A/N: It's Pewdiecry week, bitches. I meant to upload this on Monday (the 21st) but my English teacher decided she needed four essays by the end of the week, so I've been completely swamped and not at all in the mood to write, so sorry if this sucks, but I'm kind of forcing inspiration right now so that this will be out by the end of the day. First Pewdiecry fanfiction on my account, though, so I'm actually pretty excited! This was the first idea I ever wrote down for this pairing, and depending on how I'm feeling, it might lean more towards platonic love, but I'm sure it'll be romance by the time I'm through with it, so don't worry too much. I hope you all enjoy, and that you all had a great PDC week/month! I had no specific time period in mind for the events here, so you can just kind of decide on whatever you like best.

Title from "Mercy" by Hurts

Don't Cry Mercy

Cry tried to keep his breathing steady as he made his way down to the cellar that his Guild was currently using as their hideout. He was pissed, but it would be unprofessional to show so much emotion to his colleagues, so he hid it. He quietly made his way into the boss's "office", which was really just a storage closet off to the side of the cellar, with a single light bulb casting an eerie, dim light across the cracking concrete floor. Even now, after living here ten years, he was still confused by the dinginess of London cellars, but he supposed it just had to do with cultural differences and all that.

Cry's boss was sitting poised on a stool, his palms pressed flat to each other before his face, as if praying, and his elbows resting on the empty barrel that served as his desk. A folder sat innocuously in front of his arms. The Guild used to have a nicer base of operations but it had… gone up in flames, so to speak. Reduced to ashes, had a date with arson, been burned to the ground by assassins gone rogue. Oh, too direct? Cry's boss looked up as the assassin entered, his eyes glinting dangerously, the only thing Cry could see under the shadow of the other man's hood.

"Cry," His boss purred, "My best assassin, so faithful to The Cause… I have a job for you, my dear."

Cry growled, "Stop flirting and give me my work, old man; the government isn't going to subvert itself."

The boss shook his head, amusement glittering in those snake-eyes of his, "Now is that any way to talk to the man who gives you work, Cry? The man who puts food on your table?"

Cry narrowed his eyes, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, "Nobody has food on their table except for you, boss."

The other man slammed his hands down, "Need I remind you of your oath, Cryaotic?"

Cry rolled his eyes, "That's the only thing keeping me here, and you know it. Had I less honor, I would've helped those traitors burn the old place to the ground and gone to one of the other Guilds. But that's a fight for another day, now isn't it? Give me my contract so I can stop looking at your ugly mug."

The boss barked a laugh, "You never fail to make me laugh, Cry; you act as though you have the power, here, when you and I both know that you have nothing." All he received in response to his statement was stony silence, "Charming, as always. Reaching the point, though; I'm sure you noticed the newbie out in the main room. He joined us this morning, and you're going to train him. Take him with you on your contract, lay down the rules, and give him… incentive… to stay loyal, hm?"

Cry grit his teeth, "I don't train the newbies. They get people killed."

The other man finally raised his head, allowing Cry to see his deadly smirk, "I'm afraid you don't have a choice, dear. I wouldn't want to have to… terminate your contract…"

Cry glared, walking forward with all of the fluid grace of a panther and swiping the manila folder from the top of the "desk". He turned on his heel, walking out the door without another word. He scanned the main room with sharp eyes, catching sight of the new, unfamiliar man who stood speaking enthusiastically to another uncomfortable-looking assassin that Cry had been on a few missions with in the past. Joy. He got one who wouldn't shut up. Cry crept silently to the pair, drawing a dagger. The other assassin caught his eye, and Cry gestured for him to be silent.

Cry reached the newbie's back, whipping the dagger in his hand around the other's shoulder until it rested lightly against his jugular. The man froze. Cry leaned up until he was breathing against the other man's ear, "Dead." He withdrew the dagger. "You are utterly ignorant of your surroundings, and won't survive five minutes outside of this room." He stated matter-of-factly, "Let's go, newbie, you're with me. And put a hood on, for God's sake, are you trying to show every official in the city your face?"

The newbie turned around, and Cry was pleased to find that he was attractive. That was a useful tool in certain jobs. The other man stood a few inches taller than Cry himself, with sandy blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a pale complexion that wasn't particularly common for the area. Swedish, or possibly Norwegian, Cry would wager. The man sputtered. Cry sheathed the dagger loudly, drawing the attention of several other nearby assassins, who held back snickers at the newbie's predicament. Cry's glare sharpened, "Put on a hood, new blood, before I kill you myself."

The blond yelped, pulling on a light gray hood that matched the rest of his robes and effectively concealed his entire face except for his eyes. Cry nodded in satisfaction, turning on his heel and marching toward the exit. He paused, "Are you coming, or not?" He heard hurried footsteps and sighed. The guy didn't even know how to walk quietly. This job was so fucked.

Cry walked up the stairs, rolling his eyes at the hushed laughter he could hear from the main room. They thought it was funny now, but he'd kick their asses when he got back. As they finally reached the outside world, pitch black due to the moon's absence, Cry stopped. The blond was glaring at him.

"Who the fuck are you?!" His shrill, accented voice yelled. Angry. Alright.

Cry narrowed his eyes, "I'm Cry. What name do you go by?"

The newbie's eyes widened, "You're Cry?! I'm getting trained by Cry?! Holy shit! I'm Felix Kjellberg! It's an honor!" The blond seized his hand and shook it excitedly.

Cry recoiled, "You're using your birth name in this business?"

Felix nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

Cry hissed, "Because it's a stupid decision! That kind of thing gets people killed!"

Felix put a hand to his chest, as if offended, "Gosh, didn't know the Great Cryaotic was a dick. Besides, I'll be fine! Plenty of other assassins have used their birth names and they were just fine! Dan Howell and Phil Lester are still two of the most famous assassins to have ever lived!"

Cry stiffened, glaring at the other man furiously, "Did you miss the part where they were both captured, tortured, and killed after a job gone wrong, or…?"

Felix waved one of his gloved hands dismissively, "Yeah, but that wasn't because they used their real names; that was because they wouldn't split up after they tried to poison everyone in the parliament building and got caught in the act. If they hadn't refused to leave each other, they would've been fine."

"Way to dismiss two of the biggest deaths to ever take place in the fight for The Cause." Cry growled. "I'm working with a sociopath. Wonderful. Let's just go do this job. Don't slow me down."

And with that, Cry jumped up and grabbed onto the low overhang of the roof, hefting himself up and sprinting until he could jump to the next roof over. Their target really wasn't that far away, so he wouldn't need to steal a horse from someone. He could hear Felix behind him, struggling to keep up, and he rolled his eyes.

It was only a few minutes later, and they were already at the home of their target. Felix was practically dry-heaving behind him as he gasped for breath. Cry scanned the house. They were here to take out some rich man who was supplying money to the local government for the tracking and execution of assassins. Cry caught sight of two guards by the front door and four patrolling the perimeter. That was easily manageable as long as Felix didn't…

Wait.

Where was Felix?

Cry looked for him desperately, eyes widening as he finally caught sight of the idiot creeping up behind one of the patrolling guards. How the moron had gone from a panting mess by his side to trying to get the jump on a guard was beyond him, but he could already see all of the flaws in Felix's technique and knew that he was about to get himself killed. He let out a long-suffering sigh, jumping down from the low rooftop he had been standing upon, and sprinting silently over to the blond who had almost reached the guard.

Cry shook his head, throwing himself at the blond. The other yelped as he was suddenly pushed to the ground, startling the guard. The man began to turn around, and Cry quickly stood upright, using the guard's shoulders as a springboard of sorts, he launched himself up and wrapping his leg around the man's neck, utilizing the momentum the guard had already possessed to bring him to the ground. Cry grabbed the dagger that was lying on the ground beside Felix's hand and dragged it across the guard's throat. Dead.

Cry began to sigh in relief, but his breath caught as he heard shouts coming from the other side of the house. The guards by the door had disappeared inside of the house. He cursed. He planted the bloody dagger firmly into Felix's hand and untangled himself from the dead guard, drawing his own blades.

"Well done, dumbass," Cry snarled, pulling the other to his feet, "There goes our element of surprise. It's going to be an all-out fight, now."

Felix opened his mouth, about to protest when the first of the guards rounded the corner. Cry narrowed his eyes, sprinting at the guard. The guard raised his sword, letting out a surprised yell as Cry vaulted over his head. Cry turned around, stabbing his dagger into the guard's skull, yanking it out with a wet squish.

Cry looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Felix just standing there where he had left him. He growled. This wasn't going to go quickly enough if Felix wouldn't even attempt to help. Fuck this.

Cry ran to the blond, yanking him up by his hand, rejecting the passing thought of just leaving him there with the other two guards, and pulled him into the house, bolting the door behind them. The blond was still standing stock-still, stunned. Cry sighed, slapping Felix hard across the face.

"Are you going to try to help me figure out where this rich bastard is hiding, or are you going to fuck up even further and get us both killed?" He asked angrily.

Felix shook his head, "I'll help, sorry…"

"Whatever." Cry muttered.

A bang on the door spurred the two assassins into action, and they ran up the stairs. They split up, tearing rooms apart until there was only one left on the second floor. Cry yanked the door open, and almost lost his head. He gasped, ducking and yanking the guard's leg to topple him to the ground. Felix screeched, throwing his dagger at the guard's head. The way the guard went limp under Cry's hands notified him that the man was dead.

Cry stood, stepping on the corpse as he made his way into the room with Felix right behind him. A fat man was cowering in the corner of the room with a guard standing protectively over him. Cry walked towards the pair, catching the guard's sword hand as he hefted the blade. He got in close.

"Go to your boss and tell him that the Guild doesn't appreciate his work. Leave this one to us and you won't get hurt."

The guard hesitated, faltering under the threat. The noble behind him let out a strangled yell, "Don't listen to him! Protect me! I'm paying you!"

Cry smiled, "A dead man can't pay you, you fool… and a dead man can't receive payment, either. Shall you be leaving, or will I need to clean even more stains from these soiled robes?"

The guard's eyes widened, the sword in his hand suddenly released with a clatter as it hit the floor. Cry laughed darkly, "Good choice. Felix. Open the window."

The blond swallowed hard, pushing open the window to his left. Cry dragged the guard toward the open window.

The guard screamed as he realized what was happening, "No! No, please! You said I wouldn't be hurt! Please!" He sobbed.

"Well," Cry purred, "I suppose that that depends on you, doesn't it? You had better hope that you land safely, hm?" And with that, he shoved the guard through the open window, the man's screams suddenly cutting off into broken gurgles as a sharp crack drifted through the window. Cry snickered.

He turned to the noble, "Good evening, sir! I'm afraid I can't afford so much mercy with you. You've been giving my Guild a lot of trouble, sir, and I'm sorry to say that this is where your reign of terror shall end. Now… which dagger would you prefer for your head? They're both silver, but whilst this one is perfectly smooth, this one has engravings that your blood will surely run through in beautiful little rivulets of crimson."

That was Felix's first mission with Cryaotic, and he was horrified. The guy was insane. Completely mental, off the deep-end, wrong in the head, mad, crazy, psychotic, et cetera, et cetera. And he was going to be training with the guy for the foreseeable future. He was going to be killed.

At the same time, though, there was something oddly intriguing about the way Cry worked. He was unbelievably skilled with his weapons, yet his primary weapon seemed to be simple manipulation; the ability to make others do and say what he wished through the use of fear. Felix could understand their willingness to comply; he had promptly decided once they'd left the house to never do anything that could endanger the completion of a contract ever again. He didn't want to be forced to choose a dagger, after all.

Once they had gotten back, Cry had hurried off to deliver the completed contract to the boss, and Felix had walked, with wide eyes, over to where a small group of other assassins were sitting and talking with their hoods off. Felix pulled his own hood off as he approached. The people in the group looked up as he approached, some glaring and others smiling. He tentatively took a seat when a spot was cleared for him and looked around the group.

One of the assassins leaned forward the second Felix got himself situated. "You were on a mission with Cryaotic, weren't you?" He asked in a whisper.

Felix nodded with wide eyes.

Another one piped up, "I heard that guy is fuckin' insane; gonna go off the deep-end any day now and take the lot of us with 'im, I'd wager."

The first assassin nodded frantically, "He refuses to take off his hood, or any of his gear, really! Nobody knows how he gets it washed! Some people here think he's a witch or summat, and he just does it that way!"

A third laughed heartily, slapping his knee, "The kid looks terrified! The guy really is crazy! Imagine what this guy must'a seen! The insane fuck prob'ly tore off some poor arsehole's fingers, reattached 'em, then tore 'em off again!"

The entire group cackled. Felix was appalled. Okay, so maybe Cry's tactics were a little… unconventional, but he was on their team! They were all fighting for the same thing, and Cry was really good at fighting; they should be happy that he was on their side…

Felix cleared his throat, shrinking a bit as all eyes went to him, "It wasn't like all of that. We just got the job done. He's angry because I made things a little more difficult than they had to be, is all."

The only woman in the group lowered her voice, "You've only been here a day, mate. Trust us; by the end of your training, you're going to want to take Cry out just so he doesn't get you first. The guy is a complete mentalist. You shouldn't trust him as far as you can throw him."

Felix frowned, "Uh… yeah. Okay. I'm just going to…" He waved weakly toward the cellar stairs and stood to leave. Laughter erupted once again behind him as he made his way to the exit, and he wasn't sure what it was about, nor did he think that he wanted to know.

As Felix exited the musty cellar, he became aware of another presence. Glancing around, he caught sight of bright white robes, stained with splotches of drying and dried blood. Cry. He swallowed nervously, walking over to sit next to the assassin, his own gray, bloodstained robes swishing around his feet as he moved.

Felix hesitated. "Are you okay?"

The shorter man glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, before sighing and shaking his head.

Felix frowned, "What's wrong?"

Cry snorted, "I've been an assassin for ten years of my life, Felix. I can hear well enough to know when people are speaking about me." Cry had an accent, Felix noticed absently, it was soft, but it made itself quite known, and didn't sound anything like the British accents that he had been hearing a lot of since he had come to London.

Felix knit his eyebrows, "Why do you let them do it, then?"

Cry shook his head again, "What else am I to do, Felix? Threaten them? Wouldn't that just convince them even further that I'm insane? I do what I do to the people I'm sent to kill because they deserve it. They're awful people who have done awful things and have taken a lot away from a lot of people. Those two assassins you mentioned, Dan and Phil; they wouldn't leave each other because they didn't know if the other would make it out, so they weren't willing to risk living with the other dead. They would rather go out together than survive alone. Not a lot of people knew it, but they loved each other as lovers do. It was, and still is, frowned upon, but they did. The point I'm trying to get across to you, Felix, is that those two were good people. I met them once, when I was twenty-one. That was five years ago, right before the mission that killed them. They were just doing what they believed was right, and they were torn away from each other and tortured for it, strung up in the middle of town like some kind of art piece. Those were two human lives that mattered, and they were just snuffed out. Just like that."

Cry breathed in deeply, and Felix was entranced by the passionate way he spoke, "Me killing the way I do… That was never something I did before those two were killed. It used to just be about getting the job done and then getting paid; I never paid The Cause any mind; to me it was just some kind of made-up cult message that got passed around as an incentive to kill, but their deaths opened my eyes. That's when I realized what the point was behind the Guilds, behind the assassinations of all of these big government figureheads. It was to get our point across- we weren't going to just stand by and watch as they tore families apart for their own personal gain. We would fight the cruel rule in an effort to liberate the people."

Cry shook his head, "My oath- my contract- is the only thing that keeps me here; that is true, but I don't want to leave this place in an effort to escape my affiliation with The Cause, or to stop being an assassin; I just wish to fight in a way that is less about the money and more about furthering The Cause. This Guild you've joined is corrupt, Felix. It will never fight for the right reasons. I was taken in here after my parents were executed by the government when I was sixteen, and I want to leave now. I'm twenty-six and I'm still here with a Guild that only fights for money because I can't get out. The boss always speaks as if the reason we're here is for The Cause, but he's only after the money that filling contracts gives, and he's always looking for new ways to get rich quick. I've overheard him talking about sending us for innocents if we don't start getting more contracts sent to us from the other Guilds, and I can't do that, Felix; I'd rather die. I can't be like them. I can't be like the people that martyred Dan Howell and Phil Lester. I can't. I want to leave. I want to go work with the Guild that Dan and Phil worked for. I want to go work for people who are fighting for the right reasons."

Cry cleared his throat after the hushed speech, seemingly coming back to himself, "I- Don't tell anyone I told you that, Felix… I'll be killed by the others. You're a good person, I can tell. I've been reading people for a long time. You're not only here for money, I don't think."

Cry stood suddenly, pulling the other to his feet as well. He clutched Felix's hands in his own, "You did well today, Felix."

Felix gaped at him, "Maybe you are insane, Cry; I only messed things up!"

Cry laughed wetly, "Maybe so, but you survived, and that's always the first step. Anyone who can do that will do well in this business- even if it takes time."

Felix nodded numbly, "Thank you…" He whispered, "That… That means a lot, coming from you."

Cry pulled Felix close, leaning up and kissing both of his cheeks in a gesture that Felix wasn't very accustomed to, having hailed from Sweden, but that he knew was fairly common in other parts of the world. The shorter man pulled away, and Felix didn't think he was imagining the way his bright green eyes sparkled as he looked at him.

"I look forward to working with you, Felix," Cry murmured, his deep voice warm.

And then he was gone.

Their second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth contracts went in a similar way to the first. There was definitely less fucking up on Felix's end with every mission, and Cry was more and more friendly with him as the time went on, something which seemed to mystify the other assassins in the Guild. Cry and himself had just gotten back from their seventh contract, Cry leaning heavily on him as they made their way into the cellar the Guild still called home base. It had been three months since they had their first shared contract, and Cry hadn't been injured during even one of those contracts, so suffice it to say that Felix was somewhat worried.

Felix bit his lip as he looked down and surveyed his friend. Cry was clutching his side, the leather of his gloves, as well as his white robes, stained bright red with blood. Cry's breathing was labored, and he was trembling, whether from exhaustion or blood loss, Felix wasn't sure.

As they finally reached the cellar floor, they were met with startled gasps. The people in the main room stared with wide eyes and open mouths at the slumped form of the Guild's best killer. Felix spotted a medic in the corner and waved him over as he gently sat the two of them down. The medic walked slowly and cautiously over, as if approaching a wild animal with a serious case of rabies. Felix growled, "I don't care how the fuck you feel about him, or what the fuck you've heard. He's fucking bleeding out, so get over here and fix it."

The medic yelped, finally hurrying over and kneeling on the ground next to the bench Felix had sat them on. Cry moved his hand out of the way when it was nudged, staring at the incision in his side through half-lid eyes in mute fascination. The medic moved Cry's robes to the side, lifting up his undershirt just enough to get a good look at the stab wound. He knit his eyebrows, and Felix bit his lip worriedly.

The medic turned, barking orders at one of the assassins to go get him some gauze and alcohol. Over the next hour, Felix held tightly to Cry's bloody, trembling hands as the medic worked on his injured side, any pained noises that the other may have made muffled into the side of Felix's neck as he breathed shakily into Felix's skin.

Finally, the medic announced that he had done all he could, and departed after stating that he needed to tell the boss that Cry wouldn't be able to take any contracts for a little while. Felix hated that that was all these people cared about. The longer he stayed here, the more he understood what Cry had said to him after that first contract so long ago. They weren't fighting for the right reasons, here. Felix probably would have regretted joining this Guild if it wasn't for Cry. Even though he still knew so little about the other man, he didn't mind. He knew there was probably a reason for Cry's inability to trust, so he left it be.

Cry was woken up by somebody softly shaking his shoulder. He drowsily opened his eyes, gazing up at whoever had woken him. Felix. He smiled. The blond's hood was around his shoulders, and his blue eyes glittered like ice when the sun hit it just right. The blond grinned brightly at him before gesturing to someone in front of them.

An assassin that Cry knew to be named Ken stood before them, shifting nervously from foot to foot and avoiding both of their gazes. The bearded brunet cleared his throat, finally allowing his gaze to fall to the ground as he relayed whatever message he had been sent with. His American accent rang clearly through the room.

"The boss wants to talk to you, Cry," Ken muttered uneasily.

Cry furrowed his brow, trying to stand and gasping softly as pain flared in his side. He looked down and was greeted with the sight of blood-stained robes and bandages. Oh. Felix stood, hands fluttering nervously by his side as Cry tried to stand again.

"Felix," Cry rasped, surprised by how weak his voice was- that guard must've really done a number on him, "Can you help me up, friend?"

Felix nodded, gripping Cry's gloved hands and pulling him to his feet. The blond intertwined their fingers, his other hand hovering unsurely as if preparing for Cry to tip over, which wasn't sounding so far-fetched right about now, actually.

The duo began to walk towards the boss's office before they were interrupted by Ken once again. The bearded man yelped, hurrying forward to block their path. Cry narrowed his eyes. "Wait!" Ken rushed, "The boss said not to bring him," he waved frantically towards Felix, "He only wants you, Cry."

Cry pursed his lips. This was going to be nothing but trouble.

Felix grimaced worriedly, "Cry just got stabbed three hours ago, he isn't just going to be able to walk-"

"I'll take him!" Ken interrupted.

"I'm right here, you two," Cry grumbled, "I'll be alright, Felix; I've dealt with the boss for a long time."

Even so, as Ken began to pull Cry away, the pair held on to each other's hands for as long as possible before finally releasing their hold, and Cry could still feel Felix's worried gaze follow him as he disappeared into the dreary office.

Cry leaned against the wall as Ken fled the office. Cry couldn't blame him, really, but it still made him roll his eyes. The pain from the wound in his side made his vision hazy as it throbbed steadily. The boss stared at him calculatingly from his seat behind his makeshift desk, and Cry locked eyes with the man without hesitation.

The boss smirked coolly. "My, my, Cry; I haven't seen you injured since your trainee days back when you were sixteen…" The man stood up, pacing over to his assassin and tracing his index finger down the side of Cry's covered face, he chuckled darkly, "How… odd that you should be injured now, especially during such a simple contract… Tell me, Cry, how did you get hurt?"

Cry showed no emotion, raising his chin defiantly, "There were some unforeseen circumstances during the job, sir," He stated firmly.

The boss's smile widened, "Were there, now?" He murmured easily, allowing his hand to trace down Cry's side until it hovered over the bandages, "Unforeseen circumstances, or…" His face darkened an incredible amount, and he suddenly slammed his fist into Cry's injured side. Cry attempted to choke back his strangled whimper, but to no avail, "Perhaps little Cry tried to protect Felix?! Has my best assassin grown a heart that I'll need to rip out?!"

Cry breathed harshly, "Of course not, sir," He gasped.

The boss smiled cruelly, "I should hope not, Cry; after all, we've all seen what happens to fools who fall in love in this business… Or perhaps you have already forgotten those two idiots we found strung up like fine carcasses in the town square. What were their names again…? Darren and Frank?"

Cry grit his teeth, "Dan and Phil, sir."

"Ah, yes," The other man nodded, a cool smirk once again resting upon his face, he withdrew his hand from Cry's reopened wound, wiping the blood from his hand onto Cry's mask, "And I trust we won't have any other issues pertaining to you and Felix, will we? After all; we wouldn't want you to end up like your dear friend Dan Howell, would we, Cry?"

"No, sir."

The boss laughed maliciously, "I'm glad we could come to an agreement, Cry. Now get out of my office. And no more fraternizing with Kjellberg."

Cry didn't need to be told twice, and, gritting his teeth, he turned and limped out of the pig's office.

Felix's head snapped up as he heard a door slam. Cry staggered out of the boss's office, and Felix could hear him wheezing even from here. Felix's eyes widened and he bolted up, hurrying to his friend's side.

"Cry?" Felix whispered worriedly, reaching out for the other man's hand, "Cry, are you okay? What happened?"

Cry snatched his hand out of Felix's reach, cradling it close to his chest.

"Cry?"

Cry took a shaky breath, "I'm going to go steal one of the rooms and rest, Felix. You should do the same."

And with that, the injured man walked away as quickly as he could, keeping his head down. Felix stared after him, a little lost, and only just realizing that it was nighttime. He decided that he would get a room for the night and then try to figure out what was bothering Cry in the morning.

Felix moaned tiredly as he slowly opened his eyes, expecting to be blinded by a bright ray of light from the lamps outside his door. He was confused when no such light greeted him, pitch darkness remaining his only company. He frowned. Shrugging, Felix laid back down, already beginning to drift off again.

Thump.

Felix's eyes snapped open, and narrowed.

Thump. Thump.

He slowly slid out of the bed, pressing his ear to the thin wall.

Thump. Rustle. Thump.

Felix's eyes widened. That was coming from Cry's room. What if he was being accosted?! He was injured! Felix frantically grabbed a dagger from the bedside table and threw open the door, thankful when it didn't make any noise.

The cellar was silent besides the soft thumps coming from Cry's room.

Felix crept toward Cry's door. A thin shaft of light flowed through the crack, and Felix frowned, confused. Slowly, Felix pushed open the flimsy door, thanking God when it didn't squeak.

And he stopped.

And he stared.

His dagger dropped to the floor with a muted clang.

The man standing in the middle of the room whipped around, a glare on his face. He faltered as he came to a stop, stumbling slightly, hand flying to his side. He had managed to keep a hold on his dagger, at least, even as his eyes widened in shock. Then they narrowed again.

"Felix," The man, Cry, muttered, sighing as he looked down and fiddled with the blade in his hand, "Come in. Close the door behind you."

Dazedly, Felix did what he was told, stepping into the room and pulling the door shut behind him. This man before him wasn't Cry; not the Cry he was used to, at least. Not that it was bad- just… a bit of a shock to his system. Cry stood a few inches shorter than him, with tanned olive skin and a long mop of black curls that had been messily pulled back. His bright green eyes sparkled with concern. He had three gold piercings in his left ear, and soft features that contrasted sharply, but pleasantly, with the thin layer of toned muscle that lined his arms, chest, and, Felix would be willing to bet, abdomen; if it wasn't covered with bandages at the moment. His hand cradled the knife he held with the professional ease that came with years of training, and Felix imagined the skin was rough with callouses from the frequent use of the weapon. A soft pair of pale green drawstring pants hung low on his hips, his bloodied robes having been disposed of in the corner.

All in all, Cry simultaneously looked everything and nothing like what Felix had imagined he would look like.

Finally, Felix belatedly noticed the small bag lying innocently upon the bed. Full of things. Money, weapons, civilian clothes, robes, gloves; Felix could even see some food, he thought.

Felix pursed his lips, "You're leaving."

Cry shifted nervously.

Cry was never nervous. Never.

Felix looked down, clenching his fists, "Without me."

Cry sighed, sitting gingerly upon the bed and patting the spot next to him. Felix took the hint, sitting next to his friend. It was silent for a few moments.

Cry wet his lips, "I wanted to protect you." Felix couldn't believe that he had never realized that Cry spoke with an Italian accent. It seemed blindingly obvious now that he had seen his friend's ethnicity.

Felix narrowed his eyes, "By leaving?"

Cry shook his head hurriedly, "No, Felix; you don't understand. You've never seen what happens when someone leaves this Guild. They're hunted down, Felix- at least, they are until they find another Guild to hide out with. The boss doesn't like losing people, especially not to other Guilds. He'd rather eliminate them before they can spread the word about his refusal to fight for The Cause."

Felix softened, "So you thought that taking me with you would put me in harm's way?"

Cry glared sharply at him, and it was still weird for Felix to see the way his entire face contorted into an expression of angry concern, rather than being forced to read only his eyes, "I didn't think, Felix; I knew. And I still know. You catching me before I leave means nothing. I'm still going. You've only succeeded in making it a little harder."

And with that, Cry stood up, throwing on a shirt that sat next to Felix on the bed and grabbing the bag. As he reached for the door, Felix finally snapped out of his trance. He quickly grabbed Cry's hand before it could connect with the doorknob.

Cry turned to him, glaring at him irritably.

"Felix-"

"No, Cry; just listen to me for a minute. I'm not going to let you go without me, so you might as well give up on that now. And I know where to go. You said you wanted to work with the Guild that Dan and Phil were affiliated with? Well, I looked for it, and I found it. They operate out of Manchester. But you won't find it without my help. So I guess you're stuck with me."

Cry grit his teeth, "Felix, this is too dangerous for you to just-"

"Cry," Felix interrupted gently, clasping Cry's hand between his own, "I don't care about that. I care about you."

Cry froze, gasping like a fish out of water. Felix's heart almost broke when he saw tears well up in the shorter man's bright emerald eyes. Cry suddenly glared fiercely at him, no doubt trying to replace his sadness with anger.

"You can't care about me, Felix! That's the point! My parents cared, and now they're dead! People who care about me are killed!" Cry hissed, a few tears finally spilling from his eyes.

Felix reached up, wiping the tears from the Italian's cheeks, "It's too late to change that, Cry. Now all that's left to be done is to let me come with you, because I'll follow you even if you don't. Come on; we could be the next Dan and Phil."

Cry let out a startled laugh, and Felix realized it might've been the first time he had heard the man genuinely laugh in all the time they had known each other. The sound was warm and happy, and he decided that it needed to happen a lot more.

"They were ripped to shreds, Felix!" Cry muttered in between sporadic giggles.

"We'll skip that part."

"Oh my God."

"So," Felix smiled charmingly, "Are you going to let me come with you, or is my out-of-shape ass going to have to follow you wheezing all the way?"

Cry laughed again, "If you really want to, Felix. You're risking your life for a stupid reason, though."

Felix smiled, "I don't think it's a stupid reason."

Cry flushed, and Felix realized that he was still grasping his friend's face, laughing nervously as he drew back.

Cry shifted, toeing the ground, "Well I think it is."

"I'll have to argue with you later, Cry," Felix said, glaring playfully at the shorter man, "But I feel like we should probably get going."

Cry swallowed, smiling nervously up at Felix, "Yeah, we probably should."

Felix offered his hand, smiling brilliantly, "I'll lead the way!"

Cry snorted, "You're probably going to get us both killed before we even get outside."

He took Felix's hand anyway.

Just a few minutes later, the two men were standing above ground, staring up at the stars, hands still intertwined.

Felix went to ask Cry a question, but as he turned to face him, his breath was taken away. Cry's tan skin was being illuminated by the dim moonlight, his already soft features made to look even softer, and his eyes sparkling as they reflected the stars. The soft breeze tugged at the few strands of inky hair that had escaped from the tie he had used to move it out of the way.

Cry turned to face him, smiling and squeezing his hand, as if reassuring him. Felix couldn't help himself, really. Finally, finally, he leaned in and, cupping Cry's cheek with his freed hand, kissed the other man gently. The assassin's eyes widened, before slipping shut as he reciprocated the gentle caress of lips. The kiss was chaste, both men well aware of the fact that they were standing just outside the entrance to their old Guild, but it was sweet, the way the romance novels had always described the first kiss shared between soulmates, and they hadn't felt so whole in their entire lives.

When they drew back, they smiled breathlessly at each other for a moment. Cry broke the peaceful silence, "Come on, idiot; we need to get to Manchester by the end of the week."

Felix laughed, keeping their hands linked until they had to separate to scale a low building.

He had always had a thing for Italians, anyways.