Work Text:
Kimiko walked into the garage to see Frenchie still hunched over his makeshift workbench. He had his headphones on and was nodding his head to the music as he turned up the fire on the blowtorch he was holding.
He had been out there for hours - nearly the whole day - trying to make a solution to the problem they had locked up in the basement.
It was just like a situation from a year and a half ago that Hughie had told her about - they were hiding in some place that wasn’t theirs, with a dangerous supe locked up who just didn’t seem to want to die, no matter how hard they tried to kill them.
At least this time they were hiding out in a quaint little house outside the city instead of a rather uninviting, abandoned restaurant.
Frenchie hadn’t seemed to notice her walk in. He was concentrating too hard. She could see the frustration twisting his expression. She could feel the sharp anger in his movements, even from several feet away.
She tried waving to get his attention. Still nothing.
She didn’t want to touch him to get his attention because he might get startled and hurt himself.
She went over to the light switch and flicked it off, then on again.
He looked up with a start, his eye wide with alarm.
He was even more high strung right now than she had thought.
He seemed to calm down a bit when he saw her.
“Yes, Mon Coeur?” he asked.
“Serge,” she began to sign, concern evident on her face.
His hands were shaking as he slid off his headphones.
“You should come in and rest,” she said, “You’ve been out here for hours.”
“I’m okay, Mon Coeur,” he said, “I’ve almost got it, see?”
He motioned to the mess in front of him.
“I just have to-”
He slumped forward, letting his head fall to rest on the table.
“I just have to start all over again.” he said defeatedly.
She went over to him and knelt by his side. She stroked his head, his hair was so soft beneath her fingers.
He was so vocal about how much he worried about her, but she worried about him too. All the time, in her own silent way, despite everything they’d survived together, she worried about him. She often wasn’t sure what was more likely: if a supe would kill him or if he’d take himself down.
He turned his head to meet her gaze.
He always looked at her with such tenderness. Such emotion radiating from those warm brown eyes that looked like pools of honey in the light. It was like his very heart and soul were right there, behind the black and brown and white.
She noticed that she could see her faint reflection in his dark, shining pupils.
Even after a year, with just a look he could take her breath away.
“Come on inside, Lovely.” she said, “You can finish this later. We have time.”
What was the harm if one more bastard supe lived for another day? There were thousands of them - every one as expendable as the next. The world wouldn't notice whether they died or lived.
But him? There was only one of him. Only one person in the world with his brilliant mind and reckless devotion. Only one person who made her soul feel complete and understood and safe.
She kissed the corner of his mouth, and when she drew away, he lifted his head, following her movements.
As he raised his head, she saw his nose twitch. Maybe he’d finally smelled the madeleines she’d been baking.
She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head towards the door.
“I made your favorite.”