The rain lashed violently against the pavement, the rhythmic drumming deafening. The sky was dark and thunder rumbled, cars splashing puddles on the sidewalks as they tried to beat the weather.
Y/N hurried down the pavement, hair plastered to her scalp, head bowed against the weight of the torrential downpour. Her dripping coat didn’t protect her from the harsh elements, her numb hands shoved into her pockets desperately trying to find a hint of warmth.
She could hardly see the pavement several feet in front of her, her soggy shoes squelching as she stepped through the puddles. Y/N felt the chill in her bones, and she was eager to get back to the warmth of her home. She turned left into an alleyway. It was a shortcut.
There was no one else in the alleyway, until the breath was knocked out of her. A solid figure collided with Y/N, almost appearing out of thin air. She shrieked, the force of the person sending her stumbling backwards, her back colliding with the rough brick wall of the alley. Y/N toppled to the ground, her hands and knees scraping the wet pavement as she gasped for air, her back throbbing painfully.
She barely heard something heavy hit the ground, like a sack of flour before scrambling to her feet. Grazed hands were held in front of her, clenched in fists, wild eyes darting around the thick wall of rain surrounding everything. The instincts came with living in a place like Gotham. One had to always be aware and ready to run – or fight. Batman couldn’t save everyone.
Yet, no one came back to attack her. Y/N lowered her arms, heart racing as she cautiously stepped forward, just catching a glimpse of a dark lump on the ground. A person.
The person was face down, one hand stretched towards a nearby dumpster, the futile effort of catching themselves from falling evident.
Her heart jumped to her throat. The sturdy figure was clad in a scuffed leather jacket and dark pants which clung to his skin in the downpour. Y/N’s eyes widened. They were wearing a red helmet. Granted, Y/N could only see the back of the head, but the rain didn’t disguise that it was undoubtedly the Red Hood.
Y/N tentatively neared him, pulling one of his gloves down slightly to expose his wrist. With shaking hands and bated breath, she checked his pulse, pressing her cold fingers to his colder wrist.
She exhaled in relief. Not dead.
For a second, Y/N mulled over her options. Yes, he was technically not a hero – but he sure as hell wasn’t a villain. She knew if he didn’t wake up soon he would freeze, or catch something nasty. His skin was as cold as ice, the skin she could see flushed red. If she could manage to get him to her apartment, which wasn’t too far away, she would be able to make sure he didn’t get frostbite or worse. Gotham was a cruel mistress and even those striving to better it would not be spared from the weather.
She found herself gripping his hands with hers and digging her heels into the pavement in an attempt to pull him up. It didn’t work. Huffing and frustrated she tried again. And again.
Y/N leaned against the dumpster, her chest heaving. He was heavier than he looked. She exhaled loudly. She had to get him out of the cold.
Squaring her shoulders, and with a newfound spark of determination, Y/N grabbed his hands again. This time she stood pushed his back and head off the ground, slipping her hands around his midsection. Grunting with the effort, she managed to pull him up halfway after a couple of tries. Y/N rested for a moment before trying again, the numbness of her hands and ice-cold downpour not helping.
Finally, Y/N managed to sling one of his arms around her shoulders, supporting his weight. She staggered, beginning her long and slow trek home.
By the time she had managed to get to the door of her apartment, Y/N’s forehead was beaded with sweat and rain and her legs burned. She felt her shoulders cramping up as she unsteadily walked into her apartment, practically dragging him along.
Making a beeline to her room, she unceremoniously dumped his limp body onto her bed, cranking the heater up, and grabbing several towels and blankets. Red Hood lay sprawled on her bed, his clothes saturating the white sheets under him. Y/N began to attempt to dry him off – or his clothes at least. She tried to be gentle enough so that she wouldn’t set off whatever weapons he had tucked in his suit. Once the towels were discarded in a soggy pile in the corner of the room, she grabbed a hot water bottle.
The water bottle was hot, warming up her cold hands as she held it. Y/N gently placed it in his hands, wrapping his fingers around it. She then covered him with a blanket.
Climbing onto her bed, she trailed her fingers over the contours of the red helmet, wondering how in the world she’d get it off. She could get his gloves and boots off after that.
Her palms were sweaty, knees weak, and arms heavy as she began to ease the helmet off his head. Y/N felt lightheaded, her eyes squeezed shut, not helping her. She felt like she would be betraying the Red Hood – whoever he was if she took advantage of the situation and saw his ‘real identity.’ The silence was deafening, and she could only hear her laboured breathing. Nearly there.
Y/N breathed a breath of relief as she finally felt herself pull the helmet off his head.
A gloved hand touched hers and a deep voice spoke.
‘I’m gonna need this back, sorry princess.’
At his words, Y/N’s eyes flew open, and she shrieked, falling backwards onto the floor. In her panic, her eyes involuntarily opened, hands throwing the helmet. Her backside hit the wooden floor hard and Y/N grunted.
The handsome man caught his helmet. As soon as she realised she had caught a glimpse of his face she clapped her hands over her eyes.
‘I’m so sorry!’
Y/N froze in her place, uncertainty flowing through her. His features had a certain ruggedness to them: Shaggy dark hair framing his face made him seem young, but his eyes gave it away. Harsh determination burned in his eyes, moulded by years of anger. Even though he wasn’t angry, his eyebrows were unconsciously furrowed and his lips twisted into a slightly cynical smirk, standing tall. She could tell he had been through years of hell, but she’d be lying if he wasn’t attractive.
’S’okay. I’d rather wake up next to a pretty girl like yourself, then alone.’
Y/N stifled a laugh, feeling a flush crawl up her neck. She quickly composed herself. Her hands were still covering her eyes, making her look comical. ‘I’m sorry for..’ She paused, ‘seeing your face. You just passed out in front of me, and you could’ve gotten hypothermia or-‘
‘Don’t worry ‘bout it. Honestly.’ He replied. ‘Oh, you can look now. I’m decent.’
Y/N uncovered her eyes, peering up at Red Hood. She smiled sheepishly. ‘So, do you want to have some dinner or something’
He shook his head. ‘I should probably get going. But thanks for letting me crash here. I appreciate it.’
Y/N nodded dumbly, still on the ground. She didn’t know what to say.
With the agility of someone who hadn’t just passed out, he slid out of the bed, walking towards the front door.
He glanced back as strong arm swung her front door open, which let out into the corridor between other apartments. It seemed awfully mundane, for him to exit by the front door instead of jumping out a window. When Y/N raised her eyebrows, she could feel him grinning underneath that red helmet of his.
‘I don’t want to be too predictable, do I?’
He threw her a mock salute before walking out.
The door shut behind him, leaving Y/N standing in the now silent room, asking herself just how she had gotten into that situation in the first place. She went to bed with a smile on her face, not regretting that night one bit.
*
Her drowsy steps were light against the floor. Y/N had managed to drag herself out of her bed – the side that wasn’t soaked in dirty water. It was late morning, the excitement of the previous night taking a toll on her.
She padded to her kitchen, filling the kettle with water to boil it. She grabbed a mug and teabag. Y/N turned around to get a spoon from a drawer she stopped.
How could she not have noticed that?
A large bouquet of flowers stood proudly on her kitchen bench. Y/N gasped, rushing over and cautiously holding them in her hand, turning the bouquet around. It was beautiful, with pink roses and creamy tulips and lovely lilacs. There were more she didn’t even know the name of. They smelt wonderful as well, the sweet scent beginning to permeate the air.
There was a small note that she hadn’t noticed before, almost tucked away in the folds of petals.
“Thanks for the other night. I would do that again if it meant I got to see your pretty face again. Stay safe, or I might have to pay you a visit.”
Toad's Cave 