Blow it Off

Steam theme, if you know what I mean. (winkwinklolgay)

Today, I'm sticking with Canon. :D

Disclaimed.

If there was anything that could make Kanda vaguely uncomfortable, it was the feeling of a large, hairy man running his fingers down the eighteen-year-old's back.

"You are relaxed, yes?" the aforementioned large, hairy man asked kindly in English, his Turkish accent getting the best of him.

"Uurgh," Kanda groaned, clenching the cushion beneath him. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Stop touching me."

The man chuckled. "You are very much stressed and I am not your tellak," he replied. "Basak is coming soon for you, and I will go."

Tellak. What the fuck was that?

Kanda nodded anyway. "Okay, I said sure," he grounded out. "Just, quit touching me."

"Only if you are relaxed. I will stop touching when you stop being so stressed." He accentuated this statement with a hard rub at an especially tense spot on the teenager's back.

"I'm relaxed!" Kanda snapped, trying as hard as possible to de-stress his body. It was really difficult, considering how the odd substitute masseur's beard was brushing lightly against his neck.

If that man didn't back up in five seconds, then the exorcist officially took no responsibility for his actions.

He clenched his teeth in barely restrained homicidal intent. Damn the Innocence.

Damn it to hell.

"Basak? Basak?" the man's hands paused on his back. "Where have you been? This man has been waiting a very long time for you!"

Stop touching me. Stop touching me. Holy shit stop touching me.

"It's okay," a voice replied that didn't sound very Turkish at all. "I'm here now. Teşekkür ederim."

The bearded man laughed delightedly and patted Kanda's back one more time. "He is very tense," he explained. "You will have a hard job, so be very patient."

"Oh, I will."

And the bearded man walked away, the Japanese exorcist watching the man's feet with a feeling close to illicit joy.

But, before Kanda could count his blessings at the man's departure, the relief was a little too short lived as this Basak climbed onto his back.

Fuck this. Oh hell no. Kanda thought on the edge of extreme fury. When I say stop touching, I mean stop—

"You're a little too tense," the new masseur commented, kneading his fingers on the hard surface of Kanda's back. "Honestly, haven't you ever heard of taking a break?"

Who the fuck did this punk think he was? Kanda may have been a bit of a hypocrite with this, but the prick had no right to judge him when he didn't even know him! He turned around to voice his thoughts aloud. "Who the hell do you think you are—" his voice trailed off as he caught sight of that godforsaken arm that was recognizable from a thirty-mile-radius. "Bean sprout?"

The boy narrowed his eyes, the stupid curse mark on his face scrunching with the movement. He pinched a portion of skin on his back. "My name is Allen—well, Basak here," he replied with a sweet smile. "If you're trying to get me uncovered, then you are not only an arse, but also an idiot."

Kanda furrowed his eyebrows in thought. So this is where the little bastard went? The brat went to Istanbul—or Constantinople, they really needed to choose a freaking name and stick with it—to become a masseur? He hadn't made contact with the Order in, what, two, three weeks? In the end, they just sent Kanda (fresh from a new mission) to this damned place to get a massage.

A massage.

He was getting molested by the bean sprout for a fucking mission.

"Quit touching me," Kanda snapped, not understanding why nobody was taking him seriously today.

Those fingers, even the rough skin of that fucked-up arm (Speaking of which, how the fuck did he get into the staff with that weird appendage?), continued their gentle ministrations on the exorcist's back. And, somehow, Kanda felt himself almost-maybe-kind of-sort of-in a way relaxing. If he even remembered how that felt in general.

"The Innocence," Allen started in a quiet whisper, "is here. I tracked it for a week, you see. Not only that, but it's ridiculously close in this bath house."

Kanda grunted a short acknowledgment. "So, what's the problem?" he asked, annoyed.

"It's a little…incapacitated," the younger exorcist admitted with a wince. He huffed. "Turn over on your back, prick."

"Watch it, bean sprout," the Japanese teenager retorted, turning over on his back. "I'm a paying customer. Kind of. Maybe. Whatever, just get back to the point."

Allen rolled his eyes, leaning closer to the older teenager's face. "Innocence is rather random," he explained in a near whisper, and he ran his fingers along the edge of Kanda's silk towel that hung low on his hips. "It's taken the form of coal, as I have discovered. Why? Not a clue." He huffed. "It's located in the main steam room in the stove, and this establishment simply loves it because it never cools down. Ever. Not only that, but the steam room is really quite hot, and I get terribly drowsy every time I try to retrieve the Innocence—oh, dear, am I making you uncomfortable?"

Kanda, who lay on the mat very, very still, clenched his fists so tightly that his palms were beginning to bleed. "Yes, he grounded out, eyebrow ticking. He smacked the boy's hands away from his hipline.

"Hmph," Allen huffed in offense. "I was only trying to do my job, jerk."

"Your job is to get the fucking Innocence," Kanda snapped back, sitting up and glaring. "Not touch guys on their dicks for a living. Jesus Christ what's wrong with you?"

"…I did not touch you there," the younger exorcist muttered, crossing his arms. Standing up, the British boy stretched his legs. "Well, if you're going to be a prick and reject the massage," he said in an overly annoyed tone. "I'll simply have to lead you to the steam room. Follow me, would you?"

Kanda stood up stiffly, pulling his silk towel higher on his waist. "Hey, brat," he started as he followed the cursed boy. "What's a tellak?"

Allen led him to a stone-bricked hallway, thin, white wisps of steam seeping hypnotically out the cracks in the granite. "Tellak?" he repeated, an eyebrow cocked. "Well, it's simply a staff member. Or a sexual partner." He smiled. "Oh, here's our room!" They stopped in front of a wooden door, the steam floating out thicker through the space between the door and the ground than in any other room.

"Sexual partner?" Kanda repeated, not quite sure if he heard correctly.

Goddammit, he knew the kid was doing something here on the side!

He reached out the grab the younger male's shoulder, but at the abrupt opening of the door, he recoiled due to the blast of steam that hit the entirety of his body.

"Erk," he coughed, wiping his suddenly sweaty forehead. "What the hell was that, bean sprout?"

"Allen," Allen corrected. "Well, Basak. Or something, I barely even care right now." He pointed at the large metal stove in the center of the room, one that puffed out languid clouds of steam while glowing red internally through the slits in the door. "Do you see the Innocence?" he asked.

"What? Of course not." Kanda sniffed as though insulted. He did, though, walk closer to the stove to get a better look, not exactly enjoying the way the steam became thicker and more stifling the closer he got, and the way the stone tiles on the ground became sticky underneath his bare feet. But, with a look of determination, he bore through all of these obstacles and stepped up to the stove.

He touched the door. "Shit!" he cursed, retracting his hand almost immediately.

"Poor boy," Allen murmured from his spot of leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He smiled mockingly. "Are you looking for a kiss? Because I'm not that kind of bloke."

"Yeah, you're more hands-on." Kanda blew lightly on his fingertips, irritated at making such a stupid mistake. "I think I see the Innocence. Now what?"

"Well, we either get a pair of prongs and take it and simply bust," the younger exorcist stated with a shrug. "Or we wait until night and put more thinking power into the thievery of a piece of coal. I bet you don't feel like using that brain of yours, like usual, so let's see if we can find some prongs."

"No, we can wait until night." The Japanese exorcist leaned against the wall, finding it hard to keep his eyes open. The steam really was stifling, and it was making him sleepy enough to piss him off.

Allen huffed, obviously feeling rather tired himself. "I told you it makes one drowsy," he complained, walking up to the dozing-off teenager. "Wake up, prick. We can't stay in here forever." He touched Kanda's arm—which was sweaty and made him grimace—with his own dry hand. "Eww."

"Shaddup," Kanda murmured, trying even harder to keep his dark blue eyes open. "Fuck, I hate you so much."

He leaned his head back and slid down the wall, finding it a better spot than nothing for a short nap. He barely got any sleep anyway, having to come to this stupid city for this stupid mission to this stupid Turkish bath after just finishing another stupid mission in stupid New Orleans.

He vaguely wondered if the word 'stupid' lost its touch after a few dozen consecutive uses.

Then, he dozed off.

(But, he was really annoyed with how the brat's voice cut into his psyche even as he slept. That was a serious problem that needed rectification.)

---

Later on, when Kanda woke up with Allen's head dangerously close to his crotch and the first masseur standing in the doorway giving them both encouraging gestures, he came to the conclusion it must've been the Innocence.

"Well, that was my assumption as well," Allen admitted, rubbing the sore spot on his head where Kanda punched him.

"Then why the fuck didn't you say it out loud, you talkative bastard?"

"Because I clearly wasn't sure if I was correct or not. Honestly, calm down."

Calm down?

Calm down?

This little punk messes up his life—again—by accidentally forcing him on this dumbfuck mission in Constanbul in which his perimeters were simply to be molested by a kid three years his junior and then fall asleep because said kid is an idiot who can't keep his hands off of him.

And Allen wants him to calm down.

"Well, I'd suppose we can inform Komui of this new change of plans," the turbaned exorcist said with ease, standing up.

Kanda mimicked him silently.

He'd show him a new change of plans.

END

Okay, personal favorite YW fic number two.

This was just too fun to write, and not just because I don't know what the hell Istanbul—not Constantinople (been a long time gone, Constantinople)—was called in the late 19th century.

But, yes, tellaks were the staffs of Turkish baths, as well as young boys who were lucky enough to also be chosen as the sexual partners of their clients. Lucky Allen. :D:D:D:D:D:D "Teşekkür ederim" means "Thank you", so I hoped that might've helped. Ugh, so much research, I could write a fucking essay.