A/N: So, yeah, I know that for something that's supposed to be Yullen as the main ship, its kind of a Lavi-centric story as some of you have mentioned more than once XD That's actually cuz I am playing Lavi in the RP and Shaera is playing both Allen and Kanda, so... posts tend to involve all three most of the time :P Or at least Lavi and one of the others. So that's why.

But it is multiship. The Laven parts are mostly just mild fluff though(cuddles 'n shit) whereas Allen's mostly getting some of that Kanda action lol

Also, sorry for the lull in updates! Both Shaera and I had some real life things going on that took up our usual RP time, but hopefully we'll get back into the swing of things now!

White Demon, Red Scribe, Black Nightmare
A D Gray-Man and Assassin's Creed Revelations Crossover

The morning was horrible. Kanda woke up with a splitting headache and, as if that wasn't enough, his arm felt like it was going to fall off any second. He rolled, turned his head to the left, and immediately regretted it as a stabbing pain shot up across his back.

He was on the floor. Why was he on the floor?

And why the fuck was the beansprout sleeping with the one-eyed rabbit?!

"You're up," Allen silently whispered, carefully moving Lavi's arm so that he wouldn't wake up. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," Kanda replied truthfully, scowling at the other man.

"Don't give me that look!" Allen scolded, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. "Not after I took care of you yesterday."

"Whatever," came a sulky reply and it seemed to have worked because the next think Kanda knew was that he had his arms full of Allen who made a point to plant a very sloppy kiss on his cheek. Kanda could hardly hold back his grin.

"Come on. Let's get you up."

His headache turned out to be even worse while standing.

"It is your own fault," Allen commented. "You shouldn't have drank that much yesterday."

They made their way into the washroom and spent good thirty minutes fooling around with the water like children, only stopping when they were both completely wet. After Allen fixed Kanda's bandages and dressed up, they both went down the stairs to get some food for their achingly empty stomachs.

"What's wrong?" Kanda asked, almost running into Allen who suddenly stopped at the entrance, staring ahead with a disturbed look on his face. The swordsman scanned the room but didn't find anything suspicious. "What's going on?"

"Oh no," Allen breathed out, his eyes never leaving the old man Tiedoll was conversing with. "I have a bad feeling about this."

The small old man - much smaller than Allen in stature - glanced up as if on cue, face as emotionally impassive as stone. He nodded his head to the white-haired lad in customarily polite greeting, only hesitating to speak long enough to sip at a cup of tea in-hand.

"Allen Walker," he acknowledged, voice weathered with great age. "It's been long since I've seen you. You're no longer just a boy. Tell me, is my apprentice still asleep?"

Allen suddenly felt as if the floor disappeared beneath him and hoped that it wasn't too visible. He swallowed down his racing heart and politely greeted back with a small bow. The man could be so unnerving at times.

"Good morning, sir. How do you do?" He felt Kanda shuffle behind him. He discreetly reached for his hand and squeezed, calming the other one down before he could start flipping tables and spilling blood. "He is still asleep, I'm afraid. I-in the library. If you would excuse us, gentlemen," he said as politely as he could, "we're just fetching some food."

Dragging Kanda behind him, he retreated to the most secluded place in the hall.

"Care to elaborate?" Kanda asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Lavi is in deep shit."

Bookman nodded his thanks as he stood, offering another to Teidol for the tea, before he ambled stiffly towards the library where Lavi was still passed out amongst the pillows.

He sighed his exasperation as he surveyed the softly snoring younger man before sharply kicking his forehead with the toe of his boot, making Lavi reel and hiss.

"Wake up, you redheaded fool!" he snapped. "Honestly, getting so drunk and passing out on the floor in such a manner? What am I to do with you?"

"Damn it," Lavi ground out, his temple throbbing mercilessly. And for someone to kick him in the face on top of it. "I outta-!" His head snapped up and he froze, anger melting into surprise and his single eye going slightly wider. "P-Panda...?"

The hit to the top of his head sent his face into the wood floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you idiot?! Do not call me that!"

Unapologetic, Lavi ignored it as he rubbed his forehead, which pounded dizzyingly. "What-... uh... what're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Bookman hissed, narrowing his eyes witheringly. "I thought I taught you better than this." Lavi had the proper sense not to appear guilty, but he still couldn't help but almost cower under the codger's harsh gaze. "Get up, and assemble yourself properly," he stated as he glanced over Lavi's disheveled form, turning and whisking out of the room.

The momentary absence didn't allow the redhead to relax at all as he staggered to his feet, wincing at how his temple pulsed, but he tried to ignore it and straightened out his clothing and hair to some semblance of tame. Bookman was waiting for him just within the main room, glancing at Allen and his immediate companions.

"I apologize for the disturbance, but I will need to borrow my student back from you for a short while. He and I have much we need to discuss," he said, his voice giving no indication that he was angry, but Lavi knew much, much better than that.

Never the less, he offered up a smile of reassurance toward Allen that didn't quite reach all the way, more anxious than he was letting on at surface value.

"You just sit tight, ya? I'll be back in a jiffy."

Allen nodded stiffly with a very forced smile on his face, going back to his food. He only took a glance back when he was sure the Bookman Sr. lost his interest in them completely and anxiously stared at the redhead's retreating, broad back.

"Is he going to be a problem?" Kanda asked, silently but with a hue of anger. Allen glanced back, letting out a slow breath.

"Not for you," he said, "but somehow, I don't feel good about this." Whatever reason Bookman had to come back, it was surely not a petty one.

"Do I need to take care of him?"

Allen smiled, patting his arm. "He may be old, but he's better at martial arts than anyone I know. I'm afraid you won't be able just take care of him. Also, he is not interested in us."

The comment stung but Kanda nodded anyway and returned to his food. "You sure you're alright?"

"I might go check up on him later. Lavi, I mean." A pause. "Oh, don't be like that!"

"You slept with him tonight."

"You're being childish and unreasonable, and I didn't sleep with him, I slept on him. That's a big difference." He might have heard Kanda murmur something along the lines of ´not for me´ but he let it slip. After all, it was all his hangover talking. Or so he hoped, at least.

Allen put down his plate and stared at it with a worried look on his face. Kanda saw it but chose to stay silent and observe. It was clear that he wanted to bolt and the reason behind it was the rabbit and the old man who just left the den.

"I'm sorry," he said, dragging his hand through his hair, "I need to-"

And Kanda knew at the moment that there was no way of stopping him. So he let him go, watching him leave in hurried walk that screamed tension and worry, and after he finished his plate of food, Kanda swung his sword over his shoulder and stalked upstairs, laying into his bed to get more sleep. The sleep, however, didn't come easily - Allen was not the only one who felt bad about the situation.

Two bookmen in one place never meant anything good.

The fullness of the streets was more stifling to the redhead than usual, not one to feel very claustrophobic or agoraphobic - rather, he liked being the center of many people's attentions - but at the moment it was too much. Perhaps it was the hangover. Perhaps not. He reached up to massage his brow with a wince as a particularly strong wave hit him.

"I see you are still using that old, outdated name," Bookman hummed, sounding nonchalant, but Lavi wasn't fooled by the casual err.

"Well it's the name Allen knew me by in Italy and still calls me, so it seemed appropriate." The look that Bookman gave him over the shoulder told otherwise, but the man didn't comment.

Most of the rest of the walk was silent, but such was worse and he almost wished Bookman would simply yell at him and be done with it, though his head would probably suffer even worse after drinking so much if he did.

He knew better than anyone else outside the Clan of Bookmen though exactly how massively in-trouble he might be. Bookman might not be screaming at the top of his lungs, but he didn't need to be. The threat was clear as day to him. The tentative privilege he'd earned to stand as a full-fledged Bookman in his own right was easily revocable if he was deemed unfit to follow the rules for any reason, and Allen - or more specifically, what Allen meant to him - was reason enough.

Bookman stopped once they'd reached a secluded alley and turned to face his student with a familiar, stern look, the red-head having followed him in pure silence the entire way. Lavi didn't speak, waiting for Bookman to begin, since he was only mostly sure of what the old man wanted with him.

"Who are we?" Bookman prompted abruptly, causing Lavi to blink for a moment in question. His mind was quick to catch on though and he slipped easily and automatically into the persona that he had been trained to be his entire life, losing all emotion. It was though a switch had been flipped, going from the warm, boisterous friend-to-all, to entirely cold and apathetic.

"We are the Bookmen," he began, reciting the words that had been drilled into him day after day until the mantra stuck permanently, word for word, droning out all sense of what most would consider 'humanity'. Bookman hadn't stopped teaching it to him until he'd heard it so many times that he'd started to recite it even in his sleep. "Without name; without home; without attachment."

"What do we do?"

"We watch, remember, record, and store everything we see, down to the finest detail. Nothing can be missed or overlooked. We do not become involved more than the mission requires. We are the audience to the world unfolding around us, giving up its secrets, but we are never actors in the play ourselves, only spectators."

"What is our purpose?"

"To record all that happens in the world, without judgment, personal bias, or being swayed by emotion. We record only pure fact. People; events; places; all is merely ink on paper, a story on a page, and we are the scribes that keep the books."

"And who are you?" Bookman continued without any pause.

"I am anyone I need to be, and I am no one. A witness without name, save for those I throw away when the mission is done. A recorder without identity, that walks outside the flow of history."

"And what does that man mean to you?"

Lavi almost blinked in surprise. He almost hesitated. He almost questioned. That wasn't part of the recitation-

But he didn't do any of these things, because even the slightest shift would give him away. Instead he replied immediately and just as cold and uncaring as the recitations and oaths he'd memorized.

"Nothing at all. 'just another means to an end; another spot of ink in the pages of our books. He doesn't mean a single thing to me."

"Good." Bookman nodded, some of that critical disapproval having ebbed from his face. Years before, "Lavi" would not have managed to satisfy his mentor so easily, but he had been schooling himself since then, until he got it perfect. The years away from Allen, though not easy, had helped him reaffirm his convictions to his clan and become every bit the Bookman that his old man expected him to be.

And yet there was still that little prick in the back of his mind that knew better. Some part of him still failed to be that, still felt something that he shouldn't, but he had years of practice in shoving it far, far away, somewhere unseen and unknown to anyone but himself, so that even his aged, experienced teacher could not detect it.

Bookman turned away, unspokenly showing that he had little more to say, reassured that his student could keep himself in check now, regardless of how badly he'd almost faltered when he was younger. Lavi followed his mentor as he began to walk again, giving "Lavi" a meaningful look.

"Do not get distracted and lose sight of your purpose here. You are an heir to Bookman. Nothing more or less than that."

"Of course I would never forget." He offered up a chillingly hollow smile. "C'mon gramps, give me a little credit. I'm better at my job then that. 'just playing up friendly and sociable like I always do." He huffed and folded his arms behind his head, looking bored. "After all, gathering information comes much easier if people consider you someone trustworthy and think you're their friend, right? Let you in on things they don't let anyone else know."

Bookman only hummed in acknowledgement, but there was a tone in there that hinted he might not fully believe it.

"The original plan was just to be here maybe a day or two, but they have one of The Pieces," Lavi continued seriously, lowering his voice slightly as they stopped. That caught Bookman's attention. "And you know we can't just leave it to other people."

Bookman hummed again thoughtfully. "Very well. If that's the nature of things. Just remember-"

"I know," Lavi interrupted. "It's not my business to become interwoven, no matter what side has the Apple. I'm just waiting to see how events unfold around it, until the smoke clears enough that I can get it. Beyond that, nothing else matters."

Bookman nodded his approval. They started to walk again.

"We've kept away now long enough. You should go back and continue your record, before your absence is too noticed."

Lavi nodded obediently. That same question and answer – Who are you? A Bookman. Nothing more or less. – kept buzzing in his mind, over and over, like an angry bee, but he didn't allow any sort of agitation or anxiety show.

It would be best to return quickly enough that nothing was suspected. Bookmen matters didn't really concern outsiders of the clan anyways, so it wouldn't do for them to probe with questions if he seemed off. He needed to slip back into the persona that was "Lavi". He'd just play it off as nothing big, just a little obligatory status update – which it sort of was, so it wasn't a total lie – and go back to what they'd been doing before as if Bookman had never shown up to begin with.

Allen stood in the alley, unmoving and numb. The words, the cold words that Lavi recited without missing a single beat made his stomach churn and chest hurt. His heart was somewhere in his throat and if he could he would bite it in half and spit it out.

He watched as Lavi stalked backwards as if he just had a conversation about weather.

"Just a spot of ink in the pages of your books... Lavi," he said, wishing he could just throw up all the emotions that made his chest ache. He saw the other man tense and stop in his tracks. "Is this why you left like a whore after a good night's shift back then?"

Lavi's chest seized as he heard that voice, stopping and turning. He hadn't needed to, to know who it was, but a sense of inward panic tried to reason that it wasn't Allen. It couldn't be. Not because it was physically impossible, but because he had said things that were not meant for his ears to hear.

Shit! How had he not noticed? Since when had he dropped his guard that much? Or had he really been so anxious that his attention had been that drastically divided?

Bookman though... he must have noticed.

He must have known. That realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Bookman had noticed. There was no way he couldn't have. The man may have been old, but his senses and intuition were sharp as ever and had decades more experience on the redhead. Lavi had thought he'd had full control of the situation and been the one doing the fooling all along, but that couldn't be any further from the truth. How could he have been that fucking stupid? To think he could best his mentor.

Bookman had deliberately been backing him into a corner he couldn't escape from all along, and he hadn't even noticed until he was effectively cut off. He had all of two choices.

Either he come out and tell the utmost truth, that he had merely said that to placate his mentor, that Allen did mean something to him, a great deal in fact...

...or continue to play into his role as just another apathetic, cold Bookman, and destroy whatever bond they still had between them, probably forever.

And with Bookman standing right there, scrutinizing him, that really only narrowed it down to one choice.

He didn't let any of these inner thoughts change his outward demeanor, as if Allen's appearance and words garnered no reaction, even though he was absolutely reeling. He was about to break Allen's heart - again - but he didn't have any other option. There were heavy consequences that would come with truthful admission, and letting his eyes and his body signals tell a different story than his words would be just as damning, so he blocked those off too, becoming an impenetrable fortress of apathy and hollow indifference.

"Well, damn, so much for that ploy. It isn't really nice to eavesdrop, you know. And here I thought you trusted me more than that."

Maybe it was better this way. A blessing, of sorts, in disguise. A very sick, twisted kind. He really did need to distance himself. Just coming back... seeking Allen out again after that 'record' in Italy had closed, had been a breach of the Clan's rules in and of itself.

With the way that events were unfolding, and their possession of the Apple, though, he wasn't going to be forced to leave until this record was finished. He knew, without words exchanged, that these were the conditions of finishing what he'd started here.

He could stay to complete this record, but he was going to have to play it by the rules to the letter this time, or he wasn't going to play at all.

And that meant severing whatever trust and love Allen still held for him, without remorse. No matter how painful it was for either of them.

Allen felt as if someone had punched a hole through him and he found himself momentarily gasping for air.

The face Lavi was making - rigid and emotionless - was that his true self? Has everything that has happened between them, everything they lived through, every touch and affection, has that been all just a cruel lie?

"Tell me you're joking," he heard himself say in a pathetically small voice. "Tell me it is just a bad joke. That I am not just a piece of history reduced to scribbles on your paper." When he heard him recite his those things just a while ago, he still felt as if it was just a farce but now that he saw his eye - his empty, cold eye- he felt nothing but betrayed. The unpleasant ache in his chest felt like rusted knife.

Lavi only bore a smile that was all too unaffected. It was really all he could do to keep from shattering at the tone and look that Allen gave him, but he could not offer up any words of comfort or care as he wanted to. Maybe Allen would have understood if he could explain, that it was not truly that he didn't feel for the other man, but emotion was not a luxury he could afford.

"Sorry, but that's the whole truth of it. It's nothing personal, of course, just business." He shrugged flippantly. "I did tell you to stay put until I came back. You could have at least kept your naïve delusions then, but no point in pretending now that the cat's out of the bag."

Allen felt a second punch to his chest. He gaped at the redhead with mouth gaping.

"Are you-" He took a breath to steady himself. "Lavi, this is a sick joke, please, cut it out!" The world spun around him when the only answer he received was silence.

He suddenly felt dirty.

´Yeah, but I'm your cuddlewhore...´

He recalled what happened yesterday and it made him hurt even more. The words, the affection, everything a big fucking lie. His face twisted in disgust. He also remembered their kiss - all of them, and the nights they spent together.

`He doesn't mean a single thing to me.`

"After all that happened... just how could you?!" Allen whispered as he slowly shook his head and backed away. He felt weak, angry and just violated. He thought they were friends, that they were even lovers at some point!

Allen felt the wind whip his face but he couldn't bear to turn around. The next thing he knew, he was kneeling on the top of Galata Tower and crying his eyes out.

Lavi didn't move. Even when Allen demanded he give a different answer and broke into tears, outwardly, he didn't even flinch. Not with Bookman's eyes still on him, simply waiting for something to slip. He knew that if he waited too long, hesitated at all, that would give him away as well, so he played it off with the casual abruptness of someone merely swatting away a gnat that buzzed in the edge of their vision.

"Well that was unfortunate. You might have just made my job a little harder." He shrugged again and turned to head back towards the den. "Nothing to be done for it now, though. Oh well."

He and Bookman soon parted ways, but he didn't let his outward appearance drop even so. He wasn't entirely sure how long Bookman had been watching, but he knew it was since at least last night, recalling the feeling that had been nagging at him before. There was no telling how long Bookman might plan to stay somewhere nearby and watch him, so he would have to tread more carefully for a while about how he acted around the others. Especially Allen, though where that was concerned...

You might not have to worry at all, after what you just put him through.

He'd probably get a good mouthful of screaming to get out as soon as he entered the den. Allen could be fairly emotional on a normal standard, but now?

Kanda tossed in the bed for a while and just when he was about to fall into the dream world, he jerked awake. It happened several times - he just couldn't fall asleep, no matter how much he tried. So he sat up on the bed and crossed his legs, putting his hands in his lap and straightening his back. Breathe in, breathe out.

He couldn't meditate, he couldn't concentrate, and he couldn't sleep. Just what the fuck was that all about?

Two bookmen in a city - flocking together like vultures around a cadaver. Why? he turned around and glanced out of the window, scowling briefly. Lavi was coming back, but he was alone. He scanned the streets and roofs. Not a single spot of white.

When he heard the steps on the stairs he stalked outside and over to the library, finding the redhead there. Turning his head to the side he listened, but he could hear no greetings, no hurried steps on the stairs or ringing laughter.

Then he noticed: Lavi was ignoring him.

"Where is he?" Kanda asked, squinting at the back of the younger bookman's back.

That gave the bookman a moment of pause, though he didn't spare it more than that as he went about putting things back in order and collecting what few things he'd brought from his own place.

"He went running on ahead of me," he stated, wondering just how much he should say. "He didn't come back on his own?" he mused, hiding his surprise behind a tone of disinterest.

If he hadn't come back to the Galata den - and Lavi had been almost certain he would, if nothing else then to seek out companionship from Kanda - then where else could he have gone? Especially now of all times?

"Did he?" Kanda asked slowly but retreated downstairs for a smoke.

Something definitely happened.

He sat down on the pillows opposite the door so he would have a good view on whoever is coming and waited. The redhead seemed edgy - his back was straighter and voice emptier than usually. Allen left all worried sick for him and Lavi returned alone. He drummed his finger on his leg.

What the fuck is going on?!

Kanda stood up, looking around. "Let me know if Walker comes, I'm going out." He said to one of the men who gave him a weird look but nodded withtout hesitation.
With a last around the den, he left to search the city. They were both right with the bad feeling.

He perched himself on the nearby chimneys and looked around. Where could that beansprout be? He went to their usual inn, checked the whorehouse and the blacksmith, ran around the gardens and still nothing. Kanda sighed. This was starting to get annoying.

There was a sound of eagle crying up in the sky and he looked up, searching for the bird. Nobody came looking for it so it meant the sprout hasn't returned yet.

Kanda was about to jump down when his eyes fell on the high blue roof of Galata Tower.

"You've got to be kidding me!" He cursed when he spotted a fleck of white on the side.

"Hey idiot," he called, heaving himself upwards to sit on the edge of the tower, "the heck are you doing here?" He waited for the answer but he received none.

Allen was leaning on the wall, his arms around him and his face buried between his knees. With an annoyed sigh, Kanda knelt next to him and shook him gently.

"Hey, stop being an ass- oi. What's wr-" He almost fell down when Allen just slid to the side, unconscious and bloody.