Work Text:
If you, as a layperson, knew anything about Benoit Blanc, you knew he was an Eccentric.
He’d say he didn’t see it himself, especially in comparison to the colourful characters that so often populated the cases he solved, but he wasn’t considered one of the world's foremost detectives for no reason. Eccentric was a word that, well — if he allowed himself to be gauche — contained absolutely transparent layers, much like a glass onion itself.
For those who were interested in his detective work, it was a shorthand for brilliant. Confusing. It explained away all his worst habits as a natural consequence of having a mind like his, while also making it clear to everyone involved that they shouldn’t view him as a normal, everyday sort of man.
For his family back home, eccentric had always meant that he didn’t quite fit right. Oh, he’d put on a good show of it, and he certainly had all the airs needed to convince an outsider, but he’d always been just a little too strange, a little too queer, to be fully at home in the deep south.
For Phillip, well.
For Phillip, it was just another word he could use to describe all the things about Blanc that had made him fall in love with the man in the first place.
It had always made a surprising amount of sense to the people in the know, Blanc settling down with a lawyer. He knew a few of Phillip’s university friends (and he’d gone to a university, not a college, he was always clear on that, no matter how many years he’d spent living in America now) had made jokes about how it was a shame he hadn’t taken that BioMed class he’d been considering as an undergraduate, as otherwise they’d make a truly Holmesian pair, but those friends were also well aware that it was Phillip’s early career as a lawyer that lead to their meeting in the first place.
Some people might argue that a more romantic man would believe they’d have met either way. Maybe, in a different universe, Phillip was the doctor that he’d taken dear Alicia Barrett to after she’d twisted her ankle fleeing from her would-be attacker, and their relationship would’ve bloomed from there.
Blanc considered himself far too grounded in reality to entertain such thoughts as destiny, and instead found himself quietly grateful for all the little choices they’d both made in their lives to end up here.
Blanc and Phillip had never precisely tried to hide their relationship. Even if they’d wanted to, Blanc knew very well that going out of your way to make something a secret just made people want to uncover it even more.
They lived at the same address. Countless clients had overheard the tail ends of their phone conversations with each other. Sure, neither of them visibly wore their wedding rings, but their marriage record was public information.
Instead, Blanc just thought that the world’s apparent obsession over a man’s private life was, quite frankly, ridiculous, and he didn’t see why he should matter so much over the victims and perpetrators in the cases he solved.
For all Blanc hated downtime between cases, there was something to be said about returning home.
He and Phillip stayed in regular contact when he was off on cases, of course, even though neither of them were much for texting. It was the only real, healthy way to maintain a relationship when you had a job like Blanc’s.
Even still, Phillip didn’t know many of the intimate case details. He knew about Helen and Andi, and he knew the brief details of all of Miles Bron’s band of so-called ‘disruptors’, but Blanc wouldn’t risk the sanctity of his cases purely to keep his husband fully up to date.
That being said, he suspected it would be a rather moot point in these circumstances. He hadn’t turned on the news himself, but he knew that if he did, the explosion on the island would be just as extensively covered as every single other bizarre event 2020 had had to offer so far had been.
His key slipped into their lock as easily as it always did, and he deposited his suitcase just outside their bedroom door before making his way to their kitchen, finding it suspiciously flourless despite the visually perfect loaf of sourdough sitting in the middle of their counter.
“Phillip?” He called, rather than continuing to make his way through their apartment one room at a time, and he heard the clink of a glass being set down on a table before Phillip’s voice called back.
“I’m out here!”
Blanc smiled to himself lightly, directing himself out through their living room to get to their balcony, and his smile grew wider when he saw Phillip had stood up in order to greet him properly.
“I thought I heard you,” Phillip said, gathering Blanc into a warm hug and brushing a kiss against his cheek. “Though I couldn’t be sure. The neighbours have gotten themselves a particularly persistent cat, and it keeps escaping out their front door.”
“Have they?” Blanc asked, eyebrows raised slightly. “I guess Holly won that debate, then, though I will admit I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Can you ever?” Phillip replied, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Blanc huffed as they sat themselves down at the table.
“You know very well that I can, thank you,” Blanc said, faux-offended. “Why I do declare, you’ve probably seen me bewildered more times than anyone else has, and I’d thank you to remember that. In fact, the very case I was just on surprised me at several points, though I will say that more of that was to do with my underestimation of the unimaginable depths of Miles Bron’s stupidity than it was anything truly clever.”
“I saw bits about that in the news, actually. The explosion.”
Blanc sighed, and Phillip reached out to grasp his hand lightly.
“I thought it might be,” he admitted. “As much as it was good to get out of the house and entertain my brain a bit, this entire case was just so… so… so dumb, from start to finish. I don’t wish to contemplate it any longer. I noticed the bread in the kitchen, am I to take that to mean you finally succeeded in your endeavours? Or did you finally give up and buy some from the bakery down the road?”
It was Phillip’s turn to look faux-offended, and he committed to the role with great aplomb.
“Why, I cannot believe my darling husband would cast aspersions on my character like that. I’ll have you know, that bread was baked fresh, this morning, in this very building.”
Blanc simply waited, fondly amused, and Phillip dropped the act.
“…By Alexis from down the hall. They dropped it off an hour or so ago, and told me to send their regards.”