So, I'm a terrible person and started Zankyou no Terror and all it did was make me sad. I just want these children to be happy, so here's a little short that was intended to be platonic through and through, but I'm a sucker for romance, so that's that. I'm also a terrible person because I have other things I should be working on, so I apologize.
It's a quiet night, those happen sometimes, like a lull that buzzes with a desperate energy. They ignore it of course, quiet nights are nice after all. Really, it's Twelve who ignores it, forcing Nine to pause his busy work so he can enjoy it to. It takes some work, and no small amount of begging, but Nine always caves and pretends he doesn't feel anything when Twelve smiles victoriously.
They don't really need to talk to each other, Twelve is ridiculously good at reading Nine, and Nine has long since engraved Twelve's various postures and expressions, and their corresponding emotions, into his mind. It helps that they've known each other for nearly all of their lives, there's a certain ability there, allowing them to know each other better than themselves. It wouldn't be right if they didn't.
Nine follows Twelve to the couch, eyes anywhere but their interlocked hands. Twelve tugs him down in such a way that Nine finds himself with his back not quite to Twelve's chest, the smaller boy is angled too strangely for that. But Twelve makes him lay down so his head rests in his lap. Nine doesn't bother fighting, Twelve is stubborn, it's not like he really minds all that much anyways. His vision blurs, quickly readjusting, as Twelve takes off his glasses. He doesn't mind, he'd like a little warning though.
Then Twelve's fingers are on his face, it's his left hand, tracing his skin and forcing him to close his eyes. His right hand rests on his chest, finger drumming a slow beat over Nine's heart.
And Nine finds that he really doesn't mind, it feels nice, and this sort of attention is something he'll never admit that he enjoys. But Twelve knows, so he does it because he knows that it relaxes his partner.
Nine worries a lot. Worries about their plans, and their lives, though his pretense of confidence is impressive. Twelve knows what the nightmares and the ringing ears means. He knows that Nine worries about those to. Twelve feels bad because he hasn't shown symptoms, bringing it up to Nine never seemed like a good idea so he's sat on the knowledge for a few years. He doesn't want Nine to die like the other children did, he doesn't even want to think about it.
Nine can almost hear Twelve's worries. They're loud, and the smaller boy hasn't even noticed that his eyes are open, his fingers moving against the same expanse of skin near his temples.
Nine sits up, removing Twelve's hands from his face.
"What?" he asks. He means to say 'what is it', but the other two words don't make it past the rasp in his throat.
"I don't want you to die," Twelve whispers, moving forward to hide his face in the juncture of Nine's neck and shoulder. The switch in their roles is seamless, Nine doesn't mind, he never really does where Twelve is concerned.
"I don't want to die either," the smaller boy whispers, pulling Nine closer.
Nine isn't sure what to say. He doesn't want Twelve to die, really doesn't want that, but agreeing with him right off the bat might seem careless. However, it's the part about him not wanting Nine to die that shakes him. It's not like they've really had an in depth discussion about it, but they both know that Nine is slowly deteriorating. But if he says nothing at all…
Twelve looks up at him, worried that his words have made the wrong impression, and Nine doesn't want to see that hurt in his eyes so he does the only thing he thinks will make the situation better.
He threads his fingers through Twelve's hair and pulls him closer so their lips meet in a sloppy kiss. Nine isn't a good kisser, he leaves the leading up to Twelve, but he's supposed to be comforting the other now so he pulls back a little, loosening the grip he has on Twelve's hair, and begins to pepper his face with smaller kisses. These are easier, not so technical, they're certainly less messy, and less gross. Twelve seems to revel in the sudden affection, the majority of the tension in his shoulders dissipating as Nine moves away from his face and down to his neck.
After a moment, Nine moves back up, tilting Twelve's head down a little so their foreheads touch. Nine is near sighted, almost ridiculously so, but he can clearly make out the different colored panels of Twelve's eyes.
"You're fine," he says softly, hands slipping down to gently cup Twelve's face. "You're fine."
He's not sure if Twelve actually believes him so he repeats it once more. When he nods, Nine pulls back but keeps his hands at the back of smaller boy's neck, giving him a gentle squeeze.
Nine doesn't bother trying to get off the couch, but he does get comfortable and he maneuvers Twelve into his lap. When they're both settled, Nine begins to hum, idly running his fingers through the other's hair or down his back.
"Hey, Nine?" Twelve's voice isn't weak so much as it is soft, it's calm, lacking his usual energy.
"Hmm?"
"We'll be fine."
"Of course."