Chapter Text
“So this one’s blue,” Noir guessed, his tone sharp with focus. “And this one’s blue…”
“Yep.”
“Then this one’s… yellow?”
“That’s also blue, Noir.” You couldn’t hold back a grin at the way he let out an irritated little huff.
“I can’t make heads or tails of it,” he muttered, looking back down at the seaside puzzle the two of you were completing together. “It seems arbitrary. Sure you’re not pulling the wool over my eyes here?”
The sight of the black-swathed titan of a man basically pouting at shades of blue on your living room floor had you pressing a fist to your mouth to seal in the ‘aww’ that wanted to escape. Shaking your head fondly, you planted a hand on your hip, mock-offended.
“Come on, Peter, do you honestly think I’d ever lie to you?”
And, true to form, his response was short, instant, and carried the serious reverence of a coronation.
“Never.”
It was almost like he was putting his life in your hands here, and not solving a hundred-piece dollar-store puzzle with you on a lazy Saturday afternoon during a casual interdimensional visit. Peter Parker, private eye, wore solemnity like a second skin, even and especially in the most mundane situations.
The fact had you laughing, even as you gently raised your hand to bat softly at his cheek, much like a docile cat would affectionately bap its favorite person. (Fitting – since he was, after all, your favorite person.) Noir let it happen, though he could have leaned out of reach easily. And once you turned your attention back to the puzzle on the floor, he raised his fingers to trace over where your hand had just been, wonderingly, as if he could still feel the warmth of your skin through his mask.
“Never change, Sherlock,” you said warmly. “Anyway, if you want, we could put this stupid puzzle aside and solve it later – you know, maybe after you can tell the difference between cerulean and sky blue.”
Of course, the idea of backing down from something so easy by design rankled at the proud detective, and he sat up just a bit straighter.
“You know I don’t leave loose ends,” Noir reminded you flatly, as if you’d just suggested he leave a dangerous mob boss to do as he pleased in the city. You could read enough of his body language at this point to see the offense taken by your suggestion, written in the cant of his head, the line of his shoulders. You were astute enough to know that his eyes were trained on yours, as they so often were.
Grinning, you raised your hands in defeat.
“Alright, alright,” you conceded. "But only if we can go get some milkshakes or something afterwards.”
The soft chuckle that escaped him warmed your heart, just a little.
“Well, not even I could resist an offer like that.”