A Hero/Villain piece.

The Villain woke with a start and a gasp. They tried sitting up, but gave up as their entire body creaked and ached in protest. Groaning they closed their eyes against the glare from the window across from them. They relaxed back, and were surprised to realize they were… in a bed? 

Upon further inspection, dragging their hands over the fabric beneath them, they realized the sheets were soft, clean. Not as high a thread count as their own, but comfortable and cozy. 

They were also naked, under the blankets. 

Wondering what the hell had happened or who they had fucked to get here, they tried sitting up again. 

Their ribs creaked, and every muscle in their upper body barked in dull agony, but slowly they managed to sit up, the sheets and blankets piling around their hips. 

They were in a modest room: queen size bed with too many blankets, a dresser, and a small bookshelf. There was a closet as well but the door was closed, preventing the Villain from identifying who’s bed they were in. There was also some art on the wall above the dresser, but it was too dim for them to make any details out beyond ‘squiggly plant shape.’ 

Clanking came from the half-open door to their left. 

Intrigued, the Villain geared themself, took a deep breath, and stood. They swayed on weak legs for a moment or two before finding the strength to stand unaided.

There was no sign of their clothes, no sign of their beloved coat. 

Someone’s going to pay, they thought, grinding their teeth. 

Heedless of their nakedness they opened the door, padding across cheap carpet into a narrow hall. A few more pieces of original art hung from the walls – more plants, and what looked suspiciously like a nude done in charcoal – which opened onto a cozy, lived-in sitting room. Books littered the desk in the corner, and more blankets were piled on the overstuffed loveseat in the middle of the room that faced a southern window. 

Another clank sounded from the right, and the Villain turned just as the Hero stepped around the corner from the galley kitchen. 

“Oh. You’re up.” If they were shocked or embarrassed by the Villains nudity, their face didn’t show it. Someone had bathed the Villain, that was clear from the unfamiliar scent in their hair. “I made you some tea.” 

The Villain stared, bewildered by the simple statement.

“Made me tea?’ They looked at the Hero, then around the apartment, realization dawning on them. They were in the Hero’s home. 

They turned to peer at the Hero, who still stood halfway behind the kitchen wall. Never looking away, the Villain strode to the couch, folding their legs under them as they settled in the corner, the image of polite interest.

“What happened?” They asked bluntly. They pulled a blanket around their shoulders. Not because they cared what the Hero thought. Of course not. They were just cold. 

“I found you dying in a ditch.” The Hero deadpanned. 

The Villain snorted. 

“No. Seriously. What happened?”

“That did.” 

When the Hero didn’t elaborate the Villain sat up a little straighter. 

“Wait. You’re serious, aren’t you…”

“Would I lie to you?”

The Villain squinted, searching for a trap. 

“That depends on the situation.”

The Hero shrugged. 

“Sure. But not in this situation. Whoever attacked you was long gone by the time I got to you.” 

“Why didn’t you take me to a hospital?”

That summoned a weak grin from the Hero. Leave it to the Villain to turn a simple act of kindness into an interrogation. 

“And waste all that time and expose you as human to the masses while you were unconscious? That hardly seems fair.” 

The Villain ceded the point with an elegantly indifferent lift of an exposed shoulder. 

“Fair enough. But why here?” 

“Where else could I have gone?”

That gave the Villain pause. The location of their lair was a well kept secret. Even their minions didn’t know the location, all but their most trusted agents arriving blindfolded and hooded. That left their bunker, which apparently would have been too… gauche, and a hospital. Which meant…

“Why save me at all?” They demanded, suspicious and peeved that the Hero had been right about something. 

The Hero paused, deeply considering the question. 

“It didn’t seem fair.” 

“Life is hardly fair. You know that. I’ve taught you well enough.” 

“True. But… I don’t know.” The Hero shrugged, and folded their arms over their chest. “Seemed the thing to do.” 

The Villain scoffed. Typical Hero mentality. 

“Mm. If you insist. I’ll have that tea now, if you don’t mind.” 

Shaking their head but smirking, the Hero pushed off the wall and rounded the corner. They returned a minute later with a steaming vat of milky tea. 

“Cream and three sugars, as you like it.” They handed the massive mug to the Villain. 

“Why are you being so damn nice to me?” The Villain said, taking the mug. It warmed fingers they hadn’t realized were cold.  

The Hero was about to answer but the Villain cut them off. “And don’t go on about it being the right thing to do. God knows I’ve done enough horrible things to you and your Sidekick that it would have been poetic justice for you to let me die wherever the hell you found me. There’s another reason and you and I both know you know it.” They cringed inwardly at the shoddy logic, but stared hard at the Hero, waiting for an answer. 

A long moment passed before the Hero finally replied. 

“I.. seeing you there, unmoving…” they paused. “It scared me, what I felt.” 

“And what was that?” The Villain’s lip curled in a half-sneer.

“Desperation? A regret that this…” the Hero waved their hand, encompassing them both. “Our game could be over so soon, so quickly. And without my knowing how or why.” 

Both fell silent at the implications. 

Try as they might, the Villain couldn’t for the life or death of them remember what had happened the night before. Surly they hadn’t been careless enough to allow themselves to be drugged. But if not that, then…

“I took your coat to the dry cleaners,” the Hero said into the quiet, shaking their head slightly. “It should be ready this afternoon. And your clothes are just about done in the dryer. Had to wash them a few times to get the blood and dirt out. I doubt your pants will ever be the same again.” 

The Villain barked a laugh, though their thoughts remained fixed on bloody, painful revenge. 

“Well. I suppose the effort must count for something, even if you completely ruined them.” 

The Hero smiled ruefully. 

“In the mean time, you can wear anything you find in the closet. Though I doubt it’s up to your standards.” 

The Villain nodded wisely. It was undoubtedly a blow to their ego, just thinking about wearing fast fashion. But they were curious to see what sort of things the Hero wore on the daily. 

“Aren’t you worried I’ll try something?” Their expression was wry, a challenge gleaming in their eyes. 

The Hero looked at them, expression unreadable. Unfazed. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me, no. But I don’t think you will.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

The Hero spread their hands, eyebrows comically raised. 

“You’ve never struck me as the type to over exert yourself.” 

The Villain scowled. Damn the Hero for being so damn perceptive. But, never one to say no to a little pampering, the Villain settled back in the seat as the Hero disappeared around the corner again. 

“I’ll make you breakfast, though I don’t have much.”

A chorus of banging and clanking followed, and the Villain was struck by how ridiculous this situation was. 

Them, sitting naked in a blanket, in the Hero’s living room, while the Hero made them breakfast.

Was this normal peasant behavior?

They took a sip of their tea, surprised to find it was exactly as they liked it. 

Just as the Hero had claimed it to be.

The Villain glared out the window, even as they took another sip, savoring the way the tea warmed them from the inside out. 

This was all together too weird. The Villain couldn’t quite believe they were having such a… domestic moment, and with their nemesis, of all people. 

The sound of a fridge door opening and closing drew their attention back to the little haven they were in. 

“Toast and eggs?”

When the Villain realized the Hero was waiting for an answer, they spoke. 

“That is acceptable.”

“How do you take ‘em?”

It took the Villain a moment to realize what they were asking. 

“O- Oh. Scrambled whites, feta, onions, and mushrooms if you have them.”

“I’m not the Ritz, you know.”

The Villain sighed dramatically, sinking deeper into the couch. 

“Fiiiiiine. However you deem fit, oh wise kitchen god.”

A snicker met the statement, but the Hero didn’t say anything else as they set about making breakfast.