Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

Chapter Nine: Paucis Verbis

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Train's first thought when he awoke the next morning was: That had to be a dream.

He sat up, noting that he was still wearing a white bathrobe—Creed's, he supposed—and glanced briefly at the clock. It was only six in the morning. He was up early.

The sun was as bright as ever, and Train winced and turned away before sliding out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, lazily brushing the lint off his black jacket before attempting to get his hair looking a little more tidy. No such luck—it was still a spiky, unruly mess. With a yawn he shuffled downstairs to the kitchen, ready for breakfast.

Creed was waiting for him, sipping a glass of orange juice delicately. He had turned on the radio, light rock softly filling the room. Train couldn't help but notice that Creed's posture was very…purposeful for so early in the morning. One leg was propped up on the table, while the other dangled lazily. He was leaning back against his chair.

Train looked Creed over with half-asleep disdain. "You're not dressed."

Creed chuckled. "I'll get dressed if need be. What, you're not comfortable with my being shirtless?" He brushed his hands down his chest to his stomach, a devious look on his face. "You certainly had no problem with our bath last night. Or is the Black Cat still a little sluggish in the morning?"

Train suddenly wanted to go back to sleep. "So it really did happen…" he whispered, looking away.

Creed laughed outright and leapt easily off the chair, cupping Train's face in his hands. "Yes, Train, it did. And I liked it. Did you?" With a playful look he kissed Train quickly before turning toward the refrigerator.

"Now, what would you like to eat?"

Train glared at him. "I'm not hungry."

Creed glanced at him over his shoulder, a smug expression on his face. "Nothing at all?" he asked, one hand on his hip, his expression one of innocent surprise. "But you looked hungry when you came in!"

Train turned away. "Not anymore. I'll be fine."

Creed sighed. "All right, if that's what you want. By the way, Chronos hasn't given us a mission yet. We're free to do as we please until then."

Train nodded. "Fine. I'm going up on the roof."

Without waiting for a reply he left the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the soft rumblings of his stomach.

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Try as he might, Train couldn't seem to keep the night's events out of his mind.

He could still feel Creed's hands on his skin; the kisses, the final result of his willingness to cooperate with Creed…it was as though the images and senses that Train had felt refused to be forgotten.

On the roof, Train grimaced at the thoughts and rolled onto his side, letting the sun warm him. To any other person, the thick scratchy tiles that made up the rooftop would be unbearable. Train wasn't any other person. The tiles were warm, and if he needed an itch to scratch all he had to do was move a little. Instant relief.

His stomach growled again, louder this time, and Train reluctantly sat up and moved toward the window behind him that bordered the porch roof he lay on. He was ready for lunch.

As soon as he entered and his feet touched the floor of his room, Train knew Creed was waiting for him, food in hand.

"I knew it." Creed chuckled and he handed Train a plate with chilled crabmeat and another with sliced cheese and apple. "Cats are always hungry first thing in the morning. You were just being stubborn." He handed him a polished silver fork. "Bon appetit."

Train let out an irritated sigh and sat on his bed, trying not to let his hunger show. As expected, the food was delicious—Creed was talented in many ways.

"Is it good?" Creed asked, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah." Train finished the meal, aware of Creed's eyes upon him and watching every movement he made. Finished, he headed downstairs to wash the plates, Creed behind him.

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Train was put off guard when he turned to see Creed carefully washing the dishes beside him, humming softly.

"What's that look for?" Creed said holding a stack of plates toward Train. "Pay attention! The plates are slipping!"

"Oh. Whoops." Train quickly caught the plates before they could fall and began to stack them in the dishwasher.

"Anything new from Chronos?" he asked as Creed handed him some silverware.

Creed shook his head. "Sepheria said she'd call later. I think we might have a Mission." He smiled at Train. "It could be our first big break."

Outside, a seagull cried loudly as it flew overhead.

Train turned to look at Creed, and what he saw looking back at him was the cold look of an assassin. He wondered if, when he had heard of their possible Mission, whether he too had had that same look in his own eyes. But he only answered flatly:

"Yeah. A big…break."

Creed laughed and picked up another set of plates. "Eloquent as always, Train." His eyes lit up.

Train felt his pulse slow.

The room was enveloped by a surprisingly comfortable silence then, save for the clinks and clacks of various kitchenware being put away, and the soft gurgling of running water.