Izzy

Now, Adrian has never been a fan of the law; in fact, he’s killed a few cops, without thinking and without remorse, but now he might be rethinking his ideology. When he called for the uppteenth time that night and you didn’t answer, he only assumed that you were most likely asleep, not dressed like a cop from the porno at the most depraved bar known to man. 

You weren’t drunk exactly, but you also weren’t sober, just enough to keep a hold of yourself if anything went wrong. The men you meet in bars aren’t exactly known for their ability to hear the word “no” when it isn’t accompanied by a swift knee to the groin. Adrian didn’t think he’d spot within fifty feet of this place, let alone in such a scandalously clad outfit, not that he was complaining or perving for that matter. Well, he was, but you didn’t need to know that.

You weren’t exactly inclined to talk to him outside of work, always harping on about how he only opens his mouth to annoy you, or to make her wish she had put the barrel end of her Kimber Rapide to the base of her skull. He wondered if you were inclined to listen to him if you didn’t know it was him, or if you were drunk, either or.

He gazed at you in the corner of the bar, leaning on some piece of metal, close enough to keep you in view but also not enough to be seen by you just yet. You were nursing what seemed to be a beer, blueberry flavored, which he thought was fun; you seemed like you’d make fun of him for ordering a fruity cocktail instead of whiskey like a real man.

Adrian watched you as you sat up from the bar, a man approaching with a sick smirk on his face, motioning for the bartender to order you another of whatever cheap beer you were drinking; he still wasn’t close enough to be able to see the brand, but he was sure it was whatever was in your fridge at the time. He approached, opting to sit three seats away from you, making sure another smelly bar patron obscured your view of him as attempting to listen in; this doesn’t count as stalking, right? 

           Oh, who is he kidding? He wouldn’t care either way.

“Nice costume, babe.” The man spoke, pointing down at your outfit, earning an eyeroll as you sat up in the creaky barstool.

“So I’ve heard.” Your tone was annoyed. Sure, you liked being flirted with, but this was the seventeenth time, and it was just getting tiring with the same generic ugly guys coming up to you with the idea that you’d want to blow them in a dirty and grimy men’s room. 

The man ignored the obvious annoyance in your tone because, hey, horny wins over obvious rejection, right? 

“You going to arrest me with those handcuffs?” He flirted, leaning against the bar as he pointed at your handcuffs at your hips that Adrian knew for a fact were fully operable. 

You rolled your eyes; you’ve heard the same dumb line for the past five guys that came up to you, and it didn’t get any more appealing the more you heard it. You downed the rest of your beer before looking at him, clearly getting increasingly disgusted by the man in front of you.

“Depends on the smell of your breath becoming an increasingly hard-to-ignore public disturbance.”  You replied, making the man piss off as you waved him goodbye, sighing as you looked down at the bar.

Just as you were about to call it a night and leave, Adrian slid up next to you, well, rather someone you thought was dressed as Vigilante, like some sick Halloween costume of a known criminal. You eyed the costume curiously, less blood on it than you normally see, along with fewer bullets in it. 

You were buzzed at most, which only made the costume funnier to you, to think that someone potentially idolized Adrian enough to dress up as him for Halloween. 

“Interesting get up. You're a fan of his work, or something?” You could barely contain your amusement, trying to stifle a laugh as you looked at the rather accurate costume. “Must’ve studied him quite a bit to get a costume that accurate, huh?” You asked. 

Adrian only paused, his eyes drifting down to your cleavage again, thankfully covered by the visor in his helmet, which he was now very grateful for, having his prescription in to get an HD look at this costume of yours. 

He cleared his throat, unsure if he should even answer, in fear of you thinking he was stalking you and following you here. He deepened his voice, trying to sound unlike himself.

“Just a fan, I guess. I really appreciate his ideology.” He argued, it wasn’t untrue, I mean, he agrees with himself completely.

“His ideology? He kills every criminal, including graffiti artists.” You snorted, resting your chin in your palm. “Hardly call that something sane and something to idolize.”

“Artist is a strong word for vandalism. Stan Lee is an artist, and he made Spider-Man, not penises on public property. ” He argued, which only served to let out a laugh from you.

“You sound like him, too. You got this costume down to a tee.” You spoke, sitting up in your seat. “Still, Cops might come after you dressed like that. He is wanted by Evergreen police.” 

Adrian leaned forward, his elbows on the bar counter as he tilted his head, the helmet clicking against the other fabric of his costume. “I mean, you’re dressed as a cop. Are you going to use those handcuffs on me?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, along with the faint hint of Adrian’s voice, which only made you feel like you’d had too much tonight. 

The flirtation wasn’t missed on you, and the rest of the men that had flirted with you that night had served to be either strange or looked like they had snuck onto Earth, at least with this guy, you could make him keep the mask on, even if it was the mask of your idiot technical coworker. 

The idea even slightly excited you. That wasn’t weird, right? Totally not. 

The way you responded to him only served to give him some self-confidence and a bit of a self-esteem boost. He'd never really been good with flirting, but he was trying. And he was doing quite a good job of being an idiot, which had helped.

For now, anyway. 

“Mmm, I guess I’m off duty.”  You say, tapping your nails on the counter of the bar, looking up at him. “So, unless you commit a crime right now, I’ll let you slide without ending up in my cuffs.”

Adrian’s knee brushed her underneath- somewhat non-accidental. 

“Though if you were going to do something criminal, I wouldn’t recommend it here.” You lowered your voice, a dangerous smirk on your lips. “The helmet’s hot, but it’s killing your eye contact.”

You reached forward because you can’t help yourself and tapped the visor of his helmet, making a clink. “I bet you can’t even see my eyelashes in this thing.” You smirked. 

Adrian let out a soft, nervous chuckle that betrayed the whole act.

"You'd be surprised what these lenses can pick up," he said, voice still pitched low but slipping slightly on the edge of amusement. "I’ve got HD night vision, motion tracking… saw you cross your legs three times in the last minute." 

His knee brushed yours again, lingering this time.

"And for the record... I can see everything. Especially when you do that little smirk thing." A pause. "Though, if I took this helmet off right now... would you still talk to me like I’m dangerous? Or would you laugh and say my hair looks stupid?"

You looked him over, recognizing the same speech pattern as Adrian, and how eerily similar the costume is to the real vigilantes, suddenly everything clicking into place as your smirk dropped. 

"Depends, do you follow your coworkers to bars on Halloween?" You asked, narrowing your eyes at him.

If you could see his face, it would be flushed, clearly caught in the act as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find an explanation that wouldn’t make you want to punch him in the face. He’d underestimated you, clearly. His heart pounded faster, even as he attempted to force a nonchalant tone in his voice, which was now back to his normal pitch. 

"I, uh... I might." His knee still brushed yours under the bar counter, more out of nervous habit than any attempt at flirting now. The smirk had vanished from your face, replaced with something more calculating.

He swallowed, deciding to go on the offensive. "But then again, you have no proof of anything. It's Halloween. Lots of people dress up as Vigilante."

You narrowed your eyes at him, sitting up straighter as you looked at him, now recognizing the obvious demeanor of Adrian Chase. 

But you sat there, arms folded, still smirking.

"How many of them count how many times I cross my legs?" You shot back, voice low and edged with playful suspicion. "Or talk like a poorly written comic book character when they're trying to sound tough?"

Adrian stiffened, but before he could scramble for an excuse, you leaned in, elbows on the counter, your smirk creeping back like a cat cornering a mouse.

He tried for nonchalance again, but it came off more desperate. 

"How'd you... Figure me out so fast?" He finally asked, his knee going still now.

"You’re terrible at this," you whispered. "The voice thing? Cute effort. But you ramble enough for me to recognize when it's yours."

He opened his mouth—then closed it.

"...Okay," he mumbled through the helmet, voice dropping the act completely. It was just him now. "Yeah. It’s me."

A beat of silence.

“What did you even think was going to happen? I’d invite you back to my place and decide that once my clothes were off, I’d suddenly become blind and not recognize you?” You laughed.

Another beat of silence before you groaned.

“You were going to keep the mask on, weren’t you?” You stated, staring blankly at him.

Adrian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean… in my defense, it’s really hard to flirt when trying not to be killed by butterflies.” His voice was muffled slightly by the helmet, but the embarrassment came through loud and clear.

  “And like… technically speaking, I was still being honest! Vigilante ideology? Check. Appreciation for tactical body armor as everyday wear? Double check.” He paused. “And you said the helmet was hot!”

   You arched a brow.

  “…Okay, yeah,” he admitted, deflating slightly. “Maybe I had a very specific fantasy, but in my defense, you look dangerous tonight. Like… felony-level attractive.” He chuckled slightly. "Get it? Felony, cause you're dressed as a cop and-"

   Another pause.

  “…I’ll take off the helmet if you promise not to be pissed at me.”

You should be pissed; in fact, you should be downright angry. But you aren’t, instead blatantly amused and impressed.

“Well, I’ll admit that you have a lot more confidence than I would. Even though you’re plan kinda relied on me being stupid.” You replied, a slight smile on your lips that didn’t go unnoticed by Adrian.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all. If anything, I think you’re too smart. I mean, you know way more about owl facts than I do, and even though that really pisses me off, I don’t completely despise you for it.” He rambled, clearing his throat. “I just wanted us to talk without me constantly talking. I figured you might find it more tolerable.” He argued, the mask muffling his tone slightly.

“And it definitely has nothing to do with what I’m wearing at all.” You replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. That’s a big reason I’m over here, your tits are on like crazy display.” He admitted, which only earned a sharp elbow from you into his side as he clutched it, letting out a high-pitched ‘ow.’  “Right, shouldn’t have said that.” His voice was pained, but you could tell he was still smirking.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you, and the bar almost completely cleared out as the bartender was on the other end of the bar, wiping down the sticky substances on it with a rag.

“Last call.” The bartender announced, before going back to clean.

“Do you want to…” You began, thinking your idea over in your head. “Get out of here?” You asked, not even knowing what you were planning when you asked, but you had to admit you didn’t entirely hate talking to this version of Adrian.

“Yes.” He replied, almost too quickly, as if he was already hoping you’d offer, already standing up from the bar stool.

The walk out of the bar was silent, but surprisingly not uncomfortable. This Adrian felt more relaxed, and you found yourself stealing glances at him—noticing the way he still seemed a little awkward and nervous, but much less rigid and socially anxious than usual.

Once outside, the crisp autumn air hit you both, and the streetlights cast a warm glow on the pavement. Adrian paused, turning to face you with his hands awkwardly at his sides. His helmet was tucked under his arm, his messy hair sticking out all over the place.

"You live nearby?" He asked finally.

“Quite an assumption to think that’s where we’re going.” You commented, putting your hands in your jacket as you walked, your heels clicking against the pavement.

Adrian went to explain himself before you interrupted him.

“My apartment is down the block, dork.” You shook your head, looking down at the ground as Adrian looked at you, attempting to keep his eyes off some rather exposed places.

A beat passed as you finally made it to your apartment. “You can stop perving anytime,” You quickly reminded him, which only made him roll his eyes.

“Don’t wear a sexy cop costume that makes me question my ethics of hating cops then.” He joked, looking her over again. “Seriously, that thing would be entirely hard to arrest someone in. It’s entirely too short, and you have nowhere to store your gun.” He continued.

You stopped in front of the door to your building, looking him over with an arched eyebrow. “Do you always say anything that comes to your mind?” You asked, trying to laugh at how absurd he sounds.

“No, I’ve been wanting to ask you if you’d let me come up since we left the bar, but figured it was too soon.” He smiled, a wide, toothy grin as he held onto his tactical belt.

He was honest, you’d give him that.

The debate on whether to give him his wish hung in your mind. Adrian could be pretty fucking annoying about 60 percent of the time, but you’d be lying if there wasn’t even a small part of you that didn’t wonder what it would be like to sleep with him.

You were really feeling the fuck out of this nerd.

“You know, Fuck it. Follow me up.” You stated, opening the door to your apartment building as you motioned him to follow, which only made him increasingly confused.

“Wait, seriously? I didn’t think that would work. I mean, sure, I had hope, but in no situation did I think that this was the moment that my countless tries would actually work.” He stated, clearly a little dumbfounded, but following you anyway.

“Please stop talking.” You muttered, rolling your eyes as he rambled. “Yes, ma’am.”

The elevator ride up was painfully slow, and Adrian—still in full tactical gear minus the helmet—stood awkwardly to your left, fidgeting with one of the many buckles on his vest.

  "So," he began, voice barely above a whisper. "If I take this off… does that mean we’re officially past the 'weird coworker zone' and into 'I can’t look at you without thinking about your naked body?"

  You didn’t answer at first, just watched the numbers climb as you leaned against the wall. Then: “Depends. Can you actually shut up for five minutes?”  

  “I can try,” he said solemnly. “But no promises if you unbutton that jacket.”

  Your eyes narrowed.

   He quickly added: “...Or don’t! Keep it closed! Very professional look! Respectable!”

   You snorted.

The doors finally opened with a soft ding, and you stepped out first, pulling your keys from your pocket as Adrian followed close behind, quiet for once, like a dorky service dog who couldn't believe it actually got invited inside.

When you unlocked the door and pushed it open, you turned just slightly to catch him staring again—not at your chest this time—but at you. Like he still couldn’t believe any of this was real.

"...You're really letting me in," he murmured.

You sighed dramatically. "Yeah. But if you start monologuing about owl mating rituals or why vigilante justice is morally defensible over breakfast? I will throw you out."

He grinned, a real one this time, and stepped forward without another word.