Work Text:
“Somethings on your mind”
Fuse looked up from his magazine. He’d been about halfway through an article about Newcastle’s village. He should have suspected someone would think it’s weird for him to be reading. Especially while a match was on.
His gaze softens when it falls on Loba. Match ready as always and smirking as she stepped the remaining distance between them away. In her hand she had a paddle brush, coated in an alloy that glistened in the lighting of his workshop/sleep space.
“Talk”
This was a command. A lovingly given one, but still one that demanded seeing through. She leaned the front of her thigh against his upper arm, and brushed through his hair. He tilted his head towards her
“Reckon Houndy’ll win tonight?”
“You’re uncertain? Most unlike you”
A period of thoughtful silence fell. Comfortable, aside from the occasional tug at a knot in the man’s mullet.
“I don’t doubt ‘em. Just worried s’all. Seems they’re worlds away these days”
“They are. Sometimes.”
Loba sighed, and put down the brush
“We’re all facing our demons. And we’re all-”
She paused here
“Working through our past, or its catching up to us”
Fuse’s bottom lip came up in the universal signal for you’ve got a point. Nobody seemed to be having it easy right now. Poor Che was even bluin’ with Octane and that wasn’t a boat easily rocked, but definitely seemed like one taking on a lot of water.
He fumbled his metallic hand back along the bed and picked up the recently set down brush. Loba settled on the edge beside Fuse and brought her hands up to begin unfastening one of her braids. Having shifted his weight over Fuse picked up the other and went about mirroring her movements with delicacy.
“Guess we’ve all got our demons”
He paused
“Literally in your case”
Loba’s eyebrows rose in exasperation. She didn’t exactly regret sending the monster’s code elsewhere, but knowing what she knew now… who that would drive away. No. There was nothing there now.
“El Demonio is a pest”
She said with a clipped tone that said in no uncertain terms he was not to argue.
“He’s got fans. He gets attention. He gets to hunt when he’s selected. He’s become a pampered house cat”
The older man looks up for just long enough to see her eyes well up then just as quickly, dry.
“Not what I wanted obviously, but he won’t be making any more orphans. And me being here means I get to shoot at him sometimes too, that doesn’t hurt”
Fuse chuckled
“Til you’re stuck with them on your side. Then it’s harder to know if you should bother with your sights at all for how much you’re looking over your own shoulder. Or the shoulder built to replace your original one”
With her hair now loose all the way up. Loba threw a pillow on the floor and sat on the ground between Fuse’s knees. He sat up, preparing to try and massage some blood flow back into her scalp. Commitment to aesthetic was one thing, but the master thief had dedicated herself to the beauty is pain doctrine. She couldn’t have looked better if she tried, and he was sure something could be done about the discomfort.
He began with tiny circles, moving just the tips of his fingers with precision.
“My point is”
Loba began, then shifted to tilt her head back and closed her eyes
“They are dealing with a lot of loss. And people dealing with a lot of loss, can get frightened when in that time, something else that would devastate them if lost comes around. The timing is jarring, but they are okay”
Fuse smiled softly. Loba wouldn’t lie to him, there was no point.
“Thanks”
Loba smiled
“Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a while to go before we’re out of the woods”
“Yeah, well. The woods are less scary when you’re here to tell me its just a big group of trees. I can handle trees”