My brain needs to stop coming up with new stories and not working on the older ones, I swear I'm working on them, it's just slow going...

Yeah...

An - I don't own D. Gray - Man

Enjoy ^^

Warnings: Dark Yullen

Footsteps echoed through the grimy streets of the dark alleyways, the boots wavering slightly as their occupant stumbled slightly, his silver eyes glassy and his pristine white hair moving with his body. The boy blinked several times while he looked around, his head lolling slightly before he leaned onto the nearest wall, his shoulder against the brick while his nails scratched the underside of his elbow, the injection marks both fresh and old prevalent on his pale skin under his leather coat.

A scarred hand went to his head, his altered state still able to process the last few moments before he was thrown onto the street by his alleged guardian to "work".

The boy had returned to the small hovel of a home shaking slightly, the boarded up glass enough of an indicator that his Master was in yet another one of his moods and usually it was Allen that received a treatment that would make the broken glass envious. The door creaked open before the silver-eyed boy tore up the stairs as softly as his feet would allow, the third floor revealing a rusted red door that opened just enough for him to slip his lithe form into the filthy room, the open space far from inviting.

"You're late."

Allen turned to the gruff voice that floated from the couch, his body doing its best to quell its quivering.

"I-I was working," Allen stammered softly, his body trying to shrink away into the grimy walls while an exhale of smoke drifted from the speaker.

"Bullshit," the man told him calmly, much too calmly for Allen's liking.

"I-It's true, I was working and-"

"I didn't see you on the street like you should have been," the man growled, standing from the two other women on the couch, Allen immediately shrinking back as the long-haired red head began taking strides over to him, "so, does this mean that you're working solo now is that it? Are you leaving me?"

"N-No," Allen stammered, fearful as he slipped down the wall to curl his knees to his chest, hands over his head, "I-I was working a-at a shop M-Master a-and I-"

"Liar!" the man screamed at him, one hand fisting his soft downy locks and yanking him to his feet, Allen whimpering in pain before a fist connected with his jaw, tears stinging his eyes as he bit through the pain.

"You're a whore," the man leered, his breath carrying the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol, Allen's face turned away from the man as best he could, "that's all you know and that's all you do. You can't do anything else!"

"B-But," Allen protested weakly, his body quivering as the hand in his hair twisted cruelly, "I-It's true, I swear it-"

"A promise from a slut doesn't mean much," the man snarled, dragging the boy over to the couch, his hand waving away the two women, barking at them to return to work promptly , the girls tottering out on tall heels, weaving as they laughed and giggled. "I think what you need is a reminder of just who owns you," the man muttered as he reached for a large green tin, Allen squirming harder in the man's grasp as the arm snaked around his torso, pinning him in place.

"No Master-please," the white-haired boy begged, his voice fearful and his eyes wide, "please, I-I kicked it, I-I don't need it anymore-"

"I know you think that," the man simpered, slipping the fine white powder onto the try suspended over the flickering candle, his eyes watching the melting substance with disinterest, "but that's only because you just haven't had anything for a while, you're just delusional."

"No, please," Allen whimpered, tears slipping from his face, "I-I don't want it anymore, please don't-"

"Just a little taste," his Master crooned softly, a latex tourniquet tied to the boy's arm swiftly while Allen remained pinned to his body, the boy now thrashing as tears slipped down his face.

"No, please no," the boy sobbed, his eyes widening as he watched the needle taken from a fresh package and dipped into the solution and drawn up one-handed before Cross flicked it, stirring the vial, "please Master, I'm begging you, please don't-"

"Shh," the red-haired man hushed, his body effectively holding the squirming young man down while he extended the tied arm, his own brining the needle to the vein, "you'll feel better in a minute."

"Ah!"

Allen scrunched his face as the point dug into his flesh as all the other ones had, the plunger depressed and the drug flowed through his body.

He only struggled for a second or two after before the effects hit him, his body relaxing as the rush flowed through his body, his tears ceasing as he gave into the euphoria. The pain from the needle and the torture Cross inflicted on him disappearing in a heartbeat, his breath escaping his body in a relaxed sigh, his head lolling while his eyes glazed over, his pupils pinpointing while he reveled in the pleasure the heroin gave him.

"Better?" the man above him asked, the needle slipping out of his skin and held up to Allen's eyes level, the boy's mind barely able to comprehend what his Master was asking him yet managed to nod slowly all the same, his half-lidded silver eyes looking at the needle in front of him, "you need this, right?" the white-haired heard ask him softly, Allen nodding slowly once more, the latex band around his arm taken off and the boy was lifted off the man, his back slipped onto the couch.

"Now," Cross murmured, the needle discarded into the trash can while Allen stared blankly at the ceiling, his lungs inhaling and exhaling slowly while he listed to the man speak, "you know I'm a nice man, Allen, I just get mad sometimes that's all, I give you what you need and you pay me back, it's that simple," a hand stroked the soft downy locks, "so, I need you to go out tonight and earn your keep like a good little whore, yeah?"

Eyes trailed the boy's form, baggy jeans and a ratty T-shirt hid the slim form and relatively untouched pale skin, a fresh cigarette lit in his lips and dragged.

"But fist thing's first," the man muttered, gruffly pulling Allen upward and yanking the drowsy boy to the small enclave that was his room, "you need to put on some descent clothes."

Several minutes later and Allen was thrown onto the streets harshly, his body still in a state of disillusion and drowsiness as he wandered down the alleyway, drowsy and susceptible. He had forgotten how long his treatment had been going on, how long since his first taste had brought him to euphoria and back, since he had to turn his first trick for the man that should have been his guardian.

His weak legs took him from the darkened alley to the lit streets, his eyes staring at the ground while he looked for a spot that he could lean his weary body for a few minutes and rest himself. His back hit the wall while his head looked to the sky, his chest shrinking as he exhaled through his lips, his relief short-lived when he was pushed to the ground.

"I'm gone for a minute and you think you can take my spot!?" a brunette sneered down at him, the silver eyes only half focused while he picked his body up off the ground, his feet stumbling slightly while she pressed on, "get lost little whore, find your own damn corner!"

Allen ignored her as he wandered down the street, passed all the other women and few men leaning over to talk to potential clients through cars or on the streets, their sultry positions pouring waves of lust from their bodies. His back hit yet another wall, his arms slipping into the pockets of his leather jacket, the boot hitting the wall as he adjusted in his tight black jeans, his silver eyes looking around at the other hookers and whores, some smoking cigarettes others watching the road with interest. The boy sighed as looked around apathetically, his life was no better than theirs and would never get better, no matter how hard he tried.

A rusted silver car pulled up and honked loudly at the occupants on the wall, Allen's eyes scanning the car with disinterest, huffing slightly. He had seen the car around many a night, picking up different women and men each time yet returned like clockwork the next night for a new victim. The people that slipped into the car were often laced with sexually transmitted infections, some too numerous to count and others incurable.

The boy turned away from the door as an arm extended out of the vehicle, several bills folded up between two long fingers, tempting the women and Allen, a few taking the bait and sauntered up to the car. His Master would have been murdered him if Allen caught some sort of infection and he knew Cross would have figured it out swiftly, his reputation for his clean people shattered in a heartbeat. For some reason, the man ran the free clinic where all the women and men got tested for their STI's and other of their ailments that they may have contracted. It was also the place where they could score the best Cross could offer.

Cross had managed to slip under the radar with the cops and detectives while simultaneously supplying half the streets with their drug of choice and still earn a certificate from the city for his "charitable work"; Allen scoffed slightly, charitable was the furthest affiliation he would make with Cross. The man was nothing more than any of the pimps and drug dealers littered on the streets, the only difference was that he hid behind the lab coat, had God not abandoned them, He might be the only one that knew just how many men and women Cross had drugged and set loose to prowl the streets.

"No, not you two, him."

The white-haired boy turned to face the car, the driver hidden in shadow while the women looked at him with an expression of shock, the arm beckoning him to come closer. The white hair shook as Allen turned and walked towards the street through the alleyway, the horn blaring loudly while the voice followed him.

"Come on honey, we just want a good time, we'll pay extra!"

Allen continued walking, deliberately ignoring the calling men, the nausea brewing in his stomach causing his hands running to his mouth and stomach before he doubled over and promptly threw up over the black garbage bag, his body heaving as he emptied his stomach in front of the two hookers and he others in the car, the sudden cat-calling changing to jeering and laughing, both men talking amongst themselves and laughing as they thankfully sped off into the night, hollering at any other hooker that they could find that seemed to suit their taste.

The boy coughed as he spat out the remained of his stomach contents, not that he had many contents to dump, the drugs in his system reducing his appetite severely. He straightened up, wiping his chin and flicking off the remnants, his staggering feet carrying him back out to the other end of the street, his hands searching his pockets for a stick of gum or a mint that could remove any traced of vomit for any potential client, his eyes watering slightly as he thought just how disgusting he had become.

A tall, clean kept young man maneuvered around the dingy streets, his eyes peeled as he looked around at the faces of those huddled by trashcan fires and wrapped in thick blankets, his high ponytail moving against his back as he weaved amongst the homeless and the prostitutes, many of the women calling out to him, promising him fun times for a "reasonable" price. He growled at them, telling them to piss off and leave him be.

Kanda huffed as he approached the end of the street, his head turning in his desired direction, his feet carrying him in a steady pace through all the low-life scum he sneered at. He despised the halfway house his father worked at, the streets littered with far more degenerates and lost causes than the man could ever hope to heal and save. His hand dug through his pockets and retrieved the photo his so-called runaway brother, his adoptive father had been insistent that his sons help find the boy, the past the boy kept was enough to have the man that dealt with junkies and prostitutes worried sick.

Cobalt eyes darted around the people, over half of them appearing to be strung out junkies while the others were hookers, a few of them a combination of both. The tall man held the picture out to whichever person seemed coherent enough to talk to him, not that any of them wanted too. The people turned their heads away or pretended not to notice him, angering the Japanese further.

"You seen this kid lately?" the man asked gruffly, thrusting the picture in anyone's face, the homeless man looking at him before shaking his head, Kanda growling angrily, "you haven't even looked at the picture, try again."

As a response, the man curled himself inward as he tightened his blanket around him, his nose dug into the woolen blanket.

Kanda scowled as he moved away from the man, his legs taking him out to the streets where the prostitutes flitted around in their sexual positions and outfits, their eyes looking for potential clients with a sinful hungering for both clients and potentially drugs. He grimaced as he held the picture up to the women's faces, trying to ignore them leering at him and grinning seductively.

"Look, just tell me if you've seen him," he tried exasperatedly, holding the photo to the woman's face while she twirled her black hair around her fingers.

"Maybe," she grinned, "can't remember though, but if you'd pay for a few hours with me, it might jog my memory…"

The Japanese turned around on his heels and left the woman screaming curses at him while he went to find yet another coherent person that had seen his father's lost son, hating himself for being in the area and a small part of him wishing the man would just forgo all of this and call the police to search for him, not that they would do anything aside from scoff at the man and even if they did find him, he'd be arrested for possession; even though they were not related, the other boy was a good friend of his, almost enough to call them brothers.

His turn down the alley resulted in him walking into a slender young man with his head of white hair bowed, the two of them stopping in their tracks while Kanda instinctively shot out his hand to catch the other from falling as he stumbled, his head lolling slightly as he tried to focus his glazed eyes, the pupils several sizes too small which exposed his beautiful silver eyes while his skin was considerably warmer and his breathing was slower, signs Kanda knew to be those of a person who had recently shot heroin.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled as Kanda released him, his eyes looking towards the ground where the picture the elder had dropped had fallen to, his body lowering to pick it up, Kanda watching as the fingers retrieved the picture, his head tilting as he studied the picture.

"Thanks," Kanda muttered angrily, snatching the photo out of the boy's grasp while his face remained on the space where the photo had been in his hands, the Japanese brushing past the boy who stumbled, his ears barely hearing his soft voice.

"Why do you have a picture of Daisya?"

Surprised cobalt eyes widened as he turned to look at the boy, the silver eyes looking at his form.

"You know this kid?" he asked, holding the picture up and slowly advancing towards the kid while the other nodded slowly.

"Yeah," the boy murmured, "I've seen him around and talked to him a few times, why?"

"Where is he," Kanda pressed, demanding an answer from the boy as he towered over him, angering him when the boy didn't answer; his cobalt eyes darted around the alleyway before he reached into his pocket, despising himself for doing this.

Kanda growled before fishing out his wallet before retrieving the money and handing it to the kid, "here, twenty dollars now tell me if you know you know anything about him."

Allen looked down at the money in his hand, smiling softly, "yeah, he's a nice kid, shame about his habit."

"Habit?"

As an answer, the boy remained mute, Kanda digging around for his wallet to pull out another bill, but Allen stopped him, handing the money back to him.

"Here," he murmured while a stunned Kanda took the bill back from the boy, "I don't need it," the kid pressed on, "he-he gets his hands on-cocaine now and then, but nothing too deadly."

Kanda swallowed thickly before nodding at the boy, "any idea where he is?"

"Why do you want to know?" Allen shot back, his state still drowsy yet beginning to perk up, his eyes becoming more coherent.

"He's my adoptive brother," Kanda told him, "our foster father runs a halfway house and since Daisya once was a drug addict-"

"-he was afraid he would fall back to his old habits," Allen finished for him softly, his silver eyes looking down at his feet while his hand scratched his arm, "yeah, I've seen that before, lots of times."

"Do you know where I can find him," Kanda pressed, wishing anyone else could tell his father that his son was strung out somewhere or worse.

"No," Allen shook his head, "I only see him when he scores sometimes and he talks to me pretty much only then, but he doesn't give away anything."

"So where does he score?"

Allen felt uncomfortable as the conversation progressed; he knew that if he told the man Cross's activities, the man would most certainly give him an injury worse than the bruise his chin, besides which, the boy needed his fix, despite his most recent resolve to kick the habit, and if Cross was put in jail, Allen didn't know where he could get his next high nor what would happen to him when Cross rolled on him.

"Well-"

"I can't say," Allen mumbled, his eyes on his shoes, hoping Kanda would just give up and leave.

"Why not?" the elder pressed, his eyes glaring at him, the jaw twitching slightly in anger while the boy fidgeted out of uncertainty.

"Cause-"

"Cause that's where you get yours, isn't it?" the elder murmured softly while the younger shuffled against the wall, his jaw twitching as his eyes tearing up slightly, the other sighing. "Whatever, look, I have no intention of ratting the guy out to the police alright, I just need to find Daisya so I can take him back home with me alright?"

The boy remained mute while the elder leaned into him, smelling of fresh soap and cleanliness, Allen envious of him and disgusted by himself, wondering just how badly he reeked of vomit and dirt. His hand was taken while a crumpled bill was shoved into it.

"Look, here's fifty bucks, thanks for the info," while his feet carried him away from the alley before he stopped and looked at the kid.

"Hey," he called out to the boy still staring at the bill, the silver eyes looking from it to the young man before Kanda walked back to him, his wallet fishing out a blank white card, his sleek black pen and flowing across the card, "this is my cell phone number, call me if you know where Daisya is or if you want to tell me where he scores."

The boy nodded slowly while the card was slipped into his hand, the figure walking away from him, wondering why he was for help from some degenerate that he loathed while Allen stared down at the card in his hand, his still addled mind processing only pieces of their conversation before he slipped the two pieces into his pockets, thankful that he wouldn't have to whore himself for the night.

So... review please ^^