Requested by EgyptsianPrincess!

I hope you enjoy!

~~~

Imagine- Victor gets hurt and you help him stitch up the wound.

You were walking down a cold street in Gotham. At night, in the dark, alone. People might say that that's a pretty stupid thing to do, but Gotham is your home, and you've lived here your whole life. Naturally, you take precautions, you always carry a gun and a backup knife in the case of something bad happening. But, so far, nothing bad has happened to you.

Nighttime is when the city is at its prettiest. Mainly because you can't really see it or the grime, or the grim cloudy sky. The darkness of the night disguises the filthy buildings, and the lampposts hardly make a dent in its veil. Illuminating only a small circumference around it.

Of course, car headlights also bring a bit of light, but not much.

Anyways, you walk down the street, just minding your own business and enjoying the chilled night air when someone staggers in front of you.

The person is wearing all black, so it's kind of hard to see them. It's obvious that they're hurt badly, so you ask if he needs help.

"Sir? Are you okay?"

He grunts in response, leaning against a lamppost. The light clarifies his features. He's bald, his eyes are naturally wide, and he looks to be in pain.

I glance at where his hands are pressed against his side and let out a small gasp. Blood runs through his fingers, dribbling onto the concreted down his side.

"Here, let me help you! I'll call an ambulance-"

"No ambulance," He cuts in. His voice doesn't even bear an ounce of pain in it, and he's perfectly calm and collected as he applies pressure to the wound.

"Ok... uh, I can take you back to my place. I have a first aid kit and it's not that far away..." You suggest, before going to his side and helping him stand up straight.

He accepts your assistance, and allows you to lead him to your house. You help him stumble into your house and lead him into the tiled bathroom before dashing to get the first aid kit.

When you get back to the bathroom, he's leaning against the wall, his coat and shirt off, still trying to stop the blood.

You notice all sorts of scars on his torso and limbs, some of which look self-inflicted.

"How'd this happen?" You ask warily.

He looks at you dead in the eye, "Bullet."

You frown and nod, "Good to know."

You wash your hands first and examine the wound. The bleeding has stopped, and the man seems to be breathing fine. You pour some water on it to clean it out. You don't think that the bullet hit anything major. You frown, never having treated a bullet wound before.

"It just grazed me," He adds, noticing your frown.

Nodding, you start to sterilize the needle with rubbing alcohol, before drying it and threading it. You sit next to him and glance at his face uncertainly.

"This is going to hurt, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"You'll do fine."

"Want a drink or something for the pain?" You ask, thinking back to the unopened bottle of alcohol in your pantry.

"No."

"Uh, ok then."

You start to stitch the wound, wincing every time the needle pokes into his pale skin. You do your best to avoid the muscle, and to not pull too tightly on the skin. You start to shake a little, but you steady your hand and focus on the task at hand.

He doesn't flinch at all, he just watches you with a calm gaze.

You continue to stitch his wound, choosing to use a simple running suture instead of a simple interrupted suture or a running locking suture.

When you finish, you sigh heavily with relief and start to cleaning up all the supplies and the blood on the floor and on your hands.

Then you remember that you have to put a bandage on it, so you cut the amount of gauze you need and then clean the wound before taping the gauze to his skin. His skin is soft under your touch, and you blush as you realize your situation. A half naked guy is in your bathroom, and you just stitched up a bullet wound.

You giggle at the absurdity of what just happened. He smirks as well, before shrugging his clothes back on.

"Thanks. How 'bout that drink now?" He suggests, and you shrug.

"Why not?" You smirk, walking into the kitchen and snatching the bottle and pouring to generous glasses.

"What's your name?"

You grin a little before swallowing some of the liquid, "Y/n L/n. What's yours, or do you wish to remain anonymous?"

He grins, and answers after taking a drink, "My name is Victor Zsasz. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/n."

"Miss? Such a gentleman." You tease.

"You did call me sir, so I returned the favour."

"Well, you still owe me for stitching your wound," you joke.

He smiles, closes his eyes and opens them while tilting his head towards yours, "How about I take you out for dinner sometime?"

Grinning, you look at him closely, "Mmmm, but Victor, how do I know you're not a crook? After all, you were shot and refused to go the hospital."

"I never said I wasn't."

"Maybe I just assumed because you seem such a gentlemanly figure."

"I can be a gentleman, but I can also be very dangerous." He smiles broadly.

"Oh, I bet."

You look at him for awhile, before nodding, "I'd love to join you for dinner, Victor."

His smile brightens, as he suggests a date and time. Agreeing, you show him to the door.

"See you soon Victor."

Hope you liked it!

I absolutely love Victor, he's my favourite!

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