Summary: A series of shipping-focused continuous/separate drabbles, ficlets and one-shots. The ratings, genres and pairings may/will vary.

Chapter summary: There wasn't anything Frida hated more than feeling helpless.

Genre(s): Romance/Angst

Pairing(s): Django of the Dead/Frida Suárez

Disclaimer: El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera is copyrighted by Nick, Mexopolis and its creators Jorge R. Gutierrez and Sandra Equihua. Any referenced works are owned by their respective creators.

Fear

Frida had faced many dangers before.

Born and raised in Miracle City, she not only had gotten in danger many times with Manny just for fun, back when they were inseparable, but her life was still constantly at risk, being target of many villains' ire and revenge, either because of a personal vendetta or simply because she was El Tigre's friend.

Frida, however, took it all in stride, and even though she was no stranger to fear, she continued to face off against all that with bravery seen in few. She knew how to deal with danger and fear well, and that was a trait she took pride in.

Frida knew how to deal well with fear.

But even someone as brave as Frida had her days.

Frida had been walking home when suddenly, an explosion nearby made her fall. She'd heard a familiar roar and, unable to contain her curiosity, she went in the direction of the explosion, wanting to see who her former best friend was battling against. She slowly approached the battlefield and hid behind a corner. It wasn't long before Manny's enemy was revealed to her.

Frida felt a cold sensation in her stomach when she realized Manny and Django were fighting. Her nerves were afloat with each punch, kick and attack exchanged between the two nemeses and Frida didn't know who she worried for.

The battle quickly came to an end when El Tigre kicked Django in the chest and snatched away his Mystic Guitar. Frida's heart dropped and her throat tightened when she saw the feline-themed hero raise the guitar above his head and swing it with great force at the ground, shattering it into tiny pieces.

She remained stuck in place even after the undead villain had disintegrated and El Tigre had left the place. She stared vacantly at the spot the remains of the guitar had once been, before they too, disappeared. Frida continued staring at nothing for a few moments before she willed herself to continue her way home. She had better things to do.

Frida decided to wait until nighttime to check on Django and see if he was already back. Night came fast as she busied herself with other tasks. She sent a text to Django asking if he was free. A good half-hour passed until she received a response. He was back already.

Frida waited for her parents and sisters to be deep asleep before sneaking out of the house. She ran through Miracle City's dark, empty streets as quietly as possible, not wanting to be discovered. Another half-hour passed before she reached the abandoned district Django's hideout was located at, in the depths of Calavera.

She peeked from behind the door, trying to see if there was anyone home. The blue-haired girl felt relief wash over her when she saw Django sitting in one of the chairs, nonchalantly tuning his Mystic Guitar, as if nothing had happened. Frida, realizing just whom she was feeling relieved for, decided to ignore the feeling and pushed it away, before entering the room.

"Hey," she greeted, trying to sound as casual and uninterested as possible.

Django blinked and turned to her, seemingly surprised she'd gotten over his house so fast. "Mi vida," he greeted back. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he smiled.

Frida however, frowned at him. The undead villain looked uncharacteristically drained, and that somewhat worried her. She grabbed an empty chair and sat across from him. "You look like crap, dude."

"Not beating around the bush this time, are we?" Django raised an eyebrow. He paused. "I just happened to run into an old friend of ours earlier today," Django frowned, fingering a string on his guitar. "Got a bit unlucky."

Frida stared at him for a few seconds before breaking the silence, "Where do you go after… you know," she vaguely nodded at his guitar, hoping he'd catch her drift.

Django looked at her quizzically, before realization dawned on his face. "Oh, you mean after someone breaks my Mystic Guitar?" He looked back at the guitar on his lap and fiddled with the tuning machines. "Some abandoned, somber site in the Land of the Dead," he answered after a pause.

"The Land of the Dead…" Frida thought out loud. "Why do you guys even go there anyway… or maybe it would be better to ask why you are here?" Frida paused before asking, "What are you guys, anyway?"

Django hummed in thought, "There are things even I'm not aware of, although I'm working on it… I believe I told you something about it before?"

Frida nodded. "Yeah, something about a curse…?"

Django nodded. "Yes, something like that. All I can say is that my grandmother… my family was banished to the Land of the Living."

"Banished…?" Frida parroted.

"Yeah. Doesn't feel much like a punishment though," he reached and tucked her hair behind her ear, "since you're here and all."

Frida huffed at his line. "It's better than the place you guys end up in when your Mystic Guitars' are smashed, I assume… How's it like there? You said abandoned and somber but that describes a bunch of buildings in Miracle City."

Django paused in thought. "It's not very pleasant," he admitted, "but the stay usually isn't that long."

"Usually?" Frida raised an eyebrow. "How long do you stay down there before you can come back?"

Django looked at her and smirked, "Did you miss me that badly, mi amor?" Frida glared at him in response. Django chuckled before answering, "Actually, it usually takes me a few days to recover completely," he admitted. "But then I saw your text and I just had to get back as soon as I could. I managed to put myself together in a few hours through sheer willpower and the power of love, how about that?" he joked, the strange warmth in his tone too alien for Frida; the girl waved it off as her imagination.

Frida scoffed in disbelief. "Okay, first of all, you're crazy," Frida pointed, "And second, never, ever say stuff about the 'power of love' ever again- it's really creepy hearing that from you," Django rolled his eyes, amused. Frida paused. "You okay, though?" she asked.

"For the most part, yes. I'm a little tired, but I'm alright." Django set his guitar aside and looked at her. "Now if you don't mind, I think it's my turn to ask you a few questions," he told her. "What's with the interrogation, Frida?"

Frida's shoulders stiffened at his question. She sighed. "I… kinda saw you and Manny fight today by accident," she admitted reluctantly. "Caught you two fighting when I was on my way home," she explained. "Then I saw you disintegrate and… I just started wondering, where do you guys go after your Mystic Guitars are smashed? You know, I... just got curious."

Django blinked at her story before smirking. "Aww," he cooed. "Were you worried about me?" his smirk widened.

Frida's eyes widened and she felt her face burn. "N-no!" she denied but deep down she knew the truth.

She'd felt this way before. She recognized the feeling as the same she felt whenever she saw Manny get pummeled or cornered by a villain who had the upper-hand when they were kids, or when she'd witnessed Sergio or Diego get blown away and burned by their own inventions as they suffered defeat at the hands of Manny when she was dating them.

In those instances, Frida knew what to do. A trip to the hospital or a nifty first-aid kit, those physical injuries were something she'd grown accustomed to, as they almost became part of her daily routine.

Django's case, however, was well beyond her field of knowledge and out of her reach. There were many things about him and his family that were a mystery to her- what exactly they were or how they functioned, for example.

Frida hadn't know what to do when she saw him disintegrate and she'd realized then, that she wouldn't know the next time either. He'd just disappeared, out of her sight, leaving her to feel disoriented and unable to do anything.

And there wasn't anything Frida hated more than feeling useless.

Frida's expression must've matched how she felt, because Django's expression softened and he stood up, his tired legs shaking lightly from the abrupt movement. "Ah, shoot, don't be upset, mi vida." He approached her and lifted her from her seat by her shoulders, enveloping her into an embrace. "I'm such a jerk sometimes," he laughed. "Sorry," he muttered into her hair.

Frida scoffed, "Good thing you're so self-aware," her tone was sarcastic but there was no real bite to it. She looked up from his chest and frowned. "Don't look so happy," she scolded upon seeing his smile.

"Oh, give me a break will you, mi querida?" he told her. "The woman of my dreams finally admits to worrying about me. I feel I can afford a little gloating."

Frida rolled her eyes and glared at him. That didn't deter Django's good mood, however.

He gently took her by her shoulders and pushed her away, just enough so he could properly look at her in the eye. "I know you'll have to get back to your place soon, but what do you say we have some fun before that?"

Frida raised an eyebrow at him, "Weren't you tired?"

He shrugged. "Not really, not anymore," in a snap of fingers, Frida saw how a red cloud of dust covered him before revealing his human disguise. "Thanks to you, I feel like a new man."

Frida blinked then punched his shoulder for the bad joke. He made a point of rubbing his shoulder, but she knew could tell from the infuriating smile that remained on his face, it couldn't have hurt much, if at all.

Stupid supernatural super-strength and durability.

"So, what do you say?" he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Frida rolled her eyes but linked her arm with his and smiled. She appreciated the gesture.

"Then let's go, my dear."

The cold air of the night was pleasant to Frida, who closed her eyes and basked in the quietness as much as she could, short-lived as she knew it would be.

"You know," Django broke the silence. "Next time you come over, I'll have a little surprise for you," he told her cryptically. "A little something to help you."

Frida opened her eyes and looked at him, confused. "Help me?"

Django nodded. "I can't say much, I still need to prepare some things… but I think you'll like it."

Frida raised an eyebrow at him being purposely vague but decided to let it go. "If you say so, dude."

Django smiled. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "Oh, and Frida?"

"Hm?"

"Thanks for coming to check up on me," he turned to her, the corner of his mouth forming a small smile, "It was very sweet of you."

Frida blinked at his sudden change in subject and turned away, feeling her face burn, "Whatever, dude," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. "Don't look so disgustingly happy," she scolded but there was no anger in her voice. She could feel him smirk at her embarrassment. "Next time I'll kick your butt myself when you come back, if you ever let your guitar get smashed so easily again."

Django chuckled at her threat, shaking his head.

"Is that so? Guess I'll need to be more careful then."

"…You better, dude… you better."

Author's note: Another update with our blue-haired troublemaker as the protagonist, this time with everyone's favorite skeleton jerk. Though I wonder if I made him too nice in this... oh, well.

Hope you guys enjoyed it.