Doux Mouton Noir

10 Weeks Earlier.

“Alright, everyone get the fuck out.” Homelander blows out a sigh. Tilts his head back as the rest of The Seven rise from their seats and begin making their way out of the room one by one. And then, from the corner of his eye, head still tilted back, he calmly adds, “Oh, not you, Noir. I need to talk to you.” Noir pauses, mid-rise. He simply nods once before sitting back in his seat. He glances back at the others, who don’t even give him a second look—because this is nothing new to them, Homelander sounds perfectly calm to them, like he usually does when he wishes to speak to only Noir. But right now, Noir has to use all his training and willpower not to let his heart race in the fucking slightest. Homelander waits for the doors to slowly close before he finally turns and looks at Noir, who stares back at him as usual. He wears a pleasant smile, hands lifting to rest on the table between them. Then, says, “Y’know, I have to admit that I’ve been a little worried about your loyalty to me since this whole nonsense with Soldier Boy surfaced.” Noir simply stares back at him, waits for him to continue. While also, trying not to give himself away with even the smallest skip of a heartbeat. “But—and I hope you don’t mind—I did some digging into your files.” Homelander actually sends the man a genuine smile of sympathy. “It doesn’t say much, per to your request, but it does say that Soldier Boy was quite abusive towards you in particular.” Noir quickly grabs his pen and scribbles down a response on his A4 notepad. Lifts it up to show the younger man: Once, he beat me so badly, I was in a coma for three weeks. And all because I wanted to be in a Beverly Hills Cop movie. Homelander frowns at that, clearly looks disappointed. He knows he is no Saint, but he wouldn’t be so fucking petty over something so fucking stupid. Noir quickly scribbles down his words before lifting the notepad back up: Remember when you used to actually want to be a hero? Soldier Boy has NEVER been a hero. He IS a monster. Homelander pauses for a moment, a faraway look glazing his eyes for a few moments more and the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. And just like he is now, Noir was there for him, back in those days—even on the very first solo mission he went on, Noir was there to help when he inevitably fucked it all up. Homelander lets go of a heavy sigh. Leans his head back, stares vacantly up at the ceiling. Noir slowly writes down his words this time before holding the notepad up again: He is the reason I cannot talk. Homelander glances over at the notepad. Then, looks at Noir for a few moments before he says, “I always did wonder what happened to that face of yours.” Noir knows Homelander’s vision isn’t just limited to x-ray; that he can choose to see through just the clothing to see flesh; knows that he has always known exactly what Noir looks like under the mask. And oddly, Homelander is one of the only people who treats him no different for it. Homelander turns in his seat. Grins lightly, arches a brow and says, “You know I’d know if you’re lying to me, which is why I don’t understand why you would not want to tell me about whoever this new friend is you keep hanging out with lately. I mean, I can smell her pretty pheromones all over you. She must like you very much.” Noir stares at him for a few seconds, simply trying to gauge if there is an underlying threat in there somewhere. He sees the oddly chipper glint in the man’s eyes and relaxes (though, only very slightly.) Homelander watches with an amused smirk as he scribbles down his reply. Noir holds up the notepad: It’s new. I didn’t wanna jinx it. She’s nice. (She’s much more than that, but Noir doesn’t want to draw his attention to her.) Homelander arches a brow, looks more intrigued now. “She must be pretty special. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to be romantically interested in anyone.” Noir nods slowly after a few moments. Homelander chuckles, leans back in his seat again. Waves a dismissive hand as he turns in his seat and says, “Don’t worry, I don’t need details. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You can go now, buddy. Thank you for being honest.” (Noir knows he means those words. For now...) Noir nods and slowly packs up his notepad before finally rising from his seat. “Oh,” Homelander adds, turns to look at Noir with a cheeky grin. “If it ever gets serious, I’d like to meet her. I’d like to know what kind of woman attracted your attention.” Noir simply nods, earning a happy smile from the man. Noir then, calmly walks out of the room and heads straight for his apartment. Once inside, where there are no more fucking cameras watching him, he reaches for his phone and types out a text before sending it to Mya. Change of plans. I’ll come to you instead. Just give me 20 minutes. I’ll see you soon. X (He keeps it simple, not wanting to alarm her...at least, not before he is with her to keep her calm, while he explains himself.) The reply is almost immediate: OK, no worries. I’ll see you soon. X Noir shoves his phone into his back pocket. Then, he grabs his smallest knife from his belt and without a second thought, stabs the blade into his left forearm. He grits his teeth automatically, not really feeling the pain, but still feeling the sickly sensations of the blade moving about inside his flesh and against his bones. After a few moments, Noir finally pulls out the tiny pill-shaped tracking implant that’s been stuck neatly in between two strands of his arm muscles. Noir stares down at it for a moment, then, turns on his heel and marches towards his bedroom. He places the implant down on his bedside table, then, turns and heads towards his front door. (If he leaves the implant out in the open for someone to see, when he returns to his room, he will know if he’s compromised.) It takes him less than a minute to sneak out of the building—he is one of the only people who can tiptoe around even Homelander (most of the time...) But after that, once he knows he is in the clear of the Vaught Tower, his mind is a blur of worry. He blinks one moment, while he is rushing from rooftop to rooftop to get to Mya, and the next moment, he is standing in front of her front door. He knocks once, and she opens the door after less than half a minute. He grins behind the mask, because he can’t help doing so whenever he simply lays eyes on her. She smiles and his heart skips several beats in excitement. “Hi. I...missed you.” She signs with a shy little grin. (He’s been teaching her how to sign for the last week and a half now. She’s a real quick learner. He is more than impressed.) He knows his face grows more grotesque the more that his grin grows and he is thankful for the mask, but also thankful she has not pressured him to take it off for her. Though, he can often tell he disappoints her, and as terrifying as her actually wanting to see him is, he also can’t help feeling touched and wanted. ‘I’ve missed you, too. I’ve been thinking about you.’ He signs back. “Me, too... I mean, I’ve been thinking about you...obviously.” And then, when her cheeks redden lightly and her smile grows and she looks up at him from under those thick lashes of hers, Noir can’t help stepping forward and leaning down to press his forehead to hers. (Any fucking closeness will do for now. At least, until he works up some real courage.) His skin prickles with heat when her hands come up to lie flat against his stomach. And when she leans up on her bare toes to press her lips to his, over the mask, he feels his eyes fluttering. She smirks to herself when he carefully presses his mouth back to hers. Grabs him by the belt and gently yanks him inside before kicking the door shut. Though, when his arms lift up to wrap around her waist, her eyes catch something dark red and shiny. She gasps, her eyes widening as she pulls away and gently grabs his left arm with both hands. “What the fuck happened?” Ah, shit. He forgot to wipe the fucking blood away in his hurry to get to her. Which reminds him of why he’s actually here... He pulls away gently before signing his reply: ‘I’m fine. I did it to myself. I had to take out the tracker they put in me. They put one in all of us.’ (All, but not Homelander.) “What—“ Mya pauses, takes a deep breath to process what he just said. Then, clears her throat and calmly asks him, “Why would you need to do that?” She wants to ask why he would do this now? And more importantly, why the fuck they even need to be tracked when they’re fucking superheroes... Instead, something stops her. Its like she can feel how worried he is...which is terrifying, because this is Black Noir, for fuck’s sake! Noir sighs heavily before signing: ‘Because I don’t want to lie to you anymore.’