I have reader througher person, but no real beta. D:
Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray – man. If I did… Lavi would such even WORSE at seduction than he already does.
WARNINGS: Nothing like last chapter. Fluffy angsty plot movement. And I think next chapter, this goes to M.
-- -- --
Chapter Four: Hands of Uncertainty
Dinner was a green salad with carrots and crookedly cut cucumber, sprinkled with blue cheese, and served with a slightly too mustardy dressing. There were burnt rolls, and good butter, and Tyki opened an imported Riesling mostly for the sake of making himself forget the flavor of the bread. It hadn't occurred to him when he poured it that Lavi was a bit young to be having alcohol with his meal – instead he marveled at how the Exorcist remembered where his glass was, how the redhead managed to use his fork without bringing it back to his mouth empty more than twice. It was strange, especially with something as unwieldy as lettuce on the end of the utensil.
In the soft lamp light, and a genuine smile on his features, the redhead truly looked happy to be with him, happy to eat and drink and make conversation about the state of the world, being he did not remember much about it until reminded. The minutes melted into an hour while he learned that they were in Northern Ireland, and he spoke in a strange, dreamy tone about what he knew of the country, the people, and their faith. All the while the Noah watched him, brow furrowed.
And Tyki ate and drank and talked with him. Until the wine was gone.
Four glasses of wine was a bit much for him, but five glasses of wine was about four too many for Lavi.
And the Noah didn't notice until it was too late.
The boy, a lazy sort of smile on his face, rested his chin in his hands, flushed cheeks contrasting with the paleness of his long, thin fingers. The swath of gauze around his eyes – there to keep him from scratching at the healing flesh – matched the unbuttoned white shirt collar tucked beneath his chin, adding a strange sort of balance to his posture. He sighed dramatically, expression too fond to be anything but intensely endearing.
Tyki felt himself grin a little.
"Tyki," the name was a strange sort of purr on the redhead's lips. "I am horribly drunk," Lavi went on, and lifted his left hand to point at the older man, wagging a finger at him earnestly. "If you wann'ed t'take advanted of me, all ya hadda do was ask."
The Noah chuckled, but could not stand to take the offer seriously with the younger man's right hand fluttering drunkenly toward his side of the table. Instead he leaned back, enjoying the slightly dizzy, warm feeling that suffused him, and reached out to take that hand, because the Exorcist would likely knock something over otherwise. It did not occur to him that he was holding Lavi's fingers in his, nor did it cross his mind that the boy was laughing at the fact. He thought only of how deplorably high the young man's blood alcohol level would have to be to make him giggle at it. And he did giggle – at the thought of himself and Lavi giggling.
"I don't think I'm in any condition to be taking advantage of anyone. Including myself." Tyki said surely, and pushed himself back from the table, Lavi's hand still in his. There were leftovers, sparse and leafy in the brown wooden bowl at the center of the table, but they could wait until his liver did a bit of work. Or morning. Whichever came first. "We should both eat something heavy, drink water, and sleep." He went on before rising to his feet and teetering dangerous toward the back of his chair and sitting down again, dizzy. "In a few minutes." He corrected himself.
The redhead made a little sound of amusement, his thumb sliding across the back of Tyki's hand. His expressions were a bit easier to read, now that the Noah had seen them wide-eyed and blind, so he knew that Lavi was, for the moment, generally content with the world around him, grinning like he was. But there was something else, something in the crooked lift to his lips, that made Tyki think of something different – like fire and lightning and bruises. Maybe though, that was just Lavi.
"Tell me, Tyki Mikk," Lavi mumbled, leaning on his free fist almost thoughtfully. "If ya drank too much t'take advantage of me, how about I do my best t'take advantage of you, hm?" His fingers tightened on the older man's hand and he pulled it forward, bringing it to the side of his smooth, playful face. "I'm a little worried that if I try too hard you might try to tear out my insides though…"
"Never." The response was automatic.
A less than innocent smile parted the young man's lips, showing his straight white teeth. If his eyes had been visible there might have been a mischievous gleam to them. "In that case… will you let me do what you wouldn't let that boy do?" The way he worded it, the way he contorted his smile, made Tyki's slightly drugged mind know exactly what the young Exorcist wanted.
The Noah found himself looking at the redhead's fingers, studying his hands. They were smaller this close than they seemed wrapped around the shaft of Lavi's Innocence, thin and childlike, a bit boney. Tyki brought them to his lips and closed his eyes, pressing callused knuckles to the warmth of his face. It wasn't the hand of a boy-whore, or a lover, or a family member. It was the hand of an enemy pressed to his lips, and yet it held no ill will against him. It had never crossed his mind that thought, how utterly harmless the Exorcist was without his weapon and without his memories, without even the slightest inkling of what could be done, what he would inevitably have to do. His heart sank a little. This young man was not on the list of those he needed to kill, but it would have been proper to kill him anyway, satisfying or otherwise.
And yet, it was just a hand against his lips, and a curious thumb pressing a bit more surely against them.
The dark, the light – he didn't know or care which it was. All he knew was that suddenly he was standing and steady, and his mouth was pressed to Lavi's, open and inviting. He could not recall crossing the space between them, either through the table or around it, and he did not know when his grip on Lavi's hand had moved down to the thin, brittle line of the redhead's wrist. All he knew was how skinny the Exorcist was, and how accepting, how weak of mind and body alike.
It would be better this way, until he remembered.
But why, Tyki demanded of himself, why did the boy have this power over him, to make him move and bend without knowledge of his own actions? In the end it didn't matter. It would end the same if he remembered. If he didn't, Lavi was still useless. One forgotten, blind Exorcist was as pointless as Innocence without an accommodator.
The kiss broke, but he pulled the boy into another. The arm he gripped in his hand fought his hold until it fumbled into his chest, no longer as coordinated as it was when Lavi was sober. The jerk it gave, however, lacked none of the wiry strength Tyki had come to expect in the young man. Tyki caught himself on the back of Lavi's chair to keep from teetering over drunkenly, and the boy pulled away to laugh, true amusement tinkling in the sound like bells in a warm spring breeze.
"Da mihi multa basia." Lavi whispered, and tugged a bit on Tyki's shirt, as if to encourage him. "Nemo est sine culpa. You know?"
"Are you speaking Latin?"
"I dunno. I'm drunk."
The Noah laughed, and brushed a hand through the redhead's hair, watching it fall back in a spray of shining, clean locks. "Then tell me, what did you say, Lavi? And how did you know you spoke Latin?"
Lavi's lips started to frown a bit before they turned up at the edges, gleefully. "I told ya to kiss me a lot. I think. Dunno where I learned it. Just sorta there. Ad libitum."
That made Tyki smile, though why it was the case he did not know. With arms that now had to strain to hold the younger man's weight, the Noah picked the redhead from his chair, thankful for the rigid arms that held Lavi's chest to his own. They made bearing easier, and helped him not to wander his way into a wall. Instead he set his course for the living room, and the couch – for it was safer to maneuver Lavi and his broken ankle through one wide doorway than it was to wobble down an entire hallway, feeling dizzy and inebriated. He did not speak while they traveled, too focused on saving them both from falling.
Lavi sank against the cushions as if he had expected them all along, and pulled Tyki down with him, which brought the Noah's face into awkward contact with the soft blue back of the couch. There was another sofa, smaller than the one they both now occupied, two other chairs, and a low, well used wooden table, all of it arranged for conversation and enjoying the dying embers in the fire place. But now, for tonight, only the couch was important. For it had a throw pillow on which Lavi leaned his head and was comfortable enough that Tyki, once on it, found himself rather unwilling to simply leave. It might have helped a it that the redhead who served as something of a half-mattress under his weight did not want him leaving either.
In fact, the boy sighed as if his sexual endeavors were the very last thing on his mind and smiled. "I'm gonna be hung-over tomorrow, aren't I?" He lamented, and shifted enough to make them both more comfortable on their bed of choice. "Headache, vertigo, vomiting, nausea, indigestion… and all I got was a kiss."
"Well, you're sleeping with me."
"Not sex…"
"Lavi," Tyki's voice was gently chiding.
The redhead laughed. "I'm kidding. As much as I'd totally do it with you, we don't know each other well enough." His arms lifted, the left more slowly than the right, and draped around Tyki's shoulders in a reverse of how they had slept before, the Noah's weight on his chest. "I'm… happy, to just hug and sleep and have little drunken kisses for the time bein'."
"Happy?" The word was not the one Tyki might have used in Lavi's circumstance. "How can you be happy?"
The boy yawned hugely and his arms tightened. "I don't know," he answered honestly, and sighed a little, just enough to stir the air between them. "I guess it's because you're so… warm. Did I grow up in a cold place?" He turned his face into Tyki's shoulder, nuzzling it. "Because there isn't anything like bein' warm n' close to somebody. I think… that's why I'd be ok with touchin' you and trustin' you and stuff. Why I'd like to just fall asleep right here with part of your weight on me, holding me down, safe, but I dunno what from." He shook his head again until his face rested against the curve of Tyki's shoulder, his breath coming more slowly.
Tyki reached out to the back of the couch and pulled the decorative blue crocheted blanket down on top of them, the thin cloth enough between the dying fire and their body heat. He turned his face enough to watch Lavi smile and work to make them more comfortable, so that no part of either of them would fall asleep from blood loss. It was a bit ironic to Tyki, the idea of warmth. It was the same thing that Rhode said when she hugged him, that he made her want to be around him more, because he was fun and warm and—
And the boy holding him now had tried to burn her alive.
"Tyki?" The Exorcist's voice was almost meek, his fingers painfully light on Tyki's back. The alcohol, coupled with the food, and their proximity was pulling the boy toward sleep very quickly, so his words slurred more than they had before. "May I ask you somethin'?"
"Hm?" Tyki's eyes were not shut but he knew the apprentice Bookman could not tell. For that reason he shifted enough to return the embrace completely, Lavi's forehead pressed to his right shoulder.
"What you said, when I was in the bathtub… it's true, ain't it? You n' I are on opposite sides of your holy war." He stroked his hand down the back of Tyki's head, ignoring the short intake of the Noah's breath. Momentary panic suffused the older man and he remained motionless, hands fisted on Lavi's chest, eye shocked wide. "It's ok. I'm not scared." Lavi went on in a whisper. "I'm just… sorry. For whatever I did. I'm sure I was wrong."
It made the Noah shiver. It made him angry. It made him sad and guilty and horrified him. But above all, despite his best efforts, it made him lean down and place his slightly loose lips on the boy's temple, pressing them through the gauze that kept their skin apart. That way, skin to skin, he closed his eyes and breathed. "I did not know when I hurt you that this was what you were underneath," he admitted, and swallowed with difficulty, opening his eyes to the light of the dying fire. "If I had known, I wouldn't have – I don't know if I would have—"
"Tyki," Lavi's face turned up until he felt as if the boy were gazing through the fabric over his eyes, searching his soul. It stilled him and brought them closer, frightened and soothed him at once. What would the boy do, if he knew how many hearts he had crushed? "Tyki," the redhead reached up and brushed away some of Tyki's hair, carding his fingers through it, perfectly at ease. "It's ok. I don't want to fight with you. I wanna lie here with you, and never remember a thing. Because I was obviously wrong. If you can be this good to me, if the people I fought for would make thirteen year old boys fight a war for them, I don't want to be a part of that, I want to be here with you, as blind as a bat and smiling."
Tyki did not know, for the moment, what to say. He leaned forward enough to bury his face in the boy's chest, his own shirt, and close his eyes, block it all out, and forget. This wasn't the young man who had tried to kill his niece any more than it was the Japanese boy who tried to take off his arms in Edo. They shared the same root, the same core, but the rest – the trust, the warmth, the feeling – it was all different. "Please," he heard himself whisper, muffled and strange against Lavi's wine and mustard and flame and ozone scented chest. "Do not change your mind about this. Do not… do not remember what we were and I will not speak of it." He could stand to do this – had thought of it – even if it made things different than he had intended.
"What do you mean?"
He had to lie. "I will give up my place in this war – I will stop killing and stay with you. Though I will likely have to go back to being something of a lesser lord to keep my affairs and monies in order. You understand." It came out very easily, but it somehow hurt to lie to the Exorcist, which was wrong. Something was wrong with him, to want to lie in the first place, to feel bad about it, to have something of a conscience… He shivered softly. "God has given me to you, I can do no more."
Lavi hugged him so hard, Tyki worried for the boy's ribs would crack against his chest. "Thank you," the Exorcist could have been crying, it was hard to tell, his voice was muted against the Noah's shoulder. "Thank you so much. I… for not killing me, for letting me stay, for… for everything."
"You're welcome."
-- -- --
The dream was different this time, and dangerous.
He was standing in what looked like a town square in day time, surrounded by white buildings and blue sky, maybe France or Spain by the architecture, it was hard to tell. There was no sun, though sunlight still poured down on him from all the right angles, warming the skin on the left side of his face. He sighed, inhaling the fresh air, and turned around, hoping to find something even better behind him.
A child looked up at him, redheaded, green eyed, wearing an eye patch. It startled him a little, to see such an oddly familiar person standing before him, looking up with an expectant expression. It wasn't what he had thought would be there.
Lavi knelt, the dark fabric of his pants rubbing together at the knees as he brought himself to eye level with the poncho-clad little boy. He made himself smile.
"Hey little guy," he tried, tilting his head to the side in a friendly smile. "You lost?"
The child nodded.
"Looking for Mommy?"
The boy shook his head, no.
"Daddy?"
Another negative.
Lavi frowned. "…Grandpa?"
The child, the little redhead, smiled with unsettling glee. He reached out and touched Lavi then, on the left shoulder, where it should have hurt, and gave a little squeeze. Silently, the child moved forward and embraced him, leaving Lavi still and slightly horrified, what felt like a six year old hanging from his neck. It was terribly real for a dream, but he didn't care. Instead he wound his arms around the child and rubbed his back in that way he somehow equated with children and soothing, slow and rigid at once.
"We thought you were gone, Lavi." The little redhead whispered, and his arms tightened again. "We thought you were going to leave us to them."
Lavi shook his head. Leave a child? He didn't know the child, but he knew he didn't want to leave him. Not here, no matter how pleasant it seemed with the soft light and the white buildings and warmth. "I'm sorry," he tried instinctively, "I just forgot. Tyki messed up my brain a little – I'm lucky I didn't have a… what's it called… bleeding in the brain thing…"
"Epidural hematoma."
"Yeah. That. Smart kid."
"Thank you." The little boy pulled away, hands fisted on Lavi's arms. His expression was terribly grave. It wasn't a look Lavi imagined a real six year old would be capable of, too knowing and adult to be anything but openly worried, the deep sort of worry that children could not understand or convey. Maybe, he thought when he studied the child a little more, it was fear. "Can we get away from them now?"
Lavi frowned. "Who?"
The boy pointed. "Them."
-- -- --
Tyki slept hard and dreamless for nearly three hours, and woke too comfortable and pleasantly inebriated to move. The air was thick with the sent of ash, however, and he knew he had to get up and start another fire; otherwise the spring chill would get in and make things uncomfortable. It would be hard though, with Lavi's arms draped around his shoulders and the boy's face buried in his throat. Not difficult because he was frightened of waking the Exorcist – he could apologize and go about his business if that were the case – but frightened there would not be room on their couch when he was finished with his task of keeping them both warm.
The little shiver that Lavi made against him made procrastinating that much less attractive of an option.
The Portuguese man went about disentangling himself from Lavi's limbs with expert care, phasing gently through the parts he could not move without touching wounds or wrinkling the blanket. Still, when his weight left the couch and he stood, Lavi made a small sound of loss in the back of his throat and shifted, throwing an arm over his eyes. It was somehow human and grounding for the Noah, that simple human reaction, and he found himself wishing he could take a picture of the young man and frame it forever.
Instead he turned to the banked fire and the woodpile and grinned lopsidedly at both, feeling friendly and languid and somewhere between normal and dark. It was a complicated place to be. His killing intent was satisfied, mayhap more than satisfied, but there was some other want within him, and it had almost nothing to do with the nipping quality to the predawn air in the living room. He stocked a log on the more than half-dead embers and waited for the dry, cracked bark to catch before he added another for Lavi's benefit. The boy was still weak, after all, even drunk and elegantly adorable, draped over the couch as he was.
Tyki watched the fire build for a while, wondering. Lavi knew, but he would be no harm for the time being, as long as his memories remained locked away in the back of his mind, crushed and forgotten. The Earl though, now that was another matter all together. He would know somewhat of Tyki's life, that was a given, the man had ears everywhere – that tended to happen when one lived to be more than a few hundred years old – but Tyki didn't know where that knowledge ended. It would be safest to call or send a letter as soon as possible, the last thing he wanted was Lavi to die by someone else's hand, bleeding out in his arms or disintegrated into a million gray particles of dust on his floor. There is an art to killing what one loves, and Tyki had no inclination to see it transgressed against under his roof.
The flames popped. Pine had that tendency when it burned.
On the couch, Lavi stirred again, just enough to make Tyki glance at him. His pale skin was gilded in the firelight, his hair bronzed over in a shade of striking red-orange, the lines of which stood out in sharp relief against the dark blue of the cushions he rested on, like blood on the cerulean cloth. The white gauze over his eyes was a brilliant sort of yellow, and the shadows on his cheeks and lips painted him different, changing expression, none of them pleasant. His arms were wound around his chest, as if it pained him.
A flurry not unlike excitement alighted in Tyki's chest.
It had been at least a few nights since the nightmares had stopped – Lavi had been willing to remain alone earlier in the day, even. But now, with his hands reaching for something, upward, no longer clenched around his frame, Lavi screamed like someone was killing him. His fingers curled at nothing, head thrown back as if he might see what he sought, mouth open, fear evident even half-masked. It lasted only as long as his breath would keep that volume and then he was panting, still reaching, anguish and terror fading into something much, much worse.
Despair. Tyki recognized that look, having seen it once before, recognized the surprise and then the darkness, and the suddenness with which the boy relinquished himself to whatever hand it was that fate had dealt him. The apprentice Bookman wasn't happy about it, but there was still an ironic tilt to his lips.
With a shiver, the Noah lurched back to the couch and scooped the Exorcist into his arms before shifting him back against couch back, making room for himself. The boy woke, but there were no tears this time, or clinging. Only needy hands buried in his shirt.
Tyki pulled the boy to his chest and tugged the blanket high enough to cover them both, his back to the heat of the fire. His shadow took away the metallic layer of light that had been thrown over the Exorcist, deadened him, but Lavi did not notice, having no way of knowing. It was better that way, Tyki thought, if the redhead remained blind he would perhaps never make the connection that the flesh beneath his fingers was the very same as what haunted his nightmares, the very same that had done so very much to his friends. It was one thing to forgive in concept without the knowledge of what had been before, but it was another to do so knowing exactly what he had lost. The Noah did not know if impartiality went as far as that.
But he did know that Lavi fit very well against him, wiry thin or otherwise. There was just something soothing about the Exorcist's arms around him and his trust evident in every slow, steady breath he took.
"Nightmare?"
"Mmhmm," Lavi nodded a little, but he seemed more than willing to go right back to sleep if Tyki was willing to let him. "Falling. I was falling." He whispered. "Someone was reaching for me, and just when I thought I was safe, I started to fall again. But it was ok. I just thought 'that's it?'" He chuckled, low and sleepy, and pressed his face more surely against Tyki, like a cat complimenting its owner. He yawned before he went on in a softer whisper. "Whatever. I lived, memory or not."
Tyki ran a hand up Lavi's spine, subconsciously cataloging how many ridges there were. "You aren't frightened?" He inquired, face turned against Lavi's hair.
"Nope." The redhead answered at once. "Not of you."
-- -- --
When morning came, Tyki left Lavi to the couch and his hangover in the hope of finding something to cure his own pounding headache. It was impossibly strange how nothing worked. Coffee failed, a raw egg made him feel sicker, and aspirin wasn't something he could give to Lavi, so he didn't take it himself. At length, he gave up on his morning and simply curled up next to the redhead on the couch and closed his eyes to the light.
"Remind me not to drink anythin' next time we have dinner. Unless we're countin' how many glasses I have. And we're going to make the headache worth it." Lavi grumbled over his shoulder, face buried in the side of the couch. "Not sure that's possible though. Making it worth it, I mean. You'd have to be like, a sex god or some shit."
Tyki chuckled despite himself and wound an arm around Lavi's waist pulling him playfully backward. "I have a bit of skill in that regard, but let's not test it at the moment." He let out his breath in a thundering sigh, mulling over the things he needed to do with his day and wondering if any of it could be put off until his head was less painful. Calling the Earl could wait if he stayed home. That, for the time being, was the only pressing matter. Tyki could stay like this, curled at Lavi's side, all day and night if he wanted.
"You're a sex god? That's nice."
"I wouldn't go that far, but I've never had a complaint."
"Maybe the people you sleep with are scared you'll tear out an important sex organ unless they lie."
"Oh, my ego is throbbing."
"Ego? Should have named it Id."
"Lavi!" Tyki heard the chuckle in his own voice and shook his head a little, face pressed to Lavi's hair. The amusement would not die, however, not even when he found himself pulled into an enthusiastic, if slightly lopsided, kiss of semi-passionate intentions. It was just as sweet as before, just as innocent, as the first time they had kissed. There were no demands from Lavi, only the flutter of his fingers on Tyki's shirt and an encouraging hum in the very back of his throat.
When they pulled away, Tyki had to ignore the stab of guilt that stung in the very pit of his stomach. He wanted more. Pulling away was almost a lie. So instead of saying his normal words of discouragement that he usually found parting his lips, the Noah leaned down enough to nibble at the side of Lavi's throat, gentle and yet demanding. He was unsurprised at Lavi's moan of response, the way the boy arched his neck and sighed like a good companion, like someone who had done this before. The thought almost made him pause – the headache made him do that first.
Lavi was disappointed, but only enough to growl before fell limp again, sagging on the couch cushions. "Will you only ever tease me?" He asked almost sorrowfully. "We don't know each other that well, but it's obvious you're willing to take the chance. And you know I am. I like you, you're nice, you feel good…" The boy was lying on his back now, which seemed to pain him still, a little, and he turned on his side again, pressing his back to Tyki's chest.
The Noah found himself hugging the boy close, face buried in the tendrils of his hair. "We both have hangovers."
"Wouldn't be thinkin' about the vertigo."
"Hush. You're incorrigible."
"Maybe I'm stubborn."
Tyki couldn't help but smile. "Yes, that you are."
The redhead's hand curled in Tyki's, bringing it up to his chest. Like that, spooning a bit, the apprentice Bookman seemed quite content to just fall silent and rest for the time being, his breath slow and even. His fingers worked in the Noah's until the back of his hand touched Tyki's palm, captured by the larger man's fingers.
"Will you stay here? If I sleep through the headache?" Lavi hardly mumbled the words, which seemed odd considering how lively he had been only a moment before. But that was the way with the Exorcist – his wounds and affinity for naps never left him awake long.
"Assuming I don't get hungry, yes." Tyki answered, and turned his face down enough to touch Lavi's ear with his lips when he spoke. "I'd hate to risk eating you, Lavi."
The boy laughed in the back of his throat. "I'd go pretty well with a little dish of olive oil."
"Go to sleep, Lavi."
"You're catching on to my innuendos, eh?"
"A deaf man wouldn't miss them."
"Good."
Tyki tightened his grip on Lavi's hand and breathed in the boy's scent in an effort to keep from feeling guilty once more. The Exorcist trusted him, that had never been a question. But he would need to at least hint his current situation to the Earl before he felt anything even remotely close to better. There was still a war to fight, if there was a Lavi or not. Someone else would want to kill him, Tyki was sure, like Rhode, but he didn't want that, not if he could help it, not while Lavi didn't know or understand what he had done.
Lavi sighed and leaned into him, exposed the line of his throat. It was so tempting, too tempting, and Tyki leaned down enough to press his face to it before he could even think to stop himself. The younger man was aware enough to chuckle.
"Tol' me t'sleep…"
The Noah settled a bit, until he was comfortable, his exhaled breaths spreading hot air down Lavi's shoulder. "Sorry."
-- -- --
Lavi woke feeling groggy and warm, uncharacteristically close to Tyki and more than content to remain so. What time it was he didn't know, but his stomach gave a low rumble, alerting him to how long it had been since dinner. If he had had to guess, he would have put the time around lunch. Which meant he had slept more than half the day away already.
Not that it mattered. Tyki was still wrapped around him, and his aching limbs and back didn't hurt as much as they had before. He felt good. He felt… happy.
"Are you up?" Tyki's voice was cracked with sleep, so soft Lavi knew the older man didn't want him to be. A little smile quirked his lips.
Lavi sighed an leaned back, turning his face enough to feel Tyki's breath his right ear. The bandage was loose on his eyes but he didn't care, they didn't hurt for once, and the angle irritated the wound in his left shoulder, but not to the point that he would stop lifting his face toward the older man. "You move your hips a little an' I might be." He slipped his right hand from Tyki's and reached behind him, searching for any part of the Portuguese man's body that might convey his thought's more clearly. He found a hip bone and squeezed it, a grin on his lips.
The older man laughed. "You really should quit."
"I know. You could cave, too."
The Noah made a low sound like a growl and shifted his weight, putting enough of it on Lavi's chest that the boy eased back until Tyki was above him, likely frowning. There were fingers, very gentle fingers, playing at the collar of his shirt, smoothing the wrinkles away and occasionally brushing his throat. It could have been the preamble to something more.
Lavi hoped it was.
The moment Tyki's weight pressed to his hips, straddling him, Lavi reached up and pulled the larger man into a kiss. Why he wanted to was a bit ambiguous to him, but the warmth was undeniable. Lavi couldn't say that he loved Tyki, though he did care for and like the man, but he could say that he wanted him, wanted to be that close to someone – this someone, this man who had hurt him and saved him and so many other things. There was fear in his gut. What would happen if he remembered what had happened and wanted to take back the things he had done, the things he had said? What if he wanted to leave? There were so many risks, yet he wanted to ignore them. They weren't important when compared to the feel of Tyki's teeth on the inside of his lower lip and Tyki's right hand trailing up the side of his shirt.
That had never happened before, not while Tyki wasn't drunk off bloodlust. A small victory on Lavi's part then.
The redhead let his hands wander for a time, smoothing over muscle and sinew with casual indifference. It was not until his shaking right hand attempted to shove passed the waist of Tyki's pants that he found his wrist caught and pinned beside his head, a word of denial in Tyki's throat.
"Not yet."
"But I want to." It seemed so very simple a reason, even if he couldn't understand it himself.
Tyki shook his head, sending his tangled hair dancing across the bridge of Lavi's nose. "There are so many things you don't remember…"
"Then tell me, Tyki, we've been over this."
The older man leaned forward enough to kiss the boy again, hard – a physical promise if Lavi understood it right. "You'll hate me, Lavi. It doesn't matter what you've said, you'll hate me the moment you remember."
Lavi could hear what might have been regret in the older man's voice and reached for his face to push away his mussed hair. It was more wavy than curly from being held back so long. It made Lavi frown. "Did you kill someone? Someone I cared about?" He felt the expression under his fingertips grow grave and knew he was close. He had to be careful. "I told you we were wrong. I might be mad at you if I remember, I might be sad, but I won't hate you. You wanna talk about it? Or something else? Because that'd be ok, too. I get that you're worried, but you're either gonna have to get over it or lemme fuck you – and not complain when I do it crooked and from behind because I'm blind and can't remember if I'm a virgin." He laughed softly at the sound of hitched breath above him. "I think…" His fingers moved down Tyki's neck to the older man's pulse, "I wanted you before and that's all I remember."
"You didn't." Under Lavi's fingertips, the heartbeat was as steady as a drumbeat. Tyki's face lowered, but the angle remained so Lavi could feel the signs of a lie if there were any, which at the moment there were not. He didn't know how he knew those signs, but he knew that he knew them. "If you did, you hid it behind gritted teeth and a fury so strong you fought me with a broken wrist without even grimacing." There might have been a mirthless, crooked smile in Tyki's voice, almost violent in nature. His heartbeat though, remained calm and steady, quicker on his inward breaths.
Lavi sighed and let his hand fall to the larger man's shoulder, fisting it in the Noah's shirt. "You know what might help?" He questioned even as the idea wandered into his mind unbidden. "Rather than talkin' about the past or just sittin' here, wantin' what I can't have," he let his fingers trail down Tyki's shirt, down the crisp, sleep-rumpled white fabric to the waist of his darkly color pants. They felt dark only because of the smooth, new quality to them. When the older man stiffened Lavi paused, trailing his fingers up again. It was a strange sort of balance to maintain, seductive and yet not enough to make the man above him angry, enough to make Tyki's breathing speed a bit in his chest. "If you have a cane or somethin' we can go out. Maybe get a real cast for me and a new shirt for you, being you must have ruined that one from yesterday."
The Portuguese man's hands were very firm on his stomach, very certain. They moved low on Lavi's hips, callused fingers on the waist of the redhead's pants. "You do need more clothes. Pants that fit, besides this pair." The words were very, very distracted. "Any chance you know how long ankles take to mend?"
"Six to ten weeks before someone should walk on it, three to six months before it's as strong as it was before the injury." Lavi blurted without thinking. He smiled to himself. "I'm just full of this stuff, aren't I?" He chimed, and knotted his fingers behind Tyki's neck, grinning.
"It's been six days since I set it," Tyki observed softly. "How does it feel?"
"Tight." Lavi nodded to himself, frowning slightly. That feeling made sense much later in the healing process, not after six days. "Do I heal quickly? Because that's not normal." No sooner had he said it than Tyki's weight was sliding away toward the side of the couch, moving to inspect the ankle in question. He didn't protest, and instead pushed himself up against the arm of the couch, hanging his right foot down toward the floor. It didn't throb as badly as before.
Tyki's fingers were suddenly not where they were supposed to be, not touching his leg or his ankle. They were on the buttons of his pants and very steady. It surprised him a little. Enough to draw a little gasp from his throat. The Noah's chuckle was decidedly friendly and ironic, the emotion behind it very strange and unreadable. There was something dangerous to it, a bit like how he had been blood-covered and hungry with lust. "I suppose you thought I was going to check it?" Tyki's voice had a grin in it; his fingers did not pause on the zipper of Lavi's pants. "No, I wanted to be sure this wouldn't break it again. I will not sleep with you, Lavi, nor will fuck you, take you, or let you touch any part of me you want to because you think it is what you might remember from before. But I will do this for you. I want to. And you…" The fabric hugged Lavi's hips as it went down, clinging like a second skin. "You must be the loneliest person on Earth to want it from me."
"Tyki…" Lavi pushed himself up and reached out until his fingers found hair. He couldn't aim, his mind too taken with reeling at the Noah's words, but he could tilt the other man's face up to him. "You don't have to do that. We can go out." He stroked at the older man's cheeks, trying to gauge his expression, and frowned when he found it smooth and serious, perfectly sane. "I mean, it'd be great if you insisted, but it'd be just as happy going to a park or somethin'."
"You'll bug me until I do it."
"I'll bug you until you do it, then bug you some more until you do it again. Then I'll bug you until you let me do it to you."
"There's no winning then."
The redhead smiled crookedly. "Not really." He pulled the Noah higher, bringing him back to couch cushions and ignoring his open pants. It didn't matter, for some reason. Tyki mattered. "And how can I be lonely? You're here, aren't you?" The older man tried to draw away, but Lavi held firm, and scooted closer. "Stop doing that, I'm serious. Every time I say something about liking you or having you around or feeling happy with you, you always draw away like I've burned you or something." Lavi felt it happen again and let go in order to prove his point. He was unsurprised when the Portuguese man stopped himself and paused, uncertain.
"I don't understand you."
"That's because you aren't listening."
Tyki could have stood and walked away, could have demanded an explanation, instead he sighed and let himself sag against the couch, releasing a loud sigh. "It's harder than you seem to think it is, Lavi, forgetting everything that's happened when you might remember and take your forgiveness back. I understand that you are attached to me, but is that because of who I am? Or is it because I am a warm body in a cold, dark world? I don't know. I don't know if you know." His hand, despite his words, cupped the left side of Lavi's face and turned it close to him, cutting off Lavi's protest. "Do you know?"
The Exorcist was quiet for a moment, thinking, before he leaned forward enough to splay himself against Tyki's chest, the lopsided bandage on his eyes shifted lower, but he didn't care. Without asking he buried his right hand in the older man's shirt and pressed his face upward, the bridge of his nose on the ridge of Tyki's jaw. "I know that if you're the light in all of this and I have some kind of reverse Florence Nightingale syndrome, I'm glad it's you." Lavi settled himself a little lower, laying his head on the larger man's shoulder, and smiled when a pair of strong arms entwined him. That was what he wanted. "I'll always be glad it's you," he curled his hands in Tyki's disheveled hair in an effort to remain where he was even if Tyki tried to cast him off.
The redhead's stomach rumbled.
"I suppose that puts an end to our conversation."
"Unless you want me to eat you…"
With a chortle and one final squeeze of the redhead, Tyki released Lavi completely, another, genuine smile filling his voice. "No, no," he was almost chiding, "I think we'll save anything of that nature for a very long removed dessert."
-- -- --
Like? TBC…
For those of you who follow tws, it's only got a bit left, but it's slow. So… this is a peace offering? ILU?