A brief morning came and went, and Zero slept through it without visible disturbance. Kaname watched the man as he slept, unwilling to sleep and distressed by the fact that he couldn't wake his companion to talk about it. His body was much cooler now, so he'd brought in their portable heater to keep the hunter warm through the dawn. Still, he couldn't bear much more than his thermal underwear. The heat inside of him and the caloric halo of the blast had almost made him faint, and no matter how much he'd wanted to pry his friend about why he'd done such a thing, there was only one way to ask, and God knew the hunter would distrust him for the rest of their lives if it came to that. Not that the man held him in high regard in the first place, but what they had worked well enough, and being able to stand each other when sober was a good, far cry from the short tempers of their youth.
"You should have slept," the younger said as he woke up, turning onto his belly so he could curl further into the warmth. Kaname looked at him softly, and pushed the heater a little closer,
"Sleep a little longer. I'll be fine." Zero continued rearranging the sleeping bag until he had a large pile around him, then scrutinised it before flipping it over and getting up. The pureblood looked after him worriedly as the man stumbled from their tent, feet black with grime from running barefoot in the night. Whatever he could gather from his dishevelled appearance betrayed the depth of his condition: whenever he turned his head, a painful swishing sounded off in his ear drums, and sleeping had been absolute Hell. The hunter knew his companion had probably figured it out, but retaining a sense of casualness and normality was essential and, for the most part, tantamount to making them feel just a little more civil, especially since he could practically draw a picture in the mire of blood lining the threshold of the pavilion. Not only that, but he could see the sticky tendrils woven throughout Kaname's hair, growing nauseated by the thickness of the congealed clumps.
Face quite pale, he turned to their fire pit, searching through the ashes for leftover coals. Grunting when he found none, he took an all-too-precious match from their kit, and lit a pile of twigs for cooking their breakfast. Or, at least, his breakfast. He didn't know how filling a human shoulder could be, but it was in consideration of their delicate balance that he did not ask, and just brought out an extra cup. What disturbed him the most was, although the gunk had meticulously been cleaned from his teeth, the rotten smell of bad meat still plaguing the brunette's gentle breaths, making it a Herculean task to be near him for more than a few moments.
"If you want coffee, it'll be ready in a moment." He said as his partner lifted the flap. The heavy smell grew stronger and he grimaced from its acrimonious presence. As the man sat down in front of him, a hand motioned up to a serious face, and instantly, his stomach sank.
"You shouldn't be out here if you can't hear." The pureblood slowly mouthed. Zero immediately scowled, almost throwing the pot in his partner's lap,
"I can see and smell fine. And don't talk so slowly: I've been reading lips for years. Give me some fucking credit already." Kaname looked put out, but continued staring at the other man, willing him to look up. He did so sluggishly, not quite fighting it, but doing so for effect, all the while glaring at the other man as fearsomely as he dared. "Don't fuck with me. I can manage myself. When we get back, I'll go to a clinic or something. We're done with this Hellhole, aren't we?" Though gritting his teeth against the hunter's strong attitude, Kaname nodded, standing up to cool off. The taste of rancid flesh was getting to him, but there wasn't good drinking water until the town. So, in rebellion against something he wasn't sure, he grabbed the pot of boiling water and poured it into his mouth, letting it burn off the taste while his friend screamed at him. He spit it out with a challenging glance at the blisteringly angry hunter, wiping foul residue from the side of his mouth. Almost surprised when the man simply cursed and reset the pot, he thought for a moment that loss of hearing had made him docile, but jumped and shouted out when the water lapped at his skin in a large cascade. It scalded, then healed, and he looked up from his ruined clothing to find a reproachful glower and the bent handle of a Sierra kettle. Throwing it to the ground, Zero stormed into the tent to pack up while the pureblood stood outside, sensitive lap still steaming painfully hot.
-
Their overstated return echoed throughout the vampire and hunter communities, the tiresome questions inconveniently coinciding with their after-trip exhaustion and rejuvenated apathy for most life. The man they'd hunted had been a slimy congressman intent on withholding certain rites in the conference room, a heavy bundle of bills flashed at everyone who could dispose of those who could oppose him. He lacked Ichiou's class and Rido's hands-on style, so in the end, it was an easy kill, lacking the flair they'd almost desired in having rid themselves of the other two so spectacularly. Not to say the bloodlust began then, of course.
"So how was Alaska?" Yuki asked them as she poured tea. Lessons from Ruka had given her the discreet edge of a sophisticated woman, and while she was always ready for small talk, she did mean to get to the point. Zero got up after eyeing the tray of sweets on the sideboard, Kaname watching the back of his white shirt as it rumpled and twisted.
"It was beautiful. I do wish we'd had more time to enjoy it before things got hectic, though." The hunter picked through the pastries at the bottom, licking powdered sugar from his fingers as it complicated his fussy quest.
"Do tell," she said, following her husband's eyes and aiming the question at their friend. Zero turned around and they looked back at the table, gentle smiles deceiving the fact that his face was absolutely sheathed in white.
"Well, we camped out on the tundra for a night or two. Not much to do in Deadhorse; but we did find a good place to take you sometime. A nice little bluff a bit south." He sat down next to Kaname, carrying a small plate holding two éclairs. Yuki's eyes shone in predilection, practically devouring them already, and her beloved husband pushed the plate toward her, taking one after. Her violet summer dress moved in pretty waves as she crossed her legs, her male counterpart closing his eyes in relish, the saccharine taste imperative to his recovery from dried fish and, of all things, vegetables. He positively lost himself.
"It must be beautiful in winter, but I would like to see it in the summer, perhaps early, so the flowers will come out. Were there many meadows up there, I wonder?" Zero watched her intently, smiling and grabbing another sweet in excited zeal.
"I spied some dead heads and upturned roots, but there won't be any foxglove like the fields in Washington." The mountain trip; five days up in a pass because of a broken axel and a rather irritable pureblood insulted by another one of the hunter's off-hand comments. Although the moonshine probably hadn't helped him much in deciding whether or not it was safe to start joking about how 'Shiki and his boyfriend fooled you pretty damn well for a while, didn't they?' Yuki nodded, cheered and somewhat frightened by her husband's almost orgasmic enjoyment of the treats. A champagne bottle rested on the sideboard, and she went to get it to join in with the tea. And they might even be responsible adults, this time.
"So tell me," she said as she again poured their drinks, "was it terribly cold up there, or were you shearing your clothes on the lawn for laughs?" Silly boys. Still unused to abrupt changes in temperature. Not at all like the conveniences of being a more sensitive and lax female. Silence answered her, so she asked again, having turned around to spy on their boyish adoration of the sweets to see the back of Zero's head. He didn't answer her, "Zero? Is something wrong?" Still, he was quiet. Kaname smacked his lips on the last bite. Yuki shushed him, and he looked over at his friend, who snapped his head back at them as if he'd been bitten by a snake,
"I'm fine. Simply tired. I'll go doze in the guest room and see if I can't be better off in the morning." Yuki, politely, wished him a good rest. Kaname got up to follow, but as he began to stand, her eyes, focused on her tea, glimmered over the rim of her cup. They told him to sit down and open up, so he sat, and she waited. The porcelain clicked as the hunter's boots clacked at the end of the runner carpet, beyond the hall.
"What happened?" She asked straightforwardly, spooning sugar cubes into her cup,
"Nothing bad, dear. Just a few miscalculations in how much ammunition was required." Her eyes, so like his, imbued with a deep red, gazed upon him with onerous requirement: unavoidably, she demanded the damned truth. "He just got knocked back by a bit of a blast. His head was ringing the whole trip back, and he wouldn't shut up about it. Other than acting spacey and short, he's fine." He got up again, and this time, she let him leave, not bothering to watch as his nervous fingers fumbled the door close.
Instantly, he was at the hunter's unofficial room. Having the door open, he caught the man unaware, limp on the couch. The sagging flesh dripping from his eye sockets carried the message of his sleeplessness and jading vexation. His skin was papery, body seizing when he saw Kaname standing where the door had before been closed.
"What do you want?" He slurred, no longer required to meticulously form words; he'd focused too much in trying to have Yuki think he was fine. God knew she'd find out soon.
"We need to get you to a doctor. At the very least, allow someone to look at your ears—"
"Fuck off," Zero spat, slack form jostling as he thrust his boots on the table. Kaname's face grew hard at his insolence,
"Through thick and thin I've dealt with this attitude, but you need help. I'm not going to stand by while you trip over your own two feet trying to spite the world like some obnoxious four year-old." Zero read his lips, mouth slowly turning into an acidic grimace before he looked toward the window, ignoring the fuming pureblood. Then, his head snapped back, and he growled as the man looked down at him like some scolding teacher, "Don't look away. If you can't hear me, I'm at least going to require that you look at me."
"Why can't you just leave? I'm not your responsibility anymore, Kuran." Kaname looked affronted, scowling something fearsome as Zero continued, watching the man stand up and walk over to a night stand to rifle through the drawers, "As I remember, you once called me a 'liability'. So, before I put more of a damper on your oh-so-glorious parade, please," he tossed a gun into the brunette's hands, looking at him tiredly, but confidently, "shoot me." Immediately, he dropped the gun, the barrel clanging on the hardwood. His skin was burnt where the metal had touched him, and Zero leaned back against the footboard of his bed, hands supporting him, nails tapping on the wood unaffectedly. Ripping a handkerchief from his vest pocket, the brunette wiped the seared flesh from his palms as it grew anew.
"You're a fucking spoilt child and you disgust me," Zero clicked his tongue,
"Oh, and we were on such good terms," he sighed dramatically. Kaname's glare lost no part of its ferocity, but he aimed it at his foul-smelling kerchief, stuffing it back into his pocket with distaste.
"Lose the tone and maybe I'll consider being nicer."
"A pity I can't hear myself. Whatever I'm saying is having quite the effect on you." His impassive look was mischievously punching at the pureblood's buttons, and while the brunette found himself terribly guilty for having caused the man's deafness, what was being said indefinitely dried up his unwilling compassion.
The stalemate they were at was an allusion to their incompatibility: whatever words Kaname might've scrounged up to placate the rogue hunter would be squashed, and any scruples he'd had before that moment would evaporate into an anger that, naturally, could only be matched by this little boy.
"I don't feel like dragging you anywhere tonight, so after the sun rises, you and I are heading to a clinic to get you checked out."
"Save it, lover boy: I can handle myself. When something important comes up, I'll go. You should spend some time with your beloved little homemaker. Must be quite proud that you've finally locked her up all to yourself?" He didn't really finish his sentence, but that was pretty much what he was getting at. In the middle of his droll observation of his counterpart's home life, the man had him shoved to the bed, the foot board breaking in two as his body burst through it. His head cracked through the wallpaper and plaster, running painfully into some plasterboard. Without delay, Kaname was atop him. Zero kicked him soundly in the gut, head still reeling when he felt his stomach almost rip in two as the pureblood punched it. He sat up quickly, a great pain thrumming in his belly as he sucker-punched the man, knocking him onto the floor. The scorching feeling in his abdomen grew, and he nearly vomited, it hurt so much. Their huffing filled the room, and Kaname got up, the nasty bruise on his face having conveniently faded, hiding his companion's extremely painful strength.
"This isn't going to get us anywhere unless I fight unfairly," the brunette said with a puff, calming down much more quickly,
"Same here. You want a drink?" Apparently, they'd just needed to get rid of some testosterone. The minds of males would forever confuse and sometimes disgust Yuki, whose head had already been described as an artefact of strange origin by both men. Kaname remained on the floor when Zero came over, two glasses of whiskey in his hands,
"Bit of a hard nightcap, isn't it?" he drawled, the right side of his mouth still aching violently. Having anti-vampire weapons touch naked flesh wasn't his idea of a good time, though little was to be said of his rambunctious partner in a pacifistic, if not frightened frame of mind. He downed it with difficulty, finding opening his mouth somewhat of a chore, then reminded himself that, if he wanted to have the pain away, he would have to swallow some home analgesics. But, on the other side of the room, Zero was finding hard liquor did not mix well with an 'upset' stomach. He placed his glass gingerly on the coffee table, stunned as Kaname held his own in the air, demanding more in somewhat of a drunken way.
"If you're so eager to get plastered, go to your own room. I'm not about to have some drunk pureblood sprawled in mine."
"Too late." The brunette said disinterestedly, wiggling the glass childishly. The hunter snatched it with a growl and put it next to his, which was more or less untouched. Kaname covered his eyes from the rough light of the ceiling lamp, the soft fabric of his white shirt cooling his heated face. "That feels so good," he whispered into his arm, knowing selfishly that the other man could not hear him. And, strangely enough, he took pleasure in that: after having suffered weeks alone with this tempestuous person; having a little something over him was proving to be quite the treat, although he knew his complaints shook before the dissenting young male's own lamentations. They took more offence from each other than any villain they'd known, through the years finding necessary the bitter contention that had grown so lavishly between them. It had made them feel alive, and the competitions of their youth failed to give them even the slightest pleasures of their newfound taste for action and, above all, decimation. Nothing had fed their heinous love of brutality greater than the sight of freshly-made carrion. Disputes over who was more deserving of delivering the brands and blows had occurred often. And, if you've ever seen Saving Private Ryan, you'll see their resplendent eyes glowing on dirty faces as they handle dog tags as poker cards. No joy was more majestic and sublime than that which came from their work, and in this, nightly, they would rejoice.
Zero flopped down on his lounger, the bed coated with dust and wood shards. If worse came to worst, he would toss the drunk on that, and see how he fared in the evening. Even if there was an extra sofa staring at him as he laid down, he most unequivocally did not want the empty view to be poisoned by that man's face, which, dozing, appeared callow and pale as a young child.
"I wouldn't mind some water," the corpse droned from the corner. His slow-going mind chastised him for insensitively speaking to nothing but his sleeve, but as he got up to finalise his demand, he found the hunter sleeping on the lounger, body tangled as it tried to fit on the short thing. And Kaname didn't know why, but the peaceful sight made him frown and feel quite strange. To see such a dangerous man sleeping so soundly was an odd, if not sickening sight. That face, which was habitually covered in blood or cheap lipstick, so gentle and unimposing in its vulnerability, was a marvellously rare sight, and as he caught himself staring in his stupor, the brunette slowly came to the realisation that the other man had probably felt the same way. Perhaps even Yuki, when she looked upon her 'kind' husband's face, knew of the tragedies he had so apathetically witnessed, and more often than not carried out.
He departed with a stumble, which Zero couldn't hear.