day 25 - (spiderman) kiss (Gramander)
Stupid. An utter fool is what he is, careless in watching his surroundings because he hadn’t been thinking like usual, too excited at the prospect of catching him. Because Percival has been chasing this one for the better part of a year and he was sure today would be the day.
He's unlike other vigilantes Percival encountered before, a wizard who changes his appearance with every heist and is amazingly adept with his strategies. If Percival hadn’t passionately persisted with the cases and caused him to stumble once, they might have never known the seemingly random incidents were connected.
Truth be told, if anyone asks why it matters so much, seeing as this perpetrator isn’t actually the biggest troublemaker out there, he has no proper answer; simply, he fucking annoys him. Percival is the cat that keeps getting outsmarted by a mouse and mocked for it, and every time they meet the man smiles as if assured victory over him.
Now it's his personal mission to see him locked away.
But it isn't today, because he hangs upside down with hands bound from a trap he should’ve seen long before he set foot in it. He can't help tensing as the other approaches, somehow smiling almost apologetically. The disguise this time is rather attractive—reddish-brown curls and light eyes, and from this close he also sees quite a lot of freckles. The man usually goes for a plain look, so it’s interesting to see something prettier. And he's quite tall, too. Percival's at least six feet off the ground yet he's comfortably at eye-level with him.
No, not interesting. Merlin's beard, the blood's pressure to his head must be affecting him so.
“That was quite close, Mr. Graves,” says the man. “You might just do it next time.”
Percival automatically bares his teeth, familiar frustration and anger rising at the words.
“Sorry for this, though; it must be uncomfortable. Your team will be here soon to help, I think.”
“You should leave before I get out of here myself and curse you,” Percival snaps.
The man shrugs but his smile widens as if the words delight him, which, in hindsight, Percival should be glad he hadn’t provoked a more malicious response considering his vulnerable state. It may have been an unconscious belief that he wouldn’t truly be harmed despite the long months of friction between them, because for some reason they never actively attacked one another.
(Though that may have to do with the man's agility in escaping rather than any show of mercy on Percival's part.)
Still, Percival tenses when the other lifts a hand only to set it over Percival’s jaw, and a thumb presses lightly into the corner of his mouth. There’s something odd in the way he watches him, head tilted and eyes roaming with disinterest, like he’s observing an inanimate object.
“I've not seen you so close before; always thought you quite handsome but this is...” and he trails off, pauses a moment before putting his mouth on Percival's.
At first, Percival is frozen with shock, unable to process what is happening—the sensation of plush lips against his, a bit awkward due to their positions relative to each other. Then he sucks in a breath, giving an opening for the man to press deeper. It’s brief and wet and Percival responds on reflex, stimulated despite the confusion.
The man hums, tugs lightly on Percival's lip as he draws away. With a nip to the chin, he drops his hand, too, and distances himself completely.
“Until we meet again,” he says softly, eyes bright and green, then apparates.
Left hanging alone and dazed, Percival closes his eyes in vain against the welling mortification.