Archive of Our Own

You were fairly certain that Vigilante was cockblocking you.

If you were being technical, your suspicions had started a few months ago, when you’d gotten back on the market after a particularly painful breakup with –

Adrian Chase had been…Adrian Chase had been the perfect boyfriend. Until he wasn’t. 

You’d met just over a year ago, when Adrian waltzed into your coffee shop just before closing, a gleam in his eye and a demand for “something that’ll keep me awake. For like, a really, really long time. I want to get punched in the face with caffeine.”

It was said with the particular intensity of a man who definitely didn’t need caffeine ever, but you’d indulged him anyway.

“Have you tried cocaine?” you’d asked, a small smirk on your lips.

“What? No! Cocaine is like…” he’d lowered his voice and leaned over the counter, scowling. “Very illegal.” 

Then he leaned back abruptly as if burned, and looked you up and down. “Why? Do you do cocaine?”

“Not my scene,” you’d replied, your turn to lean forward conspiratorially. “But I can make you something just as efficient. We’ll have you practically vibrating out of that little dad outfit of yours in no time.”

And that had been all it’d taken. Six shots of espresso and a criminal amount of vanilla syrup over ice with milk. You’d expected to see his face plastered on the morning news for a caffeine overdose. Instead, he became a regular, always in right before closing. Sometimes he’d stay and chat with you until the shop was closed up for the evening and then he’d insist on walking you to your car. 

Which became you two sitting in your car and talking for hours. 

Which, one particularly cold evening, became you two making out in your car. (You’d finally had to be the one to initiate - Adrian couldn’t pick up on a goddamn signal if his life depended on it.)

Adrian decided you were boyfriend and girlfriend after that, always said with a beam of pride and like it was one big mashed up word: “boyfriendgirlfriend”. As if he was afraid if he didn’t say it fast enough that would be the exact amount of time you’d need to break up with him. You weren’t sure how much say you’d actually had in the matter of becoming boyfriendgirlfriend, but it was weirdly nice, actually. After the last several years of fuckboys and ghosting and “not putting labels on things”. You’d had a gnarly past with dating - you’d probably be a serious contender for Guinness World Record for Most Times Someone Had Been Cheated On. And Adrian knew that. And Adrian Chase was built different. 

Until he wasn’t. 

At first, that was a good thing. 

Sure, he was obsessed with you in a way that was sometimes vaguely disconcerting, but he loved you. Hard. You weren’t sure he knew any other way. He loved his friends hard, too. They were basically all a package deal. You never quite understood how they all became friends? They were like a random grab bag of people flung together by circumstances that were entirely unclear to you, no matter how many times one of them gave you a half-assed explanation.

And really, the problem with Adrian Chase had been a slow build. The issue had always been there, it just became more and more prominent over the year you were together until there was simply no ignoring it. 

He had been hiding something from you. 

You’d never confirmed he was cheating, not like you had with all the others. There was no smoking gun: no incriminating texts accidentally sent to you, no “hey girlie” DM from some stranger, no friend who’d seen him at the club making out with someone else. There was just...something. Something not right.

He’d go radio silent for long stretches of time, which was uncharacteristic of a man who often sent you over 100 texts a day. He’d be evasive about what he was up to when he wasn’t with you or at work. Once, you’d gone to Fennel Fields to drop off his jacket that he’d left at your apartment when he left “for work” only to find he wasn’t scheduled at the middling Italian restaurant at all.

The final straw had been when you’d woken up in the middle of the night to find his side of your bed empty. He didn’t come back for three days. 

Then he’d shown up at your door in the middle of the night, soaking wet from the rain, his eyes brimming with tears, a set of scratches down his cheek. He looked like some cat that had come skulking back to its owner after discovering the alleycat life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

And you’d hated that his pained expression made you feel anything at all. That your heart squeezed tight when you looked at him. That his choked, desperate pleas had been almost convincing. But you’d learned your lesson the hard way in the past and you weren’t willing to repeat your mistakes. The risk of Adrian breaking your heart all over again was insurmountable.

Worse still was the fact that the anger never came - only the sorrow and the loneliness. You’d stayed awake for nights after, wondering if you’d made the wrong decision. Because Adrian wasn’t like the others…right? He’d adored you. Worshipped you, even. The way he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars…

Either way, he wasn’t being honest with you. You had to hold tight to that certainty.

Adrian Chase: i’m so sorry please forgive me

Adrian Chase: i can’t explain but I promise i’d never hurt you

So you’d spent an entire weekend drinking Three Buck Chuck (you didn’t give a flying fuck if inflation made it $4.49, it was still $3 in your heart) and repeatedly washing every fabric in your apartment until none of it smelled even remotely like Adrian Chase. You’d stood numbly over the washing machine, bottle in hand, and willed yourself not to cry.

If only it were so easy to wash your brain clean.

Unknown Number (Possibly: Adrian Chase): you were right to break up with me

Unknown Number (Possibly: Adrian Chase): i won’t bother you again

But time heals all wounds, right? And time was certainly making a valiant effort at it. 

Your best friend had made you re-download Hinge, your coworkers at the coffee shop had all consulted on your profile, and you were officially back on the market after much protest and turmoil. Of course, dating would require your heart to be “in it”, which it certainly was not. But some casual dating to take your mind off of things surely couldn’t go amiss.

That was, of course, until Vigilante showed up.

The first time seemed like pure coincidence. 

It just so happened that Vigilante was in a foot chase with some low level criminal or another and ended up knocking over the outdoor dining table you had been sitting at with your first Hinge date. That could happen to anyone! Especially in godforsaken Evergreen.

In the end, it was actually kind of fortuitous that Vigilante had shattered a perfectly good table in your lap. Your date had turned out to be some kind of red pill loser who listened to Andrew Tate like it was mindful meditation. He had just been going on about “low value females” when glass and ceramic and wood exploded and spared you from another second of any of that bullshit. You were…weirdly grateful to Vigilante?

He stood up from the table, dusted himself off and held out the purse to a woman standing breathless on the sidewalk a few feet away. He kicked the purse thief in the ribs for good measure, waved at you and started to take off.

“Wait!”

You weren’t sure why you said it. You stooped to collect the hunting knife that’d fallen off his…utility belt?...and offered it to him. He came back and reached for the knife, but for some reason your fingers had been unable to let go. At the time you’d chalked it up to some kind of panic response - your brain synapses simply weren’t firing correctly. Shock. Or something. It was only later that the real reason became startlingly clear. 

You’d been struck by the odd desire to keep him close. 

“Uh…thanks, citizen?” he said with a clumsy attempt to disguise his voice. You released the knife into his grasp unwillingly.

“Why do you sound like that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Like what? I don’t sound like anything. I just sound like me. Vigilante.”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Why are you doing a weird voice? You sound like Yoda swallowed Kermit the Frog.”

“That’s…no I don’t!”

You paused for a long moment, trying to place the vaguely familiar insistence in his tone. “We’ve met before.”

“N-no we haven’t,” he said lowly, a tremble in his voice. “Because I - I would definitely remember meeting you.”

It was strange, how you felt a little dejected that he didn’t remember that night. In his defense, it had been over a year. Probably a little after you and Adrian had originally started to become friends, actually. 

You’d been walking home one night and he’d appeared out of nowhere - handed you the earbud you hadn’t realized had fallen out of your pocket about two blocks prior and then just…stayed. Walked you home in a companionable quiet (which you remembered thinking was weird, because all the reports you’d heard and the late night Reddit posts you’d read about him mentioned how chatty he was) and disappeared the moment you were safely in your apartment with the deadbolt slid into place.

At the time you’d thought: he probably did that sort of thing all the time, right?

Of course, now you knew better.

That first date had ended with your date looking back and forth between you and Vigilante, before calling you a “freak bitch” and leaving you splattered in salad dressing with a check to cover.

What, in all likelihood would have technically been the second time Vigilante crashed your date, you’d gotten ghosted instead.

So maybe you decided to have a drink or two while you waited for what had clearly become a total, radio-silent abandonment. And maybe you’d not eaten anything beforehand because it was supposed to be a dinner date. And you’d fucking driven yourself there but your ass would be walking home. 

It was probably for the best - you were pretty sure you’d only matched with the ghoster because he had glasses that reminded you of Adrian. 

Of course Vigilante was standing in the parking lot when you tripped out the front door. You walked straight past him and straight past your car and you didn’t even bother to look to see if he was following. Somehow, you knew he was. 

He fell into step beside you silently, somehow feeling not like a threat, but a gentle comfort. A wordless offer of companionship.

“I imagine you’re not on any dating apps, Vigilante, so you don’t get it, but it’s fucking bleak out here,” you complained. “There are no good men left on this Earth. I finally had one who was good and he still managed to let me down in the end.”

“How?” came the gruff, muffled, accented reply. You stumbled on the uneven sidewalk and your hand flew to his bicep just as his hands wrapped around your waist. You didn’t pull back, you just stared up at him, hoping maybe your drunk self would see something your sober self couldn’t.

“It’s…hard to explain,” you replied, scrunching your brow as you studied his featureless face, head tilted back slightly to look up at him.

“Try me,” he said, his voice painfully soft. For not the first time you wondered what the man under the mask was really like. You reluctantly released your hold on his arm, and, in turn, his fingers drifted away from your waist. You started walking again, weighing whether there was any harm in unburdening your heart to Vigilante.

“Adrian was the first guy I dated who really and truly made me feel loved? Like I never doubted that he adored me. And I think because of that I was willing to overlook some things for a long time. And then suddenly one day I realized he’d disappear a lot, or be vague about where he was or sometimes he was straight up lying to me. And it didn’t matter how much I thought he loved me because his actions proved that maybe I shouldn’t have been so certain,” you explained, really focusing on your words, wondering in the back of your brain if you sounded like a drunk idiot. 

When he didn’t say anything, you continued, “I’ve dated more than my fair share of guys who cheated or fucked around and even though I felt so certain Adrian wasn’t like that, there was still this doubt in the back of my mind that overweighed everything else. Maybe he wasn’t cheating but I’d given people the benefit of the doubt in the past and always been sorry in the end. Cheating or not - which, I’ll be honest, I find really hard to believe he was cheating because of the way he’d…um, actually you don’t need to hear about that! Uh, cheating or not, he was keeping something from me.”

Vigilante’s decisive lack of response kept your drunk mouth running. “I think the worst part is I maybe miss him? Or, not maybe, I know I miss him. I think about him all the time even when I try not to. I even miss his quirks – of which he had many, let me tell you! But I guess that’s what happens when you love someone that much. And now I’m worried maybe that was the best it’ll ever get for me and it’s gone and I fucked everything up forever.”

You could feel his gaze on you but you didn’t indulge it. You were too busy thinking about the thing you knew you shouldn’t say, the most painful, stupid, ugly part of it all. “The worst part is that it makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me? That there’s something inherently unlovable about me baked into my DNA or something. Why else would all these guys cheat on me, or lie to me, or whatever? Like there must be something fundamentally wrong with me. I’m the common denominator.”

You felt his gloved hand scrape at your elbow, fingers pressing into the skin firmly. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” came his quiet reply finally, his voice strangely ragged. You squinted up at him. 

“Yeah, well, why would you?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“I…wouldn’t,” he replied slowly, before nodding emphatically.

“Right…”

“Right.”

You weren’t totally sure if he was being confusing or you were just drunk? Maybe both?

You turned and found yourself at your apartment door. You blinked for a moment - you’d been so preoccupied you didn’t even remember marching up the stairs. Wait, did it mean that he did remember walking you home all those months ago? Or you’d just led him right straight there. Again. A total psycho knew where you lived.

“Good night,” he said suddenly in that stupid put-on voice. Your heart leapt into your throat anyway. Were you that desperate? 

“Good night, Kermit Yoda,” you taunted, flashing him a smile as you closed the door and you definitely didn’t wobble on your feet. You made an auditory show of dramatically flipping the deadbolt and sliding the chain lock into place. 

“Fuck.” You heard him whisper from the other side of the door in a voice that sounded much more real than the one you’d come to know. There was a small thump and you wondered if you looked through the peephole you’d see his forehead resting against the door. 

You decided it was better not to know.

You leaned with your back against the door and pulled out your phone. Against your better judgment, you scrolled through your old texts until you found the Unknown Number (Possibly: Adrian Chase) thread that you’d been so good about not looking at. Mostly. You hadn’t had the heart to block him, but you’d deleted his number to remove the temptation. And true to his word he hadn’t bothered you again.

You dragged your thumb along the edge of the screen as you debated. Maybe there would be no harm in just…checking in on him? You were still somehow unaccustomed to the total lack of him in your life after a year that was so full of him. You’d find yourself missing him in tiny ways over and over again, even if you were loathe to admit it. There was a stupid, Adrian Chase sized hole in your heart. 

Your other hand drifted into the waistband of your jeans. What if you opened the door and invited Vigilante inside to fill something else of yours? Maybe you could bite into one of those biceps of his and convince him to let you call him Adrian.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck was wrong with you? You pulled your hand from your pants, closed your messages and opened Hinge instead. 

The second time (ghosting date notwithstanding) was perhaps the strangest of all.

It was quick drinks at a bar downtown before he suggested you two hit the club. You could tell what he was after the moment you’d laid eyes on him, but you didn’t mind. You’d been meaning to fuck Adrian Chase right out of your system (and apparently Vigilante, too) and your date was easy on the eyes, if a little smarmy. You could deal with that if it meant getting railed so hard you forgot your own name. Though, if you were judging by the rhythm of his hips as he grinded against you, you might be out of luck on that front.

“Club’s a front for drug smuggling!” a familiar voice called as it passed you, so casual your brain didn’t process it until a moment later. You barely had time to react before Vigilante was pulling a gun and executing the club owner right in front of everyone. Your mouth dropped open and for a second you swore he was turning back to look at you, like he was looking for your approval.

Then, the club burst into understandable chaos. People went running for the door, shouts filling the room in lieu of music. Someone knocked straight into you and you hit the deck hard. You managed to get yourself onto your knees (the drink-slick floor was not agreeing with your choice of shoewear) when your date’s hand appeared in front of you. You grasped onto it, grateful for your only lifeline, and opened your mouth to thank him when you realized rather suddenly that the hand was gloved and attached to the rest of fucking Vigilante.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding strangely breathless.

You yanked your hand out of his and scowled at him. “That was really fucked up.”

“I thought you said drugs weren’t your scene,” he snipped back. Was that some sort of accusation? It felt loaded with a meaning you couldn’t quite parse. The club music was still blasting and you’d just watched Vigilante kill a man in front of your very eyes. Your brain was…not thinking clearly. 

Still, it reminded you of something distant. Or someone.

“What?”

“Nothing!” he exclaimed. Then he looked over his shoulder and you both processed that the dead club owner’s security seemed to be getting themselves together, hands reaching into jackets for what you could only imagine were concealed weapons. He spun you around and pushed you towards the door. 

“Oh! I ordered you an Uber: silver Honda Civic, license plate JG8566, Jamil has a 4.9 star rating. Get home safe!” he chattered at you before pushing you out the front door and onto the sidewalk. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind you. 

The driver of a small Honda Civic waved at you from across the street. He poked his head out the window. “Uber for Vigilante?”

You looked around furtively to see if anyone had heard him and then with a hearty sigh you stepped off the curb.

The third time was the time that really pushed you over the edge.

Your new date had taken you to one of those trendy places-of-the-week that filled a niche so specific you weren’t sure how they sustained a business on “boutique rice pudding”. As it turned out, they didn’t. In fact, it turned out that Rice to Riches was a money laundering scheme. 

A money laundering scheme that Evergreen’s own Vigilante had taken upon himself to break up right in the middle of your date. He’d breezed right in the front door, waving at you as he passed. For a moment you presumed you were actively hallucinating. But the sound of a fight in the kitchen had you realizing otherwise. You listened to the sound of fists hitting flesh over and over and by the time your brain was able to properly have the feeling that you should definitely leave, Vigilante was standing at your table.

“Hey!” He was still doing the stupid voice, apparently. 

“Hi?”

“So, just a heads up this place was a money laundering front.”

“Okaaaay,” you drawled, uncertain of how you were supposed to respond to that info. “You know, a heads up usually comes before you murder a bunch of people.”

“Oh, I didn’t murder anyone. They’re just uhhhhh out cold. Tied up,” he replied in a way that was utterly unconvincing. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. You turned to your date to say something but he was white as a sheet, his fingers still gripping his spoon while his mouth hung open, slack jawed. 

“Are you on a date?” he asked flippantly, examining the fingers of his gloves as if he were casually looking at his nails. 

“Yes?”

“You sure go on a lot of dates.”

Wait a minute, did Vigilante think you were a slut?

“Three dates is not a lot of dates. And, not that it’s any of your business but…I’m trying to get back out there after a really shitty break up. Is that a fucking crime?”

His sure-fire posture shifted slightly and he crossed his arms over his chest. Your gaze caught on his biceps and suddenly your fingers itched with the memory of them. God damnit. “Maybe it should be.”

Your brow furrowed. Was he fucking pouting? You were indignant, and feeling a little reckless. “Well, then, Vigilante, go on - put that dumbass sword on your back to good use and kill me.” 

“Uh…do you two know each other?” your date asked. You blinked at him dumbly - you’d forgotten he was there. 

“No!” you and Vigilante snapped at the same time. You stared hard at him, trying to make out anything beyond that stupid red visor of his. 

“Look, you seem nice but this has been deeply weird, sooo I’m gonna go,” your date said, but not before taking his rice pudding with him. You couldn’t blame him - for a money laundering scheme the pudding was really good.

You whipped back towards Vigilante as the bell sounded over the front door and the only person with a lick of common sense in the scenario fled the scene.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded. You clarified before he could shrug it off, “Why are you so hell bent on ruining all my dates?”

He laughed, an awkward, strained sound that devolved into a cough as he clearly tried to disguise the sound. “Um, selfish much?”

“Excuse me?”

“You really think the world revolves around you so much that I’m specifically trying to interrupt your little dates or whatever?” he scoffed, apparently intent on doubling down on his unusual attempt at indifference. “I’m a little busy fighting crime to worry about your inept dating life, dude.”

You narrowed your gaze at him, almost positive he was lying. But the alternative did seem insane. He sighed. “What possible reason could I have for wanting to keep you from dating?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you admitted. What else were you meant to say? There was no proof, not really. But you didn’t believe in coincidences.

“Oh, so he’s like…in love with you?” your friend said when you’d finally finished recounting the strangest weeks of your life.

Coffee threatened to spill out of your nose as you choked, “What?”

One of your regulars piped up from their usual table by the counter. “Oh, yeah, no I agree. It sounds like he’s totally in love with you.”

“On what planet is he – oh my god, there’s no way, guys!” you argued, even if the sinking feeling in your stomach said otherwise. Was it possible? And if it was – why? Why you?

You waved them both off. “He doesn’t even know me.”

Even if you were unconvinced of some kind of undying love you were convinced that it was all on purpose. Fate had often been unkind to you in the past, but it was a level of sadism that even you could not believe existed naturally in the universe. 

And all of it – the failed dates, the weird, strangely intimate encounters, the skin-crawling feeling of being followed, the gnawing feeling of familiarity – had led you to a totally logical, reasonable plan: set a trap for Vigilante. 

So maybe you’d spent maybe a little too much time planning it. Thoroughly vetting the restaurant, the people who ran it, pouring through social media accounts and a background check on your date - certifying that there was no off-hand excuse for Vigilante to crash your date.

No crimes, no drug fronts, no nefarious owners. Just an above-the-board night out with a nice guy. It was your own little challenge to him, a desperate bid to prove your theory right. If he crashed this date you would know for sure that this wasn’t just some weird cosmic intervention and that he was doing it on purpose. 

“Are you okay?” your date asked. Alex? Andrew? Adrian? (NO, definitely not.) Fuck. What was his name again? “You seem a little…distracted.”

You dragged your gaze back to him and put on a carefully practiced smile. “I’m so sorry. I am distracted, you’re right. And that’s not fair to you.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered with a lift of his brows and a small tilt of his head. He took a sip of his drink, waiting for you to fill in the blanks for him. Adam! Adam seemed…nice. And you were…toootally blowing him off. You sighed, defeated, and smiled apologetically. 

“It’s going to sound crazy,” you started, raking your hands over your face.

Adam smiled. “Try me.”

You shifted slightly in your seat. “Okay, so you know Vigilante?”

“Vaguely? The costumed maniac who works with Peacemaker and is somehow not in jail?”

You chuckled. “That’s the one. Well, uh, I think he might be – ” In love with me? But you figured that was not the right thing to say on a first date. Was the alternative really much better? “Stalking me?”

Adam choked on his sip of wine. “What?”

“Or it’s total, weird karmic coincidence that he just keeps showing up where I am!” you offered. Adam’s head tilted slightly to the side, bewilderment written across his handsome features. 

“How many times has this happened exactly?”

“Four. Give or take. Not counting the time he walked me home like a year ago.”

“Sorry, Vigilante walked you home?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds.”

Adam’s eyes studied you for a moment before he turned and flagged your waiter down. Damn it, you thought, he doesn’t even need to be here to ruin dates for me. Maybe you’d have to store the Vigilante card in your pocket for some bad date down the line. 

But instead, Adam leaned back in his chair and smiled at the waiter. “I think we’re going to need another glass of wine. And what’s the best dessert you’ve got?”

When the waiter disappeared to fetch both things he leaned his elbows on the table. “Okay, start from the beginning.”

Outside the restaurant you two did the awkward dance between lingering and saying good night once and for all. With both your rides ordered the two of you stood waiting, close together. (It was cold! Who could blame a girl?) Adam reached up and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Listen, I’m really hoping I don’t get a visit from Vigilante later for this, but, uh, can I kiss you?” Adam asked. His sandy hair was given an orange halo by the streetlight above you both. He really was handsome in a sort of everyman kind of way. Considerate, kind, easy to look at and not Vigilante – you nodded. His lips pressed against yours gently and something that felt almost like guilt twisted in the base of your stomach. 

When his car rolled up first he offered to stay with you but you’d waved him off. “Can’t lose you to Vigilante, now can I?”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek and made you promise to text when you got home safe. The second his car disappeared around the block your driver cancelled on you. You’d already waited an eternity and getting a rideshare in downtown Evergreen on a Friday night was a nightmare scenario. Besides, the walk would be good for you. There was plenty to think about on the way home. Like…

Where the fuck was Vigilante?

Maybe you were back to the drawing board entirely. You’d been so convinced he was doing it on purpose, but maybe you’d been wrong? Maybe it really was just all coincidence? What a weird, specific curse to have upon you. 

And then you heard the footsteps behind you.

The feeling of being followed was familiar now, unfortunately expected, but when you whipped around the very clear glint of a knife pointed at you, well…that was new.

“Oh!” you managed to squeak out. It wasn’t Vigilante at all. Instead, you were face to face with some guy who was very clearly trying to mug you. 

“Jesus Christ,” you sighed.

“Give me your purse, bitch!” 

You raked a hand over your face. “Please don’t do this. I’ve been having a really shitty few months and I’m - ”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Listen, asshole, I’m just trying to warn you. Vigilante has been stalking me so you probably don’t want to fuck with me.”

You didn’t think you’d get to play the card so soon! A strange delight unfurled in your gut. Maybe invoking his name would somehow finally make him appear. Your life in danger would be his very own Bat Signal. 

The man faltered slightly before tightening his grip on his knife. “Why would Vigilante be stalking you?”

“You know, man with knife, that’s a really good question,” you said, nodding thoughtfully. The strange sense of calm running through you really should have been more alarming. You felt yourself take a step towards him and his expression shifted into pure confusion. Maybe that was good. Maybe you could actually handle this yourself. Maybe this was like when people gave advice to out-freak your would-be attacker. Maybe –

A single gunshot silenced the rest of that train of thought. Hot blood splattered against your clothes, your cheek, in your slightly open mouth.

“Oh my god,” you managed, frozen for just a moment before bending to spit onto the sidewalk. You lifted the hem of your sweater to your mouth to scrape the taste of blood out of your mouth while you tried desperately not to gag.

“Nice! I’ve been looking everywhere for this guy!” Vigilante cheered, a slight hop in his step as he crossed the street to where you stood.

“Are you okay?” he asked, giving your shoulder a slight nudge with his own. You at least had the good sense to recoil from his touch. His hands shot up to shoulder height, palms towards you in a show of reassurance.

“Sorry! I was running a little late. Did I miss your date?”

“Yeah, you did,” you replied, realizing a moment too late that you sounded a little disappointed. Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with you? “I even got a good night kiss. Which, before you say anything, is not a crime.”

Tension visibly rippled through Vigilante’s muscles. “Was he…was he good to you?”

“He was very nice.”

“That’s it? Just ‘very nice’? Sounds kind of lame to me!”

“Well, he’s not you.”

“Not me good, or not me…bad?” he asked quietly. 

You faltered a moment, genuinely unsure. Sure, the stupid, depraved thought had been knocking around in your head for a little while now. That while Vigilante was actively ruining your dating life, at least he was somewhat consistent. At least he showed up for you. And maybe there was something kind of hot about the mask now that you thought about it.

God damnit, you really needed to get away from him before you did something stupid. So, you continued walking towards your apartment, thinking maybe he’d have to stay behind to deal with the body. But instead he just followed along with you like some hapless dog.

“For one thing, he didn’t just murder someone in front of me again,” you said instead of really answering the question.

He put his hands on his hips. “That guy was going to hurt you. You’re telling me you would have preferred I let him stab you in the face over a purse? That would be a total waste of a really good face.”

“No! I’m not saying that, I’m saying…fuck I don’t know, Vij,” you sighed. He froze, a particular tension to his posture. But your brain was busy playing catch up with the fact that he’d said you had a…good face? 

“Say that again,” he murmured. Something was so, so familiar about the cadence, the desperation. An impossible thought prickled at the back of your mind and you batted it away.

“Say what again?” you asked.

“Call me Vij. I like it when you say it.”

A shudder rolled down your spine, involuntary and unwelcome. You struggled against the feeling settling in your gut. “Not until you admit that you’ve been trying to ruin my dating life.”

“Why would I admit that?” he scoffed. “Or, um, I mean, uhhh…I told you before, I think that’s a really self-centered way of looking at the world. To assume that just because I happen to show up at all your dates and they happen to be interrupted or end badly while I’m around doesn’t mean that I’m doing it on purpose! And actually, as a feminist, I find that kind of assumption offensive.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yes, really! I think all women should be allowed to date whoever they want!”

“All women?” you asked.

“Mhmm!”

“Even me?” you continued to press.

His shoulders shifted slightly. “Yup!”

“And so I should be able to fuck whoever I want as much as I want?”

His entire body went stiff as he seemingly tried to force himself to nod.

“For sure. Yes! Definitely! Go off, diva! Have sooooo much sex. Like maybe even have too much!” he rambled. You just stared at him with wide eyes. Then he laughed sharply, and the familiarity of it ran through your whole body. There was no way… “I mean, can one even have too much sex? Probably not!”

You tilted your head slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Can I admit something?” he asked, the question bursting out of him like he’d been biting his tongue, his voice sounding strained. He waited for your sharp nod before he continued, “I’ve been trying to ruin your dating life.”

You faltered. “What?”

“Yeah, ha, you totally caught me!” He scratched at the back of his neck and again that sense of familiarity ran through you like ice in your veins.

“You know, my friends think it’s because you’re totally in love with me.”

His head tilted slightly and you would have given anything to see the expression on his actual face. “Oh! Well, probably because I am.”

For a moment you could practically smell the short-circuiting happening in your brain. “You…huh?” 

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other as you both stood at the bottom of your apartment complex stairs. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious?”

“Why else are you doing all this?”

“Is love not enough these days?” he joked breathlessly. 

Something like panic started to crawl down your spine. You had, of course, considered the possibility, but faced with the simple truth of it you didn’t know what to do or say. So you did the only thing you could think of in the moment - you turned wordlessly and walked up the steps towards your apartment. You fished your keys out of your bag, fingers brushing over the lock before you turned back around to look at him one more time. 

It was a mistake. 

You couldn’t believe it. You were about to do something so, so fucking stupid. But the theory brewing in the back of your mind needed to be accounted for. 

“Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?” 

No sooner had you asked then Vigilante ducked his head down and pressed his mouth to yours, fabric scraping at your chin. You made a noise of surprise, muffled against his mask, as he pushed you back against your front door. All you could taste was polyester and sweat and something metallic. His tongue tried to lick desperately into your mouth but was constrained behind the fabric, now wet and sticking to your skin and his. It was entirely unsatisfying, frustrating even, but still you couldn’t deny the warmth spreading in your stomach. 

So you slid your fingers up his suit until you were prying at fabric, pushing it up until his hands grabbed your wrists firmly and made you stop. He pinned your arms down at your sides but still you leaned back to examine the small stretch of canvas he’d allowed you, taking in the pale expanse of his neck, the very bottom of his face. Even in the dim light something about it was familiar.

You leaned forward and peppered kisses to his exposed skin until you reached his uncovered mouth and waited. He surged forward, kissing you for real this time - nothing but wet lips and eager tongues and hot breath and his hands fisted into the fabric of your shirt as he yanked you against him and – oh. 

You pulled back.

“What the fuck?” you panted. If you’d felt insane moments before, you now felt the Earth had completely flipped on its axis the moment your lips had touched his. 

Because you knew that mouth. 

“Adrian?” 

“Um…who?” he attempted. 

“Take the mask off right now,” you ordered, pulling away from his grasp. 

“I can’t, I, uh, well, I’d have to kill you! If you saw my face! Because, you know - secret identity,” he scrambled. Oh my god. How had you not realized it sooner? You really were a fucking idiot.

“You won’t kill me,” you said firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You don’t know that!”

“I do. And besides, I already know what your face looks like, Adrian Chase,” you snapped.

He looked frantically over his shoulder. “Can we please talk about this inside?” 

“Why the fuck would I let Vigilante inside my apartment?” you asked. 

“C’mon, please don’t be like that,” he whined. 

“Like what? Seriously, tell me why I should let a stranger who is a murderous superhero wannabe into my home,” you said, putting your hands on your hips. “I’ll wait.”

“I don’t wanna be pedantic but you did just let Vigilante put his tongue in your mouth, so, I’m not really sure what the difference is?”

You stood your ground. You just wanted to hear him admit it. Because you knew him and you knew he’d cave.

“Fine! Fuck! It’s me, Adrian!” he exclaimed in a rather loud whisper. You rolled your eyes at him and he reached up to take the mask the rest of the way off.

“Jesus Christ, don’t! Don’t do that out here, you idiot!” you gasped and reached up to stop him. You cursed under your breath as you unlocked your door and then dragged him inside, your fingers hooked under the chest plate of his suit. With the door closed behind him and the lock safely in place, Adrian reached up and pulled the mask off with a gasp.

He stared at you with those wide, bright green eyes of his and smiled from ear to ear. “See, you do care about me still!”

You shifted uncomfortably and avoided his gaze directly. You knew exactly what it was like to fall into those eyes and you weren’t totally convinced you’d be able to climb your way back out. 

“No, I care about my nosy neighbors seeing me with a wanted criminal.”

“Sure,” he agreed, clearly sarcastic. He fished his glasses out his pocket and slid them onto his face. For some reason, seeing your Adrian - glasses and all - in the Vigilante suit was more befuddling than it was before. Worse still, it was also strangely arousing.

And then it hit you like running headfirst into a brick wall.

This is what he’d been hiding the whole time. 

“Why?” you asked, somehow the only word you could seem to muster.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific…”

“Why the fuck were you lying to me about this, Adrian?”

“I mean, not to be technical but I was lying to you about other stuff. You never asked me if I was Vigilante!”

You rolled your eyes and groaned. “Well, pardon me for not thinking to ask if my boyfriend is the psychopath running around Evergreen killing people for minor infractions! Adrian, you’re weird but you’re like…sweet weird. You don’t exactly give off psycho-killer vibes.”

“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”

You punched him straight in the arm. “Please be serious right now!”

“Sorry! I couldn’t help it! That song is so funny. Because like, what is this, you know? They’re really asking the right questions.”

“I cannot believe I spent a year dating you,” you sighed.

“Hey!”

“You don’t get to ‘hey’ me! You’ve been living a double life for…wait, was it the whole time we were together?”

Adrian chewed at his lower lip. “Maybe.”

“Adrian!”

“Yeah, okay, the whole time we were together and also like…for a while now.”

Your mind was reeling, trying to deal with the puzzle pieces and details and – oh yeah, the gnawing of your own presumed morality at the back of your brain. The man you loved was a killer. And maybe you loved the killer, too.

“When you disappeared for three days were you…doing Vigilante shit?”

“Oh, ha! Yeah, I was on a super serious top secret mission,” Adrian laughed. Then he took in your expression and he, too, sombered. “I wanted to tell you then. I wanted to explain. That night on your doorstep I planned to…um, but when I came back…when you told me we were breaking up, that you couldn’t trust me, I…I think it broke something in my brain. But I also realized you were right to break up with me. That actually you’re safer when you’re not dating me. I couldn’t live with myself if someone were to somehow trace me back to you. But then I realized that I could protect you as Vigilante, even if I couldn’t protect you as Adrian.”

“I didn’t want to break up with you, you know that, right?” you asked quietly. Something like a glimmer of hope flashed in his bright green eyes. “But I had to protect my heart.”

“What if…do you think there’s a chance you could let me protect that, too?” he asked, voice quiet and unsteady. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”

“Is that what you think you’ve been doing this whole time? Protecting me?” you asked, genuinely trying to understand the way his clearly warped brain worked.

“I know I don’t deserve it, but you do. You deserve the world. Because you’re not the common denominator in a sea of shitty men. You’re like a bright star that everyone is drawn to. And bright lights attract some losers, too and…I think I’m losing track of the metaphor but all I really mean to say is: you’re exceptional.”

Call it weakness, call it stupidity, call it what it was: a kindling breath on a flame you’d tried desperately to snuff out. You loved him.

It was unclear if it was you who leaned forward first or him but either way you found your head pressed against his chest, his arms sure and firm around you. 

“I have to ask — how did you know it was me?”

“I had my suspicions,” you laughed. Though clearly not enough. “But I knew for certain the second my lips touched yours.”

Adrian well and truly cackled. He lit up all over, exactly the same man you’d fallen in love with the first time you’d met him. Just with a little…more than you could have conceived of before. Maybe you weren’t ready to admit it to him quite yet, but a part of you clamored to get to properly know Vigilante, too. There was a whole new, strange, thrilling part of Adrian Chase for you to discover.

“I can’t believe you recognized my mouth, dude! That’s kind of insanely romantic if you think about it!”

“Yeah, I’m actively choosing not to think about it, thanks!” you retorted. Then, because for some reason you couldn’t help it, “I mean, I’m very familiar with that mouth’s work, it would be a crime if I didn’t recognize it.”

“Are you flirting with me right now?” Adrian asked, the question half a gasp, half a squeal of excitement.

“No! I don’t know! Maybe a little bit! Fuck! I can’t help it.” You scrubbed at your face with both hands like maybe you’d be able to wipe it all away. “It’s like…in me, you know?”

“What is?”

“Everything about you. I see your face and it’s like you’re hardwired in my skull and in my heart. I could have gone on one hundred dates or none and it wouldn’t have made a difference at all, because none of them were you!” you exclaimed, breathless. You knew Adrian well enough to know you were maybe being too flowery for his very literal brain to fully comprehend.

“Me Adrian or me Vigilante?” he asked, surprising you.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze and then gave a defeated shrug. “Both, I think.”

“Fuck, I think that’s the nicest and the coolest and the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Adrian murmured. He pulled you tight against him by the hips. “Can I kiss you again? I think I need to or else I’ll die.”

You answered him by pressing your lips to his, his chin captured in your hand, fingers pressed firmly into the skin – just enough pressure, not too much or too little for dear, sweet, Adrian. You kissed him hungrily, which seemed to take him delightfully by surprise, if the noises he made were anything to judge by. His tongue scraped over your teeth, and you bit at his lower lip and pulled. His fingers pressed so hard into your hips you thought they might bruise and you also thought you didn’t give a fuck. Adrian’s mouth travelled from your lips to your jaw to your neck. He sucked at the skin just below your ear and you knew he was trying to mark you as his. That was the question, wasn’t it? Were you willing to be his again, knowing what you know? 

It was utterly incongruous: your perception of Adrian, the man you’d loved and practically lived with for an entire year versus Vigilante, a man you knew to be a totally cold-blooded, obsessive killer. Did it make a difference if it was in the name of justice? You had seen on the news when he’d been involved with saving the planet from those butterfly alien things with Peacemaker. How was he the kind of guy who could play D&D for hours, and talk incessantly about Pokemon, and kiss you so gently, and also the kind of guy who kicked criminal ass with no remorse and saved the planet from alien invasion?

“What are you thinking?” he asked, pulling back suddenly. He had that gentle, focused look in his eye that you knew all too well.

“I think I should probably be scared of you,” you replied honestly. His tight hold on you loosened almost imperceptibly, but still you felt it. Of course you did.

“I would never hurt you,” he whispered. “Please believe me.”

“I do. And, I also think you’ve permanently fucked up the wiring in my brain,” you grumbled against his mouth.

“Does this mean we’re getting back together?” he asked, and you could practically feel the excitement of the idea thrumming through his body. 

“Maybe,” you offered. He deflated slightly. “If we’re going to try and figure this out then there’s no more secrets between us, okay?”

Adrian nodded. “Sick! I mean, now you basically know all my secrets. Except, I guess, about all the drugs and blood money in my basement.”

“The what now?”

He darted forward and peppered your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks with kisses. Somewhere between them all he managed to say, “Thank you for giving me another chance. I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“Hard to miss someone when you’re stalking them, Adrian,” you reminded him.

“But I miss you every time I blink,” Adrian breathed, wide-eyed and stupidly adorable and achingly earnest. Your fingers itched for every part of him but you refrained, hooking your fingers into the chest plate of his Vigilante armor. 

“I need to hear you say it – no more secrets. We are both totally honest with each other, for better or worse,” you demanded.

Adrian nodded, a wide grin on his lips. “I’ll never keep anything from you ever again. You can trust me, I promise. In fact, I promise on Peacemaker’s life! He’s the only thing I cherish in this life even remotely close to you, so you know I mean it. If I was gonna swear on the most important thing, well, that would be you, but I figured that’s a little counterproductive to the whole swearing on something thing.”

When you kissed again it wasn’t hungry any more. It was slow, it was deep, it was an acknowledgment that you had all the time in the world. Your fingers wove into his curls and pulled tightly, just the way you knew he liked. Because you knew him. He groaned his approval into your mouth and he wrapped around you, practically enveloping you. The next thing you knew his hands were under your ass and he was supporting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He carried you effortlessly towards your bedroom, pausing along the way to press your back to the wall and kiss you even deeper, his fingers needy and clumsy at the hem of your shirt. His fingers, still gloved, scraped across the skin of your stomach, reacquainting themselves with familiar territory. 

His lips didn’t leave yours the entire time, even as he carried you to your bed and laid you down like the most precious thing on the planet. He leaned over you, hands pressed into the mattress, you hooking your fingers into the straps on the front of his suit to try and pull him as close as humanly possible. Things blurred into a hot, slow, haze of Adrian. 

Suddenly, you drew back with a gasp, both desperate for air and with another gnawing question on your tongue.

“Wait wait! You didn’t kill any of those guys I went on dates with, right?”

“Only the first one,” he said with a kind of severity that sent a chill down your spine and had you anticipating the feeling of him between your thighs in equal measure. Then you realized, somewhat dreamily, that Adrian already was in between your thighs. So you squeezed your legs around him tighter – you weren’t letting him go again. Adrian Chase really had ruined you forever.

“And what crime did he commit?” you asked against his mouth, your arms snaking around his neck.

“Being an asshole to the person I love most in the world.”

Then he unhooked your legs so he could slide down your body until he was kneeling at the edge of your bed. His fingers made quick work of your pants and yours pressed into the mattress as he made himself at home between your thighs like no time had passed at all.

Adrian watched you sleep for some time, your limbs tangled with his, you asleep in one of the oversized shirts he’d left behind, the poster of Fargo printed across your chest. The evening had gone better than he could have ever planned. And he had done a lot of planning. 

Sure, he hadn’t anticipated your date kissing you, but it didn’t even bother him anymore. But he’d heard what that stupid guy had said to you while he was hidden out of sight. 

Can’t lose you to Vigilante, now can I?

Now the mugger had been a total coincidence but one that made him look so cool and tough. He’d saved you from death, not just a shitty date with some stupid guy! Extra points for Vigilante! He’d high five himself if he could.

Adrian moved slowly, making sure not to disturb you in the slightest. He got distracted for a long moment just watching you sleep peacefully, a ghost of a smile on your beautiful mouth.

When he slipped back into the bed he had the Vigilante mask on and your phone in his hand. He cuddled up behind you and then tucked his chin into the crook of your neck. He ensured the flash was off and then took a picture. He opened your texts and found Adam (Hinge) with ease.

He attached the photo and then, smiling from ear to ear, typed: You lose.