well… I want to.”
“Because of that long convoluted reason you just explained?”
“No,” Adrian said quickly.
“Don’t lie,” you reprimanded him, raising an eyebrow.
Adrian’s shoulders caved. “Okay fine, yes. But, I am just trying to make our relationship the best it can be!”
“By dating me?”
“You don’t want to?” Adrian looked up at you with those wide eyes of his. He was always so open and vulnerable with you. So raw and real. It did something to you.
You cursed, heat flaring in your face. “I do.” You couldn't lie to him.
“Then what's the problem?” Adrian scooted closer to you on the couch, pressing his knee to yours. You couldn't stand the feeling of his gaze on you, so you turned fully back to the television.
Adrian huffed. He pressed closer to you, your body igniting at the contact. He nuzzled into your neck, slotting his head onto your shoulder. “C'mon bestie, you can tell me anything.”
You paused, weighing your options. You needed to say something, and lying hadn't gotten you anywhere. Maybe it was time you told the truth…
“I want you to date me because you like me,” you finally confessed. “It's so selfish of me.”
“But… I do like you?” Adrian whined from your shoulder.
“Not like that Adrian,” you sighed.
“Then like what?”
You pressed your lips together, unwilling to answer.
“Bestie, I won't know unless you tell me,” he pouted. He pawed in your lap for your hand, grabbing it and pulling it to his mouth. He began pressing kisses to it. You tried to pull away but Adrian kept a firm hold of your wrist. He pressed kisses and in between pleaded for you to just tell him.
“Adrian, stop,” you pulled on your wrist again.
“Please- kiss - please tell me- kiss- pretty please-”
“Because I love you!” You finally exclaimed, squeezing your eyes shut. Your chest heaved with the force of your breathing. Adrian froze for a moment and the words hung in the air between you two.
For a moment, everything stopped. You held your breath, waiting. For what, you did not know.
And then it shattered.
Adrian shot up, grabbed your face in his hands. Your eyes flew open to see his beautiful face smiling.
“Really? You do?” Adrian was practically vibrating by the force of him bouncing on the cheap couch. His eyes searched yours, flicking back and forth between them.
“I… uh, yeah…”
“Like no one else but me?” Adrian pressed further, leaning in closer.
Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “Yeah, no one else…”
“Fucking epic!” Adrian cheered. He paused for a moment, thinking. “Does that mean we can date now?”
“But… you don't…” You swallowed thickly, unable to say the words. You thought that Adrian didn't love you like you did, but saying it was another thing.
Adrian blinked, absolutely stunned. “Of course I love you, I have for a long time.” His hands were still on your cheeks, brushing your cheeks bones.
You nearly choked again. “You… you have?”
“Yeah,” Adrian nodded enthusiastically.
“But you have sex with like… all sorts of people!”
“Oh, that means nothing,” Adrian chuckled. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. He said it like it made sense but it didn't and your mind was spinning and whirling. “I can stop all that super easy-peasy.”
“You’re okay giving up your bonding time with Chris?”
Adrian didn’t even think about it. “Well, Chris is my friend, but you are my best friend so you are more important in the grand scheme.”
“So… you’re fine dating me?” You asked. Your voice was hollow in disbelief.
“I’d actually be more than happy to date you,” Adrian grinned.
“Oh…” You let out an exhale that you didn’t know you were holding.
“So, can we have sex now?”
You blinked slowly, then smiled. “You can kiss me first if you like.”
Adrian grinned. “Okay!”
And then he kissed you. You knew he was going to be good, he had to be, but Adrian’s lips finally on yours still short circuited your brain.
Adrian pulled away first, but not far. You could feel his breath on your lips. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”
Your breaths came out in heavy pants, mind still reeling from Adrian’s kiss.
“Cause friends don’t fuck,” you finally managed.
“Well, good thing we aren’t friends.” Adrian paused for a moment, then continued. “We’re best friends.”
“Yeah,” you laughed. “We are. Now kiss me again.”
Adrian flashed you a smile, then dipped his head to kiss you.
If this is how Adrian treated his best friends, you weren’t sure you could live being anything else.
Summary OneShot: Vigilinate hits on you at a bar, but you have a crush on Adrian.
Author's Note: ***I do not own the photos above. I will start adding more mood boards to my one-shots and fics. Probably my own photography dribbled in there. ****
You sat nursing a lukewarm beer, glancing at your watch for what felt like the hundredth time. The bar buzzed around you, but you were more focused on the door, wondering if asking Adrian Chase to meet here had been a mistake. Just as you were about to check the time again, a shadow fell across the table.
"Damn, you're really pretty", a voice said.
You look up and see a figure of a man underneath a black, teal, and silver suit.
Aren't you Vigilante?" You ask nonchalantly.
"Yeah, and I want to invite you to an awesome sleepover with my friend over there", he continues. You look to where he is pointing. Peacemaker sat waving, winking, and gesturing something suggestive with his hand and mouth.
"No, thank you", you reply going back to your drink.
Vigilante stands with a look of utter surprise, although you wouldn't have noticed even if he didn't have the mask on. He wasn't used to women or men turning him down when he was wearing the uniform. His ego was wounded, so logically, he had to investigate further.
"You have a boyfriend?" He asks.
"Nope", you say flatly.
"Oh, you're a lesbian?" he continues.
"No", you stare back at him with narrow eyes. "Look, I just don't want a random hookup, okay. Besides, I'm meeting someone, I think." You explain.
"Oh, well, who is he? He can join too if he wants." Vigilante is relentless; he needs to know that this encounter is a one-off. That this person is only rejecting him due to a nature that he cannot control.
"No, I don't think he'd be too excited about that. If he even shows up", you say. Rechecking your watch again.
"Who is he? I bet I can find him", he suggests.
"No, cause you might kill him", you reject that idea.
"Uh, no, well depends if he is doing something illegal, then yes, I will brutally kill him.", he clarifies.
At this point, what do you have to lose? It's clear that Adrian misunderstood you or maybe simply dismissed you. So, maybe this Vigilante can at least get you answers.
"His name's Adrian Chase..." before you could finish, Vigilante began to choke on what? You had no idea, but he was profusely coughing.
'Are you okay?", you ask with a concerned tone.
"Yup, just choking on my spit", he admits. "Was this Adrian supposed to meet you here? Because if he was, trust me, he'd be here", he continues.
"I mean, I think I was being obvious, but now that I think about it. He doesn't really understand social cues." You trail off, thinking how maybe Adrian thought it was more of a suggestion rather than a request.
"Do you like Adrian?" Vigilante asks. His voice is innocent, vaguely reminding you of someone else.
You try and look into the red visor, trying to find some familiarity behind the mask.
"Yes, I do. A lot, actually and normally this whole situation would be super flattering but I just want him", you smile as you take another swig of beer.
Vigilante doesn't say anything as he walks away. In his suit, he is smiling ear to ear, preparing to share this unexpected knowledge with his best friend. A pretty girl actually wants to be with Adrian, not Vigilante, not some dude in a mask, but Adrian.
Just as you were about to leave, Adrian sat right down next to you. "Sorry, I'm late", he says. You smile and sit back down. "No worries, I just got here", you say.
Pairing: Adrian Chase (Vigilante) x GN!Reader ++ Word Count/Rating: 6.3k / M
Summary: Driven from your apartment by the heat, you head over to Adrian's place. You're only going there to sleep. What more could happen?
Warnings: reader is bad at feelings, feelings reveal, shirtless adrian, kissing, heavy petting. Reader warnings: Adrian gives reader a scalp massage but hair texture is undescribed, no other descriptions of reader's body
Sweat coats your body uncomfortably as you wake up. Every crevice and fold feels wet while being a temperature you can only think to describe as hotcold. The sheets are halfway off, kicked away in some unconscious fit. It's hard to tell if you're better or worse off without them.
You groan as the light peeking behind the blackout curtain tells you it's only midmorning. That means you've gotten three? four? hours of sleep. Not nearly enough to make up for the recent long hours and last night's all nighter.
The box fan you set up is still humming, but your room is otherwise suspiciously quiet. A sinking sense of dread is what finally fully wakes you up.
You rush out of bed, legs tangling in the sheets and causing you to fall gracelessly to the floor. The rug burn on your chin doesn't matter. You clamber to your window on your knees, cursing the entire way. This cannot be happening. Not now. Not with a record-breaking heatwave rolling across Evergreen for the next few days.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you inspect your window unit. Your suspicions are confirmed. Sometime while you were sleeping the ancient windowshaker finally crapped out.
It's not as though it's a surprise. The unit was a secondhand purchase with a manufacturing date older than you. It practically groaned when turned on, begging to be put out of its misery. You've been waiting for this day to come since you bought it. Why did it have to be now?
You fall back onto your heels after clicking the power switch a few times with disbelief. The temperature of your room is already rising. Falling and staying asleep is going to be an impossibility now – the box fan won't be nearly enough to keep you cool in this heat and humidity. Despair sinks in while sweat starts beading on your upper lip.
The box fan offers limited relief while you puzzle this over. The cost of a hotel room is not worth a few hours of sleep. Your car also isn't an option. There’s nowhere you could comfortably park and leave your car running without the engine overheating or getting questioned and you're not eager for either of those – nevermind the gas that it would require. You could go back to headquarters and try to find somewhere decent to fall asleep. You'll likely end up in an office chair and a pinch in your neck but at least the air conditioning works halfway. Calling up a teammate would be a possibility if they all weren't also exhausted and catching up on sleep. There's almost no chance any of them would even answer the phone.
You sigh heavily, deciding headquarters is going to be your best option, and start packing up your things. Every minute wasted is a minute not spent sleeping.
Just as you zip up your backpack, your phone beeps. Probably another weather alert warning you to stay indoors but you check it anyway. There's a notification from Adrian. What the fuck is he doing awake?
You open your text thread to find a video waiting for you to hit play. The preview screen only shows a beige carpet, so this could really be anything. Bracing for the worst but hoping for the best, you click on it.
It starts with him fumbling his phone. There’s a quiet shit muttered as he catches it before it lands on the carpet and more shuffling as he positions it on some piece of furniture. Why he didn't set up the shot and then start the video, you'll never know.
Adrian steps back, the shot moving from a close up on his tits to his whole body filling the frame. He’s changed since getting home – replacing the thick canvas and kevlar of his costume for an old thin t-shirt with a stretched out neckline that shows more chest than what’s decent. He paired it with the shortest shorts you’ve ever seen on a man. He might as well be wearing a speedo. You’re caught between throwing your phone or trying to burn the image into your retinas.
Sometimes you forget just how physically fit Adrian is under his costume or baggy casual clothes. The man has the most insane sleeper build. His forearms, his thighs, you’re not sure where to look. Some of the sweat running down your back is no longer due to the heat.
He shakes out his arms and claps his hands together, looking down the barrel with a dazzling smile. It's the one you hate the most with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. Watching his quad muscle flex is no better.
“Okay. I think I figured out how to do a new flip. If I do it properly I should be able to strap another knife to my leg and deploy it that way during combat.”
Adrian breathes in deeply and bends slightly at the knee. He jumps and twists his body sideways, you see his hand flash towards his leg and then he falls, shoulder hitting the ground hard. The phone shakes with the force of his body hitting the floor.
Adrian groans and then scrambles back to his feet. A rogue curl has fallen onto his forehead. His hands are outstretched wide. “Fuck, shit, okay.” He looks up at the camera wildly, making the curl bob. “That was my first attempt, let me try again.”
As quickly as he's back up on his feet, he's on the floor again. You can't be blamed for the way your eyes follow every bounce of his body. You're so grateful he doesn't strive for the 0% body fat that Chris seems to. Who doesn't love muscles with a little bounce?
He pulls himself back up once again. “Okay, I think I know what I'm doing wrong. I've totally got this, it's going to look so cool.”
Then he winks, the motherfucker winks, and executes a perfect flip. You feel your stomach do the same. His bicep flexes as he whoops in celebration. His elation and your trance is only broken by a sudden pounding below Adrian and a muffled sound you can only assume is his downstairs neighbor yelling.
His breaths are heavy as he picks the phone back up. The noise of them filters through your speaker and makes your own breathing pick up. Rogue fantasies about what else could make him pant like that run across your mind. His eyes can only be described as sparkling. You hate that you can't bring yourself to look away from the video.
He whispers into the phone. “Mr. Arnold will call another noise complaint in if I don't stop, but wasn't that fucking sick? I'll do it again when we're all back at headquarters. Peace is going to be so fucking jealous. Call me when you wake up and see this.”
The video ends, forcing you to look at your own crazed reflection in the black of your screen. Leota would be laughing at you right now if she was here to witness this. You ignore your erratic heartbeat and call him. He answers on the second ring.
“Howdy,” you hear from the other end of the line and roll your eyes. He's endeavored to answer the phone a different way each time you call. Apparently today's theme is western.
“Why are you awake right now, Chase?”
“Why are you?”
“My window unit broke so I'm heading to the office to sleep. You?”
“Too wired. You were probably right about that last energy drink.”
Of course you were. Adrian never metabolizes caffeine well and the 24 ounce can promising extra energy without the crash was a recipe for disaster. It was a small miracle he hadn't literally bounced off the walls after drinking it. You had to take him into the conference room for a little while, otherwise Harcourt would have stuck a knife in him somewhere.
“Did you say you're going to the office?” Adrian asks.
“Yeah. The a/c is at least semi-functional there.”
“Noooo, don't go there,” he whines. “You get so grumpy when you sleep there.”
His observation isn't wrong, but it does take you by surprise. Since when did he pay attention to things like that? Adrian is always in his own little world. The only time you've seen him seriously pay attention to other people's moods or emotions is when they're Peacemaker's and he doesn't even get those right half the time.
Adrian’s voice interrupts your spiral. “I know, come to my place! I have a/c and you'll be way more comfortable. Plus I'm only like ten minutes away from you.”
You don't know how Adrian knows that last piece of information and you're not sure that you want to know. He's probably tracked down where everyone on the team lives.
“Come onnn, you know it's better than the office.”
You know this is a bad idea. It's a shame that sleep deprivation and the heat has melted all reason and logic from your brain.
“Fine. Send me your address.”
Adrian cheers into the phone and hangs up. Less than a second later, you have a text with his address. There's really no time to overthink this. You're going to Adrian’s, you'll sleep, and then you'll never think or talk about it again. Not a big deal. Just one teammate helping another.
×××
Stepping into his apartment building offers no relief. It's an older building so it isn't shocking, but it's also not reassuring. If he lied and wasted your time, you're going to kill him. You've already lost out on thirty minutes of sleep and you do not want to miss out on any more.
An old elevator saves you a grueling five story climb. You might have cried if it had been out of service. This is not the weather for physical exertion. Your shirt is sticking to your back by simply standing still.
Adrian opens the door to his apartment before you even knock. It's sweet and just on the right side of overeager. How he manages that with things that should otherwise be cringey makes you marvel.
“You made it,” he greets with one of those wide smiles that puts both dimples on full display.
Any happiness you're feeling is swiftly replaced with annoyance. There is no cool draft coming from inside his apartment. It seems just as hot and muggy as the hallway. You have not had nearly enough rest to deal with bullshit games right now.
“Chase, I thought you said you have a/c,” you scowl.
His smile falls into confusion and you only slightly regret it. Stupid expressive green eyes.
“My building doesn't, but I do,” he says and ushers you into his apartment. You don't even get a chance to look around as he pushes you past the kitchen and living room and towards a closed door. Despite them being shockingly cool, you feel like his hands are burning against your shoulders.
“Voila!” Adrian opens his bedroom door with a flourish and a wall of frigid air smacks you in the face.
You immediately recognize the room. It's the one Adrian was doing his flips in. Based on the layout he must have put his phone on the dresser, which barely puts his bed out of frame. Your stomach squirms at the realization.
There's a window that was also out of frame, housing a much newer and quieter a/c unit than your own. He must have it on the coldest setting – the room feels like an icebox. Sweat cools on your skin and you sigh with immediate relief. This is so much better than being outside in Satan's asshole.
Adrian steps in behind you and closes the door. Logically, you know he's just trying to keep the cold contained. Logic does not stop renegade fantasies from clouding your mind anyway. Exhaustion is the only reason you can settle on for your lack of mental self-control at the moment. You usually do far better than this. Seeing Adrian nearly undressed and standing in his bedroom certainly has nothing to do with how you're feeling.
“I changed the sheets for you. Guaranteed cum free!” He suddenly announces, saying the last part proudly like it’s normal to say to a guest.
Thankfully it's enough to pull you out of your stupefied state. “Um, thanks?”
“You can put your stuff wherever. Bathroom is through that door and I'll be in the living room on the couch if you need me.”
You drop your backpack at the foot of his bed, still taking everything in. It looks less like a bachelor pad than you would have imagined – not that you have been.
The furniture all seems to be from the same set instead of a mix-match of second hand purchases and hand-me-downs. Dark brown wood, all in pristine condition. His duvet is a rich green and you think it might actually be linen instead of cheap polyester like your own. There's tasteful, albeit nerdy, decor scattered around the room instead of the guns and knives you imagined. Adrian never stops being full of surprises.
His hand is on the door handle when your brain finally computes what he said.
“Wait, Chase. I can't kick you out of your own bedroom, especially if it's the only room with a/c.”
“It's okay. I've dealt with worse.” He shrugs and cracks open the door. Heat immediately pours in, making the a/c unit whir louder.
“The weather is literally record-breaking. You haven't.”
“Well whatever, I'll live. I have a fan. And popsicles.” A vision of him slowly sucking on a popsicle nearly blinds you. This is stupid.
You grab Adrian’s arm and haul him into the middle of the bedroom. The door slams closed, once again sealing you off from the stifling heat. His eyes are wide with surprise.
“Get in the fucking bed, Chase.”
You don't linger. Waiting for a reaction won't lead to anything good. Instead, you pick your bag back up and march into the en suite.
Your heart is racing. He probably thinks you're insane. Maybe you are. What other reason can you have for barking orders at him in his own apartment? His own bedroom? That's not something normal people do. Then again, you're not quite sure that you or Adrian can be called normal.
Changing your clothes is a blur. There's a tinge of regret as you put them on. You'd chosen them expecting the half-heat of the office, not the freezer chill of Adrian’s room. They're now a bit more revealing than you would have otherwise chosen. A tight tank top and too-small shorts that leave little to the imagination. Nothing you can do about it now.
You grip the edge of the counter and stare yourself down in the mirror. Not knowing how soundproof the door is, you dare not speak out loud. Instead you think heavy, pointed thoughts.
Nothing about this is weird. You're going to sleep. Adrian is going to sleep. You'll both be unconscious, next to each other, for like six hours. You've slept near him before and it hasn't been weird then.
With the rest of the team around, another unhelpful part of your mind supplies.
That doesn't matter! You will be unconscious and it will be fine. You just can't think about his state of undress, how soft of a pillow his chest would make, or how kissable his neck is–
You slam your fist down onto the countertop, ripping yourself out of your renegade thoughts. You harshly wrench the tap and splash some cold water into your face. Enough. You are an adult who can control themself.
Confidence semi-boosted, you leave the bathroom only to be immediately stopped short by a shirtless Adrian sitting up in bed. You count your blessings that you can see the band of his boxers peeking from behind the duvet.
Fuck.
Adrian shifts slightly. “I run hot when I sleep,” he offers as explanation to your shocked expression. “I can-”
“No,” you cut him off. Maybe a little too quickly. “It's your bed, you can wear whatever you want in it.”
“Cool. You can wear whatever you want too. I know it's my bed, but I want you to be comfortable.” He seems to relax into the headboard, a small smile playing on his lips.
You pull back the covers and climb into the bed. “Thanks, Adrian.”
Facing away, you miss the look of surprise on his face. You never use his first name.
Adrian’s bed is a full. It's not really an issue – there's enough space for two people – but it also means there will be no building a pillow wall and your arms are in a constant state of almost touching.
You lie still, doing your best impression of a corpse. Frozen, unmoving, and quiet. Despite your outer stillness, your mind is racing. The little sleep you got was just enough to keep your body moving, meaning that sleep is just that little bit harder to slip back into. Your bed partner is doing you no favors either. The sheets are fresh and yet his smell envelops you and the heat from his body entices. Now that you've cooled off the room is quite chilly. The summertime duvet can only do so much to keep you warm.
You don't know how long you lay there for. Adrian is shockingly equally quiet, but you haven't heard his breathing drop off into slumber yet either. You reposition yourself carefully, trying a number of positions for a few minutes each. None of them work. You inevitably return to laying on your back and heave a quiet sigh.
“Can’t fall asleep?” Adrian asks. Part of you wants to scream. Why is he like this? He claims to not feel emotions like other people and yet he's always so quick to show you kindness where the others do not. If you were at Harcourt's right now you'd be on the floor and she would only care about your lack of sleep if it impacted your work later. Instead you have him in your ear, asking about your wellbeing.
You turn onto your side, facing him. “No. I got enough sleep to be awake now, even though I know I’m still tired.”
He mirrors your position. You do your best to keep your eyes on his face as he adjusts, trying to ignore the incredibly alluring way gravity pushes his pecs together. This is doing nothing to help your want to bite his chest. His face doesn’t even offer any reprieve from your traitorous thoughts – unobscured by his glasses and far closer than it should be for your mental stability. You should have just gone back to headquarters to sleep instead of enduring this torture.
“I get that. I feel like all my energy is gone, but I can't make my thoughts quiet down.”
You almost ask what he’s thinking about. The question dies in your throat when you see Adrian's eyes dart down to your lips. It's not the first time you've seen him do this, but now you're close enough that you can't convince yourself it wasn't real.
Before you can think it through and talk yourself out of it, you lean forward and press your lips against his.
Adrian goes stiff at your touch. Any fantasy of him melting into you dissolves, embarrassment flushing through your entire system. You back away immediately and stumble through an apology. Waves of fear and apprehension crash over you, pulling you under into a sea of regret.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you do that?
The speed at which you back away doesn't allow you to think through how little bed there is to move across. Unused to the smaller size, much less sharing with another person, you only realize you've reached the edge when you begin to fall.
Years of training don't prevent the swooping fear in your stomach. Adrian is scrambling for you, his eyes equally wide. Your back hits the floor hard. Not enough to cause any lasting pain, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Your strangled yell gets cut off – the mass above you scaring you as much as hitting the floor. It's only through his own training that Adrian’s full weight doesn't also land on top of you.
Your brain can barely keep up. In barely three seconds you've gone from mortified to terrified, and now some swirling mix of the two is taking up residence in the pit of your stomach. With the sprinkling of rejection on top, it’s the worst emotional sundae you've ever been party to.
“Are you okay?” Adrian asks. Answers fail you entirely. His knees press against your thighs as he straddles you. Skin touching skin and setting your world alight. His chest is heaving, brushing right up against your own, which only has a single thin layer of cotton acting as a barrier between.
“Are you okay?” He repeats. “Did you hit your head?”
He grabs your chin gently, his long fingers resting along your jaw. There’s no doubt he can feel your racing pulse. Your head is rocked gently back and forth before a modicum of sense finally snaps back into you.
“No, just my back. I'm fine and I'd be better if you weren't on top of me.”
You shove at his thighs, trying to motivate him to move. They're strong and well muscled under your hands. Fuck his stupid thick tac pants and loose fitting jeans he's always wearing – why didn't you know this part of him was just as attractive as the rest of him before today?
“No,” Adrian says, stilling deavors to covertly feel him up. You keep your hands on his thighs.
“No?”
Adrian leans down over you, forcing you to look him in the eyes with the grip he still has on his jaw. There is a concerningly sadistic glint in his eyes. “No.”
“Get off me, Adrian.” You wish your voice carried a bit more conviction.
“I'm not moving until you tell me why you kissed me.” He looks so fucking smug – he knows he has you pinned, figuratively and literally.
Panic makes your mouth move before your brain has caught up. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
You're sure you look just as surprised as he does. Rarely does something that stupid pass your lips. The past two times something has, Adrian was thankfully too naive to notice, although John seemed to be catching onto the commonality. Thank god he wasn't here to witness this one – you'd already be tried and convicted.
“You just kissed me, on the bed,” Adrian says. “Do you not remember? Are you sure you didn't hit your head? Memory loss could be a sign of concussion.”
His grip on your chin is renewed. Adrian quickly peers into your eyes before holding up his fingers.
“Adrian,” you protest.
He ignores you. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two. Adrian, please-”
“What's my name?”
“Adrian Barnabas Chase. ABC – you stitch it into some of your clothes. Now please-”
“Spell my name backwards.”
You roll your eyes, missing his softening expression. “NAIRDA. I remember the fucking kiss, okay? I don't have a goddamn concussion, now get off me, Chase,” you snap.
Thankfully this time he listens. Adrian backs away, but grabs hold of your arm and hauls you to your feet with him. You dutifully ignore the fact that he does so with ease.
You quickly pull away and get back into the bed. The fall dragged the blankets with you, so you busy yourself with fixing them. Adrian wordlessly retakes his place beside you. You're not sure if that's better or worse. You've never known him to shut up or leave something alone – no matter how awkward or weird.
You face away from him as you lay back down. It’s probably fruitless at this point. Sleep is only going to arrive alongside a miracle. Ads and John will surely question your sanity and reconfirm how insane of a decision this was when you tell them the sanitized version later. You're going to blame a heat-induced delirium.
The air is sucked from your lungs as a gentle hand traces the curve of your ear before sinking into your hair. Adrian’s fingers are careful but sure, scratching your scalp in a way that's simultaneously setting you on fire and making you melt. Waves of heat roll through your body with each scratch – each one settling directly between your legs.
You should stop him. You've made enough of a fool of yourself today – there's no reason to make things worse – and yet you can't help leaning into his touch. Tension leaks from your body. It's like a spell has fallen over the room with your admission and his touch. The hum of the window unit fills the silence, air cool on your heated skin.
×××
Waking up is slow and gentle. The room is cool – your body that perfect level of warmth where you only want to snuggle further into the sheets and never leave. You haven't felt this well rested in years.
There's a sudden sleepy groan in your ear that reminds you that you are not alone, nor are you in your own bed. Adrian’s duvet is covering you, as well as his arm that's draped over your side and resting on your stomach. A moment before panic can fully set in and send you flying out of the bed, his arm tightens and draws you closer into him.
You are trapped. His arm is like a vice, his other one somehow underneath you with his bicep acting as a pillow. He's curled around you like a barnacle. Every contour of his torso pressed against your back, legs tangling up with yours. Small puffs of air skate past your ear with every breath.
The smart thing to do would be to extricate yourself from his iron grip, put on your clothes, and head out to work. You've learning to accept that part of your brain no longer works. So long as you can have Adrian wrapped around you, nothing else matters. His heat is pulling every bit of tension from your body – every place where skin touches skin tingling in a pleasant way you can only describe as the warm fuzz from a CRT TV after the screen turns off. What’s so wrong with sinking into this feeling?
“Good morning,” Adrian whispers into your ear, voice still thick with sleep.
Your first instinct is to pretend to be asleep. Feign knowledge of any cuddling taking place and allow him to separate himself, then “wake up” as he moves away. You just as quickly throw the idea out the window as Adrian is far too close to be tricked. He can probably feel the stiffness in your body and your rapidly beating heart. Fuck it then.
“I think it’s technically afternoon now,” you joke.
“But it’s morning for us.”
You can sense the seriousness in his voice just under the playful top layer. If you press too far into this you're risking a pointless yet somehow enjoyable argument about semantics regarding greetings and the time of day. You haven't amassed that kind of patience yet today.
“Okay, yeah,” you agree. “Morning for us.”
Neither of you have moved. Like it’s some kind of spell where if you don’t discuss it and don't move, it's not really happening. You're still cataloging every moment and detail so that you can agonize about it later when his fingers start to toy with the worn hem of your shirt.
“I'm sorry if I freaked you out. I kinda panicked when you kissed me and then I think I pushed things too far when we were on the floor. I never want to upset you.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. I’m the one who overstepped. Not your fault.”
His arms give you a small squeeze. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me why you did.”
He has the decency to sound only half serious. He’d let you out of this if you wanted. You take a deep breath. Maybe it's the calm of the room, the comfort of his warmth behind you, or simply the fact that you don't have to look him in the face right now, but you find your defences weakened.
“I thought I was getting signs that you wanted to kiss me. Clearly I was still too tired to properly function and misread them.” You do a sort of half-shrug in a sad attempt to brush away the weight of it. Adrian isn’t that decent to let it go now.
“But why did you kiss me? I miss a lot of social cues but I know people don’t go around kissing just because they think the other person wants to. If that’s the case I have to start reassessing a lot of interactions I’ve had. I think I owe Mrs. O'Donnell down the hall at least five.”
He’s so lucky he’s caught you disarmed – emotionally and literally. “You don't owe anyone any kisses. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you and I thought you felt the same. Clearly I was wrong, so can we drop this now, Chase?”
You move to pull yourself out of his arms. All at once this has become too much. He’s too close. You don’t know what else will fall from your lips if you keep allowing him to ask questions. This was all a terrible idea. You never should have come here, never should have shared a bed with him, kissed him, or allowed yourself the comfort of his arms. A massive mistake that you’ll pay for with awkward tension and haunting memories.
Adrian’s reflexes are annoyingly quick. Before you can pull yourself from his arms, he’s tightening them around you. Your own arms are now trapped, his legs locking yours into place before you can employ them. He’s effectively cocooned you in himself, which does a million different things to your nervous system. If you thought anyone would hear it and care, you might’ve screamed.
“Please don’t go back to calling me Chase. I like hearing you say my name.” He admits it so easily. Like there’s nothing to it – no implications or assumptions that could be made. You can’t tell if he’s fucking with you now or truly that oblivious. It’s unclear which option is worse.
“You weren’t wrong,” he says next, stealing all the air from your lungs.
You turn your head back towards him, managing an extremely close-up but clear view of his face. Now he has to be fucking with you, right?
“Then why-?”
“I kinda froze. I thought maybe I was dreaming and then you were falling off the bed.” His hold loosens, allowing you to properly spin and face him, faces dangerously close to one another. The tips of your noses brush. You could count the light freckles that dust his cheeks.
“Don't fuck with me about this, Adrian,” you whisper in warning.
“Never. Cross my heart and everything.” Sincerity shines in his gaze as his fingertip traces over his chest.
You don't know which one of you closes the gap. Adrian’s lips are softer than you would have expected. You think there's the remnants of strawberry chapstick on them. His kiss is careful, like you might bolt at any second. To be fair, you still might.
His hand cradles your jaw, holding you steady. You need it, feeling like a popsicle melting under the hot sun despite his room still being ice cold.
An embarrassing moan is pulled from your lungs as his tongue slips past yours, but it's equally met with one of his own. The kiss becomes far less gentle. Adrian grabs your hand, which has been plastered awkwardly at your side and he places it against his very bare, very muscular, yet soft chest. His heartbeat feels like a jackhammer.
You're happy to know that he's just as affected as you are, but also mystified by his confidence. Usually you only see him like this fully suited with his mask on – something about the layers allowing him to let a different mask fall. You're the one who's constant – never faltering in any situation and yet here you are being guided through some heavy petting.
“I've been wanting to do this forever,” Adrian admits between kisses. His confession washes all your hesitancy and reservations away.
You push him onto his back, climbing over top. His hands slide under your tank top and rest heavily on your waist. The thought of getting his handprints tattooed there comes and goes as you tug lightly at his curls and coax out another moan. You take the opportunity to tilt his head, carving a line of kisses and gentle bites along his exposed neck. His hands grip you tighter.
“F-fuck. You're so good at this.”
You smile into his neck. You're about to move down lower and show him just how good you are when your ringtone begins to blare.
The noise of it shatters the moment. You fumble your way off of Adrian’s body and to the end of the bed. The weight of his stare is palpable – he's getting a great view of your ass in this position. You manage to grab your phone and answer it on the last ring.
“Hello?”
“Where the hell are you?” Harcourt demands from the other end of the line. You pull your phone back to check the time. Shit. You were due back at headquarters twenty minutes ago.
“Fuck. Overslept,” you offer in explanation. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”
“You better be. And see if you can get ahold of Vigilante. He's not here either and Chris has been calling but he won't answer.”
You glance back at the man in question behind you, eyes wide. His stare hasn't wavered, absorbing every possible detail about you that he can. There's no way she knows, right?
“Mhmm, got it,” is all you manage to say before hanging up. Anything more and you fear your voice would have given you away.
You pull your bag up, rushing to pull out the fresh set of clothes you packed. “Come on. The team is waiting for us.”
Adrian sneaks up behind you, planting a line of open mouthed kisses down your neck. Payback is a bitch.
“Or we could stay here and make out some more?” he suggests. It's terrifying how easy it would be to say yes.
You push him off and stand up instead, making a beeline for the bathroom. “We're already late.”
The door closes behind you with more force than needed. You're quick to flick the lock, ensuring he can’t follow you. Your hands are shaking as you grip the counter. Weren't you just here? Convincing yourself that this didn't have to become weird and you could control yourself?
That was before you knew he was into you too.
It's not a helpful thought. It's a really, deeply unhelpful one honestly. No matter how much you wanted it, this was not supposed to happen. There's too much risk.
By some small miracle, Adrian is actually dressed when you leave the bathroom. You were genuinely concerned he might have stayed exactly as you left him, or worse, even further undressed.
“Do you want to ride in the Vigilante-mobile?” he asks, spinning the keys on his finger.
“No.” Your response is immediate and your heart clenches at how swiftly his face falls. You have to try and salvage this. “Adrian, we can't- the others can't know about this.”
“Why not?”
Luckily for you, you've spent a number of nights thinking up reasons this can't happen. It's a risk to your reputation and to his. It could become a liability to the team. He deserves more than you can give. You’ve never had what anyone could call a functional relationship before. It could get you shipped off to some other assignment, some new team, because god knows ARGUS isn't sending him anywhere.
You say the one that's easiest to digest. “Harcourt would make us fill out like, a million forms and I'm not interested in doing that because of one kiss.”
A smile plays at the corner of Adrian’s lips. He closes the small distance between you, a hand falling onto your waist. The way his suit broadens him makes your mind go a little fuzzy. “I remember more than just one kiss.”
His lips capture yours again, the same heat from before rekindling. It's so easy to get wrapped up in him. Too easy. Another reason this can't happen. You push away from him abruptly, his lips still chasing yours.
“We can't,” you say between heaving breaths. “This has to stop here.”
“We can.” There’s a look in his eyes that you've never seen before. He's strangely serious and the closest expression to this that you can recall is him debating Chris on what weaponry would most effectively take down a kaiju.
“Adrian-”
“We can,” he reasserts. “We'll- we can keep it a secret. I'll even keep it a secret from Peacemaker. No one else has to know if that's what you want.” Desperation seeps through his words – sincerity balancing it out enough to keep things just on the right side of sweet before crossing into pathetic.
This isn’t fair to him. You know that. There are a thousand voices screaming at you that this is stupid and you should stop this here and now. So far you've ignored all other warning bells and better judgements – you should quit while you're ahead. His gaze catches yours, hopeful.
“Okay,” you hear yourself say. Adrian smiles wide, his infuriating dimples on full display. You stop him with a finger to the chest before he can steal another kiss. “No one can know. Especially not Chris.”
Adrian draws another cross over his chest and seals his lips over yours, sealing your fates.
A/N: Can you tell I'm sick of the summer heat? I had a blast writing this and I didn't really intend to leave it open ended, but I might write more for these two if I'm feeling inspired. Feel free to send me asks or dms if you're feeling so inclined!! Also is Adrian's middle name Barnabas? Who knows! Anything could be true, especially when you want his initials to be "ABC" for the fun of it.
As always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated<3
(I just) Died in your arms 《Vigilante (Adrian Chase), peacemaker x reader》
Vigilante (Adrian Chase), Peacemaker x femreader
Warnings: Slight angst (nothing heavy), touch-starved reader, fluff, Adrian being Adrian, a little bit of drunk reader, suggestive content (nothing explicit).
A/N: Once again, here I am being annoying lol. Honestly, writing makes me a little happy, even if it’s just for a handful of people. I can’t stop thinking about Adrian Chase and how cute his look is in the new season. Thank you so much for the support—likes, reblogs, and comments mean the world to me. Remember that my requests are open, thanks <3
“Do you guys usually hang out a lot?”
Economos let the words fall with obvious difficulty.
“No… not all of us. More like two at a time.” Leota cast a quick glance at the group chatting in the distance. “I hang out with Chris, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I hang out with Harcourt. Chris with Adrian.” Suddenly there was a pause, and as if it was the most normal thing in the world: “Adrian and y/n.”
Economos leaned closer to Leota, whispering as if she hadn’t said it loud enough for half of Evergreen to hear.
“Adrian and y/n?”
Leota let out a little sound somewhere between laughter and excitement, mixed with a shh to quiet him down.
“What the hell did I miss all this time?”
They both laughed as if it was all insane while clinking their bottles together. Suddenly, Economos grew serious.
“I can’t believe that guy calls me at midnight to tell me random facts about owls but not about this.”
He shook his head as he drank, and Adebayo couldn’t stop laughing, a tear running from the corner of her right eye.
-
“Do you think if I manifest it enough, I could fly like Eagly?”
Not only did your words make no sense, but they were dragged out so much it was hard to tell if you were even speaking the same language as everyone else.
Adrian looked at you with an expression hovering between uncertainty and annoyance. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve insulted them for saying nonsense like that. But you weren’t just anyone. His features softened when you stumbled closer to him. It made no sense that this unstable figure swaying side to side was the same person who happened to be one of the best killers he knew.
You tripped over your own feet and crashed into his chest, laughing softly, the warmth of your breath seeping through his shirt. He held your waist firmly to keep both of you from collapsing to the ground. He didn’t like physical contact in excess, but yours didn’t bother him. It had become a habit—one that was annoying at first, but one he had learned to enjoy over time.
You climbed clumsily up his chest until you found a steady spot in the hollow of his neck. You stayed there with your eyes closed, breathing in his scent. You murmured something happily, but he couldn’t quite catch the words. He lifted one of his hands and set it on your upper back, giving you a few pats, as if consoling you. He was learning—you had been the most persistent teacher, and he the worst student imaginable. But in that moment of weakness, it felt like the most genuine show of affection you’d ever received.
You brushed the base of his neck with the tip of your nose, smiling when goosebumps rose on his skin and you felt his throat swallow with difficulty. You made your way to his ear and planted a small kiss on his earlobe. He let out a sharp exhale and glanced around, checking if anyone was paying attention. But he stopped looking when he heard you speak so close.
“I think I know what we could dress up as for Halloween. You could go as Chris, and I’ll go as Eagly.”
What the hell was it with you and Eagly lately?
His train of thought was cut short when a pleasant warmth settled in his abdomen. You were stroking him absentmindedly, no clear intention behind the gesture, but he always had trouble understanding certain signs of affection. It felt good, so he didn’t stop you. He was in some kind of bubble. Normally his head was a swarm of ideas, concepts clashing for his attention. In those moments when he had your warmth near him, your scent, his brain seemed to short-circuit and go into standby.
White noise, and a little sign that said: We apologize for the inconvenience. We’ll be right back.
Heat rose to his cheeks when you began planting scattered kisses on the exposed skin closest to your lips. Your caresses slid lower until he felt them dangerously close to the waistband of his pants. He gently moved you back, careful not to make any sudden movement that could send you tumbling with your terrible coordination.
“No. No exhibitionism. You’re not making me commit any infraction, especially not in front of our friends.”
He said it very seriously, but something in your brain wasn’t registering the words properly. You laughed, eyes half closed, body loose and trusting completely that he would hold you up if you couldn’t stand on your own. And you were right—he would.
He shifted his grip to hold you by the upper arms and spoke slowly, as if the problem were a neural failure rather than the effect of several beers in your bloodstream.
“We’re going to say goodbye and I’m going to take you home.”
“Home? The two of us together?”
It irritated him a little that he couldn’t just be bluntly honest with you, to tell you that you were only saying obvious nonsense. But then he remembered the pout you’d made the last time, when he told you your aim was crap while you were crying. His heart ached a little at the memory, and for a split second he wanted to pinch you so you’d share the pain. It wasn’t fair that it only hurt him.
“That’s what taking you home implies—that we both have to go together.”
He had underestimated your strength because, within seconds, you launched yourself forward with everything you had. You landed with your chin against his sternum, grinning from ear to ear. The rest of your body stayed where it was; only your top half had gone forward. He hissed at the impact and looked down at you, his chin pressed to his chest.
“I like that idea.”
You closed your eyes and puckered your lips, waiting for a kiss. Instead of giving in, Adrian separated you and half-dragged you back toward the rest of the group, who were still chatting casually.
“I think I’m gonna take her home before she decides it’s a good idea to test if she can fly like Eagly.”
Everyone looked at you both with a strange expression. Adrian searched his mental notes—what had you told him those expressions meant? Ah, expectation. Wait, what? They were going to figure it out.
He straightened you up as you clung to him like a life jacket in the middle of a storm at sea. He moved his hand from your waist to your shoulders, much friendlier.
“Don’t think that… I’m not going into her house. I won’t even step over the threshold. I’m just gonna drop her off and wait until she goes upstairs. Why would I go into her house? Pfft, that’s ridiculous.” He let out this weird fake laugh, way too loud and way too forced.
Nobody laughed with him. Not even a pity chuckle. The group just kind of… froze. A couple of them exchanged these sideways glances, others took these very deliberate, too-long sips of their drinks. The silence stretched until it was so thick you could choke on it, and Chris—poor Chris—looked like he’d just swallowed a whole ball of guilt he didn’t know what to do with.
“Yeah, buddy. Sure. You’re just gonna drop her off,” Chris said finally, shrugging in a way that screamed please, everyone, let’s just move on before this gets more awkward.
Adrian nodded rapidly, like three, four times in a row, convinced that he’d just completely smoothed over the whole situation. You waved this wobbly little goodbye, your hand flapping lazily in the air, muttering “thanks” several times. Nobody knew exactly what you were thanking them for, but they all assured you it was nothing.
By the time you reached the fire escape, you slipped one hand into the back pocket of Adrian’s jeans with this little mischievous giggle. He still had an arm locked firmly around your shoulders and gave your arm a quick squeeze.
“You’re touchier than ever,” he muttered, trying to sound unimpressed.
But he couldn’t stop staring at the ridiculous grin plastered across your face. It was… absurd. And yet, it got under his skin in the best possible way. He liked it. He liked that grin, how it softened you, made you look younger, lighter. He loved your sharp edges too—maybe more, honestly—but seeing you like this, so open, it tugged at something deep inside him. He hadn’t seen much of this version of you lately, not since the butterflies were gone and the missions had stopped. And he missed it more than he wanted to admit.
“Just because you look cuter than ever,” you blurted out, words tumbling out too fast.
You kissed his cheek, and he smiled despite himself. Compliments still hit him like bullets—unexpected, disorienting—but he craved them too, impatient for the next one. He lived for you pointing out that his hair looked good, or that his aim was deadly, or that you thought he was adorable in his glasses. “You’re a kinky boy, aren’t you?” you teased.
And he couldn’t deny it. Not really.
The climb up to your apartment took twice as long as it should have. It wasn’t just keeping you upright—though that was a whole mission in itself—but also fending off your increasingly bold attempts to peel his clothes off in the middle of the damn street. You pulled out every trick: complimenting him as Vigilante, whispering he was the “best boy,” rattling off random new facts about owls. He suspected most of them were made up, but it still punched something warm into his chest to realize you’d actually gone out of your way to look up owl trivia—just because it mattered to him.
At the door, he plucked the keys out of your hand, trying to juggle unlocking the lock while you pressed yourself against his back, arms limp at your sides, your cheek smushed against his shoulder blade. You mumbled something incoherent about how good he smelled, and it nearly made him drop the keys.
Spinning carefully so you wouldn’t collapse, he frowned down at you.
“What’s up with you tonight? Did Chris give you some of that stuff he smokes in his pipe?”
You shook your head, shoved him through the door, and laughed way too loudly. Adrian clamped a hand over your mouth, whispering sharp sshh sounds over and over that did absolutely nothing. You mumbled against his palm, words dissolving into nonsense, then suddenly went quiet. And then—your tongue. Flat against his palm. Slow.
He didn’t even flinch. His face stayed perfectly deadpan.
“If you think that’s gonna gross me out, you clearly forgot that I’ve had your saliva literally all over my body.”
You whined when he finally pulled his hand away. Your eyelids were heavy, drooping like lead weights, and he wasn’t sure you’d last much longer before passing out completely. Still, he wasn’t convinced the neighbors wouldn’t call the cops if you laughed like that again.
You stared at him for a beat too long before blurting:
“Abby’s not here. She’s with her girlfriend’s family for the weekend.”
Relief slammed into him so hard he actually exhaled.
“We’re alone.” You arched your brows up and down in this ridiculous, suggestive rhythm.
“Why are you doing that? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”
“What?”
“Your eyebrows are moving independently of your face. That’s weird. Looks like some kind of neurological malfunction. I’m worried.”
You groaned, gave up on explaining, and tugged him down the hallway by his shirt sleeve until you reached your bedroom. Then you flopped face-first onto the bed with a dull thud, limbs splayed out like a starfish. Lifting your head just enough to pout at him, you demanded:
“Lie down with me.”
“With these clothes? Street clothes? Uh, no. Absolutely not.”
“Then take them off me.” You said it with clear suggestiveness, but his sharp nod told you he’d interpreted it as nothing more than a practical task.
He bent to start tugging at your sneakers, but your whole expression crumpled. Your lip trembled, your eyes glossed over, tears pricking before you could stop them.
“Adrian… do you even like me?”
He froze mid-motion, sneaker halfway off, his hand still gripping your leg to keep it propped up. He blinked down at you like you’d just pulled a gun on him.
“What?”
“I think… I think you feel obligated to be with me.”
Your lip wobbled harder, and then tears spilled, hot and fast, down your cheeks. He finished pulling off the shoe, gave your thigh two awkward pats, desperate to redirect you. These situations always made his stomach knot—because he didn’t know how to fix you when you broke like this, and that made him feel like a failure.
“I don’t hate you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he blurted finally.
The words landed like a grenade. Your tears doubled, morphing into an unstoppable flood as you dropped your head into the mattress. You wanted to curl into a ball, vanish into the sheets, but even that felt impossible.
“Hey, hey, don’t cry. Please?”
The answer was a louder, messier sob.
He gave your other thigh a couple of awkward pats, like that was going to magically fix anything. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You knew Adrian wasn’t like everyone else—it took effort for him to show any kind of emotion. But in the past few months, you’d thought you’d broken through, that maybe you’d carved out a space where his affection lived. Never in a million years would you have expected him to say: “I don’t hate you.”
“What I meant was… I guess I like you. Like, actually like you. God, I’ve done things with you I never would’ve imagined.”
The crying stopped almost instantly. After a couple shaky breaths, you lifted your gaze. Adrian looked like his brain was doing cartwheels, like he was digging around for words he didn’t usually keep in stock.
“I’m not—” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing away, “I’m not good at this. Feelings. Or, like… saying things that don’t involve knives or bowel movements. So maybe I don’t show stuff like normal people. Not the way you’d expect. But, uh—I’m here, right? That counts for something.”
You blinked hard, drunk brain clinging to every word. Normally you would’ve stopped him, told him that was enough. But you needed more. Since the Butterflies, you hadn’t known who you were, or what you were good for. You weren’t needed. Adrian had tried in his own awkward way to pull you out of it, dragging you along on patrols, but that wasn’t your path. You still longed to belong to something bigger.
Your insecurities slipped out raw and loud, more than you wanted. And you needed him to tell you—you were worth something. At least to him.
“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be with the others, or—hell, I’d have let you jump off that stupid fire escape to test your flying theory. I wouldn’t give a crap how you got home. I could’ve just stayed home sharpening knives, which, by the way, is very satisfying. But I didn’t. I walked you home.” He lifted a hand as he listed off his alternatives, then let it smack against his leg with a thunk. His eyes tracked your face, and when he caught your lip trembling again, he made an exaggerated tsk. “I’m here. With you. Holding you up so you don’t faceplant on the sidewalk. Stopping you from stripping me naked on Main Street, which, by the way, is illegal in several states. I Googled it. It’s a felony in Utah. Just saying.”
You bit your lip, holding back a laugh at his very specific worry about laws. You didn’t remind him that he was the one who’d once ended up in his underwear, drenched in beer, in front of the whole team.
Adrian’s words started tumbling out faster, like a faucet he couldn’t turn off.
“And I don’t like you in the boring way. Like tacos—I love tacos, I’d marry tacos. It’s different. It’s like…you make my brain shut up. Normally it’s all noise in there. Like a hundred radio stations playing at the same time, and half of them are talking about murder techniques. But when you’re around? It’s like static. Quiet static. And that’s… actually really nice. I didn’t even know I wanted that until it happened. So yeah. You’re basically like my human white noise machine. But better, because sometimes you kiss me.”
He scratched his neck again, eyes darting up like maybe he’d find a trapdoor in the ceiling.
“And also—you touch me. Which is insane, because usually I hate people touching me. Like, don’t touch me. Ever. Handshakes? Gross. Sweat, germs, hand oil—blegh. But with you, it’s fine. It’s… more than fine. It’s… I don’t know, it’s good. Like I want it. Which means, scientifically speaking, that I definitely like you. Because otherwise I’d have pepper-sprayed you and sprinted home. Fast. I’m very fast.”
He shrugged, like he’d just presented a flawless math equation.
“So yeah. That’s it. You make me want to stay. You make my brain stop screaming. You’re the only person alive I’ll let touch me without stabbing. If that’s not ‘liking,’ then the dictionary is a liar.”
You just stared at him, chest pulling tight, while he rambled. Then, suddenly, the tears returned—hot, fast, unstoppable. But this time they were different. Your lip wobbled, and you started crying again, only now you were smiling too.
Adrian’s face twisted in horror.
“Oh no. Ohhh no, no, no, no, no. Not again. Why are you leaking? I literally said nice stuff this time! Do you have, like, a tear duct malfunction? Should I Google it? I can Google it. Wait—no, my phone’s dead. Don’t move, I’ll—”
“Adrian.” You laughed through your tears, catching his wrist before he could bolt. Your voice cracked, but you got the words out. “I’m not sad. I promise. I’m just… happy. You don’t usually say things like that and… it’s a lot. In a good way.”
He froze. Rigid. Deer-in-headlights.
“…Wait. You’re crying because you’re happy? That’s not real. Crying is for funerals. Or when your burrito falls on the ground tortilla-side-down. Not for happy.”
You sniffled, wiping your face clumsily. “For me, it is. My brain just… reacts like that. Too many feelings at once, and this is what comes out. And what you said… it made me feel safe. And wanted.”
He blinked. Hard. Mouth opening like he wanted to argue—but shutting again. Then he leaned closer, squinting like he was trying to read the fine print of your soul.
“So… you done crying now? Happy crying, sad crying—what category are we in? Because I wanna lie down with you. I like when you pet my hair while I fall asleep.”
Something warm spread through your chest, drowning out the last of your doubts. You almost laughed at how he suddenly couldn’t stop listing things he liked about you. You nodded, smiling, opening your arms in invitation.
But he shook his head, leaned over, and started undressing you again.
You couldn’t stop laughing as he fought with your jeans, cursing under his breath. He froze only when he caught sight of your underwear. You cupped his face, making him meet your eyes, biting your lip in what you thought was a sexy smirk. In reality, your eyelids were so heavy you looked like you were seconds away from passing out.
Adrian stifled a frustrated noise, kissed your forehead, and tugged your shirt off gently. When you were settled, he tucked the blanket over you, then clumsily stripped out of his own clothes. He slid into bed, hopeful you might still be awake—but your eyes were already closed.
He lay facing you, studying your flushed cheeks, puffy eyes, steady breathing. Something strange bloomed in his chest—habitual now, even if it wasn’t natural. Without overthinking, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you tight against him until your warmth quieted the buzz in his skull.
Half-asleep, you stretched out a hand, playing lazily with his curls, mumbling something dangerously close to I love you.
He had no idea what to do with that. No idea if he could say it back. So instead, he pressed another kiss to your forehead and began rattling off every owl fact he’d memorized that week, while you answered with soft, nonsensical murmurs.
Summary: Adrian checks in on you after the party, concerned about something you said. Hungover, you struggle to piece the night together, hoping you didn’t say anything too bad.
3,803 words
!SMUT CONTENT!
“Quiz me! I know a shit ton of facts about crows, owls, manatees, dolphins, squirrels—”
“Adrian,” you cut him off, rubbing your forehead. Your head feels like it’s about to burst open. “It’s like way too fucking early.”
“It’s 11 am.”
You groan loudly, and Harcourt and Adebayo follow your lead. Last night, Harcourt decided to throw a party on her building’s rooftop, and you decided that it was a good fucking idea to mix vodka with beer. Surprise, surprise, you woke up with a massive hangover. In fact, it seems like everybody else did too, except, of course, Adrian, who is currently leaning on the kitchen counter and looking at the three of you with a massive grin. His hair is messy, and he’s wearing a bathrobe? You aren’t sure, but you are assuming he just found that somewhere around Harcourt’s house and stole it.
“Oh, come on!” he whines. “I am literally an animal expert; it’s my biggest secret… And I know you are all judging me right now, but I don’t care; I accept who I am.”
Adebayo chuckles, shaking her head. “Adrian, how many people have you killed?”
He laughs. “Uh, I don’t know? How many is a shit ton? Why are we changing the subject, though, and why didn’t you ask her the same question?” Adrian points at you. “She has a way bigger killer list than I do.”
“No, the fuck I don’t,” you say with a scowl. Even speaking hurts.
“Yes, the fuck you do, dude!” Adrian says, crossing his arms beneath his chest.
You look at his exposed torso briefly and start remembering what happened last night. For some fucking reason, Economos thought it was a fun idea to pour beer on top of a very naked Adrian while everybody cheered him on, including you. At the time, you had been so wasted that you didn’t even have time to register that he was only wearing his very tight and very white boxers. Now that you start remembering all the details, a faint blush appears on your face. He may be a fucking idiot who always keeps getting under your skin, but there’s no denying that he’s built like a fucking Greek god… It also doesn’t help that his face is beyond handsome.
“At least she’s funny and helpful, Adrian,” Harcourt defends you, making Adrian scowl a bit.
“I’m a very valuable member of this group!”
“Yeah? Name one useful thing you have done in the past few months.” Adrian opens his mouth, but Adebayo continues speaking. “And saying random animal facts isn’t useful.”
Adrian closes his mouth, making you chuckle as you take a sip of water. A wave of nausea washes over you, and you suppress it.
“I’m never appreciated properly,” Adrian says while closing the robe tightly around his body. “Also, I’m an excellent killer, so unless you can find a better one on FindMeAKiller.com or some shit, I’m needed on this team!”
“Okay, sorry, man…” Adebayo says, “I’m just so fucking hungover, and my head hurts like shit.”
“What about you then?” Adrian looks at Harcourt. “Want to hear some owl facts?”
“I would rather eat my own foot,” she replies with a fake smile.
“Oh, man…” He turns to you. “Well, you are the only one left.”
“Great math, Adrian,” you reply, making both women laugh.
“Oh, thanks!” he says, completely missing your sarcasm. “So, quiz me!”
“I’m not gonna fucking quiz you.”
“Why not?” he says with his hands on his hips.
A quick memory appears in your mind as you look at him. You can remember something else now… but it’s very faint and blurry. All you can recall is looking at him in some sort of dark room, late at night, and… is he still wearing just his boxers? You try to remember more, but your head hurts too much to succeed. You need blessed sleep and some Xanax, probably.
“Hey, Adrian,” Harcourt says. “You know what?”
“No, what?” he says with a grin.
“I think Economos fell asleep in my bathtub, and I’m afraid he’s gonna choke on his vomit. Can you go check he doesn’t?”
His eyes immediately widen. “Oh, man, why didn’t you tell me that sooner?!”
You shake your head as he runs to the bathroom in a hurry. You hear Economos yell at him, and they have a quick back and forth before you decide to stop listening.
As Adebayo grabs her stuff and you do too, you try again to remember everything that happened last night, but it’s useless… Everything is too confusing and blurry. Maybe tomorrow you will be able to.
When you leave Harcourt’s house, and after saying your goodbyes to her, you catch another glimpse at Adrian, who’s now coming out of the bathroom with Economos. He glances at you and, for some reason, smiles. And not one of his stupid smiles either.
Your head hurts harder.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Knock, knock, knock…
Knock, knock, knock, knock…
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock…
You slowly open your eyes. You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you groan and look at the source of the sound, you see that it’s nighttime again. Then, you see another thing: Adrian fucking Chase tapping on your window. And he’s wearing his Vigilante suit.
“Adrian, what the fuck?!” You yell at him with a raspy voice.
“I saw a sick-ass owl on the way here!” he says enthusiastically as he waves at you through the other side of the window.
You groan and rub your eyes before slowly getting out of bed and walking towards him. You slide open the window.
“Adrian, what the hell are you doing? I live on the third floor. How did you even come up here?!”
“Uh, I climbed through the fire escape, duh?”
You sigh heavily. “Of course you did… Well, come on in.”
You step aside as he enters your bedroom. His boots are covered in mud as he puts both feet on the floor.
“Okay, suit off for the love of god. You are covered in shit.”
“Oh…” He looks down at the muddy footprints. “Oops?”
“For fuck’s sake. Let me go grab a towel or a tissue or some shit. Don’t move!”
You walk to your bathroom and grab the first towel you see. It’s the one you use to dry your hands, but you know that after you are done cleaning the footprints, it’s going straight to the laundry.
“Okay, don’t step on anything…” Your voice drifts off as you look at him.
His suit is completely off, lying on the ground in a pile, and he’s just in his boxers. He meets your eyes and smiles like everything is alright and nothing absolutely batshit crazy has happened.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You ask with your eyes widened.
“What? You told me to take off my suit.”
“Yeah, but after I gave you some fucking pants and a t-shirt,” you tell him.
“Ooooohhhhh… Yeah, that would have been smart. Oh well.” He shrugs. “It’s not like my dick is out, or anything like that.”
“Yeah, I… Look…” You struggle with words. “Okay, just stay there or sit on my bed or some shit.
Adrian nods and moves to your bed, his bare feet careful not to spread the mud he dragged inside your apartment. You glance at him, trying your best not to notice how absolutely perfect his body is, and get on your knees. You start cleaning up the mess he created.
The towel quickly becomes brown, and you try not to gag. You don’t even know why he’s in your apartment, or where the hell he has been, and he’s already made a fucking mess. Typical Adrian.
“So… You feeling better?” he asks while you clean.
“I was better before you broke into my apartment.”
“I didn’t break in; you invited me in,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t want you falling and breaking your spine or some shit.”
“Aww, that’s sweet!” he says, making you roll your eyes.
“That’s not sweet, asshole. It’s like you said, there’s a shortage of batshit crazy killers out here, and we need every single one we get,” you murmur between clenched teeth.
You finally finish cleaning and get up, grabbing the towel from the tip and dangling it away from your body. Adrian is still sitting on your bed as you look at him.
“Ew,” he says with a grimace.
“Yeah… Thanks for that.”
You walk to the bathroom again and throw the towel on the bathtub. That’s a problem for another time.
“So, what the fuck are you doing here?” You ask him as you wash your hands.
“What?!”
You groan and close the tap, drying your hands on your pants and walking to the bedroom again.
“I said, ‘What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night, Adrian.”
“Oh… Well, I wanted to see if you were doing all right. You seemed pretty fucked up earlier today.”
“And you couldn’t have just called?”
He thinks for a second before shaking his head. “Nah, this is more efficient. Besides, you live in a dangerous neighborhood. I was just making sure you were safe.”
“By climbing up my fire escape and watching me sleep?” you ask dryly.
“I didn’t watch you sleep!” he defends himself with a proud smile. “I woke you up, remember? I’m not a fucking pervert or anything like that.”
“Yeah, Adrian, you are every person’s dream,” you joke.
“I’m sure I’m not Adebayo’s dream because she’s a lesbian—”
“I was joking, Adrian.”
“Ooohhh… Why didn’t you say so?”
You chuckle, making his stupid grin widen. One day, he’s gonna drive you insane… and that day has been further away.
“Okay, so I’m here and I’m okay, so if you please—”
“Did you mean what you said last night?”
Blood leaves your face, making a rush of adrenaline hit your stomach like a punch. You feel your heart skip a beat as he waits for an answer.
“What I said?”
“Yeah… Don’t you remember?” he asks with a frown. “I mean, you were pretty wasted, but I thought you would have remembered it.”
“Did I say some stupid shit? I was drunk; you can’t take me seriously when I’m drunk and and and—”
“Whoa, relaaaaax,” he says with his arms raised. “We didn’t have sex or anything like that.”
You let out a heavy, relieved sigh. Fuck, that would have been awkward… right?
“So what happened exactly?”
“Well… You started throwing up all over Harcourt’s roof, and then she started getting super mad at you, and I had to drag you inside her house.”
You can faintly remember feeling sick and throwing up… But nothing more.
“What then?”
“I helped you throw up on the toilet—super gross, by the way—then you kind of grabbed my shoulders and said…” He actually seems a bit embarrassed. “Well, you said I looked really fucking hot covered in beer and in my underwear.”
Your jaw drops open, and you immediately want to fall into a hole. It wasn’t a fucking dark room that you remembered… It was your blurry-ass vision in the bathroom as you puked your insides out. Shit, shit, shit!
“I…I mean… Shit,” you said while rubbing your temples. “I was wasted, okay? And it’s been a while since… Forget about it.”
“Since you got fucked?” he asked casually.
“Adrian!”
“What?”
“You can’t say stuff like that!” You argue with your cheeks burning up.
“Why not? Everybody has sex! I think… Maybe not, I don’t know actually.”
“Look, my point is that I was drunk and I said a stupid thing, and oh my God, forget about it!”
His shoulders drop a bit at your words. “So you didn’t mean them?”
“Does it matter, Adrian?!”
“Hm, yeah?”
He gets up from the bed, and you straighten your back, trying to remain calm as he walks towards you.
“I know you hate my guts and think I’m fucking weird or something—”
“I don’t hate your guts.”
“But I’ve always thought you were like super hot, ya know?” he confesses, making your breath get stuck in your throat. “I never said anything because I’m not a weirdo, and I didn’t think you felt the same way, I guess. I mean, Peacemaker and John are also part of the team, and I always just assumed you couldn’t resist their insane sex appeal… I know I can’t sometimes.”
You furrow your eyebrows as you try to process half of what came out of Adrian’s mouth. Sometimes it’s as if he’s playing an ad-lib game and has to say whatever word comes next.
“Okay… Look, you are a pretty attractive guy, and sure, you did look amazing last night and like right now, but—”
“So you weren’t lying!” he exclaims.
“Adrian, I… It’s not like anything will happen between us, okay?” you say.
“Why not? I really wanna go down on you right now, by the way.”
You try to speak again, but your words die in your throat as he tells you that. You stare at him, trying to see if he’s kidding or not, but he looks as normal as if he had said to you he really wanted ice cream right now.
“What?”
“I want to eat you out. Like if you are up for it, of course.” He shrugs.
You think of a million different answers, a million possibilities of shit to reply, but the only thing you shouldn’t say comes out of your mouth.
“Okay…”
“Okay?” he asks, surprised.
“Yeah.” You laugh, seeing how absurd this situation is. “Why the fuck not?”
Adrian doesn’t need any more confirmation as he gets down on his knees in front of you. You look down with widened eyes as he grabs the elastic from your pajama pants.
“Right here?!” you ask as he pulls down your pants, leaving you in your underwear.
Adrian kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties, making you groan.
“Why not? You look super hot…” he murmurs against your skin, making you shiver.
Adrian continues kissing your belly, then moves to your thighs, and you spread them apart, kicking off your pants to the side. Your back hits the wall behind you as Adrian grabs your calf and puts it on his shoulder.
“Oh God,” you whisper, looking down.
Adrian comes close to your clothed pussy and blows hot air on the fabric, making you clench and feel your arousal building quickly. You grab his hair by instinct, holding his head as he kisses your inner thighs.
“Fuck…” you moan as he teases you.
His kisses are wet and sloppy, making you shiver with pleasure. This whole situation is absolutely insane, but you are too far gone to give a shit. Adrian Chase is on his knees in front of you, and judging by the growing bulge in his boxers, he’s enjoying this as much as you are.
“You smell so good,” Adrian says before biting your thigh softly.
“T-Thanks.”
He hums before slowly giving you a hickey on your inner thigh, making you pull his hair. Adrian moans loudly at that, and you do it again, watching as his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. You wonder what other things he enjoys; the thought is exhilarating.
You feel a tingling sensation in the area he’s sucking, and your clit hardens and throbs against your panties. It’s like he’s trying to drink your blood or something, and you are sure tomorrow morning you are going to look at that hickey and think of how good it felt.
He releases your skin after a while, satisfied with his work, and then looks up at you. His eyes have a hungry look to them, and you catch your breath as he comes closer to your pussy.
“Please,” you whisper.
Adrian isn’t cruel; he was never cruel, so he puts his mouth on your clothed pussy. You arch your back as his tongue meets your clit and moan louder than ever. The contact isn’t exactly what you want, but it’s enough to make your walls pulsate.
“F-fuck… Adrian, more. Please, baby.”
The nickname sort of slips out of your mouth before you can catch it.
“That’s so fucking hot,” he whispers against you. “Makes my dick hard as fuck.”
You whimper at his words and at the fact that he’s licking your clit slowly. You feel your panties get stickier and stickier as more arousal pools out of you. His hand is on your raised leg, and the other is on your hip, steadying you.
“I didn’t know you… Fuck… You were so good at this,” you confess with closed eyes.
Adrian opens his mouth and presses it to your folds, his warm breath making you cry out. He’s like a furnace against you.
“I’m not only good at killing people, ya know?” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
You chuckle, and then your mouth opens as he puts his tongue over your entrance. He can taste you on his tongue, even through the fabric, and you whimper his name. You were never this needy for anybody, but Adrian must have put a spell on you with his magical tongue.
“I need more. Adrian, please,” you beg, breathless.
He pulls away from your pussy, and you open your eyes, looking down at him. His hair is still fisted in your hand, and his mouth is glistening with saliva. He looks sinful.
“You know? Some people have a weird double chin from his angle, but you don’t,” he casually tells you.
You burst out laughing.
“I’m serious!” Adrian defends himself. He grabs the hem of your panties and slowly pulls them down. “You know how many sex dreams I’ve had with you? How many times did I want to finish a mission and fuck you afterwards? I even think of you more than I think of owls, or dolphins, or—”
“Adrian,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Can you please eat me out?”
“Oh…” He looks at your panties for a split second before grabbing both ends and tearing them open.
“Dude?!”
“What? They were in the way,” he sheepishly says with a shrug.
You groan a bit but quickly forget about your ruined underwear as he brushes your calf with his hand and then comes closer to your pussy. Now that you aren’t wearing anything over it, everything feels ten times more intense.
“Your pussy is really pretty.”
“Well, thank you,” you say with a humorous voice.
“And it’s so wet… Jesus Christ,” he says in awe.
You watch as he runs his fingers through your wet folds, collecting your arousal on his digits. He spreads his fingers open, seeing the almost transparent arousal drip on them, and then puts them in his mouth. He hums in pleasure, and you feel your clit throb again.
“Tastes good, too,” he tells you after pulling his fingers out of his mouth.
“Yeah?” You tease him with a smirk.
“Fuck yeah.”
Adrian finally puts his lips on your clit, and you arch your back again, pleasure spiking to an insane level as he licks and sucks on your sensitive bud. You let out squeaky moans and pull his head harder against you. Adrian seems to love your dominance over him, so you begin thrusting your hips against his face.
“That’s it… Good boy,” you moan.
Adrian groans and grabs your body harder, his tongue speeding up as he pleasures you. Sometimes he licks your clit; other times he goes up and down to your entrance and fucks you with his tongue. It’s absolutely perfect, and you have never felt this good while being eaten out before. Who would have thought that Adrian Chase was secretly a sex god? What the fuck.
He continues fucking you with his tongue, and you continue thrusting into his face, fucking yourself on his mouth. You are sure your neighbors can hear you two, but you don’t care. You just survived a fucking hangover; you deserve this.
“Oh… Ah… Fuck, that’s it. That’s my good boy,” you moan.
Adrian moans against you, now focusing on your clit, and you reach, with your free hand, for your nipples. You can’t be bothered to take off your blouse, so you just stimulate them with your fingers. Adrian must have noticed what you were doing because quickly enough, one of his hands is replacing yours. He grabs your boob, squeezing it roughly and making you gasp.
“I’m… Fuck, I’m so close.”
Adrian continues at the same pace, thankfully, and you squeeze your eyes together. Your back is sweating so much that the blouse is sticking to it.
You feel the knot in your lower stomach tighten, and then you are sent over the edge. You arch your back more and let out loud moans. Some of them are mixed with Adrian’s name, others with curses. You feel your clit throb and arousal drip from your entrance as you cum. Adrian holds you as your legs shake, and you hear him moan against you.
“Fuck,” you whisper, breathless, as you start coming down from your high.
Adrian is still licking you occasionally, stimulating you beyond the point that is too pleasurable. You whine and push his head away roughly, making him fall onto his ass. Your leg drops to the ground, and you slide down the wall, your body too tired to stand up.
You catch your breath for a moment while looking at the ceiling, and then look at him.
“Holy shit…” you whisper as you see the big stain of cum on his boxers. “Did you cum?!”
Adrian looks down and then back at you. “Oh, yeah, I did. Sorry?”
Your pussy seems to come alive for a split second at the sight of his sweaty body and cum-stained boxers. His lips and chin are covered in your arousal.
“Fuck… You are so fucking hot,” you say.
Adrian grins, tilting his head to the side. “Keep saying that in my good ear, and I might cum again.”
You laugh, rolling your eyes, and then grab the ripped panties from the floor. You throw them towards him, and he grabs them mid-air.
“There, a souvenir for those lonely times.”
“Cool!” He puts the panties on his lap. “So… Do you wanna do this again anytime soon? I really wanna fuck you.”
You bite your inner cheek while you smile. “I would love that, Adrian.”
“Oh, for real?!”
“Uh-uh…” You look down at his boxers. “Maybe next time I get to see your dick.”
“Oh shit…” He winces dramatically. “I can still show it to you, but it’s like super soft now. Kind of looks like a wet sausage.”
You burst out laughing, making Adrian laugh with you.
Summary: After following Chris Smith through a strange door leads to you getting knocked unconscious, you wake up at home in the familiar arms of your boyfriend.
But as clarity comes back to you, you start to realize that the man in your bed, the one holding you like you might run at any moment and kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in years…he’s not Adrian. At least, not the one that you know. And now that he has you, he's not planning to let you leave.
(Taglist is closed, I’m sorry!)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Drabbles
Alt!Adrian's relationship w/ Alt!you
You Again
Other
The amazing @jellybean000 made a playlist for this fic!
An adrian chase request if you want to take it, angst with hurt and comfort where reader thinks adrian doesn’t like them because he doesn’t want to be touched yet, but really he just needed some time to open up. Once they’re genuinely together he would be all over her like a puppy but before he would be so worried he was overstepping or being “too much” like everyone says he is but reader makes is obvious she loves his goofy dorky demeanor. 🥰💕
hi nonnie!! thank you so, so much for requesting <3 this is my first adrian fic so feedback is very much appreciated! i am so in love with him but also plz no spoilers i am still catching up on season 2… hope you enjoy! :)
adrian chase x fem!reader who thinks he doesn't like her ✿ 994 words
cw: fem!reader, adrian being himself, reader is sick of him (she's so in love)
adrian chase masterlist
°˖✧✿✧˖°
“Did you know there are 5000 species of ladybug?”
You didn’t know that. And in any other scenario, you’d be intrigued and endeared by Adrian’s weird, random facts.
“No.” You say, your fingers playing with the strings on your hoodie. You’re purposely avoiding his eyes, avoiding touching him at all, and truly, you wish you could avoid being here with him at all. But, he is your stupid boyfriend, even if he doesn’t act like it.
He doesn’t pick up on your frustration, of course he doesn’t. He sometimes still asks if you’re talking to him even if it’s just the two of you in the room.
“A lot of people confuse ladybugs with asian ladybeetles. Which are different, obviously, those ones smell like shit.” He continues, leaning back against the couch, arm draped over the back. You hum noncommittally, leaning your head against the cushion, pursing your lips as you think. Adrian continues to spout random beetle facts, but you’re only half-listening until you can barely handle it anymore.
“Adrian, do you even like me?”
He’s in the middle of a sentence when your voice cuts through it. His words get stuck on his tongue and he stutters over himself, his brows furrowing. “What? Of course I do.”
“Well, you don’t act like it.” You sit up straight, crossing your arms and staring at him directly in his eyes. “You don’t let me hold your hand, you don’t let me hug you. Adrian, we’ve kissed once and you pulled away because you saw a cloud that was shaped like a dick.”
“It did look like a dick!” He doubles down, an amused chuckle leaving him as a bright smile takes over his face. He straightens up again when he sees that you’re still upset, and the smile falls off his lips. “Right. Not funny. Sorry.”
“You shouldn’t have been looking at the clouds!” Your frustration is clear in the strain in your voice, and the tension in your brow. “I’m asking if you want to be with me like… romantically, or if you want to be just friends. Because I love your animal facts, but I’d love it a lot more if we were kissing.”
“Right. Kissing, what couples do.” He awkwardly stretches his legs out before crawling to sit beside you. He clears his throat, eyeing you as his fingers tap against his lap. “Yeah, of course.”
You can see his discomfort, even as he leans in. His hands don’t stray from his lap at all. His lips press to yours in the way a child kisses a relative when forced to. Lips puckered out, no emotion, no spark.
“Adrian-”
“This is awkward, isn’t it? Maybe you’re right, maybe this whole thing is a really bad idea. You don’t even know, but I’m a really bad kisser anyway, it’ll be like I’m trying to eat you, honestly.” He blinks a million times while he speaks, his cheeks flushing red as he shakes his head. You can feel yourself deflate.
“If you don’t like me, you can just say that.” You curl your legs into your chest, hugging an arm around your knees. You shrug, tucking some hair behind your ear as you continue, “I’m an adult, I can handle it.”
“No, I like you! I do! A lot actually, I think probably too much…” He looks like a kicked puppy, strands of his unruly hair bouncing against his forehead. “Chris told me that I need to chill out, that I would smother you or overwhelm you and then you’d get sick of me.”
All you can do is take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at Adrian again.
“You’re taking dating advice from Chris now?” Your eyebrow raises, and Adrian at least has the self-awareness to try and look sheepish, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. He doesn’t do a great job, though.
“Well, of course I do, he’s awesome.”
You want to be mad at him. You really do, but as you grasp and claw to keep the fury aflame, you only find yourself falling for… whatever it is he does. Everything. Him. All of him. He’s just cute, you can’t help it.
“Adrian.” You move closer, raising your hands to cup his cheeks in your palms. His eyes widen, and you can practically see his brian short-circuiting. “Don’t listen to Chris. Listen to me. I want to be with you, bad kisser or not. I like you, okay?”
He turns even more red, the tips of his ears and the skin down his neck flushing that familiar shade. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. You take advantage of it to press your lips to his, your hands still cupping his face. He stills long enough that you think of pulling away, but then he melts. His lips respond eagerly, and he wasn’t entirely wrong when he suggested it might seem like he’s trying to eat you.
You love it.
His lips follow yours when you pull away, his eyes wide with need, and he even pouts.
“Well?” You sit back, hands falling from his face. You relish in the way his brain stops again, and he pushes his glasses up his nose a bit.
“Well what?”
“Do you like me back?” You know the question is redundant but you want to ask it anyway. You want to watch him squirm and flush as he tries to prove his feelings. And he does exactly that.
“Yes! I do, I like you a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I shouldn’t have listened to Chris. Chris is fucking stupid, I hate Chris.” His lips move at a mile a minute, you’re surprised his mouth can even keep up with his brain.
“You don’t have to hate Chris.” You lean forward to press another chaste kiss to Adrian’s lips, and he actually whines. “Just… don’t take his dating advice.”
