Chapter Text
Under normal circumstances, you would hold onto every little word the journalists would be saying, let alone follow the news this closely. But taking all things into consideration, this was a bit different than all the other, unfortunately memorable incidents that unfolded in the near past. It’s almost surreal how, not a few hours ago, you were flirting with the most wanted man in all of New York. The sun hasn’t even set and you were begging for your shift to end. You’re not sure if it was divine intervention or sheer luck that made you take these next few days off, but you’re very thankful to your past self for deciding to take a little break before the holidays.
Your eyes are attached to the television screen, and as more information, albeit useless, is released to the public, your nerves slowly begin to rise. How you found yourself worrying about an assassin is beyond any train of thought you could have ever had, and you know that there’s no point in dwelling on the fact that his achievement was not only brilliantly executed—no pun intended—but also extremely well thought out.
You’re smiling to yourself at how easy the conversation went with him. It was truly funny how it took something so unbelievably dramatic and wild to finally hit it off with a guy. Then again, things have already been reading like a dystopian book for the past few years so you’re not really surprised. As you make sure that everything is clean and ready for the next shift, the doors to the lobby slide and remain open for what you think is about twenty or so cops. Your eyes widen in shock, and you step out from behind the desk, not wanting to give them any reason to reach for their guns, let alone suspect that you helped the guy.
Not now at least.
“Police, we have a search warrant for this building.” One of the men speaks, handing you a paper as more cops flood into the lobby and begin heading different ways. You’re somewhat surprised they were able to find this address so quickly, seeing as how slow the process tended to be in most crimes within this city.
“We need to ask you a few questions.”
And so begins an hour long conversation with the police. Earlier today, when you watched the man leave, you thought you would panic once the police connected this hostel to his whereabouts. But then the first lie leaves your lips, and you realize that this may be much easier than you initially thought. You stick to the truth as much as possible, with the occasional, “white lie” making an appearance and causing the men in blue in front of you to huff in irritation.
They ask to see his room, and you laugh internally because you made sure housekeeping cleaned his room as soon as he left. They inquire after the cameras and you begrudgingly show them the footage, a small part of you calming when you see that he never once looked up and his face didn’t completely show. They wonder about how he paid and what he checked in with, and once again, you dance in your mind when they figure his ID was fake. The questions continue and it’s only when they ask you why he lowered his mask that you finally figure the whole truth wouldn’t actually hurt here. As a matter of fact, it would make you less likely to be a part of the investigation going forward.
“Umm, I couldn’t tell you why he lowered his mask. I’m assuming he thought I was flirting with him which is why he did that but I could be wrong.” You walk around the lobby with one of the officers, showing them where the other cameras are but knowing that he didn’t even come to this side of the building.
“Flirting? What did you say?” The older officer pauses and looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.
“He was staring at the television for a long time and I told him he must not be from around here if he’s so invested in what happened with that CEO.” You repeat what you said earlier word-for-word, barely managing to hold yourself from rolling your eyes when one of the officers shakes his head in disbelief.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, just that this city has a lot of crime so no one bats an eyelash anymore.” You do your best to remain monotone, and even though you’re aware that your facial expression is a little passive aggressive, you shrug your shoulders and pretend to ignore the looks you’re getting,
“Fucking snowflake,” you vaguely hear one of the officers whisper as he passes by and as soon as the comment settles, you decide the hell with not being part of the investigation.
“But I guess I was wrong there. When you’re rich, people care. But when you’re just a homeless man minding your business in the fucking subway, people don’t give a shit.” You don’t back down from the staring contest, waiting until the officer mutters something else before walking away.
“You wouldn’t by any chance be able to sit down with a sketch artist and describe how he looks?” The older man knows your answer before you say anything, but you humor him regardless, wanting to get out of this place as quickly as possible.
“I would really like to help, but my eyesight hasn’t been the greatest and my glasses broke months ago. Sorry about that.” You make a show of pulling out your glasses from your pockets, showing him how you have to hold it with one hand when you really need to use it.
“That’s fine, you’ve helped plenty. Here’s my card in case you remember anything else, and we’ll be taking your number and address just to follow up with some other things when necessary.” You fake a smile at the mention of your address, silently praying that the man doesn’t take you up on your offer and visit you any time soon.
“Sure thing,” as you write down your information for him, the hostel manager comes in and you don’t give him a chance before you tell him that you’ve stayed well past your hours. Making sure that you have everything you need, you hop in your car and start heading home, already wondering whether you gave more information than you should have or not.
You can’t get home fast enough, and as soon as you unlock the door to your apartment, you’re racing to turn on the news. As soon as you switch to the channel, you see the image they took from the cameras you gave them access to. The angle is warped enough that you can’t really see him, and as other videos and photos come in, you realize that they barely have anything on him, and the footage they do have looks different. After watching for a couple of minutes, you know for a fact they aren’t getting any closer to finding him than in the morning, and you fall down onto the couch to try and calm your heart rate.
“This is crazy,” you say to yourself, throwing the remote beside you before getting up to put the kettle on. You go to change into your pajamas, looking outside your bedroom window to see how dark it’s gotten outside. You don’t realize you’re smiling at how difficult it’ll be for them to find him at night until you turn around and look at yourself in the mirror.
“Yeah, this is batshit crazy!” Shaking your head at the reflection staring back at you, you reach for a new towel to begin your night routine when you stand back up and feel a strong arm grab your front while a gloved hand slams against your mouth.
You shut your eyes, ready for whatever nightmare about to unfold when the gloved hand slowly descends to your shoulder.
“You’re right, this is crazy.”
Had you been a sane person, you wouldn’t have felt your stomach drop at the deep voice whispering in your ear. Had you not been sick in the head, you wouldn’t have clenched your thighs when you took in the cologne of the man currently occupying your bathroom. Had you been absolutely well, you wouldn’t have prayed that those gloved hands return to your mouth, or even your neck.
“You…you came.” Warmth replaces the fear and shock of the man’s presence, and you swallow the lump in your throat when you see him pull down his mask again before slowly letting go of your waist.
“I couldn’t not…come.”
There is some innuendo behind his words, but you choose to not dwell on it so you don’t end up accidentally embarrassing yourself and misreading the room. He moves away from you and starts to take off his gloves but you reach out and stop him, shaking your head violently before moving past him to shut the window to the fire escape.
“Don’t take off your gloves. They asked for my address and I had to give it to them so they might come any minute. It’s- it’s dangerous for you here. I think you should try to leave tonight.” You look outside and see no one of importance walking the streets.
“I know, I saw the photos they took from your security footage.” He raises an eyebrow, studying your room closely as if to see where he can fit himself.
Oh boy, if only he could stay…
“I’m…sorry. I was extremely vague in my answers so-” There’s a hint of panic in your response, but he returns to stand in front of you in an instant, reaching out and tapping softly on your chin so you can look at him and relax.
“Shhh, don’t worry sweetheart. I know you had to help them. And I’m sure that snarky, smart brain of yours worked overtime.” He smiles at you again, and you can’t help but audibly gasp at how handsome he was. Sure you’d seen him hours ago and recognized how gorgeous he was, but there was something so intimate about where he was standing now—a hairbreadth away, in your bedroom, touching your skin so sweetly, and letting you know that he couldn’t fault you for your actions.
Hell, the fact that he shouldn’t even be here and yet he was, all because you invited him.
He opens his mouth to say something but the kettle whistles in the kitchen, making you jump away from him and run to the other room. You hear him follow closely behind you, and when you shut the stove off and continue facing the counter, you feel him approach you until your back nearly touches his chest.
“Are you…afraid of me?” The question sends goosebumps down your arms, not out of fear, but out of sheer, unadulterated, excitement, and you’re reminded again of how unnatural this whole situation should be to you.
“No.”
“Do you want me to be here?” Again, it’s as if your body already associates his voice with a state of desire, and your palms grow clammy at the prospect of being at the receiving end of voice under other circumstances.
“Yes.” You shiver when you hear him take a deep breath in through his nose, as if he was barely holding himself back from…well, from whatever he was thinking of.
“Good girl.” You whimper unintentionally, causing the man to chuckle at how easily he can get a rise out of your body without you being able to control yourself. You’re certain this conversation cannot be more titillating, then you feel the gloved hands move up your arms and grasp your shoulders, and you know for a fact you’d let him do just about anything to you as long as he keeps touching you so softly.
“I think it’s in…both of our interests, that you make your tea and tell me what they asked.” Just as quickly as the conversation begins, it ends, leaving you dry and cold from a high you were so close to reaching just by hearing his voice.
“I- umm…yes of course. Would you like anything to drink, or eat?” You turn around and grab onto the counter as tightly as possible when you see him take a seat on your couch and spread his thighs.
Now he was just being cruel on purpose.
“No thank you.” He lowers the volume of the television, waiting for you to come and sit next to him before asking you again.
“They asked about your ID card which they quickly realized was a fake. They asked if you paid cash or card and were pissed off when I told them you paid cash. They asked about your room but as soon as you left, I made sure housekeeping cleaned it. I showed them the security cameras and the image they got is from a weird angle so I highly doubt that will be helpful. They also wanted me to sit down with a sketch artist but I told them that I can’t see very well without my glasses so I couldn’t help them there. Pretty sure that pissed off a couple of them. Oh, and they asked why you took off your mask and I told them it’s probably because I was flirting with you. That’s about it, and from the looks of it, the information they got from the hostel isn’t really helping.” You look back and forth between him and the TV screen, completely missing the way his eyes widen in shock when you tell him about his room.
“I didn’t leave much behind in the room for them to find anyway but…you asked housekeeping to clean?”
“Of course I did, couldn't take the chance you know.” You answer as if it’s the most obvious thing to have done and only when you turn back and look at him do you find him biting into his lower lip and smiling at you.
“And you mentioned that we were flirting?” He moves closer, making you shift your weight towards him without even noticing.
“Y-yes.”
“So…we were flirting then.” It’s more of a comment than a question but you nod your head in silence, unable to hold back from looking down at his lips and licking your own.
“Tell me sweetheart, why are you going out of your way to help me out?” You feel his hand slip through your hair and scratch at your neck, the action nearly making you drop the cup of tea. He notices almost immediately and grabs the mug, placing it on the table while continuing to move closer to you.
“Because I- I see the justice behind your actions, and…and- I think that it is our duty to resist when injustice slowly becomes l-law.” You shut your eyes as you feel his breath blow across your cheek, no longer able to pretend that he wasn’t having a monumental effect on you. You grab his arms to pull him towards you, and just as you’re about to mold your lips with his, the obnoxious ring of your phone fills the quiet room and sends you toppling away from him.
“F-fuck me, I’m so sorry about that.” You grab your bag to silence your phone, angrily pushing the side button when you see it’s one of your friends calling you and not someone that you had to pick up the phone for.
“I’d tell you that we should go to dinner first but, given the circumstances, I think we’re way past that.”
You stare at him for what feels like hours, not failing to notice the way he looks you up and down before standing up.
“Do you mind if I use your shower? It’s been a few days and I frankly don’t know what’s going to happen in the future so I’d rather do that now.” He takes his jacket off and drapes it across the couch before reaching for his shoes, and if you weren’t already mesmerized by him before, you can’t take your eyes off of the way his arms and hands nimbly move now.
“Uhh, yeah sure. Just make sure to wipe everything that you touch. And leave your clothes outside the bathroom, I’ll wash them.” You stand up and head towards the bathroom to bring out some towels for him, an idea popping in your mind when you see the box dye you have underneath your sink.
“You don’t have to.” He says as he walks behind you, already throwing his socks and making a pile just outside the bathroom door.
“No, I don’t. Throw them outside.” You smile at him, moving past him so you can give him some privacy, only to feel his bare hand grab your arm and pull you into his chest. You’re practically breathing the same air he’s breathing, barely mustering up the courage to return the familiar touch and place your hands on his chest.
“Thank you…for everything.” It’s his turn to look down at your lips and feel your heart skip a beat when he bumps his nose with yours.
“D-don’t mention it.” You’re practically breathless when you respond to him, and he must really enjoy how in control he is of this whole situation because he leans down and kisses your jaw, smiling to himself when you shudder in his arms and lean into him a little bit more.
“I still don’t know your name.” He whispers to you, moving his hands to the back of your neck and tugging on your hair so he can gain access to your throat.
“Maybe it’s- best if we…umm, don’t exchange names.” You’re not sure how you’re managing to breathe out grammatically correct sentences, but you don’t bother dwelling on it, wanting things to come as naturally as possible to the two of you.
“Oh really? So what should I call you when we’re getting acquainted with each others’...politics?” You giggle at the question, hating how hot and corny his choice in words sounds.
“You can call me whatever you want…as long as you keep touching me.” You moan when he nips at your throat, licking the spot immediately after and growling when you melt into his arms.
“Is that right, sweetheart?” His voice is laced with a sultry venom that you’re sure you’ll be begging him to poison you with over and over again for the remainder of the night.
“Hmm.” You drag your nails down his forearms, throwing your head back in ecstasy when you feel his grip on your neck tighten the more you scratch him.
“And, what will you be calling me baby?” He continues his journey down your skin, leaving a trail of wet kisses across your heaving chest and watching with fascination as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with each quick breath you take.
“Oh, don’t you know the name they gave you…” You’re practically moaning like a whore in his arms, but neither of you seem to care, not when the threat of all the king’s men and all the king’s horses could find you any minute.
“Tell me.” His voice takes a dangerous lilt, and when you finally open your eyes and look into his dilated pupils, you realize that you couldn’t care less about the consequences of your actions.
“The…the adjuster.”