Kanda&Lenalee, prompt: government assassins.
"O Captain! My Captain! How fine you look in a suit." Lenalee teases as Kanda takes her by the wrist and pulls her toward the general direction of his cabin. She says nothing else until the door clicks shut behind them. Kanda doesn't need to look out of the corner of his eye to know that she is smiling.
"What are you doing here?" A stupid question, considering her profession and this is not how Lenalee relaxes on her holidays. He scoffs. "You look ridiculous."
He still hasn't let go of her wrist.
"Lavi liked it." Lenalee shrugs, and Kanda imagines that the rabbit-brained idiot would, hence the costume. Poised and balanced on the tips of her toes, Lenalee is a natural ballerina. Lenalee tilts her head up, close enough to make him feel her breath. Her eyes glitter underneath dark lashes. "Don't you?"
"I don't care for poetry." Kanda mutters, turning away so that she kisses his cheek instead.
No one else would find it poetic. Lenalee dances, and that's pretty in itself. Lenalee dances and Kanda holds her in place, lifting and dipping the dancer when she requires. It suits her.
Most people remember her as the girl with dead eyes and red wrists, bandaged up in the darkest corner of the ward. Sometimes a boy sat beside her, turning the pages. The government utilized them like weapons, sharpening the blades they used in missions and then cut the tight rope that they struggled to cross in time, each time quicker. They couldn't always catch each other.
Lenalee calls her targets ballet shoes because they deserve one final show before their life ends. Entranced, they'll watch her, seduced by her charming grace on the stage and when the spotlight shines brightest, framing her like a halo, that's when she'll make her move. One pirouette, and there is nothing left but dust specks.
"That's not an answer." Lenalee's cherry pink mouth curves into a different sort of smile, first seen in Morocco, then in Spain where the sun first set outside their hotel window. Heat pools in his belly. She leans in once more, her free hand resting gently on his shoulder, careful not to leave a mark.
"Does it matter?" The silk material shimmers in the doused light, the tutu accentuates her hips, creasing and crumpling as the distance between them narrows. Too many times, Lenalee's walked away from him, a magic trick of floating on air; Kanda's never discovered how she learnt that illusion.
As pretty as she appears, Kanda prefers what's underneath, the sensory memory of her responsive body stirring in his fingertips, pulse racing as easily as Lenalee wraps the ribbons on the ballet shoes around her legs in the morning and dances when she thinks no one else is looking. But for now, Kanda's hand falls, skimming her hourglass figure, and he smirks when her eyes darken, her throat swallowing down a moan, but she doesn't look away.
"It might." Lenalee hums thoughtfully, her nose pressing into his neck, inhaling, exhaling, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss. Kanda closes his eyes, savouring the moment, and curses anyone who dares knock at the door.
Tugging her hair free, Lenalee's dark tresses of curls cascade past her shoulders, automatically Kanda reaches out to catch her and propel Lenalee closer and closer and closer. There's no need of pirouettes and elegance here, but she raises her leg around him. "Answer the question properly and I'll save you the last dance, captain."
The last word sings, scraping past her lungs, able not to quaver, and Kanda likes how the Lenalee says it, not with teasing, but with a slight desire that can't escape his ears.
His mouth finds her them, kissing her neither sweetly nor softly, like in the stories he once read to her, and found it accomplishment enough when she looked at him, transfixed, and asked what happened next, even when the book was closed and Kanda didn't know the answer. Now she looks at him, just as transfixed, but with hunger that can't be sated with just one kiss.
He lets go of her hand, and quickly she grabs his tie, twisting it like a noose around his neck, and tearing all the buttons off. Kanda pushes Lenalee into the wall, hands roving underneath where her muscles are taut. There's a lotus tattooed on her hip, and to brush his thumb against it is enough to make her gasp.
"Fine," Lenalee relents, and bites his lips, arching against him. "But you better finish what you started."