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esp_dragonv2Fandom: Noblesse
Summary: Frankenstein called out to M-21 as he was leaving the house. M-21 braced himself for what Frankenstein wanted.
Note: Set post-S1.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Word count: 589
Status: Complete
M-21 could hear Frankenstein moving around in the kitchen as he headed for the front door. Did he have to announce what he was doing or that he was leaving? At the Union he'd had to, so he could be tracked and made sure he went where he said he would.
Frankenstein had given him a key to the front door but that didn't mean he was allowed to use it. It could be a test he hadn't been told about until he failed.
"M-21?"
Fuck. M-21 stopped, seeing Frankenstein poke his head out the kitchen.
Frankenstein looked him up and down, and frowned.
What was it? What had he done wrong? Had he missed a rule?
"Are you going out like that?" Frankenstein asked.
Like what? M-21 looked down. Shirt and trousers. "Yeah?" It was the same as what he wore in the Union, just better quality.
"Hmm."
Wrong answer, but M-21 didn't know what Frankenstein wanted. Not yet, anyway.
"Hold on." Frankenstein left the kitchen to go to where the front door was. Frankenstein took one of the jackets hanging on the wall and held it out to him. "Here." It was a dark blue jacket, fur lining the inside of the hood and as long as M-21's trench coat.
M-21 stared for a long second and then took it from him. Frankenstein had given it to him so he had to use it. "I don't-" No, too blunt. "I didn't need one in the Union." The jacket was thick and heavy, his previous trench coat like a piece of paper next to it.
Frankenstein arched an eyebrow. Another wrong answer, shit. "The Union is not the best example to compare to."
It was the only fucking thing M-21 knew though. The only life he remembered.
"...All right." If Frankenstein said so. Though everything M-21 had seen so far said that Frankenstein's place was better than the Union; M-21 was just waiting for when Frankenstein would show his true face.
M-21 slipped the jacket on, feeling the soft whatever it was inside that was a different material from the outside brushing his hands as he put them through the sleeves.
Everything was soft and M-21 could feel the weight of it pull on his shoulders.
Frankenstein looked over him again. "How does it feel?"
"Fine?" What else was he meant to say?
Frankenstein nodded, heading back to the kitchen. "Lunch will be ready in about an hour if you want to have it here."
Be back in an hour. All right, that was how much time he had.
That seemed to be all of Frankenstein's instructions and M-21 left, bracing himself against...
Huh.
It was still cold, the wind pulling at his hair and prickling his face and hands but...
He barely felt it where the jacket covered him.
M-21 stuffed his hands into the pockets out of habit. They weren't empty. Pulling whatever it was out, M-21 peeked around in case Frankenstein was watching. No eyes on him, and M-21 checked what the item was.
A glove. The other pocket had the same.
It fitted him like the jacket.
M-21 stood there in the doorway, seeing his breath fog in front of his face.
He didn't feel it. Not like he would have before in the Union.
There was something growing in M-21's stomach that he couldn't identify and he stomped on it with a shake of his head as he left.
He still didn't trust Frankenstein and that wouldn't change any time soon.
Summary: Frankenstein called out to M-21 as he was leaving the house. M-21 braced himself for what Frankenstein wanted.
Note: Set post-S1.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Word count: 589
Status: Complete
M-21 could hear Frankenstein moving around in the kitchen as he headed for the front door. Did he have to announce what he was doing or that he was leaving? At the Union he'd had to, so he could be tracked and made sure he went where he said he would.
Frankenstein had given him a key to the front door but that didn't mean he was allowed to use it. It could be a test he hadn't been told about until he failed.
"M-21?"
Fuck. M-21 stopped, seeing Frankenstein poke his head out the kitchen.
Frankenstein looked him up and down, and frowned.
What was it? What had he done wrong? Had he missed a rule?
"Are you going out like that?" Frankenstein asked.
Like what? M-21 looked down. Shirt and trousers. "Yeah?" It was the same as what he wore in the Union, just better quality.
"Hmm."
Wrong answer, but M-21 didn't know what Frankenstein wanted. Not yet, anyway.
"Hold on." Frankenstein left the kitchen to go to where the front door was. Frankenstein took one of the jackets hanging on the wall and held it out to him. "Here." It was a dark blue jacket, fur lining the inside of the hood and as long as M-21's trench coat.
M-21 stared for a long second and then took it from him. Frankenstein had given it to him so he had to use it. "I don't-" No, too blunt. "I didn't need one in the Union." The jacket was thick and heavy, his previous trench coat like a piece of paper next to it.
Frankenstein arched an eyebrow. Another wrong answer, shit. "The Union is not the best example to compare to."
It was the only fucking thing M-21 knew though. The only life he remembered.
"...All right." If Frankenstein said so. Though everything M-21 had seen so far said that Frankenstein's place was better than the Union; M-21 was just waiting for when Frankenstein would show his true face.
M-21 slipped the jacket on, feeling the soft whatever it was inside that was a different material from the outside brushing his hands as he put them through the sleeves.
Everything was soft and M-21 could feel the weight of it pull on his shoulders.
Frankenstein looked over him again. "How does it feel?"
"Fine?" What else was he meant to say?
Frankenstein nodded, heading back to the kitchen. "Lunch will be ready in about an hour if you want to have it here."
Be back in an hour. All right, that was how much time he had.
That seemed to be all of Frankenstein's instructions and M-21 left, bracing himself against...
Huh.
It was still cold, the wind pulling at his hair and prickling his face and hands but...
He barely felt it where the jacket covered him.
M-21 stuffed his hands into the pockets out of habit. They weren't empty. Pulling whatever it was out, M-21 peeked around in case Frankenstein was watching. No eyes on him, and M-21 checked what the item was.
A glove. The other pocket had the same.
It fitted him like the jacket.
M-21 stood there in the doorway, seeing his breath fog in front of his face.
He didn't feel it. Not like he would have before in the Union.
There was something growing in M-21's stomach that he couldn't identify and he stomped on it with a shake of his head as he left.
He still didn't trust Frankenstein and that wouldn't change any time soon.