Title: Fairy Tales
Author/Artist: Allen Haverstock
Pairing: Kurogane/Fai D. Flourite
Fandom: Tsubasa RESERvoir CHRONiCLES
Theme: Kisses #10 –#10, Hugs #8– fairy tales
Disclaimer: If I owned them they wouldn't be nearly as hot and smexy and mysterious because I suck like that. Fai and Kuro-tan are owned by the lovely clump of potatoes called CLAMP.
Dedicated to my Mother, since she mailed me Off! Cream, a book on pirates, and many other things that I shall find incredibly useful in the future. May she be un-traumatized by the call she gave me while I was in the middle of an important, descriptive paragraph (so if you see any spectacularly crappy spots, it's all thanks to my creative process being interrupted. -shudder-)
As he lay on the cold tiled floor of the kitchen he held his hands up in front of his face, focusing at the ceiling behind slender fingers and marveling at how just shifting your focus can change your point of view so easily. His gaze shifted back to his hands and he counted each pale digit attached to the infinitely useful appendage.
Ten.
Ten fingers to prove he was human. Just like everyone else.
He snorted humorlessly. Human? If he ever had any doubts before the events that happened in that desolate world of sand and acid, he had none now.
Despite all appearances, he was nothing but a monster in a carefully constructed skin. A wolf in sheep's clothing, so-to-speak.
He was no longer waiting for his fairy tale ending. No longer waiting for someone to come and take him away and shield him from all the evils of the world.
Worlds, he corrected himself mentally.
He had tried to remain unattached, keep himself and his heart closed off to the strange people he was traveling with, though his efforts failed -- quite spectacularly, he might add.
He had been attached before, in the icy land he fled from, and that attachment had been severed so suddenly and fiercely that it had left him as the man -- monster -- he was at that moment, lying on the cold floor, feeling its chill seep through the soft fabric of his clothes and into his skin.
He counted his fingers again, and then continued on, listing the rest of the pieces that made him who he was, or wasn't, or wanted to be.
He found pieces to be an appropriate word to use. Not as an adjective, but as a verb. He was broken, and did not know where the pieces had scattered to or where to begin to search for them. He had long ago given up hope of ever finding them -- or was it that he no longer could be bothered to search?
He didn't have an answer to that question, so instead he counted.
Ten fingers, two hands, two arms, two shoulders, ten toes, two feet, two legs, one neck, one head, one nose, one mouth, two ears, two eyes…
He frowned for a moment, trying to figure out what was wrong in his counting, and didn't understand how he could make a mistake with something as trivial and basic as this. He blinked and he remembered.
Ahh, he thought, fingering the bandage that was still wrapped securely around his eye socket. He had a feeling his eye would be returned to him -- whether through regeneration thanks to his new and unwanted abilities, or through some strange events that may lead up to the original being put back into its proper place.
His stomach gurgled suddenly, and he felt its rumbling discontent more than he heard it. This type of hunger he could handle -- where his body was hungry, needed energy and, possibly, something sickeningly sweet. He found that he had two types of hungers now. The kind that could be ignored, for a while -- the kind that could fade into the background when more important matters presented themselves, or there was a distinct lack of nourishment available.
And then there was the other hunger.
It was a hunger so deep that he could feel it in his bones and his heart and his soul. A hunger where his senses were heightened dramatically and his mind darted about with renewed fervor, while his body weakened physically with each passing moment. It was a hunger he would never give in to -- even until he could no longer stand, and it was then that Kurogane would have to literally pry his mouth open, revealing the sharpened points of his canines, and then place it over his strong, tan neck where it would, almost of its own accord, snap shut and pierce the soft flesh.
He both hated those moments with a passion so fierce that it startled him, and loved them with a passion that was equally strong, yet far more frightening.
He shook his head, childishly hoping the movement might cause his thoughts to seep out of his ears or just dissolve into nothing and leave him, for a few minutes, at least, in peace. His stomach let its discontentment be known once more, and his missing eye flared back into life, leaving him so dizzy with pain that, even if he could be bothered moving to make himself something to eat, he wouldn't be able to get up.
It was as the pain was ebbing away, leaving in its wake a smaller, more manageable throbbing in his temples, that he noticed the warm presence sitting next to him. His hand had, of its own accord, tangled itself in the coarse, black fabric that the ninja was wearing and once he realized this he released it as quickly as he dared.
Kurogane's gaze bore down at him like twin pools of liquid fire, searing him with their strength and determination, and leaving him feeling as though the evil in him was being purified in a most intimate matter.
"What," came the gruff voice that he had come to love and hate all at once, "Are you doing on the floor? Do you want to get sick?"
He looked up at the dark-haired man in response; beads of sweat slipping silently down his face, blue eye unfocused yet pleading. Kurogane heaved a sigh that, although making him sound as though he were greatly annoyed, he knew held well-concealed worry.
"Never mind," he sighed, "Don't answer that."
"I…" he began, trying to ignore those blazing eyes that refused to look away, "Don't want to get sick."
Don't want to be even more of a burden.
It seemed as though Kurogane had read his thoughts; though he wasn't exactly sure whether or not he had said the last part out loud or not.
"You're not a burden, Fai," said the ninja. Fai blinked at him. Kurogane rarely ever used his name -- preferring to use insults in its stead --, and when he did, it was only in moments of utmost importance.
"I--"
"I chose to do this, you should respect that."
Just like you respected my choice to die?
Kurogane glowered at him, and Fai realized he must have said that aloud. "I don't listen to idiots," he said severely, "Who are dying from shock and are too stupid to listen to the people trying to help."
Fai opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it as he couldn't remember what he had been planning on saying. He furrowed his brows in a frown, though the habitual smile he wore hadn't faltered once throughout the entire afternoon. He decided to turn his head and stare at the orange light seeping through the kitchen window that stained the white wall every shade of red, pink and orange imaginable.
Muscled arms slid beneath him; one under his knees, and the other supporting his head, as Kurogane scooped him up into a warm embrace. Fai pressed his head up against the larger man's chest and listened to the calming rhythm his heart beat out.
"You're lucky the kids went into town," said Kurogane. Fai could feel his chest reverberate and he let his eyes droop shut. "Because you can imagine what the princess' reaction would be to see you lying on the floor like that, looking more pathetic than usual, if that's even possible."
"How is Sakura-chan dealing with the 'new' Syaoran?"
"As well as can be expected, considering."
"Mm-hmm," hummed Fai in response.
Kurogane shifted him a bit so that he was more comfortable, and began to walk upstairs towards their shared bedroom. "You knew all along, didn't you?" asked the ninja, "That the kid was a clone?"
"No," said the blond, enjoying the feeling that Kurogane's chest made as he growled in response. "I did know that he wasn't what he seemed to be."
"That heart-seal thing…"
Fai grinned into the fabric of his shirt, "I might have done something to help with that…but then again, I mightn't have."
"Damned mage."
"Damned in the most literal sense."
The only reaction Fai got from that statement was a slight pause in Kurogane's stride, but the moment passed rather quickly as the ninja busied himself with opening the bedroom door, maneuvering across the room and then setting Fai down on the bed -- gently, but not overtly so. This was, after all, Kurogane.
"…At least you're alive, idiot."
Fai cracked his eyes open a bit to peer at the face of his companion. "Alive, as in having a pulse and breathing? Yes. Alive as in living -- really living? No, not really."
Kurogane growled once more, and Fai felt strangely empty just hearing it and not being able to feel it and experience it as intimately as he had just moments before.
"Why is that?"
Fai looked at him. "Silly Kuro-mune," he said with an enigmatic grin, "A magician never reveals his secrets."
Kurogane gave him a disgusted look and left the room silently. Fai sighed and leaned back into the pillows, allowing his body to slip into a long-overdue slumber.
He dreamt of Kurogane, which was not an uncommon occurrence. He dreamt that they were sitting in an open field, full of flowers and the light of the sunrise, and that he was cold, and shivering, and that Kurogane noticed and pulled a woolen blanket around them tightly. It felt scratchy against his skin, but was warm and comfortable, and he soon found himself slipping into a light doze. He wondered, fleetingly, if it was possible to fall asleep in dreams, but ignored that thought in favour of listening to his companion's steady heartbeat.
As the last vestiges of wakefulness left him, he thought he felt a kiss being placed to the top of his head, but he couldn't be sure -- he was already far too drugged off of the warmth their bodies created, the feel of the grass tickling his bare feet, the scratchiness of his blanket and the light of the sunrise staining his eyelids a deep red.
When he woke up the next morning he found the blankets wrapped securely around his body, and Kurogane asleep in the chair next to his bed.
He touched the top of his head softly, and then let a small smile form on his lips.
Maybe he wouldn't give up on fairytales after all.
a/n: I actually really like this one. It is a response to the claims of not having any Kuro-ness in the last chapter… even though there was. I purposefully left his name out of it. The whole 'red' part of the last one-shot was supposed to be representative of Kurogane.
So… yeah.
The very end of this one… I had quite a lot of trouble after the whole "a magician never reveals his secrets" line. Safjdhsklafhasjfkah. The rest of the story was like "Hah! You had one good, witty piece of dialogue and now you shall have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING afterwards! -evil laughter-"
Let us all shoot my Creative Process in the foot, shall we?
Please review! I know you are reading this! I HAVE A HIGH HIT COUNT!
And like, seriously, it takes a fraction of the amount of time I took to write this to review -- and omfg! I hear FLCL background music (Yorii Gallop) playing from upstairs! CRAZY ASS BRASILIAN SHOWS!
-hearts-
I will proof-read this tomorrow. Unless one of you kind readers might help me out a bit? eheheh. My BetaFish is still in Italy and unable to reach a computer. Blech. I haven't had the last couple of chapters beta'ed... -grumbles- If you notice any stupid mistakes, please let me know. I am having the unfortunate habit of overlooking small spelling errors thanks to my living in a non-English speaking country at the moment.
-grumbles-