Work Text:
Sylvie was seriously reconsidering the whole “friendship” thing as Giovanni continued to ramble on about some “Cool Crime” he and his “minions” had recently committed. Something about loitering? Sylvie wasn’t actually sure; he’d tuned Giovanni out almost as soon as he had shown up, deciding to busy himself with signing his discharge paperwork instead.
After handing the finished forms over to the nurse at the front desk, Sylvie turned his attention over to Molly, “I told you I’d be fine taking the bus.” he said.
Molly hummed, “You keep mentioning that, yeah. But you shouldn’t have to if you know somebody who can give you a ride.”
“Well, when you said you could get me a ride back to my apartment, I was expecting like…a family member or something. Not Giovanni.”
Behind Sylvie, Giovanni shouted something in protest. Sylvie ignored him.
Molly shook her head, “Boss is the most responsible person I know who also has a driver’s license.”
Sylvie filed away the implications of that statement for later, right next to what she had said about her family the other day. He really should remind her of his offer for a therapy session.
“Hey, Sylvie, aren’t you supposed to be wheeled out of here in one of those wheel-chair thingies?” Giovanni asked, motioning pushing a wheelchair as the three of them moved towards the entrance.
Sylvie huffed, “I’m fine, I don’t need anything like that—I’m a doctor.”
“I’m…pretty sure that that is not how that works.” said Molly.
“Yeah, aren’t you like…a therapist or something? Mind stuff, not like, a rib doctor.” Giovanni chimed in.
Instead of answering either of them, Sylvie pushed the front door open, squinting into the sun as he stepped outside for the first time in three days. He takes a deep breath as he listens to Molly and Giovanni follow. He carefully ignored the worried looks on both of their faces. He’s fine, really. Or, at least, he would be. He just needs to get back home. He just needs to get back to work and put all this behind him.
“So, where’s your car anyways?” Sylvie asked.
“Ok, well, it’s not actually my car per se—” Giovanni started.
“Alright then, where’s your mom’s car?” Sylvie continued.
Giovanni proceeds to point at what is quite possibly the most obnoxiously pink car Sylvie has ever seen. He really should have realized that that one had to belong to Giovanni—or Giovanni’s mom—from the beginning.
“Injured kids get shotgun,” said Giovanni as he sauntered over to the pink monstrosity, twirling his keys around his finger, “Unless Beartrap wants it.”
“Sylvie can have it!” Molly said.
“I’m not a kid.” said Sylvie reflexively.
“Your sheep plushie begs to differ.” Giovanni taunted.
Sylvie throws a betrayed look at Molly, “You told him about that?”
“Pfft, no, nerd. The thing is sticking out of your backpack.” Giovanni said.
Sylvie blushes and climbs into the car silently, careful not to jostle his still-tender ribs too much. He shrugs his backpack off to set it down and sees that, yes, Dolly the Sheep Plushie has indeed been peeking out of the backpack the entire time. The traitor.
“Seatbelts, everyone.” said Giovanni as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Alright short stuff,” he continued, “what’s your address?”
“Oh, you can just drop me off near Sweet Jazz University.” said Sylvie, fiddling with his hoodie’s drawstrings.
Giovanni shoots him a look and Sylvie feels Molly’s disappointment coming from the back seat. He sighs.
“Corner of 21st and Jackson.” said Sylvie.
Sylvie stayed quiet for the rest of the drive, occasionally giving Giovanni directions but otherwise just listened to Giovanni and Molly talk all the way to his apartment.
It only occurred to Sylvie as stood outside the door to his apartment that he hadn’t really cleaned it before breaking into the museum trying to get a sneak peak at the Arsene Amulet. He was pretty sure he’d done the dishes that morning, at least. But other than that the place was probably a mess. Just another reason to try and get his two hangers-on out of here as soon as possible.
“You two don’t need to hover, I’ll be fine.” said Sylvie as he unlocked the door to his apartment.
“Are you kidding? I didn’t drive you all the way back here not to make you some get-well soup.” said Giovanni, taking the initiative of pushing the door open.
“Hey—” protested Sylvie.
Giovanni ignored him.
“Boss makes really good soup.” said Molly, not looking the least bit apologetic as she followed Giovanni inside.
Sylvie spluttered a little bit before entering, closing the door behind him. He winced a little at the disorganized state of his apartment.
“Look, I appreciate the thought, but I don’t exactly have a well-stocked kitchen.” said Sylvie.
“No problem, I brought my own.” said Giovanni, holding up a canvas bag.
Sylvie stared at it for a second, unsure of how he had missed Giovanni bringing it inside. He continued to watch as Giovanni set it down and started pulling out kitchenware Sylvie hadn’t even known he had out of his cupboards. He seriously considered whether summoning stuff to make soup might be part of Giovanni’s epithet.
Sylvie opened his mouth to try and argue that you made soup for sick people and he wasn’t sick, he was injured, when he felt something tug at his sleeve. He looked down to see Molly smiling up at him.
“…Is this another thing friends do?” asked Sylvie.
“Yep!” said Molly.
Sylvie sighed, deciding he might as well just let this happen. When he tried to enter the kitchen to help, Giovanni shooed him out.
“Why are you still standing? Go sit down while your Boss makes you soup.”
“I’m not your minion.” Sylvie reminded him.
“Any friend of Beartrap’s a minion of mine. That’s how that works.” Said Giovanni.
It absolutely wasn’t, but at this point Sylvie was far too tired to argue. He elected instead to sit on the couch instead. He was soon joined by Molly, and they chatted until dinner was ready.
Sylvie wasn’t sure if it was just because he’d been eating hospital food for the last three days, but the soup Giovanni had made—some sort of vegetable soup—was quite possibly the delicious thing he had ever eaten. He couldn’t say that out loud of course. He might be warming up to Giovanni, but he wasn’t about to compliment the guy.
“Thanks for the soup, Giovanni.” He said instead.
“You’re welcome.” said Giovanni.
“I told you that Boss makes great soup.” said Molly.
“I mean, his epithet is Soup. It wasn’t like I didn’t believe he couldn’t make good soup.” Said Sylvie.
“I make the best soup.” Giovanni declared, “I’ll have to make you my tomato bisque sometime. It’s to die for.”
“That was a weird part of the sentence to emphasize, Giovanni.” said Sylvie.
“What, it’s a thing people say. You should know that, smart guy.” said Giovanni.
Molly giggled, “I think he means that it sounds like you were going to give him poisoned soup, Boss.”
Giovanni gasped in pseudo-shock, hand over his chest, “I would never. That’d just be a waste of soup.”
Despite himself, Sylvie found himself laughing along with them. The rest of the dinner passed along in a similar fashion, and for a few hours Sylvie forgets about his injured ribs, the debacle at the museum, how he almost lost his epithet, and a dozen other things that have been nagging at the back of his mind. For a few hours, he enjoys himself.
Giovanni and Molly lingered for a while after dinner, the three of them caught up in conversation. At some point, Giovanni managed to get Sylvie to give him his number, and swipes Sylvie’s phone to enter his own into it. As Giovanni and Molly finally say their goodbyes and leave, Sylvie concludes that Giovanni isn’t so bad for a self-proclaimed villain. If nothing else, Sylvie’s starting to see why Molly seems to like him. Not that he’ll ever admit it, of course. Sylvie goes to bed that night with a fridge full of leftover soup, an untidy apartment, and some nice new memories.