AN: Oh man, such fluff! I was rewatching Baccano! and these two really are a wonderful pair. I couldn't NOT write something when this fandom has so little on here! Seriously, Baccano! is a great show, where are all of its writers at (Particularly ClairexChane shippers)?

Before you wonder, yes, this is me avoiding working on my other story. What are you gonna do?

Solace
Really, he talked enough for the both of them.

Chane wasn't much of a talker, and that was putting it mildly. Having chosen to have her vocal cords removed at a young age, she was used to the silence. Silence was easy, straightforward, and safe. Communication opened up to miscommunication and that was a hassle Chane need not bother herself with. Her silence also kept her at arm's length from everyone which suited her just fine. Only those who truly valued her troubled themselves to find a way to communicate with her. The closest she had come to someone doing this was her father; however even he only talked at her rather than to her. In Huey Laforet's mind, his was the only opinion that mattered – she was simply a wall for him to bounce his ideas off of.

How then had she managed to find herself in this position? Chane asked herself this constantly. How could someone like her, who used silence as a barrier, manage to find happiness? The thought entered her head as it usually did as she performed some sort of menial task around the small townhouse she lived in. Stirring the pot of broth, she couldn't stop a small smile from forming on her face. To be honest, she had never really considered her own happiness so when it was thrust upon her, she was taken aback.

Roused from her thoughts by the opening of the front door, Chane set down the spoon she was holding and went to wash her hands. Being familiar with silence, Chane was able to pick up on the soft sounds of his footsteps that would have been missed by average ears. His steps were light and swift and without thinking about it he managed to avoid every creaking floorboard in the narrow hallway to the kitchen. She was convinced he couldn't sneak up on her if he tried.

Not that he ever really did try. Although he never admitted it, Chane believed that he purposely created extra noise when he was with her, almost as if he were making up for her silence.

"There you are," Claire said as he made in through the narrow kitchen door. His tone was warm and inviting as always. The only times Chane had ever experienced his anger was when it was directed at others. Her silence likely played a large role in their lack of arguments. What use was it arguing with someone who couldn't argue back? In addition it wasn't as if she could give him the silent treatment – he lived with her silence every day.

Chane didn't want to change the way he talked to her anyway. She reveled in the sound of his voice and could listen to him all day. He wasn't the best-spoken, but every word out of his mouth may as well have been poetry to her.

She watched as he gracefully sat down at the kitchen table, resting arms on the table and head on his arms. Claire had just returned trip to the next state over, resulting in him being gone for the better part of two days. Trips outside of the state tend to put more strain on the conductors as they were forced to work longer hours. Chane knew the long trips tired him out, but she didn't blame him for being away providing for the two of them. She missed him when he was away, but she was happy he was making an honest living. Additionally she was relieved when he stated that he would no longer act as the Rail Tracer based off his own whims. While she would have never asked him to stop something that was so important to him, she was pleased that he chose a secure life with her over his previous life of dangers. Claire had specified that if anyone were to put his train in jeopardy, however, he wouldn't hesitate to eliminate them. Chane would take whatever victory she could get on this front.

"What is it?" he asked, noticing her staring across the room. She had forgotten that she was still staring at him. He had turned his head to look at her while still resting it on his arms. Claire instinctively knew when she wanted to say something and it never ceased to amaze her. "You're awfully quiet today," he joked with a youthful smile, void of any of the sadism that others may see. The joke hadn't even been very funny the first time he told it and now it seemed like the hundredth time she'd heard it but it had quickly become a staple of his. Claire made that stupid joke every time he wanted her to somehow convey what she was thinking.

Chane walked over to the table where he sat unmoving in his exhausted position. He didn't move to look at her or say anything. Sometimes, he liked the silence too. Chane draped herself over his hunched back, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder blade. The fabric was soft against her cheek and she took solace in simply being in his presence.

"I missed you, too," he said, Chane could tell he was smiling. She placed a kiss at the nape of his neck, confirming that he was correct in his interpretation. Disengaging herself from him, she noticed his eyes were closed and his breathing had slowed. Chane ran her fingers through his soft red hair and gave his back a gentle pat, not to startle him. One of his eyes opened and looked at her. "Yes, dear," he said, rising from his position of practically laying on the table.

"'No sleeping on my kitchen table!' Am I right?" he spoke for her with a grin. "'I don't care if you're tired, you're going to eat this delicious dinner I made.'" Perhaps she would have been annoyed with this habit of his, but the fact was he usually took the words right out of her mouth. Chane ushered him over to the stove where she dished out helpings for each of them.

After they had situated themselves at the table, Chane made her ritual gesture meaning 'tell me about your day' which triggered Claire's recounting of possibly every thought that had crossed his mind since he left. Listening to him describe his day with emphasis, Chane continued to gaze at her husband. She couldn't fathom why such a powerful, beautiful man would choose her, who couldn't communicate with him, but she was grateful. Chane loved everything about Claire from his soft red hair to the sound of his voice and she found peace from the silence with him.

Claire seemed to notice her lack of participation in his retelling of his story because he gave her a confused look, head tilted to the side. He must have noticed that she was less engaged in his words than usual. In explanation, she simply blew him a kiss across the table with a small smile which he graciously accepted with a smile of his own before going on to continue his story.

At that moment Chane decided that it didn't really matter that she couldn't talk back to him because really, he talked enough for both of them.

As always, reviews are appreciated and cherished and do well to motivate my creative brain juices.