Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
AN: Please don't ask why, but I was imagining my grandmother's old house layout as this house, so… yeah, that's pretty much how it is.
The sky, a velvety purple hue, ripples and sends rain plummeting to the earth, scattering the dust on the street. Two figures, one draped in orange while the other walks in black, look up and let the water caress their faces. With movements that mimic one another, they turn back to the road and continue on with their journey.
They had business to attend to, and though it was shady and held an air of evil to it, it was a paying job nonetheless. With silent steps, the two enter a dark colored household, the lights either off or dim. One retreats up the stairs while the other goes to the basement, and, though quiet, rummaging is heard. Minutes later, the first treks down the stairs, only to stop with sudden horror when the front door is heard opening, and keys are set on a table.
He quickly makes his way upstairs and onto the back balcony, shutting the door as softly as possible and shielding his eyes from the rain.
Downstairs, the second has yet to hear the signs of intruding life in the house upstairs. The kitchen light suddenly comes on, washing the basement staircase in a soft light, and he freezes. The other knows to never turn on a light, so he knows something is horribly wrong.
The occupant of the house isn't supposed to be here, he thinks as he retreats to the farthest most secluded corner of the basement. His mind flits to his partner, who's trapped upstairs, but his worry is directed elsewhere when the door leading to the basement opens and the figure turns on the light.
He makes himself as small as possible against the wall, and through the blanket he barely had time to cover himself with he sees feet pass him. Then, movement stops. He's about to move when he hears someone cocking a gun.
He thinks it's for his partner and smiles when there are footfalls on the stairs. He moves to stand up, the blanket falling into a heap at his feet, and comes face to face with the barrel of a pistol. The last thing he can to is shout his partners name at the top of his lungs before a gunshot sounds and he crumples.
Upstairs, the shout is barely heard. He turns his head and then hears the gunshot. His blood runs cold, and he stands, going back inside to try to escape.
He's halfway downstairs, and starts to back track, the homeowner now pointing the gun at him.
He stumbles, sliding down the steps at the same time the gun is fired, and his arm sprays blood. A second shot is fired, and he too is struck dead.
-
"Kakashi?" Iruka sets the groceries on the counter and heads up the stairs, pausing to stare at a spot of red clinging to the wall. He continues on his way and sees more red smeared on the once creamy carpet, and he starts to worry.
He rushes into the bedroom of his boyfriend, and nearly faints from an overwhelming wave of relief.
Kakashi lay sprawled on his bed, sleeping the final threads of his exertion earlier away.
On the table beside the bed are two heads, one of the blonde and one of the raven, and Iruka feels himself smile. "When will they ever learn?" He asks softly, staring at the wide blue eyes, frozen for eternity in horror.
Owari
Weird, I know. Opinions?
