Weather With You
Ban found him on the outskirts of Mugenjou. He always knew where to find Ginji. It was something he couldn't explain in words; it was a feeling he had, a prickling in the back of his neck, like the faint spark of electricity. It was always there, a sense that enabled him to know where his partner was and when he was in danger. Probably a damned good thing, too, given the unnatural attraction trouble had to Ginji.
It was raining, falling in thick, heavy sheets that pelted down on him as he walked through a dark, slummy neighborhood. This area wasn't one he would have gone walking through by choice at damn near midnight, not with it being as close to Mugenjou as it was. All sorts of nasty types would be crawling out of the gutters. While he was more than confident anything tossed at him would find itself splattered (preferably) in pieces across the street, he didn't want to waste his time on street vermin.
Why the hell had Ginji come down here, anyway? It hadn't seemed like anything was on his mind. If there was, Ban would have known, and forced his partner to let him come with him. But Ginji seemed find when he stood up suddenly in the cafe, announcing he wanted to take a walk around. Which wasn't that weird either; Ban couldn't recall any time since they had decided to become retrieval agents they had been apart for any more than a day, so he didn't hold it against Ginji when he wanted some time alone. Ginji gave him his privacy when he wanted it. It was the least he could do in exchange.
That was before it had started to rain. It was clear skies when Ginji walked out of the Honky Tonk cafe. The rain started to come down a half hour later, dark storm clouds filling the sky and bringing with them slow, scattered drops. He probably should have gone searching for his partner then, but hell, they had endured worse. A little fall of rain was nothing.
It wasn't until the lightning and thunder began he started to worry. Worry, of course, being a relevant term. He would have called it moderately concerned.
Maybe it was the thunder booming in the distance and the sharp, jagged white lines of lightning cutting through the sky that bothered him. Ginji was a beacon for that sort thing, a walking, breathing, living lightning rod. It was attracted to him. Lucky for him, he could and had lived through more strikes of lightning than any person rightly should have, but it still didn't settle right with him to leave Ginji alone in that mess.
His partner was slumped against the wall of some old, abandoned building when Ban found him. The rain streaking his face had caused the blood to thin, running down his face like red tears. There was a cut above his eye, a small, narrow slash not even an inch long, but deep. He was hurt, ragged and bruised, and smiling.
Ginji lifted his head as Ban approached, that happy oblivious smile stretching across his face, and he raised his hand and waved. That idiot was sitting in a puddle of dirty water and his own blood, and he was waving like everything was fine and dandy.
Ban used curse words he wasn't even aware he knew yelling at his partner.
He couldn't stand under his own weight. Ban hooked an arm around Ginji's waist, letting him loop an arm around his neck, but one block of that and the half hour it took to cover the distance was more than enough for Ban. Muttering under his breath, he unwound himself from Ginji and stood with his back to him.
"Up."
"Eh, Ban-chan?"
"Up, stupid," Ban repeated. "On my back. I'm not walking twenty damned blocks with you dragging your feet."
A few missed steps and slips on the sidewalk later, Ginji was hoisted up onto his back, arms draped lazily over his shoulders, and chin resting on his own arm. Ginji was heavy, but keeping his arms locked through his legs and drawing on some help from Asclepius (that old bat would have beaten him stupid for using the snake for so meager a task) he made do. He could feel the reverberations of a laugh and the feel of Ginji's breath warm against his ear.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Ginji answered, but still he laughed. "It's just been a really long time since someone gave me a piggy-back ride."
Ban growled. "What the hell happened to you, anyway?"
"Oh. Well. Got into a fight."
Oh. Well. Ban restrained the urge to snarl.
"I didn't mean to come down here, you know," Ginji said softly. "I was just walking and this is where I ended up..."
"And you got your ass kicked."
"I won," Ginji returned a bit indignantly.
"Sure as shit didn't look that way from where I was standing."
He didn't mean to yell. But turning the street corner to find Ginji bloody and bruised in the gutter had made his heart skip a beat he was ashamed to admit to. It could have been worse, he thought. It could have been a lot worse. Maybe once upon a time, Ginji had been the leader of the Volts and the biggest, baddest bastard Mugenjou had ever seen, but he wasn't that person now. He wasn't Raitei. He was Amano Ginji, a doofy, smiling kid, who'd sooner die than hurt anyone.
So he yelled. It was easier to be angry than to admit how worried he'd been.
"Sorry, Ban-chan." Ginji's voice was a soft murmur. Ban let out a frustrated sigh.
"Forget it."
Ginji fell silent. Ban could hear only his slow, soft breathing, and feel each breath against his ear. He found himself glancing over his shoulder, eyes passing over his partner to take in the dark shadow of Mugenjou. He caught Ginji looking a lot. It bothered him when he did, looking up at that place with a vacant, far away look in his eyes. It wasn't that he thought Ginji missed it. He knew he didn't. He just didn't want him looking and regretting his life there.
A crazy, young (in all outward appearances) witch had once told him bad memories shouldn't be forgotten. They were important, too, sometimes more important than the good memories. Those were the memories people learned from, and the ones that were never forgotten. Probably one of the few smart things he'd ever heard come out of her mouth...
"Teshimine-san used to give me piggy-back rides when I was little," Ginji said suddenly. Ban inclined his head toward him, listening quietly. "I remember when I first asked him to," he continued, "he looked so shocked." Ginji laughed. "I guess he'd never been asked before."
Ban hadn't ever asked who Teshimine-san was. Someone important to Ginji, was all he knew, someone who had taken care of him and raised him inside that demon's nest. He could have asked if he wanted to, he knew that. But sometimes, there were things that never needed to be said between them.
He turned down another block. Ginji was beginning to feel almost light against his back. Maybe he was starting to go numb, he thought with a grin. Whatever. The lighter, the better. He wanted to get back to the cafe to take care of that cut on Ginji's forehead. It was bleeding too much to be ignored for long.
"Ne, Ban-chan."
"Huh?"
"Why'd you come looking for me?"
"... couldn't leave ya stranded out there."
What other reason was there? No one else would come looking for Ginji. He was the only one. Ginji had friends, tons of them, the thread spool and the monkey trainer, and Hevn and Natsumi-chan, and hell, any other person he'd made contact with in his life, but none of them would come looking for him. If he was lost and alone, none of them would know. They wouldn't go looking. Ban was the only one who ever did, and the only one that always would.
He felt Ginji's arms tighten around his shoulders. "Thanks, Ban-chan."
"S'nothing."
"It's not nothing." The arms didn't loosen. His voice was soft, sleepy. Ban could feel Ginji's head tilting, blonde strands tickling his own cheek. "Thanks."
"Yea, you said that. What, you get a concussion too or something?"
"No..." Ginji murmured. He somehow sounded so far away. "Just wanted... to say thanks..."
It was easy for him, to say thank you. Ban had never been any good at it; couldn't express gratitude any better than he could concern. It was one of those things that came so easily to Ginji, yet Ban, for all his wealth of learning and his journeys around the world, found so complicated.
Ginji was smarter than he knew. Piece by piece, Ban was learning, and it was more he could ever teach Ginji. Ginji was teaching him something the textbooks and tomes of knowledge he had poured over in his childhood could not explain.
That was what made them good partners. Where he was weak, Ginji was strong, and when Ginji was low, Ban could carry him.
"... you're welcome," Ban answered softly.
Even if he was one heavy-ass lug.