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Vigilante's Fool-Proof, Famous Shower Routine

Summary:

Through the ups and downs in Adrian's life, one thing that remained consistent was his shower routine. It's 25 minutes long, reliable, and fool-proof. Sometimes it served as respite from his daily activities. A few times, he used the moment to think about his friendship with Chris, and at least once time, share the space with him.

Basically, Adrian's relationship with Chris told through instances of showers.

Notes:

Un-beta sorry. I've been sitting on the first half for a few days and if I don't post it now I won't feel the inspiration to finish it. So, enjoy...

Chapter 1: Routine

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.

Chapter 2: Pre-ARGUS

Summary:

Adrian tries to show his devotion to Chris.

Chapter Text

Adrian knew who Peacemaker was, really, under the suit. Most people did. Chris wasn’t privy to the inverse. Adrian kept his mask on, even when they were alone. There was an element of security in that.

When they were younger, Gut never let Adrian hang out with his friends. He said he was too dweeby, which didn’t make sense because Adrian just liked everything that Gut did. Which means he also liked Chris.

The only time they really interacted was when Gut hung with his other friends, or a girl, and Adrian could secretly log onto his Playstation account. He’d play a copy of Call of Duty their mom definitely didn’t know they had and run squads under Gut’s gametag. Chris would hop on his party, and they’d scrimmage until the early morning.

They never talked, mostly because Adrian couldn’t impersonate his brother well. Chris, however, always kept his mic on. He would curse at their enemies, saying obscene things about how they were gay motherfuckers who didn't deserve to win. Or he would curse at Adrian for sucking so bad. Adrian would just laugh, mouthing the words to himself, trying them on for size.

He wondered if Chris knew, back then, that it wasn’t his brother behind the screen. All things considered, he probably did and was just being nice. Or maybe he felt left out too, because Gut was somewhere they both couldn’t reach. Just like now.

Similar to then, Adrian enjoys his anonymity, especially in relation to Chris. He could try on new voices and not pull back his expressions under the comfort of kevlar and red-tinted lenses. 

Plus, nobody knew about his superhero duties, not even his mom. Chris probably wouldn’t even believe it’s him under the suit! One day, if he ever found out, it would be so fucking gratifying.

For now, Adrian keeps his mask on, the act of which proved to be particularly difficult when they were having threesomes.

The ladies didn’t usually mind, mostly because Chris liked a freakier kind of woman who almost always wanted “his adorable superhero friend” to tag along. 

Adrian didn’t mind it either. He could focus on Chris in the moment, without the other man aware of his gaze. Sex is a pretty good way to get to know someone, Adrian figures. People are more vulnerable when they want to bang. As the night progressed, Adrian would make mental notes of what made Chris excited, or what caused him to visibly deflate. 

He files those observances in his mental filing cabinet, next to his thinking desk in his brain office, for safe keeping. It would come handy later, as soon as he was able to make sense of it all. 

In the aftermath, Chris was typically more open to answering Adrian’s questions as well. At times, Adrian was more excited to get to the end of the night so he could pick Chris’ brain. It was more difficult these past few days, between busting criminals and their sexual adventures, it felt like there were always some strangers between them. 

He’s anxious now to see if Chris was going to send their third home tonight. Usually the girls stayed, because Chris was ‘a bonafide gentleman’ or something like that, and Adrian retired to his living room couch. On the rare chance that they sent the lucky lady on her way, they still slept separately, but at least they’d hang out a bit before bed.

Adrian wants to hang out. He’d just started following a DnD podcast and he was dying to ask Chris if he would be an orc or a goliath, and what he thought Adrian would be, and all that. He listens for Chris’ breath, seeking that signature hitch which means he's finishing soon. 

When it eventually arrives, Adrian times his release to match up and begrudgingly nuts on the girl’s face. She had asked him to, even though he finds it a bit foolish and embarrassing. He was some kind of semen waiter, piling on the metaphorical face plate of his client, begging for her to say ‘when’. 

He looks up at Chris after all is said and done, giving his best “what’s the plan?” gaze. Chris is already looking back, darting between Adrian’s closed fist and his impermeable visor.

The older man grimaces for some inexplicable reason. It wasn’t the first time, according to Adrian’s mental files, but he can’t tell if Chris was upset at him, the situation, or the world.

He doesn’t answer Adrian’s ‘what next?’ gaze, probably because it didn’t look like anything at all. Chris leaves the room, comes back with a towel and tosses it towards the general direction of the girl.

“So like,” he starts, looking disinterested. “I got work tomorrow, so you should bounce.”

“Him too?” The girl asks, reading Adrian’s mind.

“No, uh. Vij, you can stay. You—” Chris pauses, clearly looking for her name.

“Sarah.”

"Sarah,” he nods. “You gotta go sweetheart. He has work too. We work together… Superhero shit. You understand?”

Adrian knows for a fact they do not have superhero shit tomorrow. But he doesn’t protest, it’s what he wanted.

Sarah gets up, looking scandalized. She wipes her face in a rage, the action smearing cum all around uselessly. It makes Adrian gag a bit. She curses something about how they’re both weirdos who didn’t even make her cum and absconds from the trailer, leaving the two alone at last.

Chris heads towards his bathroom shortly after.

“I gotta shower dude, I fucking reek.”

Adrian follows, naturally, only making it as far as the restroom door before Chris spins around.

“You need something, V?” Chris asks, though it seems more like a rhetorical question than a genuine one. 

Adrian’s query was more important. “Why'd you tell Sarah that we had work tomorrow when you could've just said you didn't want her to be here cause we are doing guy stuff.”

Chris leans against the doorframe, like he expects to be here a while.

“Because it's not cool man,” he says.

“Not to be an asshole but judging by her reaction your lie wasn't that nice.” Adrian doesn't mean to come off too harsh. He’s not even upset, really, just curious.

Chris’ face heats up in a familiar way. It means that Adrian is pushing on his buttons.

“Since when were you the fucking manner police? It's what people say, you know, to hide the shit they think even though everyone already fucking knows.”

“Being honest is important, P,” Adrian replies. “Lying isn’t codified today but the Romans used to kill over perjury.”

Chris starts walking backwards into the bathroom. He pauses at the sink, checking himself out in the mirror. “That’s rich dude, I don’t even know your secret identity.”

They’ve been over this many times. Adrian’s just trying to keep him safe, keep Peacemaker safe. Safeguarding his alias is an essential element to that, even if he had to sacrifice the surefire expansion of their friendship if he took it off. The threesomes should be enough to further that relationship—nothing says “close friends” like seeing each other’s dicks; but, Adrian’s realizing that maybe it’s not.

“Yeah, but that’s okay isn’t it?”

Chris looks Adrian up and down.

“Look, I respect your commitment to the superhero grind bro, but it’s kinda fucking weird. If I didn’t recognize you from your toned delts then I wouldn’t trust that it’s always you under the mask.”

Adrian deflates. Maybe they haven’t been getting closer at all and all these three-ways have been for nothing. He needs to do something. He needs to show Chris that he can trust him, and that they’re buddies. 

Adrian mulls over his options or a split second, grasping at whatever comes first to his mind.

“Can I shower first, actually? Honestly I feel super weird after giving that chick a facial. I don’t even know why I did that.”

The other man sighs like he doesn’t want to talk anymore. “Okay. Sure dude.”

Time for the moment of calculated vulnerability. 

“I’ll take my mask off, in the shower,” Adrian adds. You can’t look, obviously, ‘cause you’re not supposed to see my face or we’d have to get married so you can’t testify against me. But you could know I’m in there with it off. If that helps.”

A brief pause passes between them. Chris doesn’t know which part to respond to.

“Just do whatever, Vij. I’m spent.”

As Chris walks away, Adrian looks at his watch. 1:05am. Awesome. He starts going through his motions, closes the door as best he can, rests his mask on the sink, and runs the faucet. He’ll step in a few seconds early, conscious of his resource use, and keep his back facing the door just in case Chris fancies a glimpse of him through a crack. 

Many people in the world had brown hair, but he was demonstrating that he trusted Chris to know that he had brown hair. It narrowed down the possibilities by a non-zero amount, which could be a matter of life or death one day. It was more significant than Chris could ever imagine. Adrian hopes that his head shape or the way his hair curls is enough to show camaraderie, in his own convoluted way.

On the other side of the wall, Chris watches the clock.

Chapter 3: Early ARGUS Days

Summary:

Chris helps Adrian out for once.

Chapter Text

Things changed after Chris realized that Adrian was Vigilante. They went on less ride-alongs together, though the older man would blame it on having to do ARGUS stuff. Adrian knew that wasn’t the case, because he was either with Chris most of the time or trailing closely behind. 

It wasn’t a big deal, at least he wasn’t making it one. Chris had gotten soft lately, which didn’t help achieve Adrian’s retributive objectives. One of them had to be the tough guy.

The ride-alongs weren’t important, is what Adrian is trying to articulate. What’s significant is that he and Chris stopped hanging outside of those instances like they had before. Nothing was better than watching a film after wailing on some baddies, or so Adrian thought. 

These days, Chris enjoys going to the bar and hanging out with his coworkers more than binging shitty hospital dramas and sequels of animated films that are better than their predecessors. Tonight was an outlier. 

Chris had showed up at his door needing something to relieve his stress. They decided to go bust a local drug dealer Adrian’s mom tipped him about. She had recently joined a Facebook group where local women posted red flags about men they want to date. Adrian swallowed whatever childish indignation he had towards her for considering seeing someone new, though she assured him that she just liked to read the comments for a laugh. 

All that to say, earlier that day she stumbled upon a thread claiming that one of the eligible bachelors was the owner of a trap house. Adrian preferred to do his own reconnaissance but with Chris wanting desperately to do something that night, it was the best he had.

One thing led to another, and Adrian ended up bleeding profusely from a mission gone horribly wrong. The details of the scuffle didn’t matter, only that Chris hauled Adrian’s sorry ass back to his trailer, saying that they should’ve just watched a movie instead, like they used to

Why didn’t they? Adrian just assumed Chris didn’t like doing that stuff anymore. He didn’t like doing any of their typical things. Shooting fruits off trees, drinking competitions, arguing with trolls online. Why would watching a movie be any different?

Adrian’s head hurts. He stops thinking about it. Chris says something about needing to wash all the drugs and blood off so it doesn’t turn his trailer into a crime scene. They stumble through the living space, knocking things over left and right. Eagly shrieks at the noise.

Adrian ignores the damn bird, just stares up at Chris as he’s lowered into the stall of Chris’ small, grimy shower. Adrian would protest at the concept of sitting on a shower floor, that was one of his big no-no’s, but he is wearing his suit, so it’s just like sitting on anything else. 

Except that, indeed, it is a bit damp there, and wow, the whole place smelt weird, and there’s some weird goo in the drain—actually, Adrian will protest.

“Woah dude, unless I can stand up, I am not showering right now. No offence, this place is disgusting.”

Chris looks exasperated. Adrian thinks this might be the tiredest he’s seen him in years.

“Ok. Then get up.”

Adrian smirks at the double entendre, tries to stand, and slumps back again after only raising himself an inch. Fuck. His side hurt like a motherfucker. And his leg. And well, everything.

“I can’t. They got me real good, those substance loving dickheads.”

Chris's eyes dart between Adrian’s wounds silently. Adrian could almost see the gears turning in his mind. They were loud, and rusty.

“I’ll help you,” Chris says after a minute. He starts stripping shortly after.

Not what Adrian expected, but not something to be alarmed at.

“Why are you taking your clothes off? Am I getting a different kind of shower now?” Adrian jokes, feigning nonchalance. Piss jokes aside, he was confused.

“I'm just trying to be nice man. You can’t stand by yourself, so I’ll hold you up.” It takes more effort than it seemed necessary for Chris’ shirt to come off. “And I don’t shower with my clothes on like some repressed virgin.”

The proposition was actually quite chivalrous. Adrian felt giddy. He was usually the one helping others out. He cleaned Chris’ house, drove him around, stuff like that. Now he gets to be on the receiving end.

If Adrian was worried about their friendship at all over the past few weeks, Chris’ openness to naturalism completely annihilated the possibility that they weren’t ultimate besties. 

He nods enthusiastically at Chris, accepting the proposition. Chris acknowledges him with a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t smile like that man, you’re making me regret this.”

“Sorry,” Adrian forces his grin into a timid smirk. “Can you help me with my suit? I’m pretty incapacitated.”

His friend grunts, like a caveman, but does come to Adrian’s aid. His touch is surprisingly gentle as Adrian’s belt, gloves, and boots are stripped off. They move extra slowly as Chris readjusts Adrian’s back so they can slide the top of his suit off. Adrian notices the way Chris’ eyes skirt over his chest. 

Adrian puffs with pride, Chris was definitely appreciating him man to man. There was no doubt in his mind that when his buddy was in prison, showering  next to a bunch of dudes was commonplace. That gave Adrian a lot of competition to be compared against, and he might be winning. 

Chris stops assessing his body when the only thing left was Adrian’s pants.

“If you’re worried about there being more clothes, don’t worry P,” Adrian reassures. “I don’t wear underwear underneath this.”

“That’s what I’m fucking worried about dumbass.”

“Why? I don’t shower in my underwear either.”

Chris sighs again. How many times can a guy sigh while enacting his own plan? “Are you sure you can’t stand up on your own? Or at least take your own tightie whities off?”

Adrian probably could, but he wants to take anything Chris will give him.

“I’m out for the count, P. I can promise that I won’t be hard though.”

“Why the fuck would you be hard?” Chris’ voice inches higher, “You gotta cut this shit out man or I’m just gonna fucking leave you here.”

“I don’t know!” Adrian retorts. “I’m over here, being manhandled by my best friend and—”

“It’s time to stop talking.” 

Adrian clamps his mouth shut like a good soldier. Whatever Chris says, goes. Shortly after, his final piece of clothing is laying on the ground and the two are trying their best to stand up together.

It’s a horrible concept all around. 1-meter-distance potato sack race meets sweaty naked wrestling. Chris’ shower is impossibly small, making Adrian wonder if he fits in there by himself, let alone with another person. 

Finding some strength after sitting for so long, Adrian lets Chris swing his left arm over the other’s broad shoulders. He’s extremely uncomfortable, but at least he wasn’t creating cross-hatches on his asscheeks anymore like some Christmas ham.

As they finally find their footing, Adrian notes how much taller Chris is compared to him, the other having to squat down slightly so Adrian wasn’t on his tippy toes. Veins pop on the arm Chris uses to support Adrian’s weight, but he doesn’t complain. They start the water.

It’s violently cold, making Adrian flinch. Some kind of mutual agreement must’ve passed between them because they both don’t comment, just wait for the pipes to warm up, patient, despondent.

Adrian feels Chris shake his head slightly. “This is so fucked.”

“What?”

“Whatever this is,” Chris groans. “My dick is lowkey touching your butt right now and it's fucking weird.”

“Why’s it weird? We’ve had sex together man.”

Another groan. “No we haven’t, bro. Threesomes don’t count as sex because our tips don’t even touch.”

“Is sex just tip touching to you?” Adrian scoffs. “If I’m putting my dick in one end of a fleshy tube, which is basically what our digestive systems are, and you’re on the other side, then that’s basically connecting us together. We’re spit sisters—or uh, tip brothers.”

“You shouldn’t call the girls we fuck flesh tubes man, that’s probably offensive.” He pauses, shifting his crotch away from Adrian’s side while still trying to hold him up. “Anyways, we haven’t done that shit in a while.”

Ever since Chris found out who he was, Adrian specifies in his mind. He knew that their relationship would change after the fact, but he didn't predict that they would grow apart.

Ok, pivot to a different argument. Adrian and Gut used to take baths as kids together, before he got older and mean. That was extremely non-sexual, brotherly bonding, or his mom saving on the water bill again. Greedy motherfucker.

“I'm sure you and Gut had some awesome bro showers when he was here,” Adrian tries, “right?”

Chris’ face is inscrutable. 

“No, dude. That's uh, not really something we ever did. And don't bring him up like that, makes me feel weird ‘cause you're like his baby brother ‘n’ shit.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry.” Adrian thinks about how he hasn’t been a baby in a long time.

For the next few moments, Chris doesn’t look at Adrian, opts for standing still and passing the younger whatever product he wanted from the opposite of the shower.

Adrian suddenly remembers his routine.

“How long has it been?” God, they probably spent so much time talking. He starts scrubbing into his wounds faster.

Chris watches as his blood runs into the drain, “Um, not sure. Why?”

“Nine out of ten doctors from my mom’s magazine said I shouldn’t shower longer than fifteen minutes. We’ve been in here for what? Ten? Let’s hurry up.”

Thankfully, Chris doesn’t say anything weird about that. In an attempt to help, he brushes his hand lightly against one of Adrian’s wounds.

“Uh, yeah no." Adrian says hurriedly. "That’s nice but—I got it.”

Chris looks away like he’s genuinely embarrassed. They don’t say anything more. Chris just lets Adrian lean against him, like a good friend would.