Niamh is busy, so it took me a while to get ANYTHING written this time. Work kills.

The good news is, I think I'll be able to post the TWS epilogue about the time I post chapter ten of this, so the LaviYuu peoples will feel the love just like you Lucky readers. :) AND… I have more fic ideas regardless of the fact that I was hoping to write something original for yaoi con again this year. Anyone else going? Could be totally fun to meet readers! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-Man. If I did… there would be a dgm-K-ON omake. Because we all know Mio is Yuu-chan in disguise.

WARNINGS!: References to the gore in previous chapters… plot movement, and a little snuggly naked. Other things that could spoil future plot points if I point them out.

s22k09rox – I'm glad you liked it! And thanks for reviewing on AssHat. :D I hope that the finished story meets your expectations, because at this point, there are three potential endings… and I dunno which one I'll use. In any case, thank you for reading and encouraging me. :) ~Niamh

-- -- --

Chapter Nine: Seven Sins of Wantonness

Tyki found it difficult to understand Lavi's logic. Despite the fact that they both needed to bathe and their nakedness was far more intimate than anything he was normally comfortable with, the apprentice Bookman insisted on keeping him tangled up in the blankets with little kisses and playful caresses, braids in his hair and messages written on his skin. No one – no one – had tried to keep him abed that long for any reason, especially not since the incident on the Ark. It surprised Tyki a little how the pain in his scars seemed to fade under the Exorcists touch, how the brush of tender, innocent lips against them made him shudder and want to recoil with something besides discomfort or fear. The boy complimented him. Touched him and spoke of such idiotic ideals as perfection and hope.

The Noah really didn't care what Lavi talked about. He cared that the boy had a soft, lazy smile, and a way of making him feel as if the world could not be any more perfect than it already was. He felt that, despite the fact that he had not killed the Asian man with the sword, nothing could go wrong for any reason at all – not even his family.

Sheryl and Road and the Earl were pushed out of his mind for the moment, simply because they could not compete with the person scrawling symbols on his chest.

'очень симпатичный парень.' That was what Lavi was writing. Tyki, however, hadn't the slightest idea what it meant.

"Ochin privlikateenei parin." Lavi whispered, and laid his mouth on the line of a scar, the plush of his lips far too tender and far too warm. The touch, the play of his breath, was like the brush of something too soft to be real. "I think that's Russian…"

Tyki nodded, even if he didn't really know. It didn't matter. He was content to lie with the redhead's weight on him and follow the movement of the boy's fingers with his eyes, too calm for his own good. The boy was an Exorcist. The boy was dangerously close to him. And yet, even the pattern of the letters L-a-v-i-s f-a-v-o-r-i-t-e p-i-l-l-o-w on his skin didn't make Tyki worry about their contact. It was too good to be a bad thing. The light in Lavi's expression, the laughter, were too meaningful to push away with those fingertips.

"We should do that again eventually." The apprentice Bookman went on, softly. "Except that it makes me wanna be really, really close to you an' I dunno if you're ready for that yet."

With a soft chuckle, the Portuguese man did the one thing that his mind conjectured that the situation warranted and rolled enough to pull the naked body beside him as close as he could. At once there were fingers on his ribcage, tickling at his skin. "What was that about being close?" He inquired down at the grin that turned up at him, fighting a laugh. It was too easy. There was something like warmth balled up in his chest, and it was just so simple to blame it on the redhead and his contagious personality. The boy was so very happy despite it all, even blind and terribly alone. Even knowing that Tyki might have killed someone he knew.

Lavi almost giggled. "Well, if you're that comfortable we can go for another round…"

"If you have that much energy we should bathe."

"Together?"

Tyki found himself rolling his eyes despite the fact that Lavi couldn't see him. Really, the Exorcist was incorrigible. "Maybe in a few weeks, when I won't have to worry about your leg as much."

The boy growled, but didn't protest further. Instead, with his expression somewhat slack, he pressed himself once again against the older man, curling into his chest. "Will you help me get in the tub when I get up? Even if I'm alone it'll be—"

"You want to sleep?" The Noah could hardly believe the extent of Lavi's love of the pastime, but it seemed logical now, even in the middle of the day. With slow fingers, he reached out and smoothed a little path over the boy's cheek, pulling his face up. There was something very nice about Lavi's face that Tyki couldn't place. It was there even when his eyes were covered and his mouth was downturned with tiredness. "I suppose that was quite a bit of physical activity, wasn't it? Stay here, I'll find something to clean us up with." He started to shift away, but the brush of a hand on his arm kept him still.

"Do you have somewhere to be today?" Lavi pulled his hand back almost awkwardly, frowning a little. "I mean… it's not like I want you to stay or anything, but… if Road and Shirley and that… benefactor guy are all connected to you, there should be someone you have to report today to, right? Like, mission status, or something?" The little redheaded genius continued to shrink into himself for a moment, though he didn't turn his face away when he started to blush. "Because I'd like to go with you, if that's the case. I don't want my memories to make me want to leave, so if I get to know everyone… if I grow attached to them…"

Tyki nodded. "I will wake you in time to bathe, devise a more secure cast for your leg, and dress you for dinner – they won't mind if you're swimming in my clothes, I promise." He retraced the line he had made under Lavi's eye, too aware of how it the Exorcist leaned into the caress. "You can stay with Trisha while we talk of less pleasant things – she is Sheryl's wife. You might like her."

"I'm kind of male though… so no shoving me off with the wives." Lavi breathed, and pressed Tyki's hand a little more firmly against his cheek. "But I understand. If I hear what you're planning and my memory comes back, and if that makes me want to tell the other side what I heard—"

"Don't talk about that." Tyki discouraged in a whisper. He could see the apprentice Bookman's features shifting from tired to analytical, and it wasn't a change he liked in this situation. The less the boy thought about remembering, the better off they would be. It was just how it worked. Oddly, the complaint about gender took a moment longer to register in Tyki's brain – and a small smile tugged at his lips. He pressed a thumb into the soft arch of Lavi's frown and pulled his face closer. "Did you just suggest that you are my significant other, Eye-patch?"

A mischievous smirk lifted the boy's lips a little. "I don't see anybody else helpin' you cook and sleepin' with ya."

Tyki harrumphed. It wasn't the answer he had wanted, but it was good enough. For now. He leaned in enough to lay his lips on Lavi's as they smiled; pressing passed the barrier of the boy's lips with no resistance. Softly, Tyki let his tongue flutter against the roof of Lavi's mouth, and felt a little spark of triumph in his chest when the boy moaned and leaned closer, shaking slightly. It was too easy, too wonderful. It was too tender how Lavi's fingers trembled against his chest, needy and softer than a wisp of air on his flesh, slow and warm. It almost painful to pull away, even if that made absolutely no sense whatsoever to the Noah.

The mouth against his, the plush red of Lavi's lips already bruised from prior kissing, parted in a gasp that didn't quite sound like a whimper. The boy reached up and touched the line of Tyki's jaw, tracing it with his thumb. "Please don't do that unless you want me…"

The Noah smiled at Lavi's whisper, at the pleading note of yearning still in his voice. It was addictive. It was wanton. It was everything Tyki wanted to fulfill and deny at once.

"I would like…" The redhead's thumb shook at almost the same rhythm as his voice. "I want to do it again sometime when you aren't bloodthirsty. When you aren't… drunk on death and bloodshed. But I would… right now… if you want me…"

Tyki blinked for a moment and decided, with only a moment to choose, that there was no point in denying that request. Not now. Not when affection and tenderness were written across the apprentice Bookman's features. "I am not overcome with destruction, Lavi, not anymore. That kiss was only for you." For once, the sweetness wasn't a lie, not in his voice or in his fingers. It was honest and somehow frightening, even if he liked it. "Can you walk to the bathroom?"

The redhead nodded slowly. "But… sleepy—"

"Not yet."

-- -- --

Of course, Kanda couldn't just sit in the room and rest while he waited for his vision to improve. No. He had to meditate at the least. Practice half-blind sword techniques at the worst. The guy was awful. Not only did his nearly sightless displays of swordsmanship prove painfully superior to Allen's, they also didn't so much as catch at the fringe of his coat or change the lay of his hair. The strokes of Mugen, the lines it painted in the air even when Kanda closed his eyes to it, were always perfect.

So when the Japanese boy made an irritated face and threw himself on the bed he had claimed, Allen found himself very, very confused.

The inn was a good one, clean and scented like new wood, with ample windows and two beds of decent size and firmness. The color scheme, though everything matched, was a sick sort of green that kind of reminded the British Exorcist of day-old spinach leaves, faded and starting to slime. If anything, that was the only complaint he could find with it. Everything else seemed perfectly in order, managed and cared for.

That was likely the reason Kanda hadn't said a word about the ruffles on the curtains or the flowers on the dresser. It was too nice to point out the feminine touches and scowl at them.

Still, the long-haired Exorcist was making terrible wrinkles in the vomit-green comforter. And if he turned his glaring face just a little to the right, he'd likely make the flowers wilt. He really couldn't just close his eyes and rest. He couldn't go forward at a pace that wasn't breakneck and stupid. It was as if he didn't appreciate any of it, not even the white haired boy who frowned at him from the farthest window, arms curled around his chest.

Allen kind of wanted to leave the swordsman to stew in his own juices, but that would be mean. Instead, he met Kanda's half-hooded gaze and studied it, watching the older boy try to pull him into focus a few times before they closed.

"Che. Enjoying yourself?" The words were bitter on Kanda's lips, like he expected Allen to snicker at his obvious irritation.

Honestly, the white-haired Exorcist didn't feel like it at the moment. "No. I was just thinking that… if it comes down to it, you'll figure out a way to function like that. But if it had been someone else…"

"Hmph." Kanda's mouth almost curved into a smile.

Allen shook his head and turned his face away, looking out the window instead of at that strange, ironic expression. The sun was still out, though a number of rain clouds were moving in from the west, lumbering like heavy purple elephants trekking across the dome of the sky. It was still warm, but that wouldn't stop the rain. Anyone outside, anyone wounded and left for dead, anyone waiting in the darkness of an alley, blind like Kanda and begging the Noah to let him go—

Not Lavi. Allen wouldn't let himself think of Lavi in that situation.

"I know that you hate me," he whispered to his reflection, to the shadowy face that had begun to take over his own. "But if you want to talk about it – about Lavi – or about why you're so determined to go out there and get us both killed, I will listen." He ran his right hand down the length of his left arm and circled his wrist in a movement that was almost the same as how the swordsman sometimes held on to his katana. It was reassuring. The feeling of Innocence, even at rest, gave Allen courage. "I'm worried, too. I don't want him to die either. But I've only seen you lose it once and that wasn't like—"

"Shut up." Kanda bit out softly, though he didn't move from his place on the bed. There was a threat in it, deadly and nearly unvoiced. There were things he never wanted to talk about, and he had made it painfully clear that that was one of them. "I don't want to talk about this with you."

Allen sighed. "It's not like you can talk about it with Lavi."

Kanda almost bristled, almost went for his blade, almost did any number of very stupid things. Instead, he lifted his right arm and put it over his eyes, blocking out the room. It was a tiny crack in his very hard exterior – Allen bit his tongue at it. "When we find him, you are not going to tell him I was like this."

"Of course not."

"And you won't tell him that I admitted to knowing I was."

Allen laughed softly and released his left wrist. The face in the mirror, the ever smiling face, almost looked sad. "I'm not out to hurt your pride, Kanda. He's basically the only person you've allowed to get to you; I won't hold that over your head because it's good that you care." The British boy fought the urge not to look at the man who shifted behind him, most likely seeing a flicker of maturity he hadn't realized the existence of. "I miss him, too, you know. It isn't like you're the only one who liked him."

"Likes. Present tense."

Allen smiled and looked over his shoulder, too amused for his own good. "You understand basic grammar? I had no idea."

Kanda didn't look at him, still with his arm over his eyes, but he did sort of smile. It was a huge thing for him to say something like that. It was even bigger for Allen not to take the opportunity to tease him for it. "Che. Just shut up. I'm not going after him right now, so you can gloat."

"I don't feel like it." The British Exorcist admitted. "I feel…"

"Worried."

The boy nodded. "I'm glad you aren't a compete arse, Kanda." He turned back to the window and looked beyond his reflection this time, out into the broken sunlight, the shadows of trees strewn across the dirt street behind the inn. It was pretty, if only because it was simple. A part of him wanted to go out and enjoy the day, but that wouldn't be a smart decision. Not until he knew if they were going to make a gate still or if the presence of a Noah changed that. Instead, he leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. "You're not…alone—"

"I know." Kanda didn't quite hiss the words, but it was close. "Stop being like Lenalee and go back to being a brat, Brat."

"Are you sure you don't want a hug or something?"

"Che. Go hug a cactus."

Allen laughed, though it wasn't because the words were actually funny. It was the thought of Kanda – prickly, angry, irksome Kanda – suggesting he go hug his plant-cousin, the cactus. It fit too well. Sharing the thought, however, would undoubtedly get him killed, and it wouldn't work out if he tired to embrace the swordsman as to show his thoughts. He would have to keep it to himself for now. He could hug the Japanese man when he wasn't paying attention. Or when he felt like being murdered.

"I think…" Allen glanced back at Kanda, and smiled at the one, gray-blue eye that turned in his direction. "I think things will work out in the end."

With a slow, deliberate blink and a frighteningly sincere smirk, Kanda turned his face away from Allen and the window. In a movement that was painfully out of character he turned on his side, curled so his hands pulled the vomit green comforter toward his face and held it out of sight. If Kanda was looking at that color and thinking of something or if he saw something else there entirely, the white-haired boy could only guess. "Fucking hope."

-- -- --

"I think I'm falling for you."

Tyki laughed at that, his large hands splayed on the smaller male's shoulders. His lips were very close to the redhead's right ear, breathing hot, feathery air across the shell. His thumbs pressed a bit on the back of Lavi's neck, tilting it against the cold side of the tub.

Even if he couldn't see it, Lavi knew that Tyki was naked behind him, by the feeling of wet skin on his back and thighs. It was lovely and intimate, and the movement of the older man's semi-experienced hands just made it so much better. The light touch of lips on his jaw, the swish of warm water on his legs – they were made far nicer by the press of painful fingers to his spine. It was good enough to make him lean back and moan on occasion, eyes resolutely closed to the ceiling above him. After the things they had done, and the sudden leap in how close they could be without being awkward, the last thing he wanted was to ruin the moment by opening his eyes.

The Noah had understood his decision not to open them yet, and had made it something of a game to try and shock them open. It wasn't going to happen this time though. Not when the apprentice Bookman was melting into the bathwater at little more than a touch.

"Really, Tyki. You keep up this hair-washin' and body-massagin', and I will be your cooking, pining needy young lover forever. Or until I'm old. Whichever happens first."

"Old, I would hope." Tyki said with such surety it was almost disconcerting. His right hand, which had only a little more strength than the left, curved around the boy's waist and pulled him close – very close – before it slipped down Lavi's hip and bent him forward just a little. Like that, the older man placed his chin in the boy's shoulder and nibbled the skin there, then kissed it just as softly. The contact almost made Lavi laugh.

"It's funny," the redhead remarked quietly, "I didn't know you would be this touchy-feely."

"Does it bother you?"

Lavi shook his head. "It just… makes me think…" A face, familiar and yet completely unknown to him, appeared in his mind before it dissolved into darkness. He doubted he would recognize it even if he met the person on the street, blind or not. "I don't know. I don't mind though, that's for sure."

The Portuguese man shifted enough to relax, leaning all of his weight against Lavi. "Then you will still want to sleep next to me when we are out of the tub?"

"Mmhmm. I can't talk you into not goin' out with the family, huh?"

"I'm afraid that there are some things I can't whine and mope myself out of."

"What if I mope and whine?"

Tyki's arm tightened a little around Lavi, while his chest rumbled a little against the boy's back. "Road might give you a sucker. Or try to stab you, depending on how she feels."

"Great. I think I'll smile and nod; I like my organs." The redhead tried to make his face pout, though he didn't think Tyki could see. It didn't matter, the expression would be in his voice at least, and even the older man would hear it in the echoing environment of the bathroom. "It's okay if I get to go with you, though." He sighed, and leaned his head back, wet hair pressed to the back of his neck in cold, stringy tendrils, all of which were beginning to dry in what he knew would be unattractive waves and knots.

"Trisha will be nice to you, at least."

"Shirley's wife, right," Lavi nodded to himself, recalling the man who sounded like Tyki, but lacked his panache, somehow. If they looked alike it was hard to say, but they sounded similar enough to be brothers – even if the tones were different the way they formed words was the same. Anyone who would end up with Tyki's sibling would likely be a friend of Lavi's. Maybe. "Will you be around if I need you?"

The Noah's head bobbed against Lavi's neck. "Assuming we must go into different rooms, I'll be within calling distance."

Lavi hummed, lifting his left leg a little as he turned his face into Tyki's neck, swishing the lukewarm water against his stomach. It was still comfortable, and his right leg didn't hurt with the motion, even if it was still too early to let it bear any sort of weight. The apprentice Bookman tired not to think about that. He thought about the smell of the man against him and the hand on his ribcage, the water and the toes that brushed against his left foot. It was bad that he didn't want to leave. It was worse that the thought of being in a different house – one he didn't know the layout of – scared him more than being left alone.

The unknown wasn't supposed to frighten him. The correct response, though, wasn't something he remembered.

"Tyki?"

"Hm?"

Lavi willed his brain to stop conjecturing at things and let his eyes crack open a bit against the Portuguese man's throat. The room around him was lit, he could see, and lightly colored, but he couldn't tell if the man he was leaning on was tan or gray or black, nor if the light came from everywhere or just a single place. Shapes had no meaning. It was all flat and mixed, confusing and painful. "What will we do if I remember everything? What will we do if… I was in love with somebody else?" Even as the words tumbled out of his mouth, Lavi regretted them. The body against his stiffened and the arms around him threatened to crush his ribcage. The reaction was almost an answer in and of itself.

"Do you think you were?"

"I don't know."

"Lavi…" Tyki's lips spread warm air against the place they touched on the boy's temple. It was terribly soothing, terribly intimate, terribly close to something the apprentice Bookman did not want to lose. He cared. He cared too much to know what he wanted. "If you were… I can only hope that I haven't killed the lucky girl yet. I'm sure it would ruin my chances at competition."

The redhead smiled. "Really?"

"Really," the Noah repeated.

For a moment, Lavi didn't move from his place, too intent on what had been said. Slowly though, as he ran the conversation through his mind, something caught his attention and stopped his analysis short a little less than halfway through. A slip of the tongue, an accidental phrase – it caught his attention and held it as if he were a moth attracted to a flame. His chest was tight and warm with it, with the fact that, despite it all, he didn't mind in the slightest how his confession had seeped from his lips and gone completely unremarked upon, missed in the moment. It was better that way. If he was truly in love, if the feelings would last more than a few days or a week or however long it took the older man to see him as too high of a risk – there were too many questions to repeat it with any degree of surety. Still, it was in the air now. And it explained more than he was willing to admit at the moment.

"If you're going to sleep at all, Lavi, we need to get out of the bathtub."

"Okay. Right after I nap."

-- -- --

It was surprising, at first, but Kanda managed to fall asleep on his side after a quarter of an hour of relative silence, the blankets still pulled up next to his face, boots and jacket still on. It made sense when Allen thought about it; the swordsman hadn't slept on the train at all, and no one slept well with their best friend missing or in the clutches of an enemy – and there were his wounds. Really, sleep was most likely the best thing for him, and he obviously needed it, otherwise he wouldn't have closed his eyes to the room with Allen in it, let alone allowed himself to be dragged under by exhaustion.

Still, the asshole of a man was decidedly peaceful in sleep, even if his position looked uncomfortable and terribly restricted by his heavier articles of clothing. If Allen had been friendlier with the swordsman, he might have gone over to take off Kanda's boots by himself, but he figured it was a death wish. Instead, he waited for a bit, just ten or fifteen minutes, before he laid a soft hand on the Japanese boy's boney shoulder in the hope of rousing him without much effort.

The sound Kanda made and the uncharacteristic tremble in his shoulders made Allen doubt his logic.

"Kanda," the British Exorcist whispered, though he withdrew his hand. "Kanda, you can't sleep in your boots…"

Yet, Kanda – the man who could hear a pin drop for a mile and sense the eyes of an akuma even farther off – didn't stir. He was truly sleeping like a log.

It took Allen an hour to decide being caught was better than being stuck with the older boy when he was groggy and he set about removing the swordsman boots. It shocked him a little to discover that Kanda wore mismatched socks, the left one of which was faded to a color between orange and gray somehow, threadbare almost to the point of being holey.

The coat, Allen left alone. It would be too personal to try and extract Kanda from that article of clothing without permission and it kind of functioned as a blanket in the meantime, even if the heavy fabric wasn't too comfortable.

Left to his own devices, the white-haired teen laid himself out on the opposite bed, shoes and coat discarded. For a while, just to distract himself, he watched Kanda's sleeping features spasm with passing dreams. When the frightened and pained expressions the older boy made forced the British boy to think of his own nighttime tortures, he turned his attention to the golem tucked up into his sleeve and the tiny teeth Timcanpy offered.

At some point, Kanda rolled onto his back. Allen wished he didn't need an escort.

By the time Allen felt himself beginning to doze, Kanda jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up with such speed and stiffness that it reminded the younger Exorcist of a vampire rising out of a coffin. The harsh quality to the swordsman's breathing, however, proved that assumption wrong. Kanda had never looked paler, what had to be cold sweat trickling down his brow.

With a curse the Japanese boy wiped at his forehead with his arm before looking down at his sleeve as if he hadn't expected it to be there, dark eyes narrowed. Distantly, he turned his hand over, wiggled his fingers, then turned it back again, studying the red fringe that went around the entirety of his wrist. With deliberate slowness he looked down the length of the bed to his feet before he silently took in the rest of the room, blinking at the green curtains and the sunlight, at the wooden floor and the suitcase he had left by the desk. It took him a long time to turn his gaze to Allen, and he didn't glare when he did.

"You can go back to sleep," Allen tugged his right glove from Timcampy's teeth and tried not to look away from the swordsman's frown. "The hospital hasn't called and you can't see so—"

"No." Kanda interrupted at a whisper. "I can see." His eyes, which Allen noted were no longer silvery-white, narrowed at the younger man's face, then widened again, as if doing so might better adjust his focus. "How long was I…"

"Almost two hours."

Kanda cursed softly, then turned his eyes toward the nearest window, frowning at the afternoon light. He was doing that not-thinking thing again, and making that face like he wanted a hug even though he would kill anyone who tried. It was strange and somehow perturbing – even in the heat of battle he never made that kind of expression, not unless he was shot or zapped or hurt beyond the momentary power of the thing that kept him alive. Why he would make that face now…

"It isn't dark yet; we can go look for any information on where the Akuma came from, and maybe get an idea where Tyki Mikk is." Allen mumbled, turning his face to Tim in the hope of not feeling awkward. "I don't want to make the rendezvous at the chapel until Link is awake – he might kill me if I make a gate when he isn't watching… so we might as well…" His gaze flicked back to Kanda, but the older boy wasn't looking at him, his eyes still turned outside. It made the British boy swallow and pause, unsure how to handle the situation without an insult or a backlash to make Kanda forget.

The swordsman shifted on the mattress until his feet were hanging off the bed, away from Allen, where his face – and that expression – weren't something the younger Exorcist could see. For a moment he just sat there, as if mystified by the things he could find in the room. "Oi." The sound wasn't much more than a whisper, yet Allen still stiffened at it. "Did you take off my boots?"

Guilt somehow filled Allen's chest. He looked at the wall. "You were going to get mud on the blankets."

"You could have woken me."

"I tried."

Kanda didn't scream at him and call him a liar. He looked at Mugen on his left hip and then out the window again. It was all wrong. "Whatever." It wasn't as despondent as it could have been, but there was an undertone of something far too emotional to be real. Maybe it was the dream that had done it, or the act of kindness on Allen's part, but it seemed Kanda was prepared to do something violent or strange because of it.

The white-haired teen didn't like it at all. "Feel free not to answer me seriously but… are you okay?"

The swordsman looked over his shoulder, the rumpled mass of his ponytail rippling down the line of his back like a darker cascade of ebony against his jacket, the irises of his gaze somehow black at that angle in the light. He looked ready to say something unexpected, but when he opened his mouth, something far less world shattering escaped his lips.

"He's not dead."

Allen blinked, not understanding.

Kanda turned away again, and touched the hilt of his sword. "If he was…I would know."

-- -- --

Lavi couldn't see how baggy the shirt was on him, but Tyki could.

And the Noah had to admit, as good as the redhead looked with his sleeves rolled up and his shirt partially unbuttoned, he looked a thousand times better like this. It was just… somehow endearing how the dress shirt hung on his arms, and how the tie extended too far down his chest. It didn't really matter that the boy's eyes were swathed in fresh linen, nor did it occur to Tyki that the way he had to stand on only one foot made him awkward – it was the clothes that made the apprentice Bookman gangly and adorable in his eyes. And perhaps it was his expression also, the little pout to his lips, the way he frowned. Really, the redhead didn't have the slightest idea how… edible he was.

Tyki had to wonder when he had started thinking that way.

Not that it really mattered anyway. Lavi had become someone he was used to, someone he more or less understood, and he found it difficult to grow tired of the apprentice Bookman, or even lazy in his presence. It was true that sex had something to do with it, but that wasn't all. There was friendship too, and a warm, pleasant feeling of closeness that made Tyki think of long nights alone together, small cups of strong alcohol and sore muscles, blankets and gentle caresses. Perhaps that was a memory – he had never wanted anything like that that he could recall.

It didn't matter. When he used his grayish fingers to tug at the collar of the redhead's shirt and smooth it down, none of it really mattered.

His scars throbbed.

Lingering Innocence was an unpleasant thing.

In the half-light of the shaded lamp by the bedroom door, Lavi's hair was almost the exact color of blood. That was all it took – that little hint of color and the turn of the boy's neck – to make the Noah reach out in an effort to feel more of the creature in front of him. He kissed the boy softly on the lips, without the depthless desire he had felt before, and ran a gentle hand through Lavi's hair. When he pulled away from the shallow contact the Exorcist was smiling at him, or in the direction of his face, lacking sight to actually direct the expression.

The redhead, though a bit short for it, leaned upward enough to press his forehead to Tyki's, chocolate-black curls and cinnamon-red locks mingling between them.

Lavi's expression wavered, but he did not frown.

"What will we be having for dinner?" The question wasn't intimate enough for that position, even if Tyki didn't mind it. The Noah wound his arms around the apprentice Bookman's back to hold him steady.

"Fish, I think."

"Hm."

The Portuguese man smiled. "I love fish. Surely you'll at least be able to stomach it."

The boy almost shrugged. "I don't… remember."

There was that. And it made the Noah's expression fall. "Lavi," his cupped one hand against the back of the boy's skull, where a wound had been some weeks ago, and felt for the scar hidden in the mess of red hair there. It was small, but still there, a little testament to what had befallen the apprentice Bookman at the older man's hands. Regret might have been the feeling that filled Tyki's chest. It melted away in a wave of what might have been desire. "You don't have to sound so sad when you say that. It doesn't bother me that you don't remember. You're…" The concept was in Tyki's mind but he couldn't phrase it, couldn't explain what he meant beyond the fact that this Exorcist – however good – was important. "You're not obligated to know things. If you cannot remember, it isn't your fault."

Lavi turned his face down until it was tucked beneath the line of Tyki's chin, his nose pressed into the Noah's throat. When he breathed out, his air spread cool across the older man's skin. "I feel like you mean that…"

"Of course I mean that."

"But it was a lie… before… when you still thought I knew everything. No matter what you said then, you always had that little undertone like you weren't being completely honest. But now…" Lavi rocked forward, turning his face up and reaching into the Noah's hair at once. His mouth stayed just a hair's breadth from Tyki's, while his fingers pulled him up on to the toes of the foot he could use. "I want to kiss you for meaning that."

Tyki felt his lips lift in a small smile. "If honesty is so well rewarded, I might find myself more inclined to—"

"Shut up." The boy pushed himself up and pulled Tyki down, bringing their mouths into swift, harsh contact that the Noah was only half-expecting. The redhead curled his fingers a little more tightly against Tyki's scalp while his left hand wandered to the white button-up covering the Portuguese man's chest. What the kiss meant, what it signified, the emotion that fueled it – none of that made any sense at all. They were friends who touched, weren't they? They were people who lived together and kissed when they felt the urge to, and that was it, right? Lavi made Tyki happy; there didn't need to be anything besides that.

The lazy part of the Noah of Pleasure wanted nothing more than to stay home with the boy in his arms.

That wasn't a friendly inclination, either.

When the kiss broke, Tyki didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, he laid his chin on the top of Lavi's head and tried to understand what they meant. He didn't know.

"When we get there, will you describe the dinner table to me so I don't make a fool of myself?" The redhead whispered.

The Portuguese man had to chuckle. "Only if you tell me what you think the others look like when we're gone."

Lavi nodded, but didn't speak further. Instead, he pushed himself back and reached for the cane Tyki had leaned against the bed for him – which Lavi could now use rather efficiently as a crutch if he wasn't distracted or walking too close to the person on his right. He wobbled a bit with the cane pressed almost to his right hip, shuffling so his left foot only came off the ground for the shortest of moments.

Tyki liked that the boy could make his way to the hall and turn back to him without stumbling, even if it meant the damage he had done was – for the most part – less than what he had hoped. The Noah of Pleasure was losing his touch a little. The redhead, the swordsman – they proved it.

"Can we go? I might have napped, but that doesn't mean I won't conk out on you before the end of the night, you know?" The redhead grinned a little, and the look made him seem far less gentlemanly than his clothes suggested. "And if yesterday was anything to go by…" He licked his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth, worrying at it softly. "You'll want me lively when he get home, right?"

Tyki laughed and took a step toward the boy, catching the coat he had left on the edge of the bed in his left hand on the way. "None of that tonight, Lavi. You're like to wear me out at this rate." It was a lie, but it still made the boy smirk, and that was the point. "Though, I have the feeling if I say no…"

The Exorcist blushed, but didn't flinch at the sound of Tyki's feet on the floor – which he undoubtedly heard. "I would be willing to try, if you'd let me…" His face turned down even as the color rose on his cheeks. "I can't see, but you could help me, like you did before. And if you wanted… I could—"

"Shush," Tyki laid a finger on the redhead's lips, stilling them. "We'll wait until I'm stuffed with fish and you're too tired to walk, then decided if there will be anything but cuddling this evening, hm?"

The boy nodded and the Noah placed a hand on the very top of Lavi's head, stroking through his slightly-damp hair. "Will I need to know anything tonight? Anything I don't remember?" He reached out and slowly, as if he knew that it would make Tyki uncomfortable, touched the place on the older man's coat that covered the line of a scar. "You told me about Innocence, but you never told me what the others can do. I don't really mind not knowing. But if it's really such a bad thing to play checkers with Road, then I'd like to know what is safe, you know? What if she wants to play with my hair? Or what if Shirley suggests cards?" The boy wet his lip in a way that could have been seductive, even if he didn't seem to notice. His fingertips, however intimate, kept the Noah's mind on the boy's words rather than the sweep of his tongue and the rouge on his cheeks.

Tyki frowned. "There are two things you should know, if you must know anything at all…" He didn't like exposing Lavi to the truth – he didn't like risking his memories. "Road… she can create illusions. If she suggests that you play with her, and you say yes, she will very likely try to torment you with things that no longer make sense to you. People you knew, places you've been. Second," Tyki cleared his throat and forced a smile into his voice. "Sheryl is harmless. Well, try not to anger him, if you can help it. Otherwise, he won't even lift a finger against you."

"Anything else?"

"Your hair looks rather brown when you blush."

Lavi smiled almost playfully and turned his head to the side, just so the eyes that Tyki couldn't see might have been batting shyly. "You gonna say things like that at dinner? Or are such unconventional relationships frowned upon?"

"Well…" Tyki felt his eyebrows lift in an expression of mild amusement, "I don't foresee anyone missing the fact that you've taken to living with me – I doubt anyone will miss the reason. But there may be a bit of confusion on if you are a… willing participant in our… situation."

"And Shirley's the one in politics? Christ."

"Lavi—"

"Your Exorcist pet thinks it's time to go, Master. If you're ready."

"That isn't what I—"

But the boy was smiling at him, and the nails touching Tyki's chest through the Noah's shirt were more or less tantalizing. "It's fine if they think that, Tyki. Even if I like you more than that, and you wouldn't tell me to do something unless I wanted to, I still find it funny, somehow. And kinky, but that's a conversation we should save for now." Lavi's left hand traveled across the Noah's chest before it paused and curved around the back of his neck, toying with the base of Tyki's ponytail. A little flash of confusion turned Lavi's mouth down before he went on again, soft and sure. "Can we go?" It was a whisper this time, for some reason, and his hand stilled against Tyki's nape.

"Yes, Lavi." Tyki whispered, and fought the urge to lean into the smaller body before him. "We can go."

-- -- --

The town wasn't all that large, which had been the point of coming out here in the first place, but it did offer a lot of strange stories and legends, most of them, in Allen's opinion, worth looking into. The one that most caught his interested was based on pumpkins – which were tasty. Supposedly, the squash in the region would be turned into vampires if left outside at night after Christmas and rolled around town causing mischief, bashing into things, frightening sheep, and whatnot. The thought of catching one – hunting a tasty pumpkin – was very entertaining to him.

But Kanda only cared about a mysterious death two towns over, one that had to be nothing but a rumor. Little boys, no matter their profession, did not magically lose their organs in alleyways. And Tyki Mikk did not leave hearts and lungs behind.

The modus operandi was different. And no Akuma had ever seemed to share an ability with a Noah. It had to be a lie.

Allen kept repeating it to himself, over and over again.

It was nearing dinnertime, the orange, perfectly round disk of the sun sinking down on the west horizon as if it were too heavy for the sky to hold up any longer. He found it pretty, even if it was somewhat disconcerting. He would spend a night without the sound of Link's breathing in the same room – which wasn't something he would miss so much as something he had grown used to – and Lavi would spend another night somewhere else, with Tyki Mikk. If Lavi would have a dinner of blood and a night of torture, Allen didn't want to imagine. No matter what that note had said…

Still, as he watched the reddened cobblestones fad a little more toward gray, he couldn't help but think that something didn't fit. Kanda was alive to start, but Lavi was still missing. And the note, which had come from Tyki – had to have come from Tyki – hadn't been marked at all by the Exorcist in question. If Lavi really didn't want to come home, if he had really changed sides, he would have signed a name on the paper, right?

The grout turned black. A shadow moved a little in front of him and he lifted his eyes to see Kanda not looking at him, one hand on Mugen. Maybe the swordsman was thinking the same thing Allen was, searching the darkening sky for some pattern in all of it, some thing that would show just how far gone Lavi really was. But there was nothing to see in the sky. Not even stars.

So maybe he was trying to start the process of thinking, being he didn't really think to begin with.

"I'm leaving you alone with Link tomorrow, whether he's awake or not." The swordsman didn't look at the British boy when he spoke. "I don't give a damn if it's against orders – you're loyal and I can't take you away from your inspector." The stress on that one word almost made Allen scowl at Kanda, but the Japanese boy went on before he could start to. "It's the only thing I can think of. Because if it was Mikk… and if he does have Lavi… why would he tear the organs out of some… random idiot unless our idiot was getting on his nerves?"

Allen blinked. That sort of made sense. Kind of. In that Kanda's Not-Logic sort of way.

"Not everyone wants to kill the things that annoy them, Kanda."

"He's a fucking Noah, Bean Sprout. I'd think they're more violently inclined than most people."

"You do realize that you're insulting me and not only them, right?"

"Che. So? Since when do I care about insulting you?"

The white-haired teen narrowed his eyes and felt his right hand tighten. He would not hit Kanda on a day like this, not when it was obvious what was making the swordsman uncomfortable. It made Allen uncomfortable, too, when he thought about being the host for someone that could be a lot or a little like Tyki Mikk.

He bit his lower lip. "I'll be good," Allen promised softly, "and contact you by golem every night and every morning, that way you know I'm not… doing something else." He looked up to find Kanda staring at him, eyes too cold to harbor any readable emotion. "I'll stay in the hospital within sight of somebody. You just…" Allen struggled with the look Kanda was giving him, struggled to find something that wouldn't sound terribly like Lenalee and painfully like caring, that wouldn't be irritating and softhearted. "Don't do anything stupid. If you see him, run. I don't care if you're angry, you can't beat him alone. He'll kill you."

Kanda's eyes narrowed; the little white scars around them pinched into the lines that were usually caused by smiles. He didn't answer. Instead, he turned on heel in the direction of their inn, scowling at the night air.

"He can kill anyone, Bean Sprout. As long as they're human."

-- -- --

Can you tell I reread some chapters to get a better feel for some of the characters? Like Allen and Kanda especially… because they're kind of hard to write sometimes…

Anyhoo! I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reviewing! If I missed yours, I blame Tron (my lappy) and its Windows Updates of DOOM.

Love for reviewers! Thank you so much for reading!