Characters: Kanda, Allen

Warnings: The usual warnings that come with these two—Sex, violence, inappropriate uses of furniture and bathtubs.

Author's Note: Slightly AU. I messed with the timeline. I wanted a more current Kanda and Allen and I have given up trying to understand the recent chapters. Call it creative license. So events are—Kanda, Allen and Johnny are running. Apocryphos is still after them. Timcanpy is not in pieces. And they're sleeping with each other.

POV change occurs; Allen first, then Kanda. Two-part sex.

Anyway, enjoy, and thank you to all the people who have been enjoying my writing all this time.

Edit: fixed some typos.

Now

Allen does not bat an eye when Kanda says he wants him bent over a table, not allowed to touch himself, while Kanda fucks him. That's simply how common their activities are. In fact, Allen responds to this by saying he wants to take Kanda while they're bathing because he wants to see how long Kanda can hold his breath underwater.

Someone should keep these two apart. But they're full of restless energy that sparring and training only half takes out of them. Somewhere in the back of their minds, they know they can't keep this up forever. One day they'll make the wrong dare, the wrong suggestion. One day they might fuck themselves over if certain people heard of what they're doing.

Except, right now, Allen's on the run and Kanda is stalking—going after, shut up—him and the worst thing they could do is give Johnny a heart attack with their eagerness. Three months of no sex might do that to anyone.

They don't even bother removing all their clothing. Allen gets as far as pushing everything from waist down off himself and unbuttoning his shirt before Kanda kisses him. He still tastes the same; maybe a little dustier than before, but it was all Kanda. Hot, acerbic, and a little bit bloody because they both tend to end up biting each other's lips. Allen makes an appreciative sound, his hands working at Kanda's belt and then dipping into his pants to fondle. They push back and forth until Allen hits the desk with his spine because Kanda has backed him up into it. He yelps.

"You idiot—"

"Shut up."

"I'm going to die one of these days if you're not careful with me."

"From my experience, beansprouts aren't as shoddy as that. Why else do you think I keep fucking you?"

"Because you like my experience?"

Kanda's reply is to bite on his neck. He makes an annoyed sound, wondering which deity blessed him with someone who was a biter. At least Kanda doesn't carry infections in his teeth. He doesn't seem to carry any infections at all. Must be nice sometimes, having that tattoo.

Not in all cases, though. The shirt is slipping down one shoulder and he can see the little cracks and markings. Kanda's closer to normal now, more than he's ever been. But it doesn't make him anymore brittle. Just a little more careless. A year ago he wouldn't have bothered to go after Allen. He was made to be the Order's perfect little soldier, alive by the marvels of science, and bound to it. And yet he was one who said the loudest "Fuck you," and disappeared…only to come back for Allen.

Their eyes meet; he does have a promise to Allen, after all. Their usual smothering glares momentarily fade, replaced by a sort of odd regard they had for each other. Actually, Allen hates it a little when Kanda looks at him like that. Even while a tongue is lapping at his scars and he has to start counting his breathes, his thoughts run wild. Kanda and Johnny were his last ties to the Order, and the ones he couldn't cut loose. Johnny made his emotions hurt (because he understood, and because Allen is afraid he'll kill him). Kanda frays his nerves and bashes his head in, sleeps with him, and tells him "I'll kill you if you become the Fourteenth" with such ease.

Kanda is the contradiction he loves hating and hates loving. Or technically, not loving at all but loving to fuck. They're not lovers. They're not even really friends. They just had a relationship that they didn't even really talk about. It happened, they'd clean up, and then they go back to arguing until things spilled over and they had another go at it.

Like now. Allen pants and grinds his teeth; Kanda has turned him over (though he did think to slide a pillow under his hips so that hard wood isn't digging into his skin) and is sliding his oiled finger into him while his other hand is rhythmically pumping his erection with a firm doesn't take too long for Kanda to slip inside Allen. Then they move. Kanda shoves Allen's hands in front of him, holding him there. Allen moans, his cheek sticking to the surface of the table as Kanda presses deeper inside of him. His feet are dangling and he can barely shove his hips back in surface.

He quite helpless.

But this sort of helplessness is better than the helplessness he feels when he can't save those he loves. This sort of helplessness he submits to, if it's by Kanda.

He can hear every little grunt and inhale the other makes; that body he knows nearly as well as his own presses against his back where he has bare skin (he should've removed his damn shirt. Now it's got wrinkles). The heat in his groin intensifies as he is thrust against a soft, downy surface. He has shut his eyes while his mouth parts with little moans.

Kanda comes first, that bastard. His fingers scrape skin while his other hand threats to break the bones of Allen's fingers. Allen follows him only when Kanda lets go and he can properly brace himself and grind his hips to completion. He does not move at first; Kanda pulls out to lie next to him on the desk, facing upwards and legs also dangling.

They count the cracks in the walls in their minds.

What did you even think they'd say?

Allen unsticks himself from the table and drops the stained pillow. He turns his head, damp bangs tickling his forehead. "I'm going to fill the tub with water."

We're not done.

Kanda's reply is to raise his middle finger. He doesn't even look at Allen.

_-|||:|||-_

"You are not using bubbles."

"But it could be interesting."

"No." Kanda throws a crumbled piece of paper, which Allen ducks easily. "They stink like fake flowers."

And he hates fake flowers.

He sees enough of them in his waking moments. Even now, they float around. Not as massively as they sometimes did. At least they never are on the people; he'd have a hard time keeping himself from brushing them off people. Those who are going to hell see these flowers. Huh.

He didn't make any plans for hell. Life—and the Order—handed them that. He wonders where Exorcists are supposed to go. Maybe heaven if they were doing God's work. Maybe some of them ended up in purgatory.

He doesn't care. If he's dead, that's the end.

He and Allen are still in the room, listening to the water fill up. Allen is sprawled on the ground, finally naked and Kanda is mentally appreciating that body. He is idly doodling on a sheet of paper.

"Oi."

"You could call me by my name, Kanda."

"Do you actually have any plans?"

The beansprout raises his head. "Why are you asking?"

"Tch. I'm not a hobo."

Allen laughs. "No one asked you to become one." He still has shadows under his eyes.

"If I'm going to be one, at least tell me where you're headed. Or are you still as fucking awful at directions as you were before?"

"Kanda, if I were that bad, I might be drowning in the ocean right now."

"Or dead."

"That too."

"Do you even care about yourself?"

"Do I look like I'm hurting myself?"

"Normal people do not run way from a giant organization to play clowns."

"And normal people do not have self-healing tattoos on their chests or chase convicted criminals," Allen smoothly counteracts.

Forget it. Kanda doesn't beat Allen in words. He'll take weapons or sex any day for a competition. "Maybe I should let Johnny have another go at you and his feelings."

"Maybe." But he sees the twitch in Allen's eyes, the one he always does when he's ready to redirect a conversation.

"You made Lenalee cry."

"Are you saying you didn't?"

"She hit me." He still feels the punch. "You'll probably need stitches when she's through with you."

"Hmph. Maybe." The tip of the pencil snaps.

"I ought to punch you right now."

"Kanda." Allen puts his pencil down and rests his chin in his hand. "Let's not talk about Lenalee anymore."

"That's the problem, isn't it?"

"That?"

"She see you as someone important, but you threw that in her face when you left."

"I know." He stands up and begins to pace. "I thought it out before I left. Being locked up gives you plenty of time to think."

Kanda knows that all too well. "Maybe I should march you back so you can apologize."

Allen stops and he laughs loudly. Shrilly. It sounds so unnatural that Kanda strides over to him and pushes him against a wall to check his eyes.

"What are you—"

"Sh." He lets him go when he sees angry, confused gray eyes.

"See, that proves the point. You don't trust me." Allen waves at himself. "I could become a Noah at anytime, and I might end up killing Lenalee, or worse. I could take down the whole Order. And you ask why I don't want to return."

"All right!" Kanda turns away. "But it's not just that. You're running from someone, aren't you."

"I'm not."

"Fuck you; you can't lie to me."

"I'd tell you but I can't. People have died because I was around. Like my Master. Like Link." He's pacing again.

He almost says that fucking Vatican dog is still alive, but he decides against it. "I can't die."

"Kanda, you have one foot in the grave."

"I still can survive longer than you, Moyashi."

"Allen."

"Whatever." Kanda grips him by the arm to keep him from pacing anymore. "I'm killing you first, remember?"

Much to his annoyance, Allen actually begins crying. At least they're not loud sniffles, but the silent ones that track down his face.

Was the damn Beansprout always this sentimental?

"Damn you, Kanda."

"I'll join you in hell and you can damn me all you want."

"I don't want to die."

"Now you sound childish." He leaves sympathy for Lenalee. He gives support and little else.

"It's as if you want me to try killing you."

"Don't we always?"

"Hah."

"Then try killing me now."

He lets Allen kiss him. Lets him manhandle him until he's pressed up against wall. Lets Allen bite his lip so they both swallow blood and tears. The salt flavor was the same, anyway.

Allen is usually gentle and careful with people. He smiles. He laughs. He's polite. People love him. People distrust him. People betrayed him.

But him? He's Kanda. He distrusted that smiling face ever since they met. Even now, his trust is reluctant. He thinks of Allen most of the time as a mission. But he does hate these happy idiots who believe than can save the world. Except Kanda's an idiot too, trying so hard to prove those idiots wrong.

Those idiots, he's drawn to. He ends up defending them. He ends up putting his head out there. There is nothing gentle when he drags the fingernails of his left hand down Kanda's chest, leaving red scratches in their wake.

So maybe it was sympathy in part when he lets Allen touch him and shove as they slip on bathroom tiles and land the water. Dampness clings to them, but nothing compares to the wetness of Allen's eyes.

He did have the clearest eyes Kanda's ever seen. Nothing ever clouded them. He's willing to lose himself in their intensity as Allen strokes them together, slickened with water and soap. He makes a guttural rasp in the back of his throat, his hands bringing their chins together for another kiss. Allen always carries a hint of sweetness on his tongue. Kanda actually hates it. Sweet things are disgusting. But this sweetness isn't extremely sweet. It's rather sad.

Fuck, was he getting sentimental? Stupid beansprout's getting to him or something. So he pushes away and slip beneath the water to suck Allen. He bites and fists until Allen thrashes underneath and nearly is undone, but Kanda has to come up for air. His lungs burn and that's when Allen kisses him again. This time it's bittersweet and he thinks this is better even as his eyesight is hazy with sparks.

"You nearly got me off," Allen murmurs. "How'd you do it?"

"Practice."

"Swimming?"

"I had a week to learn." He was reborn in a pool and has fallen in a canal. Water hates him and he hates it, so he learned to defeat it.

Then Allen starts pushing a finger in him and he stills. The water laps around them at their skin. Kanda breathes, shoulders and chest rising. He combs his hair while the other adds in more fingers, and then he nearly loses it.

"Is this the closest I can come to killing you?"

"Shut up and fuck me."

Allen does just that. He buries himself in, fingers gripping Kanda's hips. Water sloshes out as they grunt and shove. Kanda keeps his hands on the sides. He licks his lips and watches Allen work in and out.

Not a lot of people can say they've fucked him. He doesn't even really like it, but Allen knows him well enough to keep him returning. Currently he is rubbing a damnable soft sponge over Kanda's cock as he thrusts.

Payback for that pillow, probably. He doesn't complain. He ends up coming first again, spilling over fabric and hands before it disappears into water as he shudders and almost kicks Allen in the head. Allen drops the sponge and tightly shoves a few times before he gasps and Kanda silences him with his mouth. Again, why do they keep kissing if Kanda hates the taste?

Fucking voices in his head. He'll do whatever he wants. And Allen seems to like it. Not many things he does for him, but this is one of them.

Allen lays on him; they are unmoving again. The water in the tub cools and they really ought to get out before Johnny returns.

"Kanda."

"What."

"When I do go back…keep Lenalee from killing me."

"As if."

"It was worth asking."

"You deserve it, Moyashi."

"Shut up, Jerkanda."

And for two minutes, right now, he believes they really might be okay. Eventually. That they'll both survive everything and can go back.

It's nice to sometimes hope. It's better than thinking about dying.

Thank you for reading.