Doux Mouton Noir

‘Where? When?’ Noir signs (she knows his keen hearing heard every word the healer said.) They’ve been sitting in silence for the past 10 minutes as Mya stiches him carefully back up, while he holds his insides-out inside for her. Mya takes a shaky deep breath after she answers, “Two blocks over at an abandoned old laundromat. 30 minutes. We'll leave as soon as I’m done here.” Her hands are slightly shaky, but he doesn’t even flinch as she sticks him with the long needle and pulls the stitch rope through his bleeding skin. Noir hears her heart beating too fast for his liking. He doesn’t want to waste time by distracting her hands so he simply does what he always does when he wants to be close to her; he leans forward slowly and gently presses and rests his forehead against her own. As always, while wearing the mask, he’s careful not to bump her head. She feels her heart soften for him all over again, as it does every time she so much as thinks of him. She smiles tiredly up at him, but tells him, “I’m OK. Just worried about you.” Noir lifts a hand up between them and signs, ‘Homelander won’t notice me gone yet. Hopefully, he and Soldier Boy keep each other busy long enough for me to get you some place they’ll never find you.’ Mya finishes the last stich, giving the rope a small yank to break it free...and glaring at him in annoyance when he still doesn’t flinch at the pain. He pulls back slightly and stares at her through the mask she once found mysterious and sexy, but now just finds annoying. She tells him very clearly, leaving no room for arguments, “The end of your plan better just end with you going to that some place they’ll never find me with me.” Noir blinks behind the mask, feeling his own heart speeding up in panic now. Funny how the only thing he’s truly ever been afraid of is her fucking anger on him. Homelander; he just feels sorry for and Soldier Boy he has long surpassed hate into something he can’t even describe. She just knows he is fucking blinking stupidly at her behind that stupid fucking mask. “I’m not letting you fucking do anything else. I will drug you if I have to, you fucking asshole.” She grits out before slamming the med kit box closed and rising from the bed. Noir grabs her by the wrist and gently yanks her back to the bed to sit with him. Finally, with his other hand, he reaches up and takes off his goggles, flops them onto the bed beside them and slowly pulls down his mask over his head and under his chin. And like always, the pretty smile graces her pretty face when she looks up at him (not in disgust, like when he looks at himself.) He forgets what he was going to say, forgets himself, like he always does as she leans up and presses a sweet kiss to his scarred up lips. He kisses her back—well, as best he ever can with his fucked up face barely being able to move a fucked up muscle. Her hands going to the sides of his neck and his gloved hands going to her waist. She jumps when her phone vibrates in her pocket. Lets out a cute annoyed huff as she pulls away and reaches for it, making him smile to himself when she scowls, and then, gasps and curses with that filthy mouth of hers. “Fuck. We got 9 minutes to meet her. We gotta go. Come on.” She looks at him with the same worry that always makes him feel guilty for bringing such a burden to her life. “Can you walk? Should I call an uber?” Noir shakes his head quickly, his one normal brown and other milky white eye widening in alarm. He signs, ‘Don’t use any of your accounts right now.’ He still hasn’t told her that he’s secretly linked her accounts to his so that she can save up for that big dream of hers. Thankfully, she comes to her own conclusion: “Right. They’d be able to track them. Maybe link my sudden erratic spending to helping you, or Starlight. Good. Good call.” He presses a gloved hand to her cheek, shoots her that determined look he always does whenever he tells her as he tells her now, ‘Not going to let him find you. Either of them.’ “Yeah, well, I’m not letting you go fighting either or both of them alone.” She gives him a commanding glare right back. “Will you please just, at least, consider working with Annie and the others? It’s not like you even have a choice now anyway.” He forgets how much of a brat she can be sometimes. God, he loves her. He can’t help grinning a little as he signs, ‘I think Annie and her friends would rather see me dead, just like Homelander and Soldier Boy, so, I don’t even think that’s an option.’ Her expression barely changes, she’s still glaring, she just looks less impressed now. He forces back his grin, sighs and presses a kiss to her lips before signing, ‘Fine. I will...ask them to keep you safe. Which they will. While, I go off and fight—‘ He doesn’t even get to finish his taunt when she suddenly scoffs and shoves him hard in the chest. “Come on, fuckhead, let’s go before we both end up fucked.” He laughs silently to himself as he pulls his mask and goggles back on.