Noel doesn’t like chaos.

He doesn’t like noise.

He doesn’t like parties.

So when Bastard München drags him into a victory celebration, with the other teams being there too, it’s… restrained. Or at least Noel is. The team is loud — Kaiser talking too much, Ness sticking to his side like a shadow, Raichi yelling, Kunigami silently drinking, Isagi and Bachira buzzing with adrenaline.

But Noel?

He’s the center of calm in the sea of noise. He stays on the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, quietly observing. Someone hands him a drink; he sets it down, untouched. Someone tries to drag him into a photo; he steps just barely into frame, deadpan, expression unchanged.

Yet he’s not annoyed — not really.

He watches his team laugh, argue, shove each other playfully, and there’s a faint warmth in his eyes. Pride he’ll never vocalize, but it’s there.

And every so often, you catch him watching you across the room.

Not possessively.

Just… anchored.

Whenever the noise gets too much, he drifts toward you, close enough that only you can hear him.

“Too loud,”

he murmurs. You smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

He gives you a soft look — something no one else sees — and the next time the team erupts into cheers, his fingers brush your knuckles. Brief, subtle, but intentional.

His private way of celebrating.

Eventually someone shoves a champagne bottle into his hands for a team toast. He raises it with the same seriousness he uses during strategic meetings and says:

“Good work.”

The team goes wild. You just laugh — because that’s as emotional as he gets in public.