Holy crap, a story that I actually wanted to write! —gasp— I haven't in forever! Well yeah, with all the meme stuff…

And I think I'm putting Complicated on hiatus until I finish a few chapters of this.

Description:

After getting a concussion, Allen ends up in front of a certain antisocial bastard's apartment building. But what happens when he gets kicked out of his own home?

Definitely KanAre: D

Disclaimer: I don't own D Gray-man. (Obviously)

Concussion.

Allen sighed as he stepped out of the doors of his current place of employment; The Geonome Diner. Yeah, weird name, right? Don't ask Allen; it was named after the owner's friend or something. Well, another Friday night wasted. The worst part? It was the first night of his two week vacation, which, might he add, everyone had gone out celebrating on. Well, everyone but him. Allen always worked Fridays. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and the occasional Sunday. And now, now he regretted not requesting more hours. He had free time. Way too much. And free time meant more time than necessary with Cross. Allen flinched.

Once again, Allen sighed as he turned onto Main Street only to begin his walk home. This was just regular routine, after all. Allen could walk home with his eyes closed if he wanted, that's how long he'd been working at the diner.

He stopped at the end of a block, waiting at the stop sign so that the 'walk' icon came onto the small box on the other side of the street that let pedestrians know when to walk, and when they would probably get hit by a car. It was white; meaning he could walk. He took a step, then three more into the street. Only then did he hear the hum of an engine, and that he was directly in the rather expensive car's headlights, horn blaring.

"Oh, shit!" He cursed, trying to jump out of the cars way only to stumble over his own feet, conveniently falling half against the curb. Even with his failure of an attempt to of dodging the speeding car, the right side of his head, right behind his ear, got clipped against the rearview mirror, violently throwing Allen backwards and onto the sidewalk he so desperately tried to get to not a moment before. He let out a deafening cry, knowing no one would hear him, or even bother to help him, as he grabbed the side of his head.

"What the fuck?!" Allen screamed, long after the car had passed. He cursed his luck for nobody being on the usually busy street as he began to stand, nausea flooding his head as he finally managed to become somewhat erect. His apartment was close, he began stumbling, holding his head all the while. Two blocks. A turn. Three blocks. One more turn, and he'd be there; right in the parking lot where people he knew would be, people that would help him. As he blindly stumbled, he realized he'd taken a wrong turn in his disoriented state. "Hn, I shoulda jus' walked home wit' Lenalee..." He mumbled before putting his left hand over his mouth.

Apparently he had the slightest bit of luck, or maybe it was karma, because there was a garbage can next to him that he promptly bent over, spilling his lunch, and choking after doing so. When he was finally done, he pulled away, only then realizing the bloody handprint on the rim of the trash can that just so happened to be his. He groaned, gently pressing the fingertips of his clean hand to swelling side of his head. Once the fingers brushed the bump, a new wave of nausea crashed over him, causing him to lose his balance, falling to the sidewalk again, scraping the palm of his left hand on its rough surface.

Allen was dizzy. He wouldn't be able to stand up, let alone make it home. Even if he had his phone… it wasn't as if Cross would come to pick him up. So why did he even regret not bringing it? Would Lenalee have risked sneaking back into her house after she'd spent so much time plotting her escape from her brother, to come pick him up? She was at a party. She wouldn't even hear it ring anyway. And Miranda would've been busy working at the diner. He hated burdening people after all. Maybe a nice cop could conveniently come by and offer a ride? Allen almost laughed the stupidity behind that logic. Or maybe he would be put out of his miserable life and just die on the spot. Ah, that didn't sound like that bad a plan. Especially since he was already bleeding and half numb, save for the bump on his head.

Giving it one last try, he groaned, attempting to stand he nearly screamed, pain ripping through his head as he desperately clung to the bloodied rim of the garbage can, using it as his only support.

"Ahh! Ung!" Fuck. It hurt. He took a dizzying step forward, attempting to steady himself on the nearby fence before falling back onto his knees. Well that was that. Cop, dead, kidnapped, or if the world could show him just a bit of pity, someone that wasn't mentally ill to come by and take him in. He grabbed the link fence one last time, bringing himself to a standing position again before falling, once more, face first against the sidewalk. Allen blacked out.

-

"Yuu-chan, what're you doing over break? We could all drive down to the beach…" Lavi yammered from his spot in the driver's seat as Kanda rubbed his temples.

"Che, why the hell would I want to go to the beach with you and your retarded girlfriend? And to the beach of all places? Tch, you're stupider than I thought. We've got two papers to write, and I have no time to waste with you and that bimbo. And stop calling me that." Kanda said as he continued to stare out the passenger window. He didn't feel like putting up with this.

"Aww, I'm hurt, Yuu-chan!" Lavi pouted, keeping his eye on the road. "You're already done with all the research for both of the papers anyway. How the hell do you do that?"

"How the hell do you drive with one eye?"

Lavi smirked, "Practice. Besides, I'm used to it now. It's only been, what, seven years? But really, you have your outlines, bibliography and half of it typed in, like, three and a half hours! I just picked my topic and you're done!"

"Che, shut up and drive."

"Shut up and drive, drive, drive! Shut up and drive─!"

"Stop fucking singing!" Kanda growled, irritated by the redhead as always.

"I'm sorry, Yuu! I couldn't resist! I thought that you would've known the song just this once!"

"That's a song? What the hell are people thinking when they write music?"

"Dunno, what do you listen to that's so much better?"

"Che. Stop the car."

"Why? I'll drive you up the driveway."

"Not a big difference. Still have to go up all those stairs." He grumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Is Yuu complaining?!"

"No, I just need to get the mail. Stop the fucking car, Usagi." Lavi shrugged and pulled over long enough for his friend to get out and give him a quick 'Bye, Yuu!', and get yelled at for it.

Kanda rolled his eyes at the idiot as he pulled away, insane grin plastered on his face and one hand out the window in a gesture of 'call me'. He sighed, beginning his short walk home. He scowled once he saw what must have been a drunken old man outside his apartment complex. What the fuck was a drunk doing there? And of course it was his building.

"Hey," He stubbed the old man in the side with his shoe. "Get the fuck out of here before I call the landlady." It was a reasonable threat, considering she was worse than Kanda at times. And add the broom to the picture; it would make a grown man cringe. But the old man didn't reply; didn't even flinch for that matter. "Go be drunk somewhere else, ya' damn old drunk." He bit out, rolling the old man over with his foot. "The fuck?" The kid, fuck, a kid, looked fucking albino. Or maybe he was just pale from all the blood seeping out of his head. His hair was the color of snow to match his pale complexion. Fuck, what if he was one of those—what'd they call them? — body… something. That hair wasn't natural. He must've dyed it.

But back to the matter at hand: What the fuck was he supposed to do? Leave him there? Take him inside? He couldn't call the hospital; what if the kid didn't have insurance? Kanda wasn't about to pay for a bill that could easily come to a thousand dollars. Would Lavi take him for the night?

"Hey." He crouched down beside the limp form of the boy, checking his pulse and looking at the bloody lump. Well, he had to have gotten a concussion from the size of the gash, Kanda was sure of at least that. "You obviously don't know me," he spoke, just in case the kid could hear him, "But I'll take care of the gash on your head. Don't you dare think that I fucking care. There are laws saying that I don't have to help you. So you better not press fucking charges or I'll reopen this gash in your head, got it?" What the fuck did he just say? No. He wasn't about to baby-sit a kid with a concussion. Fuck. It was too late now.

"You're not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion, idiot. So wake the hell up." He gently nudged the white haired boy's shoulder, careful not to make his head bob to the side and connect with the fence. He growled when the kid didn't answer, knowing he would have to drag him up the stairs. He grabbed him by the elbow and slung him over his shoulder. Not too heavy, pretty light actually.

Kanda passed the mailbox, unlocking the main entry way to the building and letting himself in. He mumbled curses under his breath for the lack of an elevator. I mean really, an apartment building that was seven stories should have a fucking elevator. This was going to be one of the worst times climbing them; second only to when he moved in.

He began climbing the seemingly treacherous stairs; careful so that the boy's head didn't roll around on his shoulder too much. On the second floor, he ran into that damn girl.

"Kanda, is that you? Whoa! What happened to him?" Kayla? What was her name? Kate? It was fucking Lavi's girlfriend, how could he have forgot her name when Lavi talked about her every time they saw each other? The usual jeans were switched for short shorts that looked like boy shorts, and the shirt was switched out for a formfitting tank top that highlighted her cleavage. Kanda almost choked. Fucking Lavi and the trash he always picked.

Her eyes widened at the display, she probably thought Kanda had beaten him up or something equally as horrible. But no—

"Is that your lover? Ahah. I win the bet!" She smirked, Kanda rolled his eyes.

—She thought he was gay. Of course, but a bet?

"What bet?" He nearly snapped at the half naked girl in her doorway.

"You don't know? Ohh, oops. Forget I said anything!" She said in her usual ditzy voice as she frantically waved her arms in front of her chest. "Make you a deal," She smirked, "I won't tell him that you like guys if you don't kill him for the bet. Deal?" It was accompanied by her usual idiotic smile that could only match someone like Lavi's. Fucking soul mates.

"Che. There's no fucking deal. I don't care either way." He scowled at her. "I found the kid outside bleeding. You wanna take care of him instead?" He asked sarcastically, half praying she'd say yes.

"No! No! No freaking way! I can't stand blood! Not even my own." She frowned. "Just go… take care of him, hmm? I won't tell Lavi, you'd just kill him in the end anyway, right?" Kanda rolled his eyes and didn't bother answering her, but instead began walking up the last flight of stairs. "Hey, Kanda!" She yelled far too loudly for ten o' clock at night. "If you need any lube, feel free to ask!" To which she winked and gave him a thumbs up before retreating into her room before he could drop the kid and try to kill her.

Fucking Lavi. If he hadn't somehow met her at University— how the fuck did a girl like that get in anyway? —he wouldn't have ever had to know she had even existed. Dense morons. Lavi had a thing for them. Kanda was so used to it that it hadn't even bothered him until he found out she lived downstairs from him.

When he finally arrived at his door, he had to decide whether to set the kid on the ground or to risk shifting him and letting his head knock into his shoulder in order to get the key out of his pocket. Carefully balancing the kid, he tilted him far enough away from himself to hastily grab the key from his too tight jeans. He really needed new ones, when he bought these a few months back he really hadn't been expecting girls to ogle his ass so frequently. When Lavi had found out, he'd laughed and called him 'a lucky man'. Whatever the hell that meant. He didn't need anyone.

When the door swung open, he dragged the kid in after him and through the small hallway into his living room. He would've set him down on the couch, but he really didn't want his blood on it. Or even a towel. Giving into the soreness of his shoulder, he set him down lightly on the couch before retreating to the bathroom for rubbing alcohol and gauze.

Upon closer inspection, he figured out that the kid had it worse than he thought. Besides the head injury, he had cuts all along his face and a black eye slowly forming. His palms were scratched up and coated in a thin layer of his own— Kanda assumed —blood. He coated a piece of gauze in alcohol and gently rubbed it along the kid's cheek; cleaning the newly formed cuts. Once he was done with his face, Kanda hesitated. What if he woke up in the middle of it? He'd imagined it must hurt enough as it was, but putting alcohol on it would make it worse. He frowned, crossing his arms and stepping back and walking to his kitchen to grab a paper towel and wetting it enough to clean the blood off of the kid's palms and head.

He brushed the white hair out of the way and as gently as possible, ran the soaked towel over it. The kid groaned, rolling his head the other way. Kanda repeated until the wound was finally somewhat clean. Bringing the gauze to his head, he gently ran it over the bump, only to have the injured boy jump and give a small yelp. Well, he still wasn't awake. That was a plus, right?

He frowned at the fact that his head was still bleeding. He couldn't exactly put a band aid over his hear; it wouldn't stick. He walked into the bathroom and pulled the towel all the way at the bottom of the small pile out. It was older than the rest, and he honestly didn't care if it got ruined.

He set it up over the pillow on the couch and lowered the kid to it. When he woke up, he would take him to his doctor if he needed it. But that was it, he'd already done enough and anything more would completely ruin his reputation, not to mention Lavi wouldn't let him live it down.

Sighing, he stood up in front of the stranger, prodding his jean pocket for the outline of a wallet. He got lucky that it was actually in the front, rather than the back. And the pants were loose, making it easy to stick a finger into them and slide it out. He opened it and saw a license.

Allen Walker.

Sex: Male

Age: 20

DOB: December 25

Eye Color: Silver

Hair Color: White

Address: N/A

Organ Donor

So his hair was natural, huh? Weird. Christmas birthday? Double weird. Creepy, actually. There wasn't much else in the wallet. There was two twenties and a fifty along with a few coins and a credit card. There wasn't any contact information? Was this kid a hobo at twenty? No, he had money.

Kanda groaned, setting the wallet on the coffee table directly in front of the couch. Deciding he'd done enough, he walked to the other side of the living room and down the small hallway to the bathroom to wash his hands and teeth before going to his room and changing into pajamas. Just in case the kid really was a psycho or something, he locked his door, knowing it wouldn't do much if he was determined.

He silently slipped underneath the covers and quickly fell asleep despite the situation. After all, he was finally on vacation.

-

When Allen woke up, he couldn't see anything. Everything was black and he panicked. Had he really died? Oh God, no. He hadn't been serious! The second thing he noticed was the searing pain that seemed to split his head in two. Right, he got hit by a car… sort of. After what seemed like forever, he figured out that his eyelids were closed. Ah, there was the solution.

The second he opened it, he regretted it, because fuck, it hurt. And Allen wasn't one to curse.

There wasn't much light coming into the room, but it was enough to make everything dizzying. Groaning, he gently sat up, regretting that, too, as the pain shot down his neck and to the rest of his body. Everything ached. Taking some time, he stood, immediately falling forward, knees knocking against the glass table in front of him. He let out a surprised yelp, not having previously seen it because he was squinting, desperately try to filter out some of the light and get the pain to a minimum.

When he finally looked down, he noticed his wallet. He scooped it up and opened it. Wait… where the hell was he? The familiar feeling of panic rushed through him, intensifying the already horrible pain circulating around his body. Deciding better than to remain standing, he let himself fall backwards onto the couch that was strangely comfortable.

Then the noise started, not aiding his headache at all. Someone was in the shower. More specifically; someone was turning off the water and getting out of the shower. Even that small amount of sound seemed a thousand times louder than usual. But he panicked anyway. Should he pretend to still be asleep? Should he say thanks and try to leave? Before he could come to a conclusion of any sort; a dark haired man came out of the bathroom, hair still wet and clinging to his bare chest.

He turned to Allen.

"Oi, you're awake. You want some pills?" Allen kept staring. "Painkillers. Ya' know, for your fucking concussion. Don't tell me you're retarded." He said, running a hand through his knotless hair.

Allen snapped out of it. "Yeah, um, thanks. Medicine would be, um, nice, thanks. Did-did you take me here? I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get hit…" The man was standing in front of him with two pills and a bottle of water, making it obvious he hadn't been listening. Or not…

"What the fuck do you mean 'hit'?" He growled, standing fully straight, towering over Allen's spot on the couch.

Allen took the pills, nodding his thanks before opening the bottle and swallowing them. He tried to avert his gaze from the bare-chested man, for fear of blushing, or staring. Which, or course, horrified him.

"I-I um, I, don't really… know. My head…ngh… really hurts and I really don't wanna think."

"I fucking dragged you here. You can answer a simple question." He deadpanned, continuing the glare that could kill.

"A car. I got hit, um, with… the…" He trailed off, hoping it was enough.

"Fucking Moyashi gets hit by a car." He scoffed, angering Allen.

"N-No… it wasn't a car. It was the, um, mirror," He gripped the side of his head. "It ran a light and was speeding," He groaned. "I was at a crosswalk and it was supposed to stop."

"Tch. Yeah right. You probably just got his because the driver didn't see you." He walked over to his fridge, pulling out eggs and butter.

"Really! I remember that much, I know. I fell on the sidewalk trying to walk home! It wasn't my fault! And that jerk didn't even stop to ask if I was alright!" He whispered, more to himself than the man who had just disappeared down the hall, reappearing with a shirt that he was busy pulling over his head; the wet strands of his hair staining his shirt with water.

"Can you go home? I'm not going to drive you. I've fucking did enough for you already." He growled, adding a cube of butter to a frying pan and turning the stove on.

"Uh, yes. I think I can. What's your name?" He asked timidly.

"Kanda, and if you say 'thanks' I'll kick your ass. It wasn't something I did 'out of the kindness of my heart', that's the bullshit somebody else would play." He pulled a spatula out of a drawer, and a plate from a cabinet.

"Um, well then, Kanda, if there's anything I could do to make it up to you, let me know. I work at the Geonome diner, ya' know, right down Main Street, so if you um, ever just want some food or anything, just—!"

"Don't fucking be so polite, Moyashi. You don't owe me anything. Try and apologize one more time and I'll reopen that," He gestured to the swollen side of Allen's head.

"Oh, um, yes. Ok, well I'll be leaving now. Wait! What's a 'Moyashi'?"

"You. You're small and a Moyashi. Bean sprout."

"Well that's rude! It's Allen!"

"Yeah, whatever. Just go.

"Hope to see you again." He slipped the wallet into his pocket again and opened the front door just in time for the eggs to meet the pan and begin frying.

He walked down three flights of stairs and finally came to a door leading to outside. The second he stepped out, he could feel the sun's intensified rays shining right into his eyes, making his head ache more.

Walking as quickly as he could without causing his head to ache more than necessary, he made his way to his shared apartment.

He definitely wasn't expecting this.

"ALLEN, you brat! Where the fuck were you last night?!" Oh, yes. Cross was royally pissed because he hadn't come home. Since when did he care? Allen almost laughed, would've except it sent a jolt of pain down his neck.

"Master, I was, uh, I got a concussion." He looked to the floor, ashamed of having to admit for the second time that he'd been hurt in such an undignified way.

"Yeah, sure. A concussion, what the hell did you do to get this 'concussion'?"

"I… um… got clipped by a car…?" He whispered.

"'Clipped'? You don't exactly get 'clipped' by cars."

"It sped by a crossing zone on a red light." Why couldn't Cross just be happy that he was alive? Right, he was Cross.

"That's not the point. You didn't come home. Or even fricken' call. Ya' screwed yourself, baka. Get out." Allen's heart stopped. Get out? Hah! That was almost funny! He was the one that paid the rent and bills. And Cross was throwing him out? That was a riot! Except, it wasn't. He had nowhere to go. Lenalee couldn't let him stay there; her brother would murder him for reasons that were only in his head, and the diner wouldn't let him live in the back.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Get. Out. Go live with a friend or something." He mumbled, waving a hand dismissively in his direction. And before he could protest, Cross had shoved him out the door, violently thrusting a duffel bag full of what seemed to be clothing at him. Allen stood, staring at the door for a good ten minutes before finally taking in what the man had seemed to be saying. Live. Somewhere. Else. There had to be an ulterior motive here; Cross couldn't make it two days without his paychecks. His eyes dampened slightly. But then he realized that it was better this way; that he would have money to put in the back to pay off his thousands of loans for college. He smiled, but it turned into a frown the second he stepped into the sunlight. Who was he going to live with? Crying on the inside, he walked back the way he had just come from less than half an hour ago. He arrived at the building, climbed the stairs and knocked on the door; putting on a façade of confidence, when on the inside, he was panicking.

The door opened.

"Why the hell are you back?" The man growled.

Allen bowed.

"Um, I just wanted to say that, um, I can cook and clean really well! And I'll pay rent! I will and um, I'll do all the chores! I don't care what it is! I can—!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Kanda, may I live with you?"

Concussion. End.

Yaay. One chapter done. I probably won't update for a while with school, but whatever.

Remember to go check out the meme. http://dgmkinkmeme(dot)livejournal(dot)com/791(dot)html

Take out the (dot)'s obviously and it that doesn't work, I'll post it on my profile.

Reviews?