Chapter Text
Part 1: Nathalie wakes up in a dusty villian’s lair and she, as well as her dark-colored suit, are ill-prepared.
Nathalie, for what it’s worth, was a heavy sleeper. If she could sleep at her obnoxiously clinical desk at the mansion, she could sleep on a metal floor.
She didn’t prefer it, but then again, she didn’t prefer being kidnapped in the middle of an akuma attack. A majority of her work involved scheduling appointments and hoping Hawkmoth wouldn’t strike, or desperately rearranging appointments after the fact.
Sitting up, she grimaced at the dust on her jacket and trousers. The foils of wearing a dark purple suit. Glancing around, well, she knew she was in quite the predicament.
“Can I help you up?” His voice was cool, echoing through the spacious…attic? Abandoned church? Pathetic attempt at an evil lair?
Nathalie didn’t look at the villain, she knew who he was. She held her hand out, expecting his hand to take hers and pull her up to her feet
Which he did, her hand was dwarfed by his own, large hands that were covered in what could best be described as black leather.
When she was perpendicular to the ground she dusted herself off, and patted her pockets. “Where. Is. My. Phone.” She turned to finally face him, keeping her expressions stoic.
His eyebrows quirked under the silver mask, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was trying his best not to smile. “I believe my akuma left your phone behind.”
Right. Sleeping Beauty. Akuma attack. Things that occur weekly in Paris.
“Fantastic.” She glanced out the window. A slew of gray clouds formed over the sky, as briers twisted up from the ground, curling around buildings like demonic claws. She crossed her arms, and pushed her shoulders back.
Hawkmoth chuckled, his hand gripped around the head of his cane. “Isn’t this better than being in a magically-induced coma?”
Nathalie blinked. She went through several small bouts of irritation. Scoffing, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, “What? Being here with you?”
Hawkmoth glanced away, “You don’t have to be so callous, Ms. Sancoeur.”
“I have zero sympathy for the man who kidnapped me.”
“That’s—” He stopped himself, “That’s fair. You don’t have to like me if you’d prefer not to.”
Her eye’s widened. She had previously been facing away from him, but for this she turned back to look at him, his front slightly illuminated from the little light that drifted inside. “Do you,” her voice was above a whisper, but there was no mistaking the complete horror, “—Are you infatuated by me?”
Hawkmoth took a step closer to her, but was genuinely surprised when she didn’t move away. They still stood roughly six meters apart. “It’s not infatuation, Ms. Sancoeur.”
When he didn’t elaborate further, Nathalie frowned, and pushed her glasses further up her nose. “Then why am I here, Hawkmoth?”
“You’re not heartless.” He admitted, “You have emotions, faint, small, weak emotions, but they’re definitely there. Is it alright if I call you Nathalie?” The man asked her suddenly, his voice enthralled.
Deadpanning, she replied, “Does it matter?”
His smile was slight, and his pale blue eyes were familiar (as though she saw them in a faraway dream). “I wouldn’t want to disrespect you,” Hawkmoth assured the woman, scrunching his shoulders together and releasing. When she rolled her eyes and responded that it was fine, he continued. “I can’t stand other people’s emotions. It drives me up a wall, to be frank. You’re emotions, though present and faint, are not entirely unpleasant. I…I’m drawn to you.”
“Do I know you?”
“Nathalie Sancoeur? Reputed to be one of the most well-connected woman in all of Paris, if not the world?” He joked, “It would be more unlikely if you didn’t know me.”
She realized that, during his entire speech, he had inched closer and closer. Hawkmoth had a way with words, like she had a way with eyeliner, powder, and hair dye. The woman uncrossed her arms and felt her hands relax at her side, if only for a momentl.
Perfect.
He took that as an invitation to pull even closer to her. Puzzled, but as ‘drawn’ to her as he had claimed.
She tilted her head to the side, allowing herself to shoot him a coy smile. Perhaps he was an idiot, perhaps he knew what she was about to do.
Keep your thumb out, you’re going to break your hand anyway, but at least it won’t be in bad form.
He dodged the fist that swung out at him, which she threw her entire weight behind. It wasn’t a matter of her losing her balance—Hawkmoth was a head or two taller than her—he ducked under her, and she stumbled back, recoiling away from the villain.
When he wrapped his arms around her waist, catching her before she fell, Nathalie knew that it was by pure instinct. Still, there was warmth behind his touch.
Suddenly, she felt something she had never felt before. Nathalie couldn’t quite place it in the tenth of a second that he held her, and she was a mask of confusion. Her head turned back to him, trying to comprehend herself. In her idiocy, her nose brushed his, and she felt her cheeks warm.
“Unbridled rage.” Hawkmoth commented, setting her straight and taking a step back, “I thought I preferred you without emotions, Ms. Heartless. I stand corrected.”
Nathalie took a step from him, and he took another step closer, matching the distance. Well. That’s was what being angry felt like.
“You’re the best kind of fire, Nathalie.” He murmured, taking her in with assessing blue eyes.
Part 2: Nathalie comes home late one night to find a certain supervillain in her apartment.
Nathalie turned the key over, unlocking her apartment door and pushing herself through the entry. She shot the villain a defeated, annoyed look. Shutting the door, she made sure to lock it behind her. Thankfully, the maniac in love with her had already drawn the curtains.
“Do you insist on breaking into my apartment?”
“Well, it is technically the weekend.” Hawkmoth admitted, standing near her dining room table. He glanced around him, taking note of the bookshelves around him. “I wasn’t aware that you were bookish, by the way.”
Her eyes narrowed, she leaned against the door, “ Don’t change the subject. Why are you here, Hawkmoth?”
He gave her a small, knowing smile. “I brushed over you during Blastphemy. It didn’t seem like you were having a particularly good day.”
Nathalie rolled her eyes, pushed off the door, and turned right, heading into the kitchen to wash the dishes she used for breakfast that morning. It was the witching hour, and fashion week typically forced her to work late, but Gabriel had been particularly trying. The day had taken everything out of her, and left her with an irrational need to clean everything around her, which translated to ‘the dishes, the only dirty thing in your apartment.’
Following her into the kitchen, he glanced around. “Would you like to talk about it?”
She shed her jacket, and held it behind her. When she felt him take the jacket and hang it on a hook behind him, she rolled up the sleeves of her button up, blood-red blouse, and ran the water. “I’d like you to not analyze my emotions without my permission.”
“You’re deflecting.” He commented, “And I can’t help it, Nathalie Sancoeur.”
Just wash this dish, she ordered herself. “Well, I’m fine, so you don’t—”
Hawkmoth, who never interrupted her before, cut her off, “I wouldn’t come over here and bother you if you were ‘fine’, Nathalie. Talk to me about it, please.”
The kitchen was spacious enough, the island of countertop that the sink resided in didn’t exactly provide defensive cover. Hawkmoth sat across from her, leaning his cane against the counter. “I could do those dishes, if you’d like.” His voice was soft.
Staring into his stupid, not handsome face, Nathalie bit back, “If I step away from this sink, I will call the police.”
“I know it’s about your boss, Nathalie.” He remarked, “I know your position. You can’t exactly complain about Gabriel Agreste to just anyone. It could end up in a newspaper, or it could get back to him in someone’s feeble attempt to advance their position.”
“What makes you think I’ll talk about it with you, then?” She replied, shutting off the water. The dishes were done, and now she’d have to find something else to do, other than stand still and speak to him. “What have you done to prove that I can trust you? You’ve kidnapped me and broken into my home.”
Hawkmoth grimaced, staring down at the black granite countertops, “You can talk to me because I won’t tell Gabriel Agreste.”
A thought nagged at her mind, but if she wanted to confirm her suspicions, she’d have to let him in.
“Fine. Do you want a glass of wine?” She asked him, “Or espresso? I know it’s late.”
“I’m a night owl.” Hawkmoth told her quickly. “Espresso would be great.”
Stays up late.
Espresso Macchiato.
She led him out of her kitchen, to a small suede loveseat that overlooked ceiling-to-floor windows. When he sat down, she shut off the lights, and opened the curtains.
Nathalie wordlessly joined the man, sipping her glass of wine tentatively.
“What did he do?” Hawkmoth inquired, setting the cup and plate on one knee. He wasn’t sure about what to do with his arms, as there was only so much from on the couch for the two of them.
Nathalie crossed her legs, and he moved one of his hands, brushing her thigh slightly. “He was Gabriel Agreste. That’s all. Fashion week is stressful every year.”
“Is that right?” He’s voice was tickled with amusement, “And Gabriel Agreste in general brings you to the verge of tears?”
She began to pluck bobby pins from her hair, running her fingers through it, she glanced over to him, satisfied with the effect she had created, the mood she had set. “Was I on the verge of tears during the Blastphemy attack?”
Hawkmoth’s eye’s widened, and he cleared his throat, picking up his cup and taking a small sip, “Not exactly, but you were at your wit’s end at the time. I’m sure my akuma attack didn’t help the situation.”
“I find that my wits are limitless, sir.” She smirked, clinking her glass to his.
Linger your hand, blink more, stare into his eyes.
He was frozen at her honoric, his breath short as he absorbed her. Her humor, her face outlined by the city lights below him, the sparkle in her eyes.
“And yes, ‘Blastphemy’ didn’t help my state of mind,” She broke the silence, pulling away from him and finishing her glass of wine, “though acknowledging that you added to my stress this week isn’t the same as an apology.”
Hawkmoth raised his eyebrows at her, as she set her glass down on the end table. “I’m not one to apologize for actions I don’t regret, or feel sorry for.” His hand, to recap, was brushed against the side of her thigh. He must have felt the warmth emanating from the recesses of her mind, as his hand slowly moved up to her knee, circling fingers in her inner thigh.
Nathalie shrugged, and dramatically tossed back her head, stretching her neck towards, “Well I’m not the type to beg, either.”
He was petrified, unsure of what to do, until she moved her hair out of the way. When his lips brushed her neck, then the curve of her jaw, then her ear, she turned back towards him, perfectly willing to meet him halfway.
When she saw Gabriel at work the next day, she took in the slight flush that fell over him, and she knew her suspicious were correct. Satisfied, but certainly distracted, she got to work. Fire, indeed.
Part 3: Getting trapped in a hedge maze isn’t the best way to spend an afternoon.
He slipped into her bed, well past midnight, and curled an arm around her bare waist. “Did you do something different? I can’t see a thing.”
Nathalie grumbled, not turning to greet him, “Blackout curtains. I figure sleeping in a full suit and mask is uncomfortable, and you typically leave before I wake up anyway.”
“You’re telling me if I dropped transformation,” Hawkmoth didn’t mask the shock, “you wouldn’t turn on the lights and figure me out?”
She shook her head, turning around and burying her face into his chest, “At this point, I’d be arrested. Even if I discovered your identity, it would be safe with me.”
She wasn’t sure if she was lying or not.
Hawkmoth tensed for a moment, and pulled away from her, getting out of bed and putting on a stern tone, “Turn around.”
Nathalie flipped over, suddenly petrified that it was Gabriel Agreste. She watched the purple light descend over the room and fade out. She heard him undress, and when she felt the weight of her mattress shift, his bare back pressed into hers, and he smoothed out her hair.
“Do you still…” This is too much, “Do you still sense emotions outside the costume?”
“I do.” He murmured, his voice entirely different, yet completely recognizable. “Are you comfortable? I’m pretty sure you’re useless without your glasses, so if you’d like to roll back over, feel free.”
She did, and her head was soon resting on his chest. And she was comfortable, for a moment.
He chuckled, “You know I can still sense your emotions, Nathalie.”
Her hand drew circles across his belly, and she retorted, “So?”
“So I know what you’re feeling right now.”
She hummed, “Are you sure you’re not projecting?”
“That’s—” He closed his mouth, “That might be the case here. You’re very soft, you know.”
Her eyes darted up, catching the (albeit, faint) top of his jaw and the curve of his smile. Nathalie inched up, and the man tensed, “Are you terrified, Hawkmoth?”
The scowl was heard in his words, “I have every right to be. I’m at your mercy, you could easily turn over, flip on your lamp, and ruin my life.”
“Is that right?” Nathalie murmured, taking his ear between her teeth, “You’ve already ruined my life.”
He smiled, and she inched forward, her lips brushing his stubbly cheeks.
XXX
Sometimes, when it was late at night, and he was asleep, she would quietly wonder if she would be enough. His motives were obvious, his goals clearly spelled out in an obvious portrait behind his desk and photographs still on his desk.
You don’t need a miraculous to take down what amounts to a lonely, lonely man.
She got out of bed, hoping not to disturb the man as she padded into her kitchen, shrugging on a robe. Nathalie had left the bottle out, and now, she was pouring herself another glass of wine.
XXX
When Nathalie presented Gabriel with a tray of coffee and pastry the next morning, things were normal, until she cleared her throat.
“Sir, I’ve have several appointments over the next few weeks, so I’ll be out of the office a bit more.” She spoke slowly, “I assure you, everything will be handled well in advance.”
He furrowed his eyebrows, “Is everything alright?”
“Of course, sir.” When his eyes flickered down to her stomach and back up to her face, she raised her eyebrows, “I’m not pregnant, if you’re that curious.”
Gabriel didn’t conceal the relief as well as she would’ve liked. “That’s not what I had guessed.”
She sighed, allowing herself to shoot him a glare, “If you must know, I’m taking a few self-defense classes.”
That got a reaction out of the man, “Is that right? Aren’t you typically surrounded by my security detail?”
Nathalie straightened several pieces of paper on his desk. “It’s irrelevant. My apartment was broken into a few weeks ago, and thankfully I was at the office at the time, but that doesn’t mean it can’t happen again.”
“You didn’t tell me.” He scrutinized her
“It wasn’t a situation worth mentioning.” Nathalie answered, “Nothing was stolen, just misplaced.”
Gabriel took in a breath, “Send me the schedule. I’ll have an intern cover your desk.”
XXX
Several weeks later, while Nathalie was standing in the dining room of the Agreste Mansion, a strange, green light overtook them all, encasing them. Gabriel grabbed her shoulder, “We should—”
Suddenly, the mansion was wiped away, and a they seemed to be standing in the middle of a hedge maze.
“Where—” She pulled away from him, “What. Happened.”
Gabriel clicked his tongue. “It must be an akuma.”
Nathalie rolled her shoulders, because it was better than rolling her eyes. “I left my tablet on the table.”
“That would’ve been helpful.” He agreed, glanced up at the bright, nighttime sky. “So much for those self-defense classes.”
Tensing, she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, she clucked her tongue and glanced at the top of the hedges. “I need a leg up. If I stand on your shoulders, I’m sure I can find the exit quickly enough.”
He glanced back at her, “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”
“If you can’t lift 45 kilos, that’s—”
“You know perfectly well that I can lift 45 kilos.” He scowled, then blanched, when he realized that he was playing right into her manicured hands.
That was true, she had seen him carry bolts of leather when he witnessed interns struggling under the weight. Nathalie looked down the long stretch of hedge. She knew he would sense the smirk, “Well, if you’d rather spend the rest of your afternoon with me in a hedge maze than actuallywork on an escape plan, be my guest.”
Gabriel sighed, “Fine.”
She slipped off her heels, that provided a thin barrier between his hands. His hands were typically electric against her skin, the rough pads of his fingers (years of pins and needles), the softness of his palms pressed into the arch of her foot
“Did I tell you that I was a gymnast in my youth?” He asked her, her hands gripping his shoulders. Gabriel was desperate to diffuse the tension between them. “Just jump up, keep balanced, I’ll catch you regardless, alright?”
Nathalie nodded, looking up at the top of the hedge. “Got it. On three, on your count.”
When he counted, she pressed her weight on the foot he held, and placed the other on his shoulder. Thankfully, he was around 2 meters tall, and she was roughly one and a half.
Hoping to get a grip at the top of the hedge, she was quite surprised when the hedge darted above her head, growing at a rate so exponential that she let out a small yelp, and lost her nerve.
He caught her, one hand under the crook of her knees, the other pressed against her back. She was so panicked, that she practically stumbled when he set her on her feet.
His hands were on her again, steadying her. “Nathalie. Everything’s going to be—what are you doing?” The man’s voice hitched slightly.
‘What she had been doing’ was undoing her bun, pulling out the red bobby pins that matched her dyed hair. “If we’re going to try to get out of this maze, we should leave a trail. Don’t you keep a notions box on you at all times? We’re going to need that.”
“Or we could wait here.” Gabriel disagreed with her, obviously, a devious glint in his eyes, “I heard that one is supposed to stay put if they’re lost.”
Nathalie inched towards him, “We’re not exactly lost in the middle of a forest,” She pointed out. “And it seems like it’s just the two of us here.”
He took a small step away from her, “You’re suggesting that we try to find our way out?”
She rolled her eyes, “You can stay here, Gabriel Agreste. I intend to find the exit.”
“It might not be safe.”
“I can protect myself.”
“Forgive me if I doubt you.” He replied, quickly. His eye’s widened when he realized that he drifted into her personal bubble. Gabriel cleared his throat, trying to keep all of himself under control. If he moved, he’d be forced to acknowledge that he had been standing too close.
Nathalie tilted her head to the side, “Then I’m thankful I won’t have to waste time trying to protect you, then. Have a lovely afternoon, sir.”
She turned, not bothering to bid him farewell before turning a corner.
Ideally, she wouldn’t run into Hawkmoth in the middle of a hedge maze.
Ideally.
She rounded a corner, and he stood, smirking at her. “Haven’t you figured out that it’s an endless maze? You’re not getting out until the akuma is defeated.”
Scowling, she felt her rage surfacing.
His smile dropped, “Nathalie—”
“You’re sloppy.” She glared at him.
That puzzled him. “How so?”
Nathalie sucked in a breath, but there were only two paths before her, one was a dead end, and the other was him. She answered, “Never mind, Hawkmoth.”
When she passed him, he reached out for her shoulder, and she twisted back with a curled fist, and he threw out his forearm in an attempt to block her. The woman ducked, obviously, and her other hand hit him squarely in the stomach.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.” She growled at the man, slightly hunched over. “Unless you have a solution—I’m not interested.”
“Nathalie—”
“If I’ve only seen you and Gabriel Agreste in this labyrinth,” She found herself snapping, “it’s fairly easy to put two and two together. I suggest you leave me alone before I make a formal accusation, Hawkmoth.”
His eye’s widened, and she willed herself to let go of her emotions. The storm in her mind increased in size and power, causing the man to wince, “Nathalie! Wait! I can expl—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” She snapped back, turning a corner, and heading down another corner.
Your emotions will give you away regardless, you might as well let the world burn.
There was a moment when she fought the tears that sprang to her eyes, but that moment was fleeting as she felt herself deconstruct from the inside-out. She shed her glasses, placing them in a jacket pocket as she pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to keep her breathing in check.
Nathalie crumpled. There was no other way to describe it. She barely registered what occurred after that, entirely too exhausted to register her surroundings.
Part 4: Nathalie and Gabriel, post-reveal.
When she came to, she was in her own bed, wearing the blouse she had worn to work that day. Her shoes were gone, and her pants were no where to be found.
Sitting up, she glanced over at her nightstand, pulling her glasses off the table, and spying the envelope below the frames.
It was well past noon, but Nathalie couldn’t be bothered about it, despite the fact that it was a work day. Her fingers curled around the letter as she stepped to her bedroom door. Opening it, she revealed her empty apartment.
Grimacing, she pried open the crisp envelope. Sitting on her bed, she glanced at the check, written from Gabriel’s personal accounts, worth about five year’s of her salary. Rolling her eyes, she glanced over the letter.
Nathalie,
I informed HR that you would be out of the office for the next week, due to a ‘family emergency’ (I said that your mother was sick). A week should be enough time to change your name and disappear, if that’s what you wish. No harm will come to you. Should you choose to remain in Paris, I hope to see you at the office on Tuesday.
Sincerely,
Gabriel
She pulled her phone off the nightstand (conveniently charging), and glanced over her e-mails. Nathalie read the letter again as she got dressed, opting for a university sweater and the softest slacks in her closet. A message came in from Adrien, who was wishing her well.
He was a good kid.
There was a thought about taking him and running.
That thought was quickly cast aside.
She checked her boss’s schedule, and waiting for his scheduled meeting to end before dialing him.
“Nathalie.” His voice was dropped, “What is it?”
“You’re free for the next two hours?”
Gabriel didn’t speak for a moment, he shuffled several papers around, “I am.”
Nathalie sighed, “Well, we should talk, I expect you here on the half-hour.”
He let out an indignant huff, “That’s not—”
“Do you think you’re in a position to disagree with benign requests?” She cut him off. “You’re in checkmate, Gabriel.”
“Nathalie, please be reasonable.” His voice had taken on the soft ton he often used as Hawkmoth. The soothing voice that could lull her to sleep. “We can work something out, can’t we?”
She frowned, and made sure that he could feel it from his spacious office at the headquarters. “We can work something out. Come. Over.”
“Can’t it wait until the end of the business day?”
“It can’t.” The woman insisted, inspected the dirt under her fingernails.
XXX
When he knocked on her apartment door twenty minutes later, and she ushered him inside, he was surprised by the warmth just below the surface of her powdered skin.
Nathalie was upon him as soon as they made it into the living room. Gabriel froze at her touch, electrified by her fingers dancing over the well-tailored fabric. She freed one pink button on his vest, then another, and the next.
“I thought you wanted you talk.” He managed to say, not sounded as irritated as he had hoped. The man knew where she was headed. Her intentions showed themselves in the way she swayed her hips, the crooked smirk across her face, and the deliberate pressure in her fingertips.
Nathalie’s eyes flashed over his for a moment, “Are you really going to chide me for lying, Gabriel? Is that what you’re going to do with your life? Complain when pretty women want you after discovering your terroristic tendencies?”
Anger flashed across his face, but she loosened his scarf, and he slipped back into the hunger he felt whenever she was near. “It can’t be that simple.”
“I’ll go over my demands when you’re in a more amicable mood.” She admitted, standing on the balls of her feet to kiss him on the cheek. His hands went to her waist, supporting her gently.
Confusion, “More amic—” Realization, “Is that your plan? You know me well enough to know—” She briefly pressed her lips into his, stopping him short. “I’m impatient.” He grumbled, forcing out a breath.
She dropped back down, a devilish smirk across her face, her emotions clear as day, to the point where Gabriel forced himself to roll his eyes. He didn’t truly mean it.
Her hand brushed his neck as stole the scarf hanging around his neck, the silk sliding off his skin. She turned, and advanced towards the bedroom.
XXX
He was humming, satisfied beyond his years, when she returned from a shower, her hair hanging behind her in drippy strands.
His eyes shut, and his fingers interlocked behind his head, he asked her in an exaggerated ‘amicable’ tone, “So, Miss Heartless, please, tell me your demands. Do you want me to come over more often? A raise? My stock portfolio? I’m all ears.”
Nathalie sat at the edge of the bed, and there was a slight bite to her words, “You’re going to stop being Hawkmoth, Gabriel. That’s all I ask.”
Gabriel snapped up, sitting and turning to stare at her. It was as though his lover had grown a second head. “I thought you of all people would—”
“You thought wrong.”
He clambered over to her, appearing behind her and massaging her shoulders, “My wife and I had a rocky marriage,” he soothed, “I’m not doing this for me, I’m doing this for Adrien. I wouldn’t—”
She had to stop the devil in his tracks. Nathalie got off the bed, turning back to him, “This isn’t a matter that’s up for discussion. I will tell Adrien everything if there’s another akuma in this city.”
The man clicked his tongue.
“I want your miraculous, as well.” Nathalie added, “To be safe.”
Gabriel, though his expression remained unmoved, “Absolutely not, Nathalie.”
Her eyes blinked rapidly, her tone was no longer demanding. For someone reputed to be heartless, Nathalie was soft. “Gabriel. You don’t understand. There are entire e-mail chains dedicated to meetings you missed. With timestamps. Every employee who has interacted with you can recall a time where you were nowhere to be found, or you cut a meeting short prematurely. Everything is archived and dated.”
“That’s not enough evidence to convict anyone.” He replied matter-of-factly.
Nathalie’s shoulder’s dropped. “It would be a strong case regardless. What life would you live if you were acquitted? You can’t keep the miraculous on you, under no circumstances.”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
One of her eyebrows perched up, “You pursued me, Gabriel.”
“Well you—”
“If you find a reason to blame me for your initial advances during Sleeping Beauty, I will punch you.” Miss Heartless told him, matter-of-factly. “Hand over your miraculous.”
“What do I get in return?” He stood, towering over her, his hands running up and down her forearms.
His tone had taken on the devilish tone he had used before, sending shivers down her entire being.
Nathalie swallowed. Don’t lose your nerve, now. “Me.”
“You?”
I am enough, I am enough, I am enough.
“Is that a problem?” She asked, her tone neutral, “I’ll stay by your side in exchange for your miraculous, Gabriel. I can’t promise that it’ll be easy, but I can promise that I won’t leave you.
You don’t need a miraculous to take down what amounts to a lonely, lonely man.
The man paused, and exhaled, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were offering me your heart.” Gabriel gave her a contented smile when she blanched, visibly flustered, and gave an eventual nod. “It’s a deal,” He told her, his voice hardly above a whisper.
When he pressed the butterfly pin into her hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, she distinctly wondered if this was a victory, or a distinct lack of judgement on her part.