Work Text:
Oh the Weather Outside is Awful
“There’s no ventilation, boss-babe! You’re gonna bust your fans and overheat! Or better yet: suffocate!" Scaramouche taunted as he made his way out of the shared tent with Francis. Francis could not hear the reply and when Scaramouche did not change his tune of teasing, he suspected he did not get one either. Most messages on this venture from the general were via comms, because, as Scaramouche pointed out, they were well bundled, so much so that Francis was not really sure they could actually speak clearly, let alone see. He was suspecting they could not see, at least, not in the usual sense. He was familiar enough with them now to know that being temporarily blind in terms of regular vision was not that bad since they had other senses that made up for it. An odd sense of "smell" could locate most organic creatures and the ability to sense fear helped fill in the rest of the gaps. Francis could not picture how it worked, but he had watched Shadow maneuver with non-functioning optics to the point where most people would not even realize there was an issue.
Vision was not all that necessary for Shadow on this trip. Francis was hazy on the details since he had only had it relayed second hand from Scaramouche who was not paying attention in the first place. His understanding was that Freeze needed specimens from the artic area. Shadow could sense out the hibernating creatures and force them out to collect the samples. Since they usually hibernated in groups, a small herd would come out. Scaramouche could come into play at that point once he heard the critters scampering. Supposedly he had come as an early Aku gift to Shadow, to help almost halve the time of the expedition. He would not kill the creatures, would not damage the environment, and would even bring Francis along for some extra support for Freeze at the campsite! It sounded almost noble and if Francis had not been married to him by decades at this point, he might have entertained the notion.
Francis knew he was only doing it because Scaramouche enjoyed watching Shadow suffer.
The two were off to collect samples once more and Francis finished dressing for the day. The tents held enough heat that his system was safe, but it was advised he wear more thermal lined clothing so the extreme cold would not cause issues. He suspected Scaramouche had thoroughly enjoyed blowing through a large portion of the budget to get new coats for the both of them (and also suspected Shadow would be denying that reimbursement, but Scaramouche never seemed to mind that much, because hearing Fandango complain about it was equally as entertaining to him). Francis had more willingly given free range for Scaramouche to get him whatever he wanted to see Francis in. A warm, arctic coat could only be so revealing after all. Plus, with the very low threat of danger in terms of something that would destroy the coat, Francis was sure it would last a long time in case they had another expedition like this. He hated getting nice outfits for just one occasion, whether it be because it was too specific or destroyed. Of course, Scaramouche could not care less about an outfit once he wore it once. The only article that ever mattered was the scarf he almost always wore. It was a point of disagreement, but they got through it, even if Francis had to convince Scaramouche that he would good in the same outfit multiple times (and perhaps there was a promise that he would look equally good coming out of it when they were done with whatever event of the night Scaramouche had planned, and that was alright by both of them).
With his snug and his outfit cozy, Francis let himself out into the blinding white. His optics adjusted eventually and he made his way to the larger tent with the equipment. It was an impressive setup, even if Francis was not really sure what everything was supposed to do, mostly due to how it was brought. When the four of them arrived through various means at the nearest town, they were brought out on sled with little more than a bag each. Once they found a location near the frozen lake, Shadow managed to produce the tents, equipment, and needed supplies for the day. It could have been a little unnerving that Shadow held the key to all of their supplies, yet it was common knowledge that they would never let anything happen to their medic, Scaramouche was convinced that Shadow would not abandon Francis to an icy demise, and Francis knew that he would have to convince Shadow to go back for Scaramouche or threaten to succumb to the cold which would activate the second clause. All four of them would be leaving unharmed, just cold. Freeze was there to keep Shadow alive anyway, even if they despised every second of the artic torture.
Freeze glanced up with a simple nod. Francis returned it with a soft smile and set to work. His task was simple and repetitive, something he was pretty sure Freeze could have done on his own (and maybe a little more efficiently), but offered to Francis as something to do since Francis was not equipped to help with samples or really interpret any of the data. He let Freeze train him on day one and only asked what he needed. It was not important for him to know why they were doing things and he always had the sense that extra questions were bothersome to Freeze. Granted, he had also thought that about Shadow when he first started hanging around Aku's fortress, but it turned out they did like to talk about different things and could be dragged into the conversation with a pseudo implied promise that you either knew enough about the topic or genuinely wanted to know more to keep the conversation going. Freeze would answer questions, but seemed, for lack of a better word, a bit colder, and he never initiated things. Shadow had approached Francis on topics or with things they thought he would find interesting, and Francis could roll with that. It would only be a few hours of work anyway to process everything from the last round of captures, and then Francis could do what he wanted.
It was day three out in the middle of nowhere. No one had asked if he was bored, although it was implied by the actions. Freeze let him do some work and Scaramouche would shower him with attention when he returned from the hunt. Shadow would message him in the early hours on occasion if they knew he was just laying in the tent while Scaramouche kept recharging, even though they would usually hang out in the nightmare realm unless otherwise needed. He was not bored though. The lab tent had enough devices he could get a decent connection to read additional books and even text a few friends. Regardless, he could sit and simply enjoy the quiet of it all. He was told he could wander a bit if he wanted. If he should get lost, he just had to panic and then Shadow would be able to find him easily and bring him back (Scaramouche's words and Shadow's assurance, not his plan). He would walk with Scaramouche though if he really wanted. They had gone out for a few friendly snowball fights/training sessions. He was hesitant to call it that though, since it was mostly Scaramouche attempting to pummel him with snowballs and then drool over him as Francis sliced through it with his swords. Still, Francis humored him since he did not want to do anything sexual in nature that set Shadow's odd senses off and he was fairly sure this did not count... At least no one had yelled at either of them while they fooled around in the snow the last two days.
Francis finished his work and tidied up the area, offering his usual parting words of being happy to help if something else came up. Freeze gave his simple thanks, and perhaps it sounded a bit less robotic out here. Francis was sure that was because the man could shed the usual outer armor suit he was required to wear in almost all other circumstances. Seeing him on day one had been incredibly strange, but he was getting a little more used to it. Truthfully, he found it a little amusing since Freeze would occasionally don a light weight jacket when he went outside, solely for appearances, and it contrasted greatly with the heavy coats he and Scaramouche (two bots!) wore. It also highlighted the stark differences of him and Shadow. On one hand, they were so similar with their flat and often expressionless tone, the near sleepless work regiment, and the constant appetite for knowledge, but as Devin said, they were literally polar opposites when it came to who controlled the thermostat (and fought like a married couple, Devin would cheekily add, although it never really got much of a ruse with the usual crowd).
Francis took a moment to let his optics adjust to the bright white once more. Scaramouche and Shadow usually went out for six to eight hours at a time, so he had a few more hours to kill. Having finished a book earlier that morning, he wanted to do something a bit more active. Scaramouche would likely want to “train” later and it was no fun on his own. So he built with the snow. He toyed around with what the surrounding area gave him. He could heat his hands a little (and yes it was wasteful, but occasional enjoyment was allowed now, so he did not think twice) and melt the snow, which would refreeze relatively quickly in the extreme cold. He still kept an eye on what he could of his body functions so that he never did any harm.
The entertainment proved to be highly distracting, as he startled back a step when his optics finally registered movement on the frozen lake. Unable to help himself, he simply stared.
Freeze had evidently finished his work for the time being. He once again donned his jacket and had taken to the ice for the first time that Francis had seen. Francis was almost tempted to sit and watch as Freeze glided over the ice. This was just one more difference between medic and general. While Francis had the honor of watching Shadow fight on a number of occasions, elegant was not something he would have ever used to describe it. Impressive, yes. Powerful, yes. Effective, efficient, incredible, and mesmerizing, absolutely yes, but not elegant. There was just something lacking from their methods.
Freeze was remarkably elegant. Francis was once again reminded of how robotic the man seemed, but it was because he never experienced the man having fun. He never saw Freeze outside the lab, suit or no suit. Everything in his posture was smooth and relaxed. Movements were fluid and graceful, almost like he had been doing this since he was a child.
“Do you skate?” he called out on one lap and Francis startled again, his optics going bright.
“Non, sir,” Francis answered honestly. “I haven’t before.”
“Do you want to learn?” Freeze had spun to a stop, facing him while he spoke this time.
“Oui. Merci, sir,” Francis answered and thanked him at once, knowing that Freeze was very unlikely to have been leading him on with the question. He approached the ice.
“Put on your gloves first,” Freeze instructed as he moved closer. Francis gave a sheepish nod before doing so, figuring failure to do so would have burned the man. Freeze extended a hand, Francis happy to take hold as he stepped out. It was slick, and even the extra tread on his winter boots did not keep him from sliding. He managed to remain upright since he had always had good control over his body and limbs (his old job had forced him to perfect it). Freeze helped him balance before showing him a few movements. Granted, he moved a lot better since he had proper skates. Francis managed a few moves though, eventually figuring out how he needed to shift his weight to attempt a glide. They remained on the ice for over an hour, Francis having a greater respect for the gentle way Freeze ended up teaching him, at no point ever weary of the “hands-on” training.
Their session ended when Freeze received a ping. Shadow was giving the warning that they were almost done collecting, which meant Freeze needed to prep to receive. Francis could not really do anything to help with that, so he thanked the man again and let Freeze skate alongside him as he stepped into the snow bank. He chuckled under his breath as Freeze sat in the snow, took off his own skates, and simply padded through the snow back to the tent.
"I would like to make modifications to your boots," Freeze stated once Francis had returned to help with his tasks again. Francis blinked, but handed them over without question. He watched a little before his old programming crept up on him and he did not bother to fight it. It was rude to stare anyway, and he knew he was in no danger (obviously, he would override programming if something felt wrong in a situation!), so he continued working. He had settled into the rhythm, ignoring the slight sounds of welding and crafting before Freeze interrupted him to return his boots, soles up. Francis studied the new metal piece between the treads, finally grinning when Freeze handed him the rest of the hardware. Francis was fairly certain that this makeshift set of skates was because Shadow could not quite be convinced to go and run errands but was willing to cough up some of the scrap they kept in the nightmare realm. Part of him thought maybe Shadow had just (accurately) assumed he would be impressed by the ingenuity. Essentially, Freeze had installed two metal clips between the tread. It might be more noticeable if he were walking on a hard surface, but these boots were for the greater outdoors where paved or otherwise manufactured surfaces were few and far between. The blades would clip in and be secured with a small ring. While definitely nowhere near a professional pair of skates, they did not wobble and were perfect for a beginner like him. It even came with an offer for another quick lesson and modifications for Scaramouche if the assassin wanted. Francis planned to take him up on both ... eventually.
While Francis did have fantastic control over his body, he did not account for one thing: old dress protocol. He could wear high heels of basically any height. The protocol also seamlessly allowed him to go back to any flat item (barefoot, platforms, regular shoes, etc.). What was not accounted for was any sort of left and right shift when the balance point was in the front of his foot. He took a few falls when taking Freeze up on the first offer. The organic could catch him, but also knew it was more important to teach Francis how to properly fall and get back up.
Francis refused to let any of that stop him. He did not spend a little over twenty years breaking his coding to force LC's hand and ultimately end him, and then another thirty years allowing LC's legacy (and blasted programming) to continue haunting him from the grave for nothing! He spent every hour of that day and the next (when Scaramouche was out and about) practicing. He finally managed to override the old protocol with enough sense of balance and started looking good on the ice. Maybe not quite elegant, but graceful enough that he could almost feel Scaramouche's optics burning a hole through him like they did whenever he took up his swords. Flashing Scaramouche a smile, he thought the bot might melt himself into a hole!
"Come join me later, Mon Amour," he purred, knowing Scaramouche would hear him before messaging through the comms that Freeze had volunteered to modify his boots. That did not stop the assassin though, who managed the slippery surface much better than he had to start. Francis was a little jealous at the extreme sense of balance, but it worked out because he could take Scaramouche's hands and pull or push him around the frozen lake in a slow dance.
The assassin was impatient, but Freeze would not be rushed through his actual work. Scaramouche ended up abandoning his boots in Freeze's tent and Francis found himself internally strong-armed into volunteering to carry the assassin back to their tent (he felt bad subjecting Freeze to Scaramouche's fake pouts and complaining). While Francis had managed to drag/carry Scaramouche before, the extra coats weighed more than he expected and he really on managed to drag Scaramouche out before they tumbled in the snow.
Of course, Scaramouche made quite the fuss about just how cold he was after the fact, insisting that the only thing that would warm him was Francis body heat. Francis found himself complying and maybe he let his body run a little warm just because as they took off the outer layers and curled into the shared sleeping bag. Once that seemed to not work, Scaramouche tried insisting that friction would certainly warm himself up!
“You are going to get us killed, Mon Amour,” Francis groaned, only giving in to kiss at the underside of Scaramouche’s jaw. That was likely acceptable. A lot more tolerable to Shadow than what Scaramouche was trying to do with his hands.
“Oh, baby, you know they’re hiding out in their little realm between realms doing Aku knows what. I hope they’re making a bonfire with Trash Heap’s albums.” Francis rolled his optics at that as he made it a point to press his body flush against Scaramouche. He knew how much Scaramouche hated Shadow’s band that they sponsored (because Scaramouche hated them). Again, he had no idea if Shadow actually liked the conglomerate of noises they shoved together into tracks and called music, but he supposed there was enough fondness since Shadow had participated in making a few of the songs and loaned their … interesting eating style to the mix. Apparently nothing quite made the same sound as a titanium jaw going to town on a case of glass bottles.
“Not now,” Francis sighed anyway and his fluid pump still swelled like it always did when Scaramouche listened and stopped. He always knew he would, but that bit of programming he had never quite completely shaken. It only made him love the assassin more. The hands came back up to his lower back and Scaramouche settled some. “Make me a playlist, Mon Amour. One we can skate to.”
That was something Scaramouche was always happy to do. He fretted over the perfect order and hunted down all the perfect songs that matched what he had seen from Francis. Francis had to laugh as Scaramouche rambled about how the beat fit or the movement of the music all the while heaping on the compliments at how gorgeous and mesmerizing Francis looked on the ice. With how worked up Scaramouche could get himself at the mere image of Francis he was painting, Francis wondered if that was close enough for bedroom activity to satiate him until they were back in an actual city with actual hotels and actual beds.
Scaramouche had the ideal playlist put together when Freeze let them know the skates were ready. “I’ll get them, Mon Amour,” Francis insisted and he hoped he managed to leave Scaramouche warm enough once he pulled his lips away to start pulling on his coat. Sometimes he thought Scaramouche was just revving up his fans to tease him, but the content look and the glimmer in his optics made him believe it was the real deal. Scaramouche was out here attracted to and in love with a bounty hunter and Francis knew it. It was eons better than all those years of being lusted over by all those bots and organics. They did not care about him: they cared about the service he could provide and saw him as no more than an exotic and fancy toy. He never really felt anything towards them, not even LC, that even compared to the way his fluid pump stuttered at that look. He never even knew that feeling was possible until a few years after he was married to Scaramouche. The thing that had made him propose (because Scaramouche insisted that he do so when he was ready) was the feeling of safety he felt with the assassin. People were not supposed to be safe around Scaramouche, but he was. He was utterly in love with that feeling before finally realizing that he was indeed enamored with the assassin himself.
Francis had to pause at the tent flap to remind himself he was on a mission. Blowing Scaramouche a final kiss, he finally braved the cold to go and get the skates. There were a few hours until dark, and he was excited to take advantage of that. Profusely thanking the good doctor for everything, he nearly tripped in the snow himself on the way back to show Scaramouche how the makeshift skates worked.
“How is it that my boss makes at least twice what I do base salary and can’t afford to get us some real skates, babe?!”
“You’re too picky,” Francis teased as he made sure the blades were secure on Scaramouche’s new ‘skates.’
“Babe! I’m out here, freezing my ass off –”
“Because you are charitably helping Freeze further his research,” Francis interrupted, pulling Scaramouche up to his feet and towards the tent flap. “You are so generous, Mon Amour, to be doing so for no real reward.” Scaramouche rolled his optics so hard Francis feared he would burn some pixels out, but the assassin complied, shifting his weight and managing to balance nearly instantly. Francis was still jealous, but kept tugging him out and through the snow and to the ice.
Francis chuckled as Scaramouche stumbled just once. The assassin was a little shaky and a little clingy as he let his own processor start adjusting to being on such a narrow focal point on a slick surface. It did not take him long before he was racing off and pushing the limits of what the makeshift skates would allow.
Used to Scaramouche’s grace, Francis managed to not let himself get distracted like he had with Freeze. Scaramouche could dance on solid ground and he sure as hell could dance on ice. Bounding and twirling, he skated circles around the bounty hunter. At least he did, until Francis pulled out some of his practiced moves and Scaramouche missed a turn, ending up face first in a snow bank along the edge.
“You made me a whole playlist, Mon Amour, and you’re not playing it for us,” Francis teased as he pulled the assassin up. Scaramouche was pouting at all the snow, blaming the skates, but his spirits brightened as Francis pressed close to him.
Taking the lead, Scaramouche let the music play loud in the barren landscape. He twirled them and whizzed over the slick surface. Francis did not fear falling, for if they did, it was in a jumbled heap as they laughed it off. Scaramouche could balance the both of them for the most part, even though the faster paced songs at the beginning. It took him quite a while to notice that the tempo was gradually slowing and he found himself pressed closer and closer to Scaramouche through tight circles, long glides, and the occasional lift.
“I feel like you picked the order on purpose,” Francis accused after Scaramouche stole a third kiss on an extended dip.
“Why would you ever think that, babe?” Scaramouche smirked, immediately pulling him up into a long lift and planting a long kiss on his lips.
“I’m not sure why, Mon Amour,” Francis sighed, letting Scaramouche tow him around.
“I suppose you think I’m purposefully ignoring Freeze clearing his throat and his messages too, hm, babe?” At this, Francis did push away, something that would have knocked them off balance, but Scaramouche was ready. He did see Freeze and presumably Shadow (impressively in another coat. How did one wear so many and still move at all?) standing outside the tent.
“You’re going to get us both killed, Mon Amour,” Francis pouted. Scaramouche just laughed before sighing. There was only so long he could play the game, and he knew it and headed in.
“Wait!” Scaramouche froze as Francis cried out and skated full force towards him and jumped. With few options, he was forced to catch the bounty hunter to absorb the speed. Francis kissed him hard, feeling the assassin melt against him. ‘We’re already in the doghouse. Might as well make your hunt fun!’ Scaramouche sat him down, howling with laughter as he did finally charge towards Shadow. His exit from the ice was graceful this time, and maybe the threw the blades a little too haphazardly towards Shadow when he yanked them off (not that Francis feared for their safety. They could take the hit or dodge effortlessly). The two were off, and maybe, just maybe, Francis thought he caught a soft smile from Freeze as the man returned to the tent.
Francis retired for the time being as well. It was just one more day, according to Freeze, and he had no doubt that he and Scaramouche would be making full use of the bedroom amenities wherever they stayed.
Art by Thatdoodlebug