An Angel With A Bloody Bat 2 (2p!AmericaXReader)

You hummed along with the song, mindlessly typing in codes to compare different samples of blood found at a crime scene of a missing woman from downtown. You really hoped that you could get a match, help this woman out, let the police know who took her, anything. A positive match appeared on the screen, and with a victorious fist pump, you forwarded the information to the lead detective and rewarded yourself with a handful of M&M’s from the bowl next to your keyboard.

You shoved your rolling chair away from your desk, accidentally slamming into the legs of your coworker, Gary. You yanked the earbud from its resting position. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

Gary chuckled nervously, shifting the files to one arm in order to scratch the back of his head. “N-No, it’s okay, I was just bringing you some case files… A few gangsters found beaten in an alley, some of the blood didn’t match, so they sent it over.”

You nodded, processing the information. Gangs were common in the darker sides of town, but to find multiple ones unconscious in an alley? That was rare. Your mind drifted to your mysterious dark knight from a few weeks ago. Maybe this was his doing. Maybe you would finally find out who he was.

“______? Are you listening?” Gary asked, waving a hand in front of your face. You blinked a few times, ridding yourself of the remaining thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fine! I’ll get started right away,” you said, yanking the files from his arms and motioning him to leave in a childish “shoo” motion. Gary complied, leaving you to your work. You plugged your earbuds back in and began the process of tracking down the owner to the blood left at the crime scene.

About an hour later, you had your answer. The computer dinged, and you clicked on the file the database had linked to the DNA sample. You grabbed a handful of M&M’s and went to pour them into your mouth when you caught sight of the face that matched the sample. The colorful candies came clattering to the ground as you stared in shock at the blood red eyes, the brown hair with that one defiant cowlick, that confidant smirk.

It was him. Your dark knight. Only now he had a name. Alfred F. Jones.

A quick search in the online database presented you with a phone number, and you snagged your cell phone and made the call.

“Who the hell are you?” the voice on the other end snapped after a few rings.

You sighed and rubbed the spot on your head where a headache was beginning to form. “So much for treating woman with respect, huh?” you said, silently wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have called at all.

“Shit, you’re that doll from a few weeks ago, right? How the fuck did you get this number?” he asked, tone lightening from I am going to kill you to I am mildly annoyed.

“Your criminal record.”

“How did you get access to that?”

“Look, I’ll fill you in later. Meet me at the café on the corner of Main Street and Route 1 in twenty minutes,” you said, getting rather annoyed with how the conversation was going.

“What’s in it for me?” he asked, oh-so-eloquently.

“The possibility of not going to jail,” you replied. “And a date with me.” With the push of a button, you hung up, shocked at how forward you had been. You usually didn’t act like that, but it was too late to turn back now, so you grabbed your coat and purse, heading for the door after informing your coworkers you were getting lunch.

This was going to be interesting.

xXxXxXx

A half an hour later, he showed up, sliding into the seat across from you. You took a sip from the mug of tea in front of you, sizing him up. He wore the same blood-stained leather jacket, paired with clean jeans and a white t-shirt (which surprised you, because he didn’t strike you as the kind of person who cared about their appearance), and for the first time you noticed the gap in his teeth where one of his canine teeth should have been.

“You must have some pretty damn good sources to track me down like that, doll,” he said, propping the bat up against the table and leaning back in his chair.

“I do all my own research,” you vaguely replied, setting your mug down. “Actually, I’m a forensic scientist. Your blood was found at a crime scene I was assigned to analyze.”

“Fancy,” he said in a bored tone. “Why did you call me here anyways? Desperate for a date, doll?”

“Not at all. I wanted to let you know so you can prepare your case when you get charged,” you lied smoothly. You had already deleted the search results and declared the DNA useless and to be kept in storage in case something turns up at some other time.

“Doll, you’re a terrible liar,” he said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What makes you think I’m lying?” you responded, grip tightening on your mug.

“You got defensive, doll, that’s all the proof I need,” he said, smirk widening in victory. “You know doll, I never got your name that night. Obviously you know mine, so it’s only fair I know yours.”

“______,” you said simply. You couldn’t help but feel attracted to this man, despite the danger warnings the more logical part of your mind were sending you. You chose to ignore them, because despite the things you knew this man was capable of, you couldn’t think of him as evil. He just had his own twisted sense of justice.

“Well then doll, if this is a date, lets at least make it interesting,” he said before leaning across the little café table and kissing you on the lips. Your eyes widened before you melted into the kiss, pulling back just before he took things too far.

“Now, now Alfred,” you said with a flirtatious smile. “Let’s not take things too far. We have only just met after all.”