Title: Reassurance
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Pairing: Allen x Lenalee
Rating: M
Warning: Lots of gore. Smut of a barely-there-but-present nature.
Summary: Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, she is crying when she wakes.
Something was wrong.
As soon as she stepped through the door, she knew.
Something was wrong.
The feeling hung about the house like an oppressive cloud, stealing her breath, tensing her muscles, knotting her stomach.
Something was wrong.
And stepping into the family room, she saw what it was.
Dark gouts of scarlet liquid are spread across the floor, making grotesquely-formed pools on the smooth wood, seeping into the already-saturated decorative rug lying beneath the coffee table; a veritable sea of blood lapping at the boundaries of the room.
There is some on the ceiling, gravity doing its work, sending it drip-drip-dripping to join its ilk near her feet, the spatters on the wall the evidence of some horrid crimson tide breaking.
And there he is, lying in the middle of it all, and Lenalee feels a scream building, a caged animal trying to claw its way past her lips and into the world.
She sinks to the floor, trying her very hardest to ignore the bile rising insistently at the back of her throat, the ghastly almost-warmth of her love's blood lapping at her knees.
She reaches out with a shaking hand, the words tumbling clumsily out of her fear-dried mouth.
"A-All-en..."
Without warning his eyes snap open, blood gurgling at the horrific gash in his throat, a bubble of red forming on his lips and bursting as he manages to say the words.
"Help... me. Lena... lee."
She screams.
"Lenalee? Lenalee!"
Her eyes snap open and she bolts upright, bedsheets and nightclothes clinging to her sweat-drenched body, hair in wild disarray, tear tracks gouging their way down her face.
"Lenalee? What happened?"
There is no answer for a while, and eventually Allen moves in front of her, gently pushing her back to her pillow, grey-blue eyes wide with consternation.
When still she shows no response, he gently caresses the sides of her face, wiping clean the dried tears.
She gazes at him, in something of a stupor, because those are Allen's hands, wordlessly comforting, those are Allen's eyes, boring into hers, that is Allen's chest, pressing lightly against her stomach, and she wonders what kind of sadist her subconscious really is.
"Lenalee, what's the matter? What did you see this time?"
She does not answer, instead choosing to press her mouth lightly against his, to lace her fingers into his hair, to wind her legs around his waist, to assure herself that Allen is here, that he is whole and there and very much alive.
"What brought that on?"
Again, she doesn't answer. She simply sinks deeper onto Allen's chest and relishes in the feel of his fingers combing gently through her hair, smiling slightly.
"Lenalee?"
She tilts her head back, lips stretching into a grin as she sees his puzzled-concerned-sated-sleepy expression.
"Nothing, Allen. Just a bad dream."
"You were crying."
"Allen, I'm serious. A bad dream. That's all." She sighs, "But if it concerns you that much, I'll tell you in the morning."
He nods, still worried, but says nothing as he watches her burrow in close to his side and slide her eyes shut, ears catching a faint murmur.
"Just... a bad dream."