Chapter Text
After escaping the club before the cops or bats came, at Vino's insistenc, they fled to his flat just on the outskirts of Park-.. Crime Alley.
"..Tell me everything." Vino demands, lounging upon the squishy sofa cushions gracefully, almost like a renaissance painting come to life.
But his eyes tell an entirely different story, a frantic sort of fascination lighting the hazel depths.
Aster just curls further into the old, single chair facing the sofa, silently avoiding his friends intimidating and peering eyes.
Vino just rolls his eyes at his actions, "The only reason The Red Hood would talk to an outsider like you so secretively is if you did something to get his attention, like do a Big, capital B, crime..." At this Vino glances at him for nary a moment before snorting in amusement.
"Or... if you knew a secret that he didn't want to get out!" Vino tilts his head speculatively, his voice quieting, "Do you know.. who he is?" Vino questions in a whisper, glancing around surreptitiously.
"No!.. no it's.." Aster immediately refutes but hesitates about speaking more, sitting up on the chair and hugging a pillow to his chest as if it would defend his from Vino's interrogation.
"No? Then tell me! Or I'll come up with even worse theories!" Vino himself straightens up as well, his eyes narrowing threateningly, "You know I can and will."
Aster lets out a long breath, a hand coming up play with his hair as he thinks, a pensive look upon his face.
".....He broke into my flat, apparently there's something suspicious about your previous places of employment all having accidents that put them out of business..." His gaze traces the cracks in the wall, deliberately not meeting Vino's own gaze as he speaks.
"And?" Vino prods, one thick brow raised.
"and nothing... he just asked about it, figured I had nothing to do with it then left." He shrugs, huffing out a sigh before finally looking at Vino. "..is that a good enough answer, Your majesty?"
"That's it..? I thought-" He cuts himself off and shakes his head, dark hair echoing his movement.
Aster raises his brows but doesn’t ask, trying to change the subject instead. "What are we getting upto this weekend, then?"
Vino sighs and slumps back into the sofa, "welll... what with The Vineyard being closed there's no place that I'm allowed to get hammered..." He rolls his eyes before perking up, seemingly having found an idea.
An idea that's probably going to be very unfortunate for Aster, what with the way Vino turns to look at him once more, now with a giddy, almost predatory look upon his pretty face.
"...How do you feel about a makeover." He states, no question to be found in his words.
–––
Aster smiles softly as he walks into the hospice room, basket full of items that would hopefully make his mothers last days happier hanging from his arm.
The sight of her, thinner than she's ever been with her skin that unhealthy yellow tone that comes with organs shutting down, like always making his heart sink.
It was always difficult to see such a strong-willed, stubborn woman bound to a bed and have to pretend that he's as half as strong as she raised him to be, when he's not.
He steadfastly keeps the smile on his face, knowing he has to be strong for the only person who was always strong for him.
"Mother-Dearest~!" He calls quietly in a teasing voice, "I've come with some things from home!"
The sound of his voice causes her to slowly raise her head from where she was staring at the wall, her eyes glazed over from her medications.
A smile cracks her lips and his heart hurts once more, knowing from her complaints that his visits were the only bright part of her day.
"Azzy.." She croaks out, voice ruined from a combination of her body breaking down and years of chain-smoking.
A twisted amalgam of emotions stirs in his chest, it's not often that she's lucid enough to recognise him with all the meds she's on.
"Yeah.... yeah, it's me, mum..." He manages to speak, depositing the basket at her bedside and kneeling next to it.
He reaches out and gently takes one of her delicate, bruised hands in his own.
As a child he had always been uncomfortable with any sort of physical affection, a trait that had continued into his teenage years but now...
Now is different, so he must be different.
"Have the nurses been treating you okay..?" He softly asks, trying with all his might not to flinch as he meets her stained glass green eyes, the deep yellow of her sclera making them seem brighter than they are.
A sneer pulls at her lips, "I wish they didn't look in on me so many times! The light from the hall always wakes me up!"
Aster nods as he listens to her complaints, knowing that the nurses are just doing their jobs but also knowing that she just wants unobstructed rest in her final days.
"Well I'm here now, mum... I doubt they'll visit as often with me in the room... rest, if you need to, okay? I'll still be here when you wake up.."
She sighs, the motion causing her to cough painfully for a few moments. He quickly pours her a glass of water from the jug on her overbed table.
Her hands shake as she sips at the water, Aster taking the glass from her hands once shes done with it and settling it back on the table.
When he looks back at her she's giving him the biggest smile she can in her state, patting his hand slowly with one of her own.
"I know you will, Azzy.." She murmurs, laying back and settling in, slowly falling into unconsciousness.
As she slowly drifts off to sleep, Aster can't do anything but sing softly under his breath, trying to comfort himself for her sake.
"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine... you make me happy, when skies are grey.. you'll never know dear, how mu-ch I love you.." Tears start silently dripping down his cheeks, his voice cracking as he sang.
"Please don't take my sunshine away.." He practically begs in a whisper.
–––
He wakes slowly, feeling the stinging warmth of tears spilling down his face and the tightness of the headache he always gets after dreaming of his mum.
Laying in his bed, he stares up at the ceiling, the headlights of passing cars casting dancing shadows on the walls.
These dreams always make him think back to his childhood, when she wasn't in pain... of Christmases spent with childish wonder.. of the pranks he would play on her, his laughter innocently mischievous as he spooks her.
The stinging behind his eyes renews, salty tears welling and spilling over his eyelids, slowly dripping down his face. He's silent as he cries, never having been one to make a fuss.
After allowing himself a few minutes to mourn he wipes his eyes with his wrist and checks his phone.
The screen blinds him for a moment, like a flashbang had gone off in his face, making him hiss in pain.
3:37 am.
The numbers make him sigh softly into the darkness.
Something he's noticed about his dreams is that he always wakes from them around this time, every time he has them.
He blinks away any stubborn, lingering tears on his lashes and stands, shuffling towards the kitchen, the padding of his feed softened by the grey carpeting.
Tea. That's what he needs right now. A calming cuppa.
As he steps into the kitchen he pauses and slowly blinks, wiping the lingering haze from his eyes once more to make sure he's seeing correctly.
In the dark kitchen, crouched and dripping blood all over the linoleum is The Hood. An arm is held against his sternum, applying pressure to an unseen wound while the other the other rifles under the sink.
His mechanical voice is cursing quietly, the vigilante apparently kind enough to try not to wake him from his slumber.
"...what are you doing?" Aster asks in a quiet, groggy voice as he reaches to the side and flicks the light on.
He's not quite awake enough yet to feel the shock that he knows he would normally feel from someone breaking in to his home.
If Aster had a penny for everytime he had a staring contest with a vigalante/mob boss he would have 2 pennies.. which isn't a lot but it's strange it's happened twice.
"Thought you'd have a med kit I could use." The man says after a moment of silent staring, nodding down at the blood slowly seeping through his fingers.
"I keep it in the bathroom.. I'll go grab it.. put the kettle on for me?" Aster requests, quickly backtracking towards the bedroom before the vigilante can speak.
He's quick as he walks into the connecting bathroom, quickly snatching the well-stocked med kit from inside the drawers and making his way back to the kitchen.
When he walks back in he sees that the man had kindly done as he'd asked and put the kettle on, the man in question now sitting at his stained wooden table.
He had taken his gloves off, showing off his tan, calloused hands. He can't help but notice the scars covering the majority of his hands, the healed skin lighter than the surrounding flesh.
The kit is quietly placed before the brick wall of a man, Aster abashedly turning away at the click of the kettle.
The room is quiet, The Hood having shrugged off his brown leather jacket with a low grunt and tending to his injuries as Aster pours the tea.
"...So... why did you come hereof all places..?" Aster asks as he walks back over to the table, a cup in each hand.
As he approaches, the vigilante looks up at him from where he's sat, just looking at him for a moment before he replies.
Aster hums as he places one of the cups before the man, taking a seat at the table himself, across from the man.
"You're lucky that I did have a med kit then.. though why you thought I would, I haven't the foggiest."
The man just shrugs again, going back to stitching himself back up. Aster doesn't even flinch as he boredly observes the sterilised needle weave in and out of the tan, scarred flesh.
Though he can't see the mans face he can practically feel the question the man is projecting.
"..There are well documented experiments on meta's that I had to work though in my meta biology class.. a little bullet wound or a cut is nothing in comparison to some of the things I saw."
There's silence once more in the kitchen, the man seeming to mull over his words.
"...That's fucked."
Aster snorts a little at the mans deadpan reaction, "Yeah, it was... Also," He tilts his head, "..want me to get your back for you? I doubt you'll be able to do it yourself, built like a brick shithouse as you are."
The huff of laughter the man exhales is almost familiar now, the man knowing better than to fully laugh with his injuries.
"Fine, go on then." He turns so he's practically straddling the seat, looking over his shoulder almost teasingly, "This a good position?"
Aster swallows, a blush coming to his cheeks not only from the almost sexual words but from the strong muscles barely hidden under a black muscle tee.
"U-uh... yeah, that's.. yeah." He mutters, silently regretting his decision as he stands and circles the table. One of his pale hands reaches out, pausing before he touches the temping sight before him, "..can I touch you..?"
"Yeah? Thought that was a given.." The Man (Capital M needed) replies, the eerie white eyes of his helmet staring back at him.
Aster shrugs in reply, resolutely ignoring the blush staining his cheeks, "Consent is sexy..."
"Hell yeah it is."
At last his pale hands touch the broad musculature of his back, feeling it flex under his touch.
The only barrier between their skin now just a black muscle tee, "..I.. uh.. you need to take your shirt off.."
That oh-so-familiar huff of laughter sounds once more from the Vigilante, "Thought you were a gentleman.. take me to dinner first."
Despite his teasing words the Vigilante complies, slipping off the fabric with easy movements.
Once again resolutely ignoring his own reaction to the man's impressive body he silently scans the tan flesh before he spots the wound.
Kneeling on the tile floor, he grabs the needle and thread from the kitchen table before speaking once again.
"..I'm going to start now.." He warns, waiting for any indication of rejection.
There's only an affirming hum in response.
At the sound Aster begins, keeping his hands steady as he threads the needle through the flesh.
"..You've been crying." The Vigilante murmurs finally, causing Aster to freeze in his movements for a moment before continuing.
"..yes" He simply says in reply.
"...why?"
He's quiet for a moment as he thinks, hands still tenderly working the needle.
"...Dream.. of my mum." He decides to respond, the murmur causing the Hood to tense for a moment under his hands before relaxing.
"...Oh"
The next few moments of tending to the wound are done in silence and before he knows it, he's done.
Standing up on his weary legs he allows out a sigh. Letting his eyes roam over the wound he admires his work, not so bad for someone who's only done it in theory.
He sits back at the table and picks up the now lukewarm cup of tea, averting his eyes as the Crime Lord slips his shirt then jacket back on.
"..Thanks, Aster." The man quietly says, the words shocking him for a moment before a small smile graces his lips.
"You're welcome, Hood.." He takes a sip of his tea, keeping his eyes averted still.
The man only nods in reply, broad frame starting towards the window he had come from before he pauses and looks over his shoulder.
"..Anybody messes with you.. you come to me."
And with that last protective order, he slips out the window into the night, leaving Aster blinking in shock like the man often does.