A/N: Hey! *smile* So here's chapter two of the countdown, not late for once. And I have noticed my bad habit of spending these prompts having characters ramble to themselves forever.

Thank you to Kittenanimegirl13, WinterYule, karina001, Amelia Loves Anime, Resident of Wonderland, and guest for reviewing!

Title: Zephyr

Author: liketolaugh

Rating: T

Pairings: None

Genre: Angst

Warnings: None

Summary: DGM Hallow countdown: Sometimes the end just sneaks up on you, and you don't see it coming.

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned D. Gray-man.


Allen fucking Walker was a goddamn menace to society.

Well, technically, Cross supposed that really, society was a menace to Allen Walker. But he was in a bad mood at the moment, having spent the last hour keeping fucking thugs from getting at his stupid apprentice, and he was not feeling charitable in the least.

That was probably what motivated him to tie up said thugs and throw them into a dumpster. Which he then closed. It was definitely his bad mood at being inconvenienced, and not vengefulness for the threats they'd made against his stupid, stupid apprentice.

Cross hadn't noticed this before, when Allen was an adult more-or-less Cross' own age, before he was a tiny kid who Cross was responsible for, but… God damn. Allen fucking Walker attracted every ill-natured asshole within a five mile radius.

And it was a pain in the goddamn ass.

Sure, Cross didn't bother with a lot of them. Allen wasn't a damn shrinking violet, or a delicate flower of any sort, Cross knew that. It wasn't obvious to people who hadn't known Allen before, but even under the mask, Allen was a feisty little fucker.

Further evidence toward the 'menace to society' claim.

Besides, Allen had probably always attracted assholes, which meant he'd been dealing with them his whole life, which meant he knew how, and Cross did not have to surrender his wine to intervene.

But damn, some of these people had it out for Allen, and Allen only knew why about half the time. Sometimes letting them go was more trouble than taking them out, Cross figured, and that was why he bothered. Obviously.

So society was a menace to both him and Allen. Clearly.

Fuck his life.

And the kid's life, too, while he was at it.

…This was why Cross was an alcoholic.

Cross had been surprised, at first, at this unfortunate tendency of Allen's. Being attacked by one thug in a given day, that wasn't a huge surprise, given Cross' personal habits. Three in a day was a little unnerving. Eight in a week was downright alarming. More so when it wasn't yet Thursday.

Allen was not surprised. Allen bristled at each one and then smoothed his mask down into the smoothest configuration he could muster, and usually chased them off if Cross hadn't already threatened them with Judgement.

It wasn't a problem, really, when Allen was healthy. Allen was usually healthy, thank God – Cross wasn't sure how he would've been able to deal if the kid was sickly on top of everything else. (Then again, if they kid was sickly, he'd've probably been dead by now.) When Allen was healthy, he could take care of his own shit.

On the other hand, Allen got injured a fair amount. New exorcists always did.

The first time Allen went out alone while injured, he came back more injured.

Cross was pissed. (He'd tracked the culprits down, tied them up, and dumped them into a (sadly shallow) river. Served them fucking right.)

Allen didn't seem to think anything of it (probably because of the above-mentioned lifelong infliction) but Cross sure as hell did. It wasn't improving his opinion of fate, or God, or any of the higher powers, because they clearly had it out for the kid for no damn reason.

Maybe they were part of the asshole attraction.

Cross pondered that for a while as he wandered back to the inn. The kid was there, fast asleep like a sane person, on the second bed that had surprisingly been available.

Come to think of it, possibly Cross was also part of the asshole attraction.

Cross stripped his boots off and flopped back onto the mattress, frowning at the ceiling with his hands clasped behind his head.

Well, shit, some situation he'd gotten himself into. No lady, no drink – what, was he going to have to think himself to sleep tonight? That never ended well.

But he didn't feel like getting back up, so thinking himself to sleep it was. He transferred his gaze from the ceiling back to the kid, who was curled up on his side, cheek pressed to the pillow and mouth open slightly, arms tucked in close to his chest and half-covered by a thin blanket. It was nauseatingly cute. Cross was nauseated.

Menace to society.

Cross didn't see why Allen attracted so many assholes, honestly. He was the sort of kid who would normally get coddled to death by the antitheses of the assholes, and who the assholes avoided because they would feel bad if they so much as raised their voices to him.

But no. Instead, assholes everywhere.

What the fuck.

…Cross blamed Neah. Neah was definitely more of a menace to society than society was to him.

Satisfied with his conclusion, Cross closed his eyes and went to sleep.


*squint* So I'm not so much satisfied with the action rhythm of this, but I'm satisfied with everything else, so. Whatever. *shrug* Thanks for reading, and please review!