Chapter Two: Pillow Talk
Last chapter: "I'll just go by myself," Kanda stated, adjusting Mugen at his hip. "That is unacceptable, Kanda," Linali hissed at him. "Read your report. Three finders are missing and six of them have vanished outright. You are not going by yourself." Her gaze fell on Allen. "Take him with you."
Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.
The sound echoed faintly in the confines of Allen's sparsely furnished room, creating the impression of a thousand crazed woodpeckers in a hardwood forest. Allen cringed slightly as the steady reverberations burrowed into his skull and droned in his already-ringing ears. There was suddenly an achingly sweet silence and the white-haired exorcist paused in his packing to breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God, he thought, I swear I would have gone crazy if Kanda tapped his foot just one more-- there was the soft shushing noise of a page being turned, and then--
Tap. Tap TAP. TAPTAPTAP.
"Time," Allen growled, turning to glare at Kanda who responded with an aristocratic sneer and an increased rate of foot tapping. Stupid Kanda, whispered a sullen voice in his head, first you have to be an ass all the way to the lab-- even when you were unconscious and I had to carry you and that blasted Mugen-- then you were an ass to Lavi, and then you had to get me assigned as your replacement partner for a mission because Lavi was in no condition to do so. Ass. Allen had the vague and nagging feeling that he had overlooked some important detail in his list of irritating things the arrogant swordsman had managed to accomplish in his presence. He concentrated on that train of thought, attempting to follow it to the end, when it was cruelly derailed by that gentle, almost inquisitive, rapping of Kanda's toe on the stone floor.
Oh, yes, Allen thought sourly, that. Out loud, the white-haired exorcist's words were far more polite: "Kanda, I can just finish up my packing and meet you at the boat in a little while. You don't have to wait for me here." In my room, tapping your foot. Reading the mission briefing, watching me pack, and tapping your foot. Some of Allen's irritation must have shown in his expression because the swordsman's gaze focused on the younger boy for a moment. Their eyes met and Kanda made a point of staring a hole through Allen's forehead before the elder exorcist shifted to lean against the door more comfortably while he made an indeterminate sound deep in his throat. Allen, now thoroughly angered, twitched and bristled at the other boy's lofty attitude.
"Look, Kanda," Allen started, ready to give the aloof young man a piece of his mind while he stuffed his small suitcase. "I don't want you looming over me and watching me pack! And you know what else?" By this time the boy was almost apoplectic with barely-suppressed rage and was brandishing the nearest article of clothing at an unconcerned Kanda. "I think what you did to Lavi was unspeakably cruel. And guess what else!" Allen's voice trailed off towards the end of his sentence as he noticed that all of Kanda's attention was invested in staring at Allen's out-flung and violently waving hand.
"Wha--?" Allen choked long before he could finish his sentence because there, clutched in his hand and still swaying slightly from the strength of the shaking it had received, was a pair of scarlet, slightly frayed, silken boxers. Pale gray eyes widened with sudden dismay.
"These aren't mine!" the white-haired boy yelped, shoving the boxers down into his duffel bag and covering them with a clean white shirt.
"So you're taking them with you anyway?" Kanda remarked flippantly, arching one perfect dark brow. Allen froze, a huge sweat drop sliding down his face. Oooh, awkward. Damn eyebrow, a little voice giggled maniacally in his mind and for a moment, Allen considered the possibility that he was, even now, sitting in an asylum somewhere chewing on a padded wall. Then pale gray eyes met a stare the color of cold iron, of thunder, of storm-tossed sea, and thought fled altogether. Allen looked away first, unable to respond to the expectant overtones in those eyes. Seconds ticked by slowly and, before the younger exorcist could come up with a sufficiently un-suspicious answer to Kanda's probing, the swordsman's patience, never very long or elastic to begin with, ran out.
"So," the raven-tressed boy prodded. "Whose are they?" Allen blushed to match the boxers in question.
"Idunno..." he mumbled inaudibly, his words mashed together by the overwhelming sense of his embarrassment.
"What?" Kanda pushed, irritated by Allen's attempt at evasiveness. The younger boy glared at him. Why can't he just leave it like it is? Allen pondered. Does he really want to watch me make a fool of myself so much?
"I," Allen pronounced very clearly through gritted teeth, "don't know whose they are." His words were absolute and final and brooked no argument or further questioning. There was, however, one slight problem with Allen's assertion: it was absolute and final and brooked no argument and was therefore unacceptable to that implacable and impossible force that was Kanda. Allen was not aware of this little miscalculation and resumed his packing, having reached the misguided conclusion that the boxer discussion was over. He was sadly mistaken.
"You were so drunk you don't remember who you slept with?" the obnoxious, frustrating black-haired exorcist asked, his tone sly. His comment struck a nerve with the force of a wrecking ball slamming into the side of a building; Allen hissed like a wet cat and turned to glare at Kanda with the burning, fiery hatred of a thousand suns.
"Kanda. I understand that you are socially atrophied and that, for you, politeness and discretion are foreign concepts, but I'd like to share something with you." Allen punctuated his sentence by yanking the source of all evil (the boxers) out of his suitcase and zipping the abused luggage closed with a single vicious tug. "First, I don't know whose boxers they are because, until about two minutes ago, I had never seen them. Second, when something like this happens, unless you are a very, very close friend, you don't keep prying into other people's business because it's rude. Third, I have never been drunk, and I have never slept with anyone!"
There was a loud pop! as Allen's hand smacked down over his mouth as though he was trying to stem the flow of his words by sheer physical force. Kanda scrutinized him carefully for a moment, his cold, dark-eyed gaze strangely calculating, then turned and left Allen's room.
"I'm leaving in one hour, Bean sprout." he called back to the other boy in place of a farewell. "One hour. I won't wait for you if you're late."
Allen continued to sit in the middle of his floor, his eyes fixed on the space Kanda had just vacated, completely out-of-touch with reality. Well, that was weird, he thought after the minute hand of his clock had ticked its way around the clock face several times. Finally, sighing in frustration, Allen stood and picked up his small suitcase and, after a moment's thought, stooped to pick up the boxers as well. He clenched the slippery crimson fabric in one fist, wadded it into a ball, and shoved it deep into his left pocket. Wearily, he pushed open his door and stepped out into the hall, which was fortunately void of Kanda's presence. Timcampy, who had been waiting patiently for the white-haired exorcist to emerge, settled immediately onto his head with a contented flutter. There was a soft metallic creak as Timcampy's mouth gaped open, revealing rows of serrated teeth and a small tube from which a holographic image of Kanda emerged. The false Kanda stormed down the hall, obviously angry-- then the scene blurred as Timcampy fast-forwarded-- and a Komurin appeared. It took a little while for Allen to figure out that image of Kanda had been recorded as the swordsman went to get breakfast earlier that moment. Having reached that conclusion, Allen focused once more on the image now presented. The date and time flashed above the scene, indicating that whatever Komurin was doing had occurred earlier that day, sometime after breakfast. I must have been on the way to the lab when this happened, Allen thought, then shuddered.
"There's another one?" he groaned, noticing the bold scarlet lettering splashed over the machine's side. Komurin IX? How many of these things does Komui have? Allen watched the memory Timcampy projected with trepidition. Komurin IX wandered down the hall opening each door in turn and depositing a more-or-less neatly folded pile of clothing on the nearest available surface. Komurin IX's holograph drew closer and closer to Allen's room, leaving behind laundry as it went, and Allen, who had been confused as to why exactly Timcampy was showing him such a bizarre image, shoved his hand into his pocket. His left pocket. Silk, soft and cool, met his fingers.
"You mean Komui made a Komurin for doing the laundry?" Allen blurted, completely horrified. The false Komurin IX had finally reached Allen's door in Timcampy's memory. It stopped and removed a pile of clothing from some storage area deep inside its mechanical bowels, then hesitated, trembling slightly as its miniscule computerized brain whirred and rumbled, small sparks shooting out from under the casing on its head. A rather ridiculous error button flickered to life on the Komurin-beast's haunches. -CLOTHES PILE INCOMPLETE-, the freakish machine burbled, its tone crackling with static. Its robotic arms rotated and one hand began rummaging through the vast thoracic space that occupied much of the machine's belly. Soft beeping marked its progress, much like a tracking sonar, the tones becoming louder and more frequent as the giant hand neared its goal. Finally, with a cry of -TARGET AQUIRED-, Komurin IX whipped a now-familiar article of clothing from its inner stash and, having added it delicately to the top of Allen's pile, dumped all of the clothes on the white-haired exorcist's bed and shambled off to complete some other obscure and secretive task.
Allen's eyes narrowed. "Komui, you idiot," he growled sotto voce, breathing hard through his nose. "You have no idea how much embarrassment you've caused me."
Timcampy's mouth snapped shut, cutting off the projected image of Komurin IX, and the little golem began to nibble on a strand of white hair in an affectionate manner. Allen stroked the cold metal skin of the golem with an absentminded finger while he imagined various tortures to which a certain technological developer should be subjected. Suddenly, Allen's little bubble of anger burst, and, having no other emotion upon which to fall back, he settled into a state of apathy.
"I guess I better find out whose these are, Timcampy," Allen remarked, his voice tired. General Cross's golem flapped its way off the exorcist's head in order to begin an odd aerial maneuver that culminated in Timcampy gripping Allen's black sleeve with its many rows of golden teeth and making an honest attempt at towing the boy down a small corridor that stuck out at right angles to the main hall. Allen, ever obliging, followed in the golem's wake.
The lights got dimmer and the corridor got narrower as the strange pair progressed until Allen was stumbling and groping along a tiny passage barely wider than the spread of Timcampy's wings. Cobwebs wafted about like rags in a gale, shivering with the wind of their passage and adhering firmly to Allen's nose, mouth, hands, and generally sticking all over his once-black uniform. Soon the exorcist was gagging on the fine, strong, silken fibers that had somehow managed to find their way into the panting boy's mouth.
"How much farther do we have to go?" a distraught Allen asked plaintively of the silent golem. He added as an afterthought, "Where are we going?" Timcampy just fluttered faster, bobbing and weaving through the web-congested air-space. Allen cried out unhappily and increased his pace to keep up with the speeding mini-machine. The two rounded a tight corner at a dead sprint, Allen grazing his elbow on the far wall, and found themselves rapidly approaching a bright, white light. Second-thoughts began whizzing through the cursed boy's head and were vocalized as an odd gurgling sound that had been meant to be a scream as the light suddenly became blindingly, painfully intense and the floor dropped out from under Allen's feet.
"AAAAAHHHH-umph!"
Allen's horrified shriek of terror was abruptly silenced by his unanticipated relocation of the stone floor. With his face. He sat up clutching his much-abused nose, slightly dazed and very confused. The largish lump embedded in his belly came free and revealed itself to be a partially crushed and very unhappy Timcampy, who flapped its wings madly to gain altitude and, having reached a height even with the hand covering Allen's nose, sank metallic teeth into the fragile flesh of Allen's right-hand pointer finger. Allen responded with a howl of pain and by shaking his hand frantically in an attempt to dislodge the enraged golem.
A few moments later, when metaphorical ruffled feathers had been smoothed and Timcampy had been appeased and profusely apologized to, Allen, who was gripping a mangled finger wrapped in a kerchief, began to take in his surroundings. He was in a room he had never seen before or indeed ever heard of. A broad door was set into the far wall with three wide steps flowing from beneath it down into the floor, which lay a full two feet below the threshold. The floor was of fine, tight-grained, honey-colored oak, which gleamed reddish in the light of the fire. The fire itself was behind the exorcist, it had been the flagstone hearth that Allen had fallen upon, but it was the enormous fireplace that caught Allen's attention. Fully large enough for a tall man, like Lavi, Allen's mind supplied, to stand in without having to duck his head and wide enough to roast a whole boar, the vast stone facade dominated the wall nearest the exorcist. The mighty slabs from which it was carved were etched in abstract figures, runes, and sigils, all of which were unfamiliar to Allen, save one, which was carved halfway up on the left-hand side.
"I've seen this before," Allen told Timcampy, tracing the spiky shape of the rune with one fingertip. "I don't remember where, but it was recently, since I joined the Black Order." The exorcist turned to survey the room more closely, this time noting the heavy, formal mahogany chairs and the rich carpets that were strewn almost haphazardly about the room. Thick tomes dealing with everything from medicine and religion to astronomy and akuma were scattered over the well-polished and highly reflective surface of a long, low table in the center of the room. Curious, Allen sifted through them, selecting one at random, and then settled himself into a nearby chair and began to read.
Minutes passed quietly as Allen immersed himself in the book, which dealt with fantastical monsters other than akuma, turning the dry, age-yellowed pages carefully. He was so engrossed in the writing, each word written in an archaic manner, that he never heard the door creak open on its old iron hinges, never noticed the soft thud of heavy boots touching down on the magnificent wood of the floor. He did, however, realize that he was not alone when large hands clapped down over his shoulders. Allen's spine became ram-rod strait, forcing his head to lift as his shoulders stiffened. The young boy's body tried to follow his spine's example, causing the exorcist to stand swiftly. Or rather, try to. The top of the white-haired teen's head slammed into the point of the other person's chin.
Allen's eyes watered with pain, but his gentle and concerned nature, as well as his guilt, seized control of his body, overriding his self-protective instinct, which was to beat the intruder into a bloody pulp. He turned to offer his apologies to whoever he had struck, and--
"Lavi?" Allen started, his tone somewhere between surprise and concern. "Lavi, what are you doing here?"
Lavi, who had collapsed in pain to sprawl disjointedly on the floor, sat up rubbing his aching jaw. He shot a mock-glare at the younger exorcist before he answered in a voice rippled with suppressed amusement at the other's surprise. "I could ask you the same question, Allen, and I would have more right to an answer." Lavi's words sailed over Allen's head and the younger boy simply stared at the auburn-haired man in confusion. The hammer-wielder sighed and explained.
"I live here, Allen."
"What? Here?" Allen gasped, taking in the stern furniture, the heaps of dusty tomes, and the forbidding fireplace. Lavi sweat dropped, amazed at Allen's apparent naiveté and ignorance.
"Um...no...Not here, here, but in the sense of near here," Lavi said carefully. Allen stared at him blankly, totally nonplussed. Are you joking? Lavi thought, already starting to laugh. Finally, taking pity on the other boy, Lavi elaborated. "This is like an entry room; my room is down the hall a little. C'mon, I'll show you."
They walked together up the steps to the door, Lavi leading and Allen trailing along behind like a lost puppy, the book he had been reading still clutched to his chest.
"Allen, you have to leave the book here. The panda would kill me if it wasn't here when he wanted it," Lavi told him, prying the heavy, leather-bound volume out of Allen's hands and setting it down on a nearby chair. Allen nodded vaguely as they continued through the same entryway that Lavi had first appeared from. A brightly lit and formal wood-paneled hallway stretched out before them for quite some distance, but Lavi stopped a short distance away at the second door on the right.
"Here, Allen," he said, opening the iron-bound door with ease. Allen noticed the small brass plaque bearing the name 'Lavi' that was nailed to the thick oak just before the portal swung open enough for Allen's gray eyes to catch sight of the ordered chaos within. Lavi saw Allen hesitate out of the corner of his eye and remedied the situation by simply dragging a protesting Allen inside. The door shut behind them with all of the cold finality of a crypt closing for all eternity. Allen quivered.
Once inside, the white-haired exorcist's eyes widened with shocked awe. The room was small, but was made even smaller by the heaps of books that stretched up to the ceiling. Bookshelves, all filled to the breaking-point and groaning with the weight of their burdens, hid every wall, dwarfing the heavy desk that was shoved in one corner, covered in odd artifacts with every drawer overflowing wit files and miscellaneous scraps of paper. Presumably the floor was carpeted, but it was difficult to be sure because Lavi's clothes and other, unidentified articles were spread in a thick layer over the entire area. There was only one spot in the entire room that did not have some sort of paper or pottery hiding its surface with clutter: Lavi's full-size, four-poster bed. The bed gave the impression of being fluffy, what with the piles of fat pillows and the thick, down-filled coverlet.
Lavi shifted from one foot to the other a little sheepishly. "I'd offer you a place to sit down, but I'm afraid clearing you a space would put a kink in my organization."
"This is organized?" Allen asked, aghast.
"Ah, hahaha," Lavi giggled, rubbing the back of his head. "Just sit on the bed, that'll do just fine."
"Ano," Allen said softly, still in shock. "Is it really okay for me to walk across all your...paperwork?" Lavi didn't answer, he simply wrapped his arms around Allen's chest and threw the younger, smaller, lighter boy about ten feet to land on his rump in the middle of the bed.
Allen wasn't prepared for his sudden flight, nor was he expecting the coverlet and mattress to be soft enough to allow his hips to sink. Startled, Allen fell back among the over-stuffed pillows, his booted feet lifting as his torso flopped downward. When he finally came to rest, he was sprawled spread-eagled over the vivid orange coverlet, its soft silk fabric cool against his flushed cheeks. Allen felt the bed dip as Lavi joined him on the mattress and stretched out on his side facing the white-haired boy, his hand resting next to Allen's hip.
Allen turned his head, his white hair spreading out over the scarlet pillow-case like a halo. Pale gray eyes met clear sea-green and held.
"Allen, I need to talk to you," Lavi breathed, his suddenly serious voice barely above a whisper.
"Lavi, my boots are dirty--" Allen began, worried about the havoc the filth coating his footgear was wreaking on the silk coverlet.
"Shhhh. I don't care, Allen." Lavi interrupted gently, smoothing his fingers over the soft skin of Allen's brow. Allen shivered at the contact, an electric thrill running over his flesh. "I just need to talk to you," the flame-haired man repeated.
"About what?" Allen whispered, his voice shaking and cracking slightly with nervous tension. Lavi didn't reply at first; he just shifted to lie on his back so that his side was pressed firmly against Allen's. His stroking hand moved from Allen's face to tangle in Allen's hair. Lavi tipped his head so that their skulls touched, their faces inches apart. He sighed softly and Allen shuddered again, completely unused to Lavi's strangely sober behavior.
"It's about Kanda," Lavi said after a while.
Allen, grateful to have something to distract himself from the increasingly awkward situation, latched onto Lavi's words like a drowning man to a rope while trying surreptitiously to widen the presently nonexistent gap between his hip and Lavi's muscular thigh. "What about Kanda?"
Lavi squirmed slightly, apparently trying to get more comfortable, curling his long frame around Allen's tense figure. "Well," Lavi modified his previous statements, "it's about you and Kanda."
"Aren't they he same person?" Allen said slowly, his tone implying that he doubted Lavi's mental health. Lavi gazed down at the top of Allen's head with a blank expression, hoping desperately that Allen really was confused and that he wasn't making a rather pathetic pun. Allen seemed oblivious to his own play on words so Lavi, now chuckling quietly, clarified his meaning.
"You," he said, prodding Allen firmly in the center of his chest, "and Kanda. You know, big sword, black hair, and perennially foul expression?"
"Oh. Oh."
Lavi laughed delightedly. "You're so cute, Allen," he announced to the world in general as he enfolded the pale-haired boy in a tight embrace. Allen's face turned a scorching crimson and he made an honest attempt at extracting himself from Lavi's arms. "Stop wriggling," Lavi commanded, squeezing Allen's torso like a boa constrictor and squashing his protests through the weight of overwhelming physical contact.
"Of course," Lavi continued conversationally, his grip never slackening. "That's the problem. You, that means you, Allen," he prodded Allen in the chest again, "are far too cute for your own good. And that's why Kanda has been so uptight lately: he likes you and he's too chicken shit to do anything about it for fear of destroying his icy, bad-ass reputation."
Allen sagged in Lavi's arms, a queasy feeling of guilt coiling around his heart. "Look, Lavi. I'm really sorry Kanda said all those things to you in the lab today. I-I just..." he trailed off, unsure of where he should go from there.
"Don't worry about it," Lavi told him as he propped his chin on the top of Allen's head. "I shouldn't have confronted him. Besides, he actually showed remarkable self-restraint. Well, for Kanda at least. I thought he was going to cleave me in two with Mugen for a second, but he didn't, and that's always a good sign."
You have no idea just how close you were to becoming two little Lavis, Allen thought, relieved that Lavi seemed to have recovered from Kanda's cruel words. Lavi spoke then, unintentionally echoing Allen's thoughts.
"It really hurt, at first. Kanda's words, I mean. I was mostly surprised, like I said, Kanda usually responds to attacks on his emotional fortress with violence. When he just told me I was irritating it was like getting a knife in the back when you're prepared for a frontal attack." There was a pause in the flow of words and Lavi's visible eye crinkled with laughter at some inner thought. "Linali must have been furious when I ran out like that."
"She was," Allen said fervently and trembled with remembered fear. "She yelled at Kanda about how he was arrogant and a generally awful and inhumane person, and then she yelled at him even more when she had to assign me to be Kanda's replacement partner on the mission, which I still don't know what is. Oh, and she kicked Komui into a wall for being a crass bastard."
At this point, Lavi was chortling madly and pounding one fist on the pillow with glee. Allen watched that fist nervously, but his fears were allayed when Lavi sat up and swung his booted feet off the bed. Allen, glad to finally be freed from Lavi's clutches, sat up quickly as well. Too quickly, really, because his shoulder bumped Lavi in the center of his back and the auburn-haired hammer-wielder, off-balance, fell back toward the mattress. Lavi's cat-like reflexes saved him from face planting into the comforter as he managed to save himself with one hand.
Allen was still a little disoriented by the rapid succession of events, but Lavi was simply distracted by something odd. The hand with which he had checked his abrupt plummet back to the bed was placed firmly on the pocket of Allen's coat, but the truly bizarre thing was the squishy bulge in said pocket.
"What's this?" Lavi questioned energetically; his curiosity knew no bounds. Allen had finally noticed where Lavi's hand was and one horrified thought managed to flit through his conscious before disaster struck. Oh damn. Milliseconds later, Lavi had pulled open the pocket and whipped out the cause of the bulge.
Silence fell between them as both boys stared at a pair of brilliantly red boxers.
"Sooooo." Allen blushed as he had never blushed before, but something in Lavi's tone (probably the wicked delight) told him that he wouldn't be getting off the hook so easily. "Why are you carrying boxers around, Allen?"
Allen didn't like the sneaky expression on the hammer-wielding exorcist's face, which, when coupled with his devilish little smile and Allen's knowledge of his true nature, was more than enough to make anyone's blood run cold. "Komurin IX put them in my room," he said quickly, hoping to cut all of Lavi's teasing comments off at the pass. "I was going to send them back to the laundry, and-"
"So you put them in your pocket?" Allen stopped short, having finally realized, thanks to Lavi's interruption, just how weird carrying around an unknown person's boxers was and just how lame and futile his excuse really was. He giggled nervously. Lavi smiled like a Cheshire cat and the hairs on the back of Allen's neck stood up.
"Do you even know who they belong to?" Lavi guessed Allen's problem with uncanny accuracy. At Allen's shame-faced nod, Lavi continued. "You know, if you slept around a little more, you would know what everyone's underwear looked like and you wouldn't have that problem."
"L-Lavi!" Allen protested, his face nearly purple with the depth of his blush.
"Do you want me to tell you whose they are?" Lavi swiftly inserted into the conversation. Allen's mind skittered down a new path, spurred on by the elder exorcist's prior statement. How many people has Lavi slept with if he knows who the boxers belong to? came the unwanted thought. An odd emotion squirmed in Allen's chest just below his heart, but Lavi continued before the white-haired teen had enough time to put a name to that sensation.
"They're mine," Lavi chirped cheerfully.
It took a few seconds for that particular revelation to sink in and Lavi, mistaking Allen's silence for disbelief, hopped of the bed and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops.
"I'll prove it to you if you don't believe me."
"N-no! That's not it!" Allen shrieked, his voice suddenly high-pitched, as he recoiled violently from Lavi's general direction. Lavi's expression turned coy and he fluttered auburn lashes at the other boy.
"What's wrong, Allen? Are you afraid of being all alone with little old me, in my room, on my bed, I might add, at--," Lavi glanced at the clock partially obscured by a rather hideous example of an aboriginal pottery statuette that was waiting to be tagged and placed in storage, "6:00 at night?"
Allen's eyes widened until Lavi could see the white all around the light gray iris. "It's six o' clock already?" the boy half-yelled.
Lavi dropped his teasing attitude long enough to ask just why Allen was so concerned about the time, but Allen was already sprinting past him and down the hall, having thrown open the door so fast it had collided with one of the bookshelves.
"Sorry, Lavi!" the little exorcist shouted back over his shoulder. "Kanda only gave me one hour, so I have to be at the boat in--eep!--two minutes!"
"Good luck with Kanda!" Lavi yelled after the fleeing boy's back. Allen didn't hear him; he had already run through the room in which Lavi had found him and was halfway down the narrow corridor. He burst out of the little offshoot and into the main hall with exactly thirty seconds to go before Kanda left him at headquarters and went on the mission alone. His little suitcase was lying forlornly against one wall, having been discarded before Allen followed Timcampy into the spider-web choked corridor. Allen snatched it up and kept on running, down, down, down to the boats, his breath coming in short, ragged pants. He was only five seconds late when he reached the docks because he had sprinted at an inhuman speed for the last few minutes. His booted feet pounded out a rhythm on the wood planking as he rounded the last bend and caught sight on his quarry. Kanda glanced up at him, then untied the last rope and pushed the boat away from the dock. Allen let out a wordless howl of desperation and, having reached the end of the pier, launched himself into space. Less than a second later, the white-haired boy and his small suitcase slammed down into the open boat, setting it rocking. Kanda glared at him; Allen's precipitous entrance had caused the side of the boat to dip low enough for water to splash inside. Allen, for his part, sighed with relief.
"You're late," Kanda informed him in a caustic tone. Allen simply slumped down on the nearest seat gasping for breath. At that moment, the strong current of the underground river caught the prow of the little boat, whisking it and its cargo off into the black tunnel ahead.
Author's note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter and I apologize for how long it took me to update; my cow is going to give birth soon and I have been dealing with that. And no, that is not an April Fool's joke. Thanks for reading.