True Colors

"My eyeball isn't food," Tyki attempted. Allen was lying over him and gnawing at his eyeball, just for fun.

Allen's warm breath played over Tyki's closed eyelid as he exhaled in amusement, and continued pretending to eat Tyki's eye with his lips like a toothless zombie.

"You're very strange, Allen." It was a total understatement. People didn't know how damn weird the kid was. The other day, he'd spent at least an hour laughing in progressively creepier ways, because he was trying to laugh the way "the laughing in my head sounds." Tyki had just told him that his mental derangement meant that there was a bit of Noah inside him, which just made him try even harder to perfect this laugh that ended up sounding like an old man wheezing through the apartment.

Allen grinned and swiped his tongue lightly over his eyelid before drawing back and giving Tyki's tongue some leisure time in his mouth. "I'm hungry."

"Again?"

"Mmm." He shifted so that he was lying on Tyki's chest, both of them as warm and languorous as a couple of cats out in the sun.

Tyki idly wound Allen's white hair around a finger before moving his hand to stroke his young lover's back, reveling in the feel of his smooth skin and heat. Moments like this had been all too rare, but now that Allen was waiting for Lenalee's replacement to come meet him, they'd been staying at Tyki's place and locking the door.

Allen turned his head to move his lips slowly against Tyki's ribcage. Maybe he was working on a perfect imitation of a blind, toothless, old zombie. Tyki would never admit it, but zombies eating flesh - even the suggestion of it, kind of creeped him out. But Allen was a cute zombie. He could see why Road liked him.

"Hungry, right?" Tyki ran his hands through snowy white hair, tugging upward lightly to give Allen a hint. Allen came back up, smiled peacefully at him and gave him his kiss before floating back down and using his head to give him a cuddle. Tyki had to move, or he'd just die this way, with Allen draped over his corpse. Happy people never get anything done, they're too busy being happy. "Come on, let's go get some food."

"Don' wanna move." Allen's words slurred a little as he headed towards the sleepy corner of post-coital bliss. Tyki thought it would be nice to join him there, until the possessed organ known as Allen's stomach growled and reminded him what happened last time he'd tried to ignore it.

"Tyki!" Eyes wide as saucers, and now obviously awake, Allen had walked hurriedly to meet him at the door. "Usted debe haber venido del cielo, mi amor," he tried not to drool-speak at Tyki, or, more specifically, at the packages of food his lover was carrying.

"That was Spanish, I'm Portuguese." Tyki noted.

"I don't know Portuguese."

"You don't know Spanish either," came the quick rejoinder. Not that Allen was looking at him. He was setting out plates and things to eat with and pretending to be civilized, just at a very high speed so that the pretence could be quickly fulfilled, and he could move on to his stomach. Manners sort of fell by the wayside when Allen was starving; this was something that Tyki enjoyed, since Allen still tried so hard to pretend he had them.

The exorcist looked at him expectantly. He smirked and took his time approaching the set up on the coffee table. Allen's eye ticked a little. He covered it with his hair. Allen looked like there was a black hole waiting to form in his mouth. Tyki sauntered slowly. Allen somehow managed to not comment. Tyki kissed him as a reward for making it and finally sat down to eat. The relative nature of time was never more apparent or divergent between them as when it came to food.

Before Tyki had managed to even taste most of his food, Allen had already polished off most of his plate. Eating for him seemed to be a one step process. Put it all in, give a token attempt at chewing, swallow. Next plate. It was really rather impressive. "Have I mentioned, my dear Allen, that a lot sure can fit in your mouth?"

"You already knew that." His lover mumbled attractively around a mouthful of food.

"Why do you love food so much?" Tyki had set his utensils down. He felt full by proxy.

"Never got enough of it as a child," he muttered, only half joking.

Tyki considered. "Then I'll give you as much as you want."

Allen stopped for a second. "That," he said, "was almost sweet."

"Aren't I always sweet to you?" If only to avoid having to take his joystick for an uninvited trip up a certain exorcist's rectum, really. Allen Walker was irresistible when he dropped everything and got hopelessly down and dirty, plus Tyki wasn't that rapey, right?

"Lies," Allen declared. "We're always too busy fucking to spend time talking. And I don't think hands and knees and walls and bathrooms really get the sweet vibe across."

"Then when we're old, we'll spend more time talking than fucking," Tyki replied smoothly. It was hard to tell, even for himself, whether or not that was another line, and he took a moment to wonder why his mind had illustrated it so lovingly.

"Really, I just can't wait," the sarcastic little shit replied.

"You know, you also spend more time eating than talking," Tyki pointed out, amused.

"Yeah, that's not going to change." But contrary to his worlds, Allen was finally slowing down. He was even starting to eye Tyki with interest again. He wasn't really sure how he felt about being a second serving on the scale of important needs to satisfy. No, he knew how he felt about it.

"Hey, what happened to my gratitude for bringing you food and everything?"

Allen raked his eyes over his rather gorgeous food deliverer. He had time. He licked his lips and slid his hands under Tyki's shirt. "Here," he breathed, parting his lips and thanking his lover properly.

Then again, if this is what domesticity was like with the real Allen Walker, Tyki really couldn't bring himself to complain.