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#Umm forcibly subjecting you all to my pretty terry agenda
yeahimcal · 2 months
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Bad News (Terry McGinnis)
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“Terry McGinnis is bad news, you don’t want to mess with him.” was the first thing you heard about him.
“He’s a bad boyfriend. Skips dates, flakes on plans, always has weird bruises is and really tired. None of his partners have ever caught him cheating, but he definitely does.” Was the next several things, all said in a hushed whisper as you were ushered past the black-haired boy in question.
He certainly didn’t… look like bad news. You’d dated guys who were bad news before, and very few of them had looked like Terry. Acted like him, either.
He was nice. He had helped you with your homework when you cried at the study tables in the library, smoothing a soothing hand over your shoulder blades almost unconsciously as he walked you through your chemistry exam study guide. He’d given you some gum, a smile, and a pat on the back before he promptly fell asleep on the table in the back corner of the library, snoring softly.
You’d slid your number into his hand when you left, and that was it for a while. He didn’t text. You saw each other in passing, and he’d smiled and you’d smiled, but nothing more.
Until you’d gotten the call.
“Hey.” He breathed into the speaker, his voice sounding oddly pained. “I’m sorry to call at this hour, but, uh, this… this isn’t really something I can call my mom for.”
He’d given you the address of an abandoned warehouse, begged you not to be freaked out when you got there, and hung up.
You went.
You didn’t really know why you went, for all you knew it was a really elaborate booty call or kidnapping scheme, but ten minutes later you parked next to the warehouse and slipped inside.
There, leaned up against a wall, bleeding and bruised, was Terry.
“You’re- you’re studying to be an EMT, right?” He asked with a pained smile that was supposed to be charming, gesturing to his wounds. “I figured you’d appreciate some hands-on experience.”
“What the hell?” You’d breathed, giving him a shocked look as you rushed to examine his wounds. “Terry, why didn’t you call the police?”
“Not the sharpest, are you.” Terry grunted in what might have been amusement, hissing as you poked and prodded him to see what was hurting. “Can’t call the police, they’d arrest me.”
“Arrest you?” You’d echoed, and then you took in his outfit. All black, with a red bat on the front. A cowl was clutched in his hand, the ends sharpening into little points. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, I’m Batman.” Terry chuckled, but it was more at the look of shock on your face. He moved to sit up and then groaned, cringing and covering his wound. “Can you patch me up before I die here, please? Kinda called you for your specific set of skills.”
“You are so stupid.” You chided, but reluctantly dug around in your bag for hydrogen peroxide and bandages.
“And you’re old school, doc.” He breathed, smiling up at you cheekily. “You don’t carry those fancy little kits that heal people up on the spot?”
“They don’t sell them to anyone other than certified medical personnel.” You said, giving him a pointed glare and dousing his wound in hydrogen peroxide. “And I’m not a doctor.”
“Ah-” Terry hissed, tipping his head back and gasping in a little breath. … he was pretty. He was really pretty, and it was a little distracting. The voices of your friends rang out in the back of you head, warning you that he was trouble, but you couldn’t find it in you to listen when he swallowed thickly and turned to look at you, a lopsided smile on his pale face. “Same difference.” He breathed, chuckling.
You looked back at his wound, face flushed and feeling dizzy from the laps your brain was having to do to see Terry- scrawny, ‘bad boy’, Terry- as Batman. It seemed ridiculous, but his muscles were right there underneath your hands, tensing as you bandaged him up. He looked bigger than he did when you saw him in passing, stronger- when you saw him, he was always wearing bigger clothes that nearly dwarfed him, making him look smaller than he was. His hair was damp with sweat that ran down his face and made him look a little bit red, his lips parted as he breathed in air. He was gorgeous.
Suddenly, it made a little more sense why his exes had kept on giving him chances.
You worked quietly and efficiently, only sparing a few looks at your accidental patient before you finished patching him up.
“You should get that checked out at an actual hospital.” You said, helping him to his feet. “And I still don’t understand why you called me. We aren’t… friends.”
Terry shrugged, cupping your face in his hand and grinning a toothy smile at you. “Yeah, well, we definitely are now, doc.” He teased, tapping your nose and pushing away from you to head towards the doors opposite of where you’d parked. “Text me sometime and we can go out and get some drinks. I feel like you’ll be better company when you’re not crying over your study guides.”
He slipped the cowl on over his head and you could very nearly feel his stupid smile, which you already knew was going to get you in more trouble than you had bargained for, as he slipped out the doors and into the Gotham night.
When you walked back out to your car, it had a flat tire, and the window was broken.
… okay, maybe Terry was bad news.
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