Chapter Text
Another day, another Fusion Fighters meeting.
At least, it felt like they’ve been having one every day for the past month. Was it just her? Yeah okay, maybe it was just her.
Being one of the mission providers of her districts, Frankie was required to attend all of these meetings in order to discuss which matters took priority in terms of missions (Fusions spawning rapidly in certain districts, Fusion leaders popping out of the ground to terrorize the suburbs), and which matters could be set aside or even completely disregarded (sending the fighters on a coffee run because some leaders just can’t keep their temper in check without a shot of espresso in their system).
Really? It’s like the fighters are being seen less as children fighting a war and more like errand dogs.
Regardless, due to the fact that their planet was in danger of being literally swallowed whole by another bigger planet, nearly everyone set aside their differences and feuds in order to combat the larger evil. Heroes, villains, humans, demons – they all sat beside each other and shared the same water cooler with the full realization that the only way to win was through working together.
Despite being half-awake and mildly pissed at only getting three hours of sleep last night, Frankie felt a tug of warmth in her chest and smiled faintly.
As Dexter reached the next ‘pressing matter’ on the large holographic monitor at the head of the meeting table, Frankie glanced around at the other mission providers with her chin resting in her hand. Most of the younger ones were dozing or staring through one of the windows with thoughts far away from the meeting.
Most of the older ones (and Frankie felt torn to admit that she was one of them), had their heads turned to Dexter with the occasional nod, but their eyes were dead tired. Now that Frankie started to wake up, she noticed that a lot of the younger leaders had the same look in their eyes.
They were tired of this war, every single one of them. They just wanted to wake up one day and not have to worry about donning armor and cleaning their weapons out of necessity, because fusion matter has this nasty habit of coagulating on everything it touched. They wanted to walk out of their house and not run into a snarling green monster on their way to pick up milk.
And, most importantly, Frankie just wanted to sleep past six again.
Her green eyes continued their lazy little roam around the room until they landed on one particular person sitting across and two seats away from her.
Samurai Jack – and every single fusion fighter Frankie talked to called him ‘Samurai Jack’, never just ‘Jack’- had one ear turned to Dexter while the other listened to whatever the burly redheaded guy with the moustache was saying to him in a hushed tone.
Whatever the Scotsman said to him was enough to make a smile tug at the corner of the samurai’s mouth before it became a flat, tired line again. Frankie had never been seated close enough to Jack to actually talk to him, but she wondered what she might say if she ever got the chance.
She never got to the meetings early enough to get any of the good seats (the ones closest to the windows or the door), and while some leaders hardly attended any meetings because they needed to hold the fort down while the others were away, the room always filled up fast.
Even though Jack was always one of the first people to attend, his preferred seating wasn’t near any windows or the door or even the water cooler. It was always one of the seats closest to the guides or leaders who were at the front, giving their speech.
Her first impression of Jack was that he cared a lot about how things were being organized around the districts. Or, at the least, he cared at all.
Anyone who ever talked about Jack always talked about how strong and smart he was, how deep his words were. He was a plain and simple human being with no fancy watches or gadgets to his name, only a sword. Yet everyone admired and respected him because he could go toe-to-toe with any monster and be sure to destroy it. He also used his words sparingly, but whenever he talked everyone listened because his voice was that hypnotizing, apparently.
And despite all that, he was surprisingly very humble and kind. That’s what everyone told her, at least.
Frankie had never interacted with him, not even once. Being one of the strongest leaders of the Resistance, his station was in the most dangerous part of the map – the Darklands or whatever. Frankie never went there because even though she was a plain and simple human being as well, she lacked fighting skills and weapon training to a point where she considered herself a liability.
So what if she’d never had the chance to take up martial arts while she was running a house full of imaginary beings? Boxing back in high school never took her far anyway.
Still, knowing that Jack was of the tier to be stationed at a place where most fighters weren’t powerful enough to go by themselves told Frankie a lot about him beyond the words of his admiring fighter fans.
And above all that, he was cute as hell. Not cute in the way that she wanted to pinch his cheeks, but cute in the way that she wanted to sit in his lap and make out with him for five hours. He had these large dark eyes, a sharp jawline and long, night black hair pulled up into a topknot. A single word had never passed between them, but she already had a crush. How could she not have a thing for him when the only things people say about him are good? Not to mention he was one of the few actual men at the table, a lot of the leaders not even old enough to drive.
Being twenty-two and single since high school, Frankie was finding it harder not to take interest in a young attractive man. Especially a young attractive man who could destroy a whole horde of fusions and clean his sword in time for dinner.
Not gonna lie, Frankie found that hot.
Oh god, how long had she been staring at him? Apparently long enough to get the Scotsman’s notice. Oh great, now he’s smirking at her and whispering something else to Jack. Jack turned his head with a furrowed brow, paying a bit more attention to what his friend was saying.
Frankie felt her face heat up and she looked away quickly, feeling her heart speed up just the tiniest bit knowing she’d been caught staring. She felt eyes on her, and looked back almost shyly.
Jack was looking at her now, his dark eyes mildly inquisitive. His lips turned up in a soft smile at her, and her stomach somersaulted. Somehow she managed to smile back, just a tiny grin before she tore her eyes away and brought her mug to her lips, which were suddenly parched.
Her coffee had gone cold a long time ago, but she focused on it instead of the man sitting a few seats away from her.
When she scraped up enough courage to look over at him again, Jack had his focus back on Dexter, who seemed to be wrapping up the meeting. The Scotsman winked at her and by now she was pretty sure that her face was as red as her hair.
What exactly did he say to Jack?
The meeting ended and everyone began to get up out of their seats, some staying to talk with others while the rest made a beeline for the door. Frankie shot out of her seat, startling Deedee, who was sitting beside her.
She made it a point not to look back at the samurai as she walked out of the room with a speed that was just below sprinting. Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough to not be stopped by Bubbles who wanted to tell her just how cute her hair looked today.
Frankie laughed. “Thanks, I literally just rolled out of bed and pulled it into a ponytail.” She couldn’t help but smile at Bubbles, who was always so… well, bubbly. Frankie wished she could be like her, but her naturally cynical nature squashed that thought.
Bubbles beamed back. “But you make it look good, and it’s a pretty color too.”
“Aye, the lassie’s been kissed by fire.”
Frankie’s brows shot up to her hairline as the Scotsman came up beside Bubbles with a broad grin on his wild-looking face. It was absurd just how tall and bulky he was, especially with Jack standing beside him, although Jack was at least six feet- oh god, Jack’s standing beside him looking at her. With those dark, cat-like eyes that seemed to stare straight past her eyes and into her soul.
The Scotsman was still talking. “And lemme tell you, any lass with hair that fiery has a spirit to match. Just ask me wife.”
Frankie’s smile was more of a grimace like someone stepped on her foot. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“And ye should. Saw you smilin’ at me friend during the meeting. Have you two met before?”
Frankie’s mouth went dry again, and she looked at Jack nervously. Before she could say anything, Jack replied with, “I don’t believe we have. Hello, I am Jack.” He bowed, that’s right, actually bowed when he said this and Frankie was stunned at the formality. It took her a second to remember that he was an actual medieval samurai, a walking piece of history. The way he greeted her was perfectly normal in his own time.
She grinned, and gave an awkward curtsy. She tried to think of something cooler to say than, “Hi, I’m Frankie,” but failed. The way he was smiling at her seemed to rob her of her usual wittiness and left her a nervous mess.
“You live in the large Foster Home, do you not?” He asked her, and she nodded dumbly before replying, “Yeah, I, uh, take care of imaginary friends and help my grandma around the house. It’s about as exciting as it sounds.”
“I haven’t had the chance to visit your home, but it does seem interesting.” Frankie wondered how much Jack knew about the Foster home. Did he know anything about her besides that she lived there? Probably not.
“Feel free to drop by whenever you like. Gotta warn you though, a lot of friends are pretty major fans of yours so you might want to bring a pen or two. Or three.” Jack chuckled, and the low rumble of it made Frankie bite her lip before she giggled a bit too. She suddenly remembered that Bubbles and Scotsman happened to be a part of the conversation and grinned broadly at them.
“You guys are always welcome too, of course. Let me know ahead of time so I can make snacks.”
There was a sly smile exchanged between Bubbles and the Scotsman, like they already knew all about Frankie’s little secret, and she grew nervous. Was it so obvious that Jack saw it too? She was pretty sure she only talked to Bubbles about the samurai once and it had nothing to do with how much she liked him.
Did she see Frankie stare at Jack like a creeper in some of the meetings? Did everyone see her do that?
God, they’ve only said a few things to each other and everyone already knew. They knew.
Frankie pretended that she didn’t see their smiles.
“I shall be sure to visit you sometime,” Jack said with the hint of the laugh still in his voice. He and the Scotsman said their goodbyes and left the square, and Frankie began to walk to the transporter with Bubbles.
Bubbles turned to Frankie with sparkly anime-esque eyes. “So what do you think of him?”
“He’s pretty loud and brawny, but I think I like that about him. Plus his cat belt is cool.”
Bubble’s jaw dropped and Frankie had to hold back a laugh as they stood in front of the transporter stop. Bubble’s mouth began to work again as she hesitantly began with, “Well, I mean if you like the Scotsman like that-”
It was Frankie’s turn to be shocked. “What?! No! Geez, he’s…married for one. And he’s not really my type.”
Bubbles whispered it so low that Frankie’s ears barely heard it. “But Jack is.”
Frankie turned with one eyebrow cocked so high that it was hidden under her bangs. “What was that?”
The blonde heroine giggled and smirked, bumping shoulders with her. “Nothing,” she replied in a sing-song voice.
“No, seriously, what did you mean by that?” She was fully turned towards Bubbles now, not hearing the transporter as it dropped down from the sky and hissed to a stop in front of them. Bubbles’ smile began to widen slowly until she was grinning ear to ear.
“I mean that it was the cutest thing ever to see you two talk to each other. Girls only laugh like that when they’re around someone they like.”
Frankie wanted to drop to the pavement and die. If it was obvious to a fourteen-year-old girl, it was probably obvious to everyone else. Well, time to stay in her house forever and become old and husband-less like her grandma.
The driver of the transporter poked his head out of the door. “You girls hopping on?”
Frankie turned her head to him, but her eyes stayed on Bubbles with her devilish smile. “Hold on one more second.” She stepped closer to Bubbles and frantically whispered, “Is it that obvious?”
Bubbles giggled again. “Not really. I’m just good at figuring out these kinds of things. And if you’re wondering,” She leaned in and whispered, “He’s asked me about you too.”
In a bright streak of blue, Bubbles was gone, leaving Frankie with shaky legs and her hair messed up from the wind turbulence the blonde caused. She turned and stepped onto the transporter, muttering, “Foster’s home, please,” to the driver and sitting down across from two fighters who were staring at her with wide eyes.
Well, the secret was out. Frankie could only pray that Bubbles could keep it, although that was highly doubtful. She was probably on her way to tell her sisters all about it.
But…
…Why would Jack want to know anything about her? Frankie gave a dry laugh and settled the back of her head against the window, turning to stare out at the stretch of city below. Maybe Bubbles was getting her hopes up.
Whatever the case, she probably should’ve dropped by the grocery store to pick up more parmesan for dinner. Bloo was terrible about sharing the parmesan.