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“I knew I should’ve roomed with you,” you whispered with disbelief evident in your voice, wiping his chiseled face with a warmly rinsed rag to get rid of the stench of mix of beer, sweat, and dried blood. Your heart clenched and stomach twisted in guilt of having to imagine Polnareff facing Devo the Cursed alone. “I just knew in my gut that something horrible was going to happen right when we stepped foot into this hotel.”
He sheepishly smiled up at you from the soft bed sheets, entranced watching your every gentle move as you stood between his legs attempting to clean up most of the grime off his face and body.
“Mon chéri, you just can’t seem to catch a break, can you?” You asked rhetorically, setting the used rag on the hotel’s table behind you. Genuine concern manifested within your facial expressions as you looked into his cerulean piercing orbs. His eyes shyly darted away from your face after hearing the French pass your lips, a faint pink appearing on his cheeks.
Unaware of the pink tinted on his cheeks, your eyes slowly drifted away from the mesmerizing eyes you’ve grown to secretly love to his perfectly firm silver hair. “At least your hair is still in shape,” you mentioned with a slight giggle, always blown away with how his hair was always unaffected from fights or brutal weathers.
“Why, it is the incredible gel from the motherland of France that I make use of, of course. It never disappoints.” Polnareff claimed, releasing a soft chuckle. "Maybe one day I shall bring you to my motherland, and show you all the wonders of French gel."
You nodded with utter adore and amusement filling your own eyes as you tenderly caressed the side of his chiseled face, having him lean further into your warm palm in comfort, his eyes flickering shut before opening them again.
“You never cease to impress me with how strong and brave you are, mon beau,” you complimented him with admiration, your eyes unable to look away from the growing darker shade of pink on his face.
He felt your palm remove itself from his face to lay on the back of his hands, watching as a faint glowing yellow energy appear from beneath your palm to slowly ease the cuts he had. As soon as his hands were free from yours, he pulled you closer between his defined thighs and rested his head softly on your chest.
Pleased by his heartfelt action, you continued to place your palm on his other wounds on his neck, arms, and forehead to ease the pain a little. He sighed in relief as some of the throbbing and ache lifted. The soft smile reappeared on your face from the sound he emanated, comforting you that your healing energy had helped. You leaned back to apply gauze and band-aids on his skin for protection as his wounds were slowly healing before embracing him in your chest and arms again, silence filling the atmosphere for a few minutes.
“I don’t know what I’d do if I..,” you whispered, unsure of what to say after while leaning your cheek against the top of his head. Polnareff looked up at you with curiosity and concern as your eyes shut and brows furrow in fear and angst. You took a subtle shaky breath before recollecting your thoughts. “...If you were to leave us... to leave me. I don’t want to lose you.”
His heart beat faster as his blue eyes darted all over your pained face, catching the vulnerability in your tone. He rubbed the exposed skin on your backside in attempt to comfort you as he continued to hold you in your place, waiting for you to continue.
“I’m always amazed at how you always get back up on your feet, but what if one day you don’t? I... I just want to protect you, Jean.”
Your words set his rapidly beating heart to flames. Polnareff had always admired your beauty and strength for yourself and the team. It took him aback at how vulnerable you were being in the moment. He knew that acquiring the ability to heal gave you more responsibilities and weight on your shoulders, which was in no way easier or comparable to anyone else’s abilities and role. You’ve done a tremendous amount of aid for the team and he couldn’t express any further of how grateful he was for that. One of the things he loved about you was how you always tried to put others lives first before your own; how fearless and caring you were.
He caught a hold of your watery eyes and gazed into them lovingly. His hands encased in yours, his thumbs stroking across your supple skin before opening his mouth.
“Mon ange, I’d never want to leave you. You will not lose me any time soon. It is so that you are unable to rid of this beautiful French man that easily,” he said with a charming smirk, succeeding in earning a laugh from you as he wiped the fallen tears away from your face.
“I’ll always be by your side. If I ever need help, I can always count on you,” he reassured, standing up from his position to give you a kiss on your forehead.
You hugged him tighter and breathed in his musky vanilla scent. “Thank you, mon amour.”
Polnareff couldn’t help but blush again at the lovey-dovey nicknames you handed him. “Seems like you’ve been spending a lot of time around me, no?” He teased, aware of how much of an influence he’d been on you.
You tugged his hand to bring him around the bed to lay down, remembering how he’d been hurt and most likely needed to rest his body. He snuggled up to your chest again, legs tangling effortlessly together. He enjoyed the intimacy shared between each other as your fingers stroked at the nape of his neck, as well as the idea of being babied. Only if it was with you.
"Je t’aime, Jean Pierre,” you murmured lowly that anyone could’ve missed it if they weren’t listening carefully. Polnareff’s eyes widened and froze in quick surprise, not expecting you to tell him those words in his own language in that exact moment.
Noticing you fell fast asleep after your bold statement, he sighed gently and held you tighter to conduct more warmth as possible in both of your proximity. He was just thinking about how you two were going to feel and act towards each other when you both wake up.
“Je t’aime davantage, mon remède.”
With that, he drifted to sleep soon joining you in your dreams. What you didn’t know was how a miraculous French sweetheart named Jean Pierre Polnareff was afraid of losing you too, his remedy.