God it pissed him off. It pissed him off, having to stand back and watch as the man before him laughed and joked and drank and hugged the very man he was sworn to torture. His hand tightened on a large case in his hand as he carefully swung it over his shoulder. He shouldn't. He wasn't supposed to. It was against his orders and he would suffer for it later. Yet he couldn't help it.

He turned and stalked his way out of the alleyway beside the inn, his footsteps muffled and yet his stride confident; confidence he wished he felt as well as portrayed. He needed to find a spot, any spot would do so long as he could be heard. In the end he found himself on a rooftop a couple of streets away and, hands shaking, he unclasped his case.

He wailed out a tune on his baby, and damn it if his sorrow didn't come across in the desperate notes he played. The music danced through the city, his very own calling card. A calling card that Chapel knew well. A calling card the man couldn't resist.

In the inn room the priest, so cheerful and mindless only moments before had stood up to leave the Typhoon's room for the night. His hand had only just come to rest on the doorknob when a sound reached his ears that sent chills down his spine, a sound that immediately sobered him up. His hand clenched on the cool metal; what was he thinking?

Nicholas turned the knob and wrenched the door open with a bit more force than needed, storming his way through the inn hallways, through the bar and outside. Blue eyes full of frustration searched the area, scanning the streets and then the rooftops until the caught a glimpse of gold and white; there. He strode forward purposefully; the man better have a damn good excuse for interrupting his work.

"…you came." He lowered his saxophone, looking up at the priest slowly; Chapel looked angry. No. He looked pissed off. Maybe this had been even less of a great idea than he had thought.

"You knew I would damn come, so don't play stupid with me Midvalley. What the hell do you want so badly that you'd call me out here at this time? You do realise that Legato- Or did he send you?" Nicholas changed his track quickly, immediately worried that his orders had changed, that he would be saddled with an even worse task.

The player lowered his saxophone back into it's case and snapped it shut, standing up and swinging it back over his shoulder before he looked at the other man again. Warm brown eyes took in the dishevelled suit and shirt, the tan skin and those blue eyes that shone in the faint light given off by the few stars.

"I wanted to see you Nicholas…"

The priest furrowed his brow; Nicholas? This had nothing to do with Legato or Knives, this wasn't a business call. The only times Midvalley dared refer to him as 'Nicholas' were the times they were alone, personal time. Other times he was strictly known as 'Chapel'. They couldn't risk any of the Guns knowing their relationship extended beyond co-workers.

"You wanted to see me…" he repeated faintly, almost disbelievingly. "…God damn it Midvalley! Are you insane? One of these days you're going to get us killed, y'know that!"

"It's painful, having to keep watch over you without being able to see you, touch you…having to watch you with him. That monster. Watch him spend time with you like I want to."

"So this comes down to jealousy? You're willing to get yourself damn killed over jealousy?"

"Jealousy? That's a little harsh Nicholas," he replied quietly. "I believe there is no true reason for jealousy. I trust you. I just…" He just what? "…I just missed you." He finished, those brown eyes losing some of their warmth and radiating the sorrow his music had sounded.

"…damn it Midvalley…"Nicholas ran a hand through messy dark hair, his own eyes calming at the musician's words. "Damn…I miss you too but…I'd rather have a you to come back to, rather than return and find Legato has…"

"Okay, it was foolish…but it became too much to bare, and you're here now." He reasoned, his hand tightening on the handle of his saxophone case. "Will you come to me?"

He couldn't stand it; suddenly Nicholas felt he knew exactly how Midvalley had been feeling while watching him. He had a suspicion that the musician himself was partly responsible for the sudden flood of emotion, but he couldn't help it; he strode over to his lover and covered the player's mouth with his own. There was no suspicion this time; he knew Midvalley was responsible for the flood of love, warmth, relief and need he felt. He didn't mind. His arms encircled the other and pulled him close as he explored the man's mouth with his tongue, tasting the mixture of bourbon and mouthwash on him. He almost broke the kiss to smile; Midvalley would never change, and that gave him more comfort than anything.

Midvalley let a hand rest on the back of the priest's head, pushing the kiss deeper and tangling his tongue with his own. The kiss was anything but clumsy, despite being needy and desperate. It was practised, refined, something they were so used to doing that it had become second nature. Second nature, but never boring. Tasting cigarettes and whiskey on his priest sent shivers down the player's spine, feeling strong hands on his back, holding him close and comforting him. But most of all; the coming together of their emotions.

As Nicholas' and his own emotions flooded his body, Midvalley wanted to collapse and cry with joy. It was almost always nearly too much for him to handle, almost always caused his legs to feel weak. Nicholas knew this and held him tightly, supporting the overwhelmed musician as they entwined on the rooftop.

His hold never relinquished. As buttons were undone, as mouths left lips and kissed and nipped at each other's chests, necks and jaws. Even as they moved together, Nicholas firmly buried inside of his musician, the priest held him tightly. Midvalley was grateful. His soft moans, his breathy gasps of affection and love only half conveying how grateful he really was. But he opened himself up, and that let the other truly know.

Tears brimmed in blue eyes as Nicholas gazed down at his lover, the musician's own were closed tightly, but tears ran over flushed cheeks as Midvalley groaned and mouthed his pleasure. He didn't need anything more; he could feel it all. Sound might have been his lover's element, but when it came to moments like these the musician had his own, amazing way of telling all without saying a single comprehendible word.

"N-Nicholas…"

"I know…" And he did.

And they came together, as close as they could ever be as they each released with cries of passion.

As they lay together, the priest found himself exhausted; Midvalley's strange skill really did wear him out. It was tiring enough feeling his own emotions, never mind those of his lover at the same time. But he wouldn't ever trade it for anything, and it made them closer than any couple could ever be. Most of all though; he knew for sure Midvalley's words were genuine. He knew this man adored him, found him the most beautiful creature in the world. Loved him. The musician could say it, and he could literally show it.

"…it was worth it…"

"Hmmn?" Nicholas looked up, his eyes still a little foggy.

"…being with you…it was worth me having to try to lie to that psychic bastard."

"He's going to hurt you."

"I know."

Seeing the smile on Midvalley's face, Nicholas couldn't help but smile as well, despite the words. Someday he'd kill Legato, and Knives. He'd kill them both, and he and his musician could be together safely.

For now he'd settle for this; stolen moments of passion with the man he would die for.