gotham stories

takeout ~ victor zsasz

You had seen the cuts. You knew he had a lot of them. What you didn't know, was why. And you were too scared to ask.

Until the day you walked in at the wrong time.
It was Friday night and you were coming off a day long shift at work. Victor had offered multiple times to pay your rent for you so you didn't have to take long shifts, but each time you turned him down, slightly embarrassed.
But that wasn't what you were thinking about as you stepped into the elevator, gripping the takeout bag tighter when the doors dinged shut.(Victor lived on the top floor, and could see practically all of Gotham from his living room windows.) No, your mind was wandering into the stratosphere, wondering how someone like you was friends with someone like Victor.
You tried the doorbell out of politeness. You were met with silence.
"Victor?" You rocked back and forth on your feet, the takeout bag now held by both hands. "It's me, (name)." Still silence. You opened the door and took a cautious step inside. He kept it unlocked when he was around, almost showing off that assassin Victor Zsasz feared no one walking into his residence and shooting him up.
Almost like a horror movie protagonist, you crept to the kitchen, hyper aware of any possible dangers. 2 guns lay on the counter. Odd, he usually kept them on him. But you forgot about the guns when you saw the rest of the kitchen.
Half dried blood dripped in the sink, and small droplets trailed from the counter off into the rest of the apartment.
"Victor!?" You yelled, dropping the takeout and grabbing one of the guns, following the blood trail.
They led into the bathroom, and you feared the worst when you saw more concentrated droplets. The bathroom cabinet was practically ripped off its hinges, various things like Advil, Tylenol, toothpaste and band aids littered the sink and the floor. Blood covered most of them, and it was smeared on the mirror like a scene from a creepy horror movie.
"What happened?" The whisper escaped your lips before you could stop it.
"I accidentally nicked a major artery." You swear you jumped 3 feet when Victor spoke.
"Victor!" He was lying in the bathtub, one hand clenched around the other wrist, both arms were covered in dried blood, and he even had a smear of red on his chin.
"Hi." He tried to give his usual sarcastic smile, but it came out a grimace.
"Oh my god. Don't you dare move." You shook your head and ran back out to the kitchen, barel catching Victors sigh of "Does it fucking look like I can move?"
Thinking quickly, you grabbed a dish towel and ran it under warm water, subconsciously also trying to rinse the blood down the sink. Once the fabric was gratuitously soaked, you ran back to the bathroom and knelt by the tub.
"Has the bleeding stopped?" Your voice was gentle as you reached for his arm. He nodded, and allowed you to pry his hand open and press the dishcloth to the scarred and bloody flesh. He gave a small hiss at the contact, but at your shushing relaxed, staring up at the cracked paint on the ceiling.
"You're gonna be fine." You murmured in spite of yourself. Victor nodded again, and you soon grew frustrated at the bad angle you had on the side of the tub. "Hold on." You stood, rinsed cloth in the bathroom sink, watching the draining water turn pink. You looked through what was left of the cabinet, miraculously finding a clean bandage and some tape.
But when you turned back around, Victor had a box cutter in his hand, ready to add another cut.
"Hey!" You barked, dropping next to the tub again and grabbing it. "No."
"Don't do this (name)." Victor muttered, holding out his hand. "I just need three more."
"Vic, I understand." You lied, and placed the box cutter behind you. "You'll get your three more after I finish cleaning you up. Deal?"
"Fine." He nodded slowly, sitting up a little bit. You glanced at him, then his arm, then bit your lip in thought.
"I'm sorry I'm going to have to invade your personal space." You muttered, then stepped into the tub with him, moving closer so that you were sitting on his legs, straddling him. The weird position made your face turn pink, and Victor gave a small chuckle when he noticed. You ignored it and grabbed his arm, once again gently dabbing away the dried blood with the cloth. Thankfully the wound remained closed, and you wrapped the gauze around the newest cuts, taping it tightly.
"Knife." Victor said.
"Vic." You shook your head, having no intention of giving it to him. "You need to stop the cutting. If you're this careless about it, how can I trust that you won't accidentally hurt yourself like this again? I-" You swallowed. "I care a lot about you, and I value our friendship. I don't wanna lose you."
"(Name), relax. This time was an accident. It won't happen again." Victor tried to sound reassuring. He ran a hand up and down your arm once, then shifted to try and grab the knife.
"At least let me do it." You said aloud, to your surprise. Victor looked equally as surprised, then nodded slowly. You swallowed again, and stood to grab the box cutter, analyzing every bloody detail about it before sitting back on Victor again. Without warning he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, so that he could rest his arms around your waist. Now you were straddling his hips, as close and intimate as lovers. It made you blush harder than before, and you looked away, wiping the blade with the cloth.
"I'm going to put them on your shoulder, less chance of hitting anything vital." You murmured, lifting the sleeve of his tee shirt, trying not to notice how toned his bicep was.
"I trust you." He murmured, arms tightening around you. Your heart fluttered, the opposite of what you needed right now, but you concentrated on the bare skin of his arm.
"One." You murmured, sliding the blade across his skin. A crimson line around an inch long appeared immediately, a small droplet of blood squeezing out. You wiped it away.
"Two." You brought the knife down again, adding a second cut under the first. This one bled more, but Victor gave no response, his grip on you still firm.
"Three." You finished, and pressed the cloth over the cluster, sitting back. Victor looked up into your eyes and nodded slowly before pulling you into a hug.
You froze, he never showed affection of any kind. But you melted against him, resting your elbows on his shoulders since you couldn't wrap your arms around him. Victor held you tighter, giving a small hum before letting you go. You sat up, and once again noticed the blood on his chin. Sighing, you licked your thumb and tried to rub it off, eventually shrugging and standing up. Victor stood as well, and grabbed your arm before you could leave.
"Don't move." He washed off his other arm, then left you in the bathroom, a confused expression painting your face.
It was then you realized your tee shirt was stained with blood, and so were your jeans. They were small spots, but noticeable on a white shirt and bleached jeans.
"Vic it's fine! I'll manage." You called, but Victor still returned with a shirt and shorts, insisting you change. He noticed the unsaid question, and simply replied with "The girls keep some clothes here just in case. I don't think they'll mind."
You changed and joined him on the couch a few minutes later, where he had found the takeout.
"You're welcome." You muttered, grabbing one of the boxes and a pair of chopsticks.
"For what?" He said through a mouthful of food, flipping through the tv channels.
"Saving your life. Bringing you food. And cleaning up your kitchen in a few minutes."
"Thanks but I got someone to do that for me." He shook his head. "Don't bother."
"But Vic-" You grinned. "How am I supposed to make you muffins if the counter's covered in blood?" The assassin raised an eyebrow, then shook his head.
"Fine. I'll help you."