A/N: I have no idea how and why my muse came up with this. If you end up thinking what the heck you just read, I put my own interpretation of the one shot to my profile.
This is part of the Quintessence AU, however, the timeline of this is unspecified. Takeru is well over twenty and the piece is not taking place in the past (02). Can be read as a stand-alone piece as well.
Nobody asked for it, but here it is. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Digimon belongs to Bandai & Toei Animation.
Takeru was sitting on the tatami-floor, few pillows behind him. It was early afternoon in their home — Gennai's old house — in the in-between of the worlds. To the trained eye, he was visibly nervous, however, overall, he managed to cover his erratic heart and breathing relatively well.
Angemon was opposite of him, braced on one knee, surveying him. The light-brown, braided rope on his right side, looking harmless and commonplace against the marred colors of the floor.
After much persuasion, Takeru had managed to get Angemon to agree with the act of tying him up to treat his traumas of captivity with desensitization. He was finally starting to win the battle against tranquilizers and sleeping pills but the change had also made his nightmares more pronounced; and on many nights he woke up with sweat-inducing nightmares of drowning, being in the dark, bound.
With the history of battles and wars in the Digital World, ending up bound again in the future wasn't a completely impossible outcome and his total mental lockdown and panic weren't ideal aspects when trying to ensure survival. So, after some research, Takeru had suggested trying Shou's desensitization treatment for darkness to the fear of being tied up.
It hadn't been easy to convince Angemon that tying his human partner could result in anything positive, but Takeru's constant nightmares were a good fueling factor to at least try the technique.
They had already tried the method on a few occasions, all of them ending up after few seconds with Takeru calling it quits amidst the rising panic, far before he could even try to get used to the feeling. Still, there had been continuous progress from touching the rope, to having it looped loosely around his wrist once ‑‑twice ‑‑and then around both wrists. Last time he had managed to stay in the bonds for nearly ten seconds before Angemon had been forced to open the easy slipknots.
The small progress in practice had not made Angemon any more keen towards it, and Takeru's triggered nightmares had only fueled the angel Digimon's wariness. True to his nature, the angel Digimon voiced once again the deep-rooted question of 'Are you sure about this?', before uneasily picking up the length of rope with his both hands.
Takeru was sitting his legs apart and knees drawn, his arms presented before him, wrists together.
His breathing was already becoming a much more conscious action, his hands giving a slight twitch as if willing to break free from the pose.
This made Angemon stop and take a long look at him from behind his mask, measuring the development of his mental state and giving him time to say no.
Against his nervousness, Takeru nodded tensely to give his partner a permission to continue.
They both knew that Takeru would not have even presented the idea of the method to anyone else.
Angemon took the rope, his left hand staying laxer while his right gripped around the rope more tightly. He started meticulously from Takeru's right wrist, drawing the rope around it once to help Takeru to get used to the feeling, before stopping for a moment to look at Takeru straight in the eyes while keeping his own hands on the rope, ready to move if needed.
Takeru's breathing had become shallower and his eyes transferred from staring the rope around his wrist to mixed focal points around the room to look at anything else, anything that would not produce similar flashbacks. The rope, regardless of the small amount of oil, felt coarse and unforgiving against his skin, limiting his movements despite the lack of any existing knot.
After about ten minutes, Takeru nodded Angemon to continue, being, not for the first time, extremely grateful for having such an easygoing partner.
Angemon drew a feeble knot under Takeru's right wrist before pulling the rope outwardly over the wrist again to his left hand and making another loose knot.
Despite the fear Takeru felt for the action, he couldn't help the mesmerization over the calmness and meticulousness with which Angemon was working with the rope. He had noticed very well over years that the angel-type Digimon did almost everything with such diligence that the action could be called an art itself.
Takeru straightened his back a little, taking one deeper breath and making Angemon stop his ministrations.
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
His answer was shaky but Angemon knew him well enough to know when to reply to the words and when to the way they were issued with.
After a long pause, Angemon began to draw the rope around both of his wrists, equaling three brown circles against his pale skin. In light of no objections, Angemon pulled the rope tighter, far from causing any pain or cutting off circulation, but tight enough to prevent Takeru from pulling his hands or arms apart for more than for a thickness of two fingers.
Takeru was breathing through his mouth, stretching his neck sequentially to left and right. In contrast to his fidgeting, Angemon was calm like the air on a dry, sunny day. The angel-type Digimon's breathing and heartbeat were both almost soundless and not even the feathers rippled in the afternoon daylight. The only visible notion was Angemon's quiet but still indubitable presence, and the light passing touches of the angel Digimon's fingers on Takeru's skin as he worked with the rope.
It reminded Takeru greatly of Patamon's paws.
Having finished the loops, Angemon stopped and gathered both loose ends of the rope in his left hand, giving Takeru room to test the bonds while placing his right hand on Takeru's shoulder to provide competing tactile feedback. — Positive feedback of something solid and warm against the harshness and unforgiveness of the rope.
Takeru's breathing was now very erratic and he bowed his head to hyperventilate more air. For a split-second, he closed his eyes, but the darkness made everything much more unbearable, making him open them immediately in order to see the whiteness of Angemon's feathers.
Takeru didn't know how long they stayed like that but at some point, his anxiety reduced enough for him to nod to Angemon for the one last time to tie the ropes, and thus leaving him without any immediate contact — promise — of Angemon to free him based on a sheer blink or exhale alone.
This time, Angemon didn't react immediately, giving him a minute more to be sure of his decision.
Eventually, Angemon pulled the ropes and tied them under his wrists. The action made the whole contraption a little bit tighter, almost making Takeru to pull his hands away by the feeling.
Angemon constructed a second knot to form a reef knot ensuring that Takeru wouldn't be able to just shake his hands free.
With one prolonged touch, Angemon let go of the rope but stayed hunched, closer to Takeru — just in case. The knife to cut the rope situated just behind him, easily reachable.
Takeru pulled his hands back almost immediately once Angemon let go. The rope felt tight and constricting around his wrists, the first singular loop being far enough to restrict the movement of his hands, and the second loop being down enough to prevent him from pulling his arms apart. There was no way for him to get his arms free and the sensation was pronounced in his mind, being cold and alone associating strongly with the feeling. An image of Angemon being bound and tortured manifested in his consciousness, and even though constructed by him, the image was much more distressing than his own memories.
After fifteen blurred seconds of trying to pull his hands free, he buckled against Angemon, refusing to immediately give up in front of the darkness that was haunting him. He tried to find comfort from his partner's scent, the way Angemon held onto him, and the way the feathers were shielding him from the world, but it did little good against the unforgiving finality around his wrists.
"Off."
The quiet and poorly pronounced request was mumbled even more by the crook of Angemon's neck against which he was leaning on, but those were the words Angemon had known to expect. And despite the rising and unarguable hystery in Takeru, Angemon freed him almost instantly, securing Takeru's arms steady before cutting the rope in one swift motion by pulling the knife along the space between Takeru's wrists.
There were no visible traces on Takeru's skin and the momentary redness would fade after a couple of minutes. However, in the meantime, visibly exhausted, Takeru resumed back to his spot on Angemon's arms, breathing heavily with the feeling of being finally able to get air into his lungs; even the room felt twice the size than before. He rubbed his wrists disjointedly, finding comfort from the solidness of Angemon's midriff against his arms. In passing, he could hear Angemon's calm reassurances that he was safe and it was all going to be fine, and little by little, the echoes of cold stone, cells and water filled pits faded from his senses, the shredded pieces of the rope scattered around them.