Through the Frosted Glass
Disclaimer; I do not own, nor am I responsible for the characters from the anime and/or manga that are in the below works. They belong exclusively to the owners/creators of the anime/manga, respectively.
The content below may containscoarse language and strongly suggestive scenes.
Allen sighed, bone-weary and thoroughly frustrated. The thick, luxurious wool of his coat whispered against the cool white cotton of his habitual dress shirt as he slid the heavy outer garment from his lithe frame, folding it carefully in half and laying it over the back of one of the heavy chairs occupying the upper-class hotel room. The silky ribbon he wore as a tie came off next, the darkened red of his right hand almost blending in with the crimson of the favored accessory as he gently pulled the knot out and draped it over his jacket. He sat then, pulling on his boots gingerly, more out of exhaustion than tenderness for the polished black patina of his footwear. That completed, he slumped into the padded frame of the chair, laying his head against the cool fabric and closing his tired eyes.
It had been a long day.
He had been sent overseas, along with another exorcist, to investigate the possibility of an innocence deep in the heart of North America; reports of horrific monsters and unexplained deaths were thick and heavy in the town they had been sent to, and the akuma population was surprisingly high, all facts that point to a concealed innocence somewhere in the surrounding area. Allen sighed again, his brows knitting slightly into a worried line as he ran through the number of akuma he had seen since stepping foot into this once-quiet place. They had been attacked and ambushed no less than seven times in the measly three days they had been here, and, though they were mostly class ones with a sparse sprinkling of weak class twos, the akuma were not too much of a challenge to destroy.
Still, it was draining, depressing work. Seeing so many souls in torment wasn't easy, and jobs like this cause his curse to more than live up to its name. It was hellish. The sound of running water forced to mind another reason this mission was so exhausting. His worried visage melted to a slight scowl as he thought of his less than enthusiastic partner. A certain bitchy and more than slightly homicidal swordsman with the tact and delicacy of a ten pound sledge hammer just made Allen's job more difficult, especially when he had to try and finesse information from wary town members and placate a pissed off tag-along at the same time.
No wonder he had a killer headache.
Allen focused on the soothing sound of running water, willing his headache to mellow from raging to annoying, breathing deeply and patiently counting the moments until the other one would step out of the ample bathing room and bark out some pithy comment that could almost count for wit at him, telling Allen that it was his turn to use the facilities. After ten minutes, even his polite patience was wearing thin.
In an uncharacteristic move, Allen disregarded his well-learned manners and stood up sharply, briskly stripping off his shirt.
If Kanda was going to take so damn long, then he could bloody well share. They were both guys, after all. There was nothing Kanda had that Allen hadn't seen before.
Allen nudged the wide wooden door of the bathroom open, bracing himself for harsh words or hurled toiletries as he slipped inside, silently closing the door behind him.
Nothing happened.
'Well, this is weird', thought Allen. 'Normally, Kanda would have skewered me the minute I stepped in. He must be really enjoying his shower.'
The bathroom was large, nicely furnished with a large shower stall with multiple sprayer heads, fully done out in dark, polished tile and frosted glass doors with a gothic pattern embossed. A pile of dark clothing was carelessly tossed on the floor by the pedestal sink, fresh garments hung on the privacy wall shielding the toilet from the bathing area. The full length mirror adjacent to the shower and privacy wall was ancient, the beveled edged and ornate frame speaking of taste and wealth. As Allen reached for the closure of his pants, he happened to glance at that lovely old mirror. He froze, transfixed.
The mirror, it would seem, was at just the right angle to get a great view of what was going on behind those heavily frosted glass doors. As almost opaque as the doors were, they still couldn't completely obscure the actions of the person behind them.
The slim, lithe form of Kanda was slightly inclined forward, one hand placed firmly on the wall to support him. His head was bowed, his back arched, and his other hand….
Allen slowly backed up, and, feeling the cool smoothness of the privacy wall, he slid bonelessly to the floor. He mentally cursed himself for not waiting patiently in the other room, barely resisting the urge to slap his forehead in frustration with himself.
He had thought before that Kanda had nothing he hadn't seen, and while this was still true, Allen was still horrendously embarrassed. There was just some things you didn't do, and walking in on a comrade and reluctant friend doing…this…was certainly on that particular list.
Allen was still in the perfect position to see everything, and when he realized this, he quickly slammed his eyes shut. Even if he couldn't move out of the bathroom yet, he could at least allot Kanda the privacy of his actions without a visual audience. The image of that form behind the frosted glass was burned into his brain, the stance, the slender curves, the slow, deliberate movement of Kanda's hand…
Allen quickly discovered that closing his eyes was a big mistake.
Without sight, every sound was amplified to a screaming volume, ringing in Allen's head and sliding along his skin like the slickest of silks. Kanda's heavy breathing rasped on Allen's ears, every slight groan or the barest whimper felt like an electric shock, he could even hear Kanda's movements. The slight problem that Allen had been trying to deny was becoming harder and harder to ignore, no pun intended.
The breathing became heavier, the movements faster and more rhythmic. The groans came more often. Allen shifted uncomfortably, face read and slacks getting tighter and more restrictive.
Well, this was awkward.
The undeniable reaction of Allen's body to the sounds that Kanda was making was unsettling, a touch upsetting, and very, very frustrating. If he moved, if he made so much of a sound, Kanda would hear him and barrel out of the shower. And there was no way that he would let Allen live after what he just walked in on.
"…A…llen…"
Allen froze, horrified, certain he'd been found out. He covered his face with his hands, and waited for the worst.
'Oh god oh god oh god, I don't want to die like this!', he thought, waiting for the searing pain of Mugen meeting his flesh. Only, it never came. Kanda did, though.
"..ng...Ah!...Allen!"
Then there was no sounds, save for the relentless flow of the shower and Kanda's erratic breathing starting to even out.
AN: This is a three shot, so don't worry, it doesn't end there. I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing actual stories and not just oneshots, so we'll see how I manage with this one. Rest assured though, it will be finished. The idea is alread complete, I just need to type, tweak, and post it.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed yourselves.
See you next chapter.
Ja.
Ruby
