Chapter Text
Adrian has a perfect, fool-proof, shower routine that is exactly twenty-five minutes long. He started doing it as a kid, and it slots perfectly between the five minutes it takes for him to get out of bed and the next thirty he spends getting ready for the day. It’s important that the timing works out like that, because Adrian prefers to move from one moment to the next in smooth, quick succession.
Another bonus is that the lack of gaps looks pretty good on his Google calendar. Average crime fighters would refrain from detailing their personal schedules on an insecure network since, of course, some investigator could see that the block he’s labelled “gardening” always lines up with a televised Vigilante takedown. Or, they would wonder why he was ‘gardening’ every day of the week, for hours at a time, mostly in the middle of the night. But Adrian isn’t an average crime fighter, and he just discovered a plug-in that lets him change the background of his calendar, so fuck that investigator. Inquisitorial bastards should let people enjoy their night gardening.
Where was he? The shower routine. Some people would say that it’s too long, especially for a guy. He agrees, to the extent that he could confidently concur on what regular men’s needs are. It’s never been something he’s thought too hard about.
What some people fail to acknowledge is that his routine includes a shower pre-game and a shower post-game. The actual time under water is really only fifteen minutes. It’s purposeful, because Adrian recalls reading in one of his mom’s health magazines that any longer than that dries your skin of its natural oils, and Adrian would trust 9 doctors out of 10 if each of them gave their word to him. He was a people’s man like that.
Adrian crosses the hallway between his bedroom and their one household bathroom, rests his glasses on the sink and shimmies out of what little clothing he wears to sleep. He starts the water, turning one handle to a precise 5pm and the other to noon. He pauses, the valves and the spout kinda looked like an elephant. He smiles at the concept, thanks the shower elephant in his mind as it sputters frenetically.
Waiting for the water to heat up is part of his pre-game. Adrian’s mom pays for the hydro bills, as well as everything else in the house, so he doesn’t mind stalling until it reaches a perfect temperature. In return for her silence on how he was eating through her funds, he doesn’t tell her what the local ladies say about their lawn decorations.
While he’s on standby, he tries to pick a few songs to set a tone for the day. Realistically, he’s going to get through four at most, but he still spends the time setting up a good queue of at least ten. It’s comforting in a similar way to how people did affirmations, though Adrian didn’t believe in hippy-dippy manifestation and all that shit.
A notification. His mom texted him. Something about a chicken fajita recipe. He swipes it away. Another message, this time about his cousin. Adrian frustratedly types something placating. “Cool,” he writes, then tries to get back to what he’s doing.
His phone vibrates again. Adrian sticks his head out into the hallway.
“Mom!” He yells, “stop sending me random shit first thing in the morning.”
She doesn’t hear him. Another message: can’t hear you, honey. Did you read what I sent you?
Adrian decides that he won’t fight this battle. He’s run out of time to pick music already. Fine. It’s fine.
He needs to reset. Adrian puts his phone on ‘do not disturb’ and plays whatever song comes up first, leaving his mood up to the gods. They’re benevolent, blessing him with some corny soft rock. Adrian begins humming along as best he can as he steps under the heavy spray of scalding water bullets. As soon as it hits his back, he curses, feeling the streams cascade down from his neck, snake around his shoulder blades and dip into an area he’d rather not describe. It makes him bliss out and groan in pain at the same time.
He exhales, assimilating. Steam starts to build up in the cubicle, turning the experience from “molten lava dripping down his asscrack” to more of a relaxing sauna vibe.
It’s at that point Adrian lifts his head, letting the water hit his face directly. As the water soaks his hair, he leans into the warmth, missing something. God it feels good. An aqueous hand combs through his hair and the thick air around envelops him. He wouldn’t describe it as a genuine, human-to-human hug. Any contact that he was feeling was entirely immaterial, dependent on whether he decided to open the door and let the steam out. In that way, it was better.
After enjoying the sensation for long enough, Adrian gets to cleaning himself. He shampoos twice, conditioning between, and exfoliates with loofah textured gloves. He starts with his feet, working up his legs until he’s at his torso. His hands drag over his skin languidly, focusing on pressure over speed. It leaves raised red lines in its wake, which was morbidly satisfying. Adrian took it as a confirmation that he was getting clean.
He pays special attention to spots that people often neglect: behind his ears, under his nails, in his belly button. He follows a mental checklist in his mind, going over twice if he isn't sure.
When he’s content with his scrubbing, Adrian turns the hot water off, and braces himself.
“This is the worst part,” he mumbles, to nobody at all.
Cold water hits his back after a moment. Adrian curses again, counting down from ten. It’s good for him, he thinks. Something about tightening his pores so no dirt gets in.
Beyond that, it was a simple reminder that everything in life should be balanced. Crime deserved punishment, good deeds deserved rewards, guys who like to take long, hot showers deserved a short, cold shock at the end. And, despite his quivering, Adrian has to admit that he likes the way it makes his body shudder.
When it’s over, he shuts the water off and steps out onto a silly animal carpet. A bird of indeterminate species smiles up at him, happily soaked in water and grateful to be stuck on the ground unlike his live counterparts. In the next moments, he would spend approximately thirty minutes drying himself, getting dressed, and heading out for the day. He had a late night shift at Fennel Fields, so he was going to have to do his ‘gardening’ during the day. Maybe he would see his friend Peacemaker, who preferred delivering justice under God’s great sun. The thought was pleasant.
Adrian looks into the mirror, a blurry version of him staring back. Despite his lack of glasses and the haze of the room, he could tell that he was smiling.