Jehanparnasse secretly protecting each other?
Jehan tapped their pen on the desk, their gaze slowly sliding over to the lump on their couch. Montparnasse liked to crash there sometimes, only to complain in the morning because Jehan had draped a multicolored crocheted scrap yarn blanket over him and the floral applique on the pillow left a mark on his cheek. Jehan liked his complaining, though; it usually meant he was awake enough to eat crepes and hug them if he could be roused from the cushions.
Tonight, though, they couldn’t slip off to sleep. He had mentioned casually that he had something important to do tomorrow, and that had been nagging at them for more than an hour before they went back to their desk chair. Whenever he said a job was “important,” it usually meant “dangerous.” They wouldn’t be able to do anything to make themself feel better, either; Les Amis de l’ABC had been planning tomorrow’s protest for months, and there was no way they could miss it just to worry about their boyfriend. They were already down Feuilly and Bossuet, and they needed everyone on board to watch each other’s backs.
They took a deep breath and turned their attention back to the little notepad in front of them. Jehan dropped the pen back in the drawer in favor of a brush pen. They let their hand move, drawing smooth strokes over the page while they repeated the same thing over and over in their head, lips moving silently with the words.
Keep him safe. Keep him safe. Keep him safe.
Once the ink dried, Jehan folded the note and closed it with a bobby pin before slipping it into the wallet Montparnasse had left unattended on the coffee table. There was only so much a sigil could do, but if it at least helped him make one jump, dodge one punch, anything, it would be worth it.
Montparnasse clung to the shadows of a nearby alley, carefully watching for anything that could be perceived as a threat. He didn’t like how many people showed up to these things Jehan and their friends arranged, though that was probably the point, getting people together and angry about something. He liked how many were opposed to their messages even less.
Jehan didn’t know he worked his own version of security for their gatherings, and he would rather keep it that way. He knew them well enough to know they would spend half their energy trying to find him in the crowd, make sure he was alright, when really they should be concentrating on what they came here for. It worked out for both of them this way.
A man in a light jacket started to move, and Montparnasse picked up his trail around the edge of the crowd. He had had his eye on this person for a while, considering a jacket like that on a day as warm as this stuck out like a sore thumb. If he had thought he would blend in, he was absolutely wrong.
Montparnasse slipped up behind the troublemaker and yanked on the back of his coat, wrapping one arm around the man’s face to muffle any sound he might make while the other pinned his limbs to his side. He turned and pinned the guy to a wall, knocking the air from his lungs in the process.
“You know, you’re really lucky the people who set this up want it to stay a peaceful protest,” he hissed, driving a knee against the back of his captive’s leg just to make a point. “I could drop you right now if I wanted. The only thing stopping me is that it would get pinned on people who aren’t me.”
He kept his weight against the guy but let his arms go to check his pockets. Sure enough, he pulled a small handgun from an inside pocket. This guy likely couldn’t do much more than make a lot of noise and scare people with it, it could barely be considered a gun, but still. In a crowd like this, that would be enough.
Montparnasse released his grip completely, slipping the little firearm into his belt under his shirt. The man hesitated until Montparnasse growled and sent him on his way. Luckily, most of the non-law enforcement people who tried to mess with these kinds of things were easily chased off.
Just in time, too. Behind him, he heard Jehan’s voice rise from the crowd to start a chant, their voice distorted by a megaphone. He couldn’t let them know he was there, but he could spare a moment to listen before moving on to the next minor threat.