Hello. This update is filled with horrible plot development and a healthy does of sex and assumption. Somethings might be proved impossible in the future. And some people might hate me by the end of this fic. I thought that you should all be warned.

Also, as if I hadn't been doing enough already, I've started to play this fic-bingo game over at AssHat Productions. I'm thinking of posting all of the stories I do for my first bingo card under one title and write pairings and whatnot in the author's note at the beginning of each ficlette. Look for it in the future if you'd like to see the terrifyingly crackish things Niamh can come up with.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely no one in this chapter. As there are no OC's living. I don't own D. Gray-man. The only thing I own is this freakish plot thing that's running wild.

WARNINGS: Blood and gore. Emoness. Sex. UKE TYKI. What feels like the fastest lemon of my life.

–

Chapter Fourteen: Midnight Butterfly

--

"Stop eating my peas."

"But they're cold. You said they're gross when they're cold."

Link – who was sitting up unsupported for what seemed like the first time in a very long while – narrowed his eyes at the British Exorcist in front of him, an expression that took maybe four years off of his age and as well as lowering his level of maturity. He could have made that face more, actually, because it made him seem less like a stick in the mud and more like a human cast into a situation he simply did not enjoy. "I hope you choke on my much needed nourishment, then." He added, and turned his head away toward the window.

The sky outside was nearing sundown, which meant at any moment Allen would be called away by Kanda and the two of them would have to continue their bickering when he came back. And by then, Link would have forgotten what the fight was over – his short-term memory hadn't recovered completely just yet – and they would have to start again at why Allen had been out of the room in the first place. For now, the light played in lilac and silver shadows through the white cotton drapes, bleeding golden drops across the white tile floor, and Allen watched Link watch the lights, disconcerted by the way the assistant Inspector seemed mesmerized by their movements. Link was better, at least, now that his brain wasn't swelling every other time he moved his head. Now, it was just the time it took for his memory to become reliable and his skull to finish knitting together like it had been before it had collided with a train track.

In the meantime, he looked sad in the cold light.

Allen sighed and put down the plate of mostly cold vegetables. He couldn't eat when he thought about how stagnant he had become, how easy it would be for him to be in the exact same situation as Link was at the moment, unable to do anything but wait. Not that Allen wasn't waiting. But he didn't have to. Any day now they were going to be told that they could take Link back to headquarters where Allen would get a new bodyguard, and then they'd be out in the world again, searching for Innocence.

And Lavi would still be here. Potentially in the hands of Tyki Mikk.

A violent urge welled in Allen's chest. Tyki Mikk. It was true that he wanted to save the Noah – all of them – but at the same time, now, he didn't. Not that one. Not Pleasure. If he saw Tyki face-to-face and the Portuguese man had harmed Lavi at all…

But it was bad to think that way. It was wrong. Murder was wrong. He couldn't think that way.

"I think…" Link said softly, their fight from before likely forgotten for the moment. "I might try to walk tomorrow." His face turned oddly to the right, which sent his loose hair falling around his shoulders beneath the bandage that padded the upper part of his forehead. He was quiet again, his eyes lifted toward Allen, and a strange look spread across his features. "You stopped eating them?"

Allen felt himself try to smile. "You asked me not to. And Kanda will call soon."

Link nodded, turned away. "He always does."

-- -- --

Lavi took his time buying things, but he made it home before Tyki. That was good. He had time enough to put everything away and still look at the sword he had taken from what might have at one time qualified as a fallen comrade, and find a safe place to keep it. The blade itself was familiar to him, somehow, but he knew that he couldn't wield it with any sort of grace or efficiency. He didn't feel any latent power within it, any tingle of energy, or any indicator that it was made of some holy substance or special in any way. It felt like a perfectly balanced katana, heavy, but not to the point of making it awkward, and perfectly sharp. Why the blade was black Lavi couldn't imagine. Why the braided tassel that hung off the butt made him want to smile, he couldn't fathom.

So he tucked it away behind the bookshelf he had almost pulled onto himself that day he had woken in need of the bathroom. It fit rather snuggly, but it didn't make the shelf stick out awkwardly like he feared it might have, and it didn't set it off kilter. Lavi didn't think about why he wanted to hide it – or who from – but it felt like his own little secret somehow. His own possession now that he had it. The only thing in the house he truly owned.

He tried not to think about it while he waited for Tyki to come back. He tried not to think about how that girl had pulled him into that alley dead set on finding out where he had been. Had he known her? Had they been close? And her voice… did it take practice to sound like that as a woman? At first he had thought it was a women, then he had thought a man just because of how strong the stranger had been, but really, it was hard to tell. Lavi thought back to her features, to what he had seen of her jaw line. Her jacket had a high collar. If there was a well-hidden Adam's apple in all of that pretty and soft and angles and madness, he hadn't had the chance to imprint it on his memory. Lavi could envision her hair, all black silk and shadows, and those dark-yet-bright eyes that didn't really have a definite color, but he couldn't pull her neck into focus.

Not that it mattered now. She was dead. Headless or something. And he'd never see her again.

Lavi had left her there knowing that. Lavi had accepted it. Because it was the only way that he could stay with Tyki.

That didn't make him feel any less guilty for doing it.

The redhead made his way into the kitchen, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand. His limp didn't even bother him for the walk, the distance too short to put much strain on the bones in his ankle. Still, he sank into a chair and rested his face on his hands, his thoughts a horrible muddle of emotions and fears, none of them as tangible as the weight that filled his stomach like a rock that was too big to get out somehow.

The memories came less often now, but they hit him harder. There were things he was sure of – his name, his birthday, his purpose to record and understand things, that he had been with a person in the past that he loved very much – but the details still felt vague and hollow when he compared them to what he had now. He felt that where he was now, what he had done, how he had walked away, wasn't something he would have done in the past. Letting someone die sounded worse than dying himself.

"I guess…" Lavi mumbled, and pulled his feet up into his chair so he could wrap his arms around his legs and press his face into his knees. "That I'm just as evil as he is now, when it comes down to it."

He didn't hear the door. He only closed his eyes and sighed at the press of warm, blood scented arms pulling him back into a warm embrace.

-- -- --

The long-haired, foul-mouthed Exorcist simply refused to die. Small wounds, ones that bled and oozed and broke bones, didn't heal very quickly at all. In fact, Tyki wouldn't have realized what was going on if he hadn't gone for the boy's insides, thinking it the fastest way to get what he wanted. He'd crushed the boy's heart, thought the job done, and been pulled back into the alley by the sound of the young man hauling himself shakily to his feet, his right arm still twisted and broken, but his heart somehow newly intact. Tyki didn't like the thought of an immortal opponent, and he liked the idea of an immortal victim even less. Still, the third time the Exorcist recovered from what should have been a killing blow, panting and shaking, his right eye destroyed from hitting the brick wall with his face, Tyki knew that he couldn't let him go back to the Order and tell them where Lavi was. Because of that, and despite how much Tyki liked to watch the Japanese boy crumble at little more than a touch, Tyki was bored of waiting for the Exorcist to run out of whatever was keeping him alive.

In the end, Tyki could only think of one solution, and it wasn't one he much liked, either.

But what else could he do? He couldn't lose Lavi. He couldn't let his family have this Exorcist (was his name Lambda? No… Kanda?) for fear that Lavi's presence would be taken as a threat to the safety of them all. What could he logically do besides be sure that that didn't happen?

The sun had more or less set by the time Tyki dragged and phased the long-haired boy into the cellar, ignoring the sound of tearing cloth and popping bone. It would heal if what Tyki knew about the boy was true. And it hardly mattered anyway, the Exorcist wasn't cursing or fighting back much anymore; Tyki doubted he felt the pain as keenly as he had those first few times he had died.

In the dark, cold, damp air of the cellar, the scent of blood fought with the scent of mildew and wet dirt. What remained of the sunlight was choked out by too many years of grime on the small windows, turned to a dim glow that wouldn't be nearly enough to see the entirety of the room with. Tyki didn't, however, need to see the entirety of the room. He dropped his burden at the far side of the cellar, next to the water main. It took him a short circle around the area to find that there was nothing worth picking up before he returned to the Exorcist's side and yanked a long strip off of his torn coat, then bent to wind it between the boy's wrists.

It struck Tyki as he secured the fabric to the pipe without much trouble that this Exorcist was maybe Lavi's age, far less fragile, and a lot more dangerous.

And the Exorcist was laughing at him. Laughing a mirthless, crackling sort of laugh, the bloodied side of his face pressed to the pipe next to his wrists. Tyki didn't understand what was so funny, exactly.

"Wha's wrong, Noah?" The boy croaked and slurred at him, voice little more than a forced whisper. "Aren't you goin' to kill me?"

Tyki narrowed his eyes at the Exorcist. It didn't matter if this one knew Lavi. Lavi understood that. The Noah of Pleasure held no pity for his enemies. It was simply a matter of having nothing else to do with him, and the fact that Lavi was waiting, likely brooding over his decision, fixated with the idea that he had just turned his back on what had been a comrade. The thought made Tyki want to laugh back, but he didn't. "Humans aren't immortal, Exorcist. But I can't seem to kill you." Tyki turned his head to the side, almost like he was trying to be friendly. "If you tell me how, it will save us all a lot of time and suffering, won't it?"

This time, the Exorcist didn't laugh. Instead, he rolled his eyes with forced intent, as if just the movement could explain his thoughts on Tyki's intelligence. "Che. I can't die." He said rather plainly.

"Everyone can die."

"And you think I'd tell you if I knew how I could?"

Tyki shook his head, unable to fight his expression any longer. "If you don't want to be down here for only God knows how long—"

"He doesn't." The Exorcist bit out almost bitterly. "If you're going to leave me here then get out. I don't want your company."

A nerve? God was a nerve in a boy who served the Church? Tyki found that interesting. He would have to think about it in the time he wasn't thinking about what he could pull out of the swordsman's chest without watching him crawl back up for more. For the moment, Tyki ran a bloody hand through his hair and turned away. It was enough for one day. The Exorcist wasn't going to pull himself free, break the lock, and find Lavi while Tyki was sleeping. And it wasn't as if there was any chance of Lavi finding him – Tyki was relatively sure the redhead didn't even know they had a cellar.

"Oi." It was a soft protest just as the Portuguese man reached the stairs, just enough to make him pause with one foot on the dirt floor, the other on the stone step. The light from above was nothing but a sheet of white silver that illuminated nothing to the Noah – a new moon, if he could guess by that alone. "If you hurt him…"

Tyki looked back at the mostly dark room and the one, shining eye in the moonlight, reflecting almost inhumanly back at him. There was blood and dirt and far too many bruises on that face, but Tyki understood what was meant even without seeing the swordsman's expression. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to."

The Noah left then, up the stairs and into the night. He locked the door behind him – just a simple lock, but it would be enough – then turned back toward the house, to the light that meant that someone was likely in the kitchen. He didn't feel guilty for what he had done. He wouldn't tell Lavi, though. It would be easier if the apprentice Bookman thought that it was over and done with. It would be better that way, in the end.

"I must really love him," Tyki mumbled to himself, starting toward the door. "Enough to start keeping pets, at least."

-- -- --

Kanda hadn't called.

And he hadn't answered.

Allen lay with the blue-white sheet pulled up to his chin, feeling cold and alone despite the fact that he had been given a cot in the corner of Link's room to sleep on. He wanted to go back to the inn and see if maybe Kanda's golem had gotten lost and flown there or something, but he couldn't leave while Link was sleeping. He couldn't leave at all. And the fact that Tim was curled up next to his shoulder, being cold and friendly like a little metallic animal wasn't helping his thoughts at all. In the last few months, Allen had begun to look forward to when the little golem told him that Kanda was calling, that he would be able to hear the older boy's voice for just a few minutes, just a few insults. But now…

Now, the sun had been down for almost two hours and Kanda hadn't called even to say he was breathing.

The white-haired teen rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around himself, looking at the wall. It was white, just like it had been the night before, and he hated it for being so blank and indifferent. He was lonely. He was cold. And they didn't feed him enough here unless he filched from Link's plate.

"Damn it." He hissed under his breath, and hunched forward. He didn't need to be worrying about Lavi and Kanda. Not right now. Even if it was cold. And if Lavi had been there, the redhead would have hugged him in that too-close-to-be-friendly-but-not-to-be-family way. And if Kanda had been there, maybe Allen could have talked him into climbing up on the cot and sharing heat. Shirtless. Or naked. Oh. Naked. Kanda naked…

Allen felt heat suffuse his body at the thought and shivered, hating himself for fantasizing and loving his mental image of the swordsman wearing nothing but a glare. It was strange to think of someone he knew, and even stranger for that person to be male, stupid, and annoying beyond all reason. But the worst part of it, the most horrible part, was that Allen really didn't give a damn how strange it was, not really.

"Call, damn you." Allen muttered, and let his right hand slip from around himself and against the mattress. "Call."

-- -- --

Tyki smeared red hand prints across Lavi's shoulders, but the apprentice Bookman didn't mind, not really. He laughed about it as he turned to face the older man, smiling one of those sad, thoughtful smiles, both of his eyes slatted with the expression. He was as bright as he had ever been, even dimmed with guilt and fear.

The Noah didn't let his thoughts wander to the swordsman's Innocence. Instead, he took Lavi in his arms and pressed his face into the redhead's hair, breathing in his scent. "I'm sorry I followed you today." He whispered, and sighed at the feeling of the younger man's hands taking a hold of his shirt and pulling it a little out of his pants. The touch of fingers on his skin was a thousand times more reassuring than it should have been.

"It's okay," Lavi said very softly into Tyki's collar bone. "If you hadn't, that girl mighta killed me."

"Girl?"

"Yeah. I think. Never mind." Lavi tilted his face to the side until it rested on Tyki's shoulder. "God, all I did was walk away and I feel… I don't even know what I feel. It's just…" He slipped his arms completely around Tyki's frame as he tapered off, smiling wanly. "I'm sorry. It's not as if I think you've done something wrong, but I feel…"

"It's alright, Lavi." Tyki whispered just between them, and placed his bloodied right hand between the younger man's shoulder blades, pulling him closer. "It's different when you do it yourself. It's different… when you might have known the person. We don't have to talk about it, not if you don't want to." The Noah almost sighed with relief when Lavi nodded into him. Almost. "I should wash up a little."

The redhead made a little negative sound in the back of his throat. "Don't worry about it. We can take baths later. Right now, it's not important. Instead, do you think we could just be together for a little? Like this? I don't know what I want right now, but it feels good to have you close to me…" Lavi tightened his hold, and turned his face up toward Tyki's. "Because I know that no matter who I helped, I did it so I can stay with you."

Tyki didn't know what came over him, but the kiss that followed seemed terribly like it hadn't been his idea alone. It was swift and needy, but it wasn't his own bloodlust that fueled the fire between them. This time, when the redhead pulled them flush, moving like there was an emotion about to break free of him like a flood bursting through a dam, Tyki let himself be guided and pushed against the table. It struck him when Lavi continued to push that maybe, the redhead was just a little bit too eager to get whatever he wanted.

"Up." Lavi whispered, and then kissed again, harder than before, encouraging Tyki to lift himself onto the table with the word. When the Noah slid himself onto the surface, the boy followed him with one knee, his hands firmly planted on Tyki's shoulders. "Back…"

"We might break the table, Lavi."

"And you might have to be quiet." The apprentice Bookman answered without losing focus on the curve of Tyki's throat. "You've always want me after you kill someone, so why can't I want you after I do, too?" He chuckled dryly, an uncharacteristically grim smile spreading across his lips. "I don't think it's the same though. Is it survival for you? Or do you get off on killing people? I did it so I can protect you from what I was, I think, so I want you because of that. It's not as fucked up a reason as the others, but…" He stopped and met Tyki's gaze for a moment, the smile from just a moment ago abandoned for an expression that seemed much more honest, the boy's eyes confused and frightened. "I need you right now, Tyki. Even if we just curl up on this table naked, I don't want to wait long enough to get to the bedroom."

The Noah nodded and pulled the younger man closer, leaning back gingerly, testing the wood with one hand before he put his weight across it. They didn't have a centerpiece, and Tyki had a bit more height than the table had length, so the Noah found himself relatively comfortable with his head tilted back, feet dangling off of the edge of the wood. In just a moment, Lavi was leaning over him, his serious eyes betrayed by a playful quirk of his lips.

"If you think that this will make you feel better, Lavi, then by all means, the olive oil is in the cabinet behind you." Tyki reached up and buried a hand in the redhead's hair. It was still as soft as silk and twice as thick, the perfect texture, pleasant, yet strong. Tyki wanted only a little to close his fingers and pull the boy's head back, but he didn't. "However, it might be better if you thought about the force of gravity before we get much farther along than—"

"If it breaks you can catch us."

"In a moment of heated passion?"

"I…suppose."

Tyki thought only of how utterly adorable it was that Lavi blushed while he said those words. The Noah did tighten his grip in the boy's hair then, pulling it a little bit less than gently backward, tilting Lavi's neck toward him. "Are you sure you want to?"

"Yes." The word was a heavy whisper, but the playful expression hadn't changed at all. "Even if there's a chance you'll break your ribs and we'll need new furniture."

"Then by all means." Tyki replied just as softly, tugging the redhead's neck still nearer to his lips. "I'm all yours, Lavi."

The redhead bent his head forward despite the pull of Tyki's fingers in his hair until their lips just hardly brushed, a breath between them. The boy stayed as he was, leaning on his right arm, his left hand pressed to the fabric of Tyki's shirt. The handprints that had been left on Lavi's shoulders were more brown than red in the overhead light. "You're… sure you're okay with me being…on you, Tyki?"

The Portuguese man rolled his eyes a little, grinning from the corner of his mouth. Though he had the inkling feeling that he had forgotten something important, he pushed that from his mind and focused on the way the redhead was looking at him, at just how silly the boy was under all of his determination. "Yes. You remember who I am, Lavi?"

"Tyki Mikk?"

"…and?"

"The Noah of Pleasure?"

"Ah. There you have it. Now, if you're going to kiss me…" Tyki smiled into the press of lips against his own, at the little, unthinking moan in the back of Lavi's throat. The redhead was so good and sweet, so thoughtless, and yet perfect. And he was commanding, this time. The boy drew himself up so that a hand rested on either side of Tyki's head, though that quickly turned to elbows so they might kiss with better efficiency, and pressed his weight almost demandingly onto the man beneath him. Tyki hummed encouragingly, lifted a hand to touch the round of Lavi's shoulder.

The redhead took the older man's hand and pressed it to the table. Lavi's fingers were cool in Tyki's palm. The way they moved, the way those fingers curled with the movement of their kiss, made the Noah want to squeeze them reassuringly. Instead, he lifted his left knee until the length of his thigh pressed to the boy's backside and tilted his own hips a little, trying to be encouraging.

"Tyki?" Lavi hardly whispered the name, his forehead momentarily pressed to the Noah's. "You know… I've been meaning to tell you that…" He leaned in again as if pulled by a string that connected their lips, too strong for him to fight. When he pulled away, he cheeks were softly flushed, the line of his mouth slightly frowning. "The more I think about it, the more I know that there was someone before you. And it worries me. I know that when all of this started I was supposed to be objective – neutral, as you put it – and that means that whoever came before you made me not that way. And I know it doesn't matter right now, but if I remember and I still feel like I did bef—"

"This is just like anything else, Lavi." Tyki forced himself to smile through the fear that Lavi was right. "I will always love you. If it comes to that… I can only hope that whatever you do makes you happy."

The redhead smiled a little crookedly, eyes sparkling with a thousand little mischievous things, none of them nearly as serious as his words had just been. "And being quiet and getting on with it would make us both happy right now, wouldn't it?" He questioned almost rhetorically, and bent his head to the task, kissing at the line of Tyki's jaw. From there, Lavi moved up to the older man's lips while his left hand started on the Noah's shirt buttons, undoing them with practiced ease. His fingers didn't even tremble or falter – they moved in a straight, precise line down Tyki's chest, then gently parted the fabric over the Noah's breast.

Gently, Lavi laid his mouth on the scar that ran down Tyki's left side, blinking at it as if seeing through it. "It's so perfect…" Lavi whispered, his lips moving over the skin in warm, breathy lines. "Every part of your body, I mean. These scars," his fingers tickled along the line of the one beside his face, "the lay of your hair, the way you hold your breath a little when I touch you…" His eyes fluttered closed, the almost burgundy flurry of his eyelashes dancing against the ivory of his cheeks. "God, I bet I could work myself into a frenzy just thinking about the things we could do…"

His hand stopped and his lips parted just enough to allow Lavi to pull the nub of Tyki's nipple into his mouth, lapping it with tongue and grazing it with teeth alike.

Tyki found himself wanting to touch the redhead, wanting to push his face lower. But he knew that it would only get his hands pressed to the tabletop again, and likely force Lavi to slide off the table or fall. So he arched his back a little and turned his face away, hooding his eyes to the light. The response he got was a low vibrating growl in the back of Lavi's throat.

A hand that Tyki wasn't at all expecting slipped between his legs and pressed the black, rough fabric of his pants against him, the shape of the palm and fingers on the other side of the material warm and forceful. It was rare that Tyki felt something like that – something so sure in what it wanted – and the fact that that hand belong to the young man he had come to love was enough to bring his arms upward despite that he half-thought they would be pushed away.

Even if it was only the slightest bit of foreplay, the tiniest hint of what the redhead was capable off, it was enough to make the Noah want so much more.

"Lavi—"

"It's fine, I never meant that you couldn't touch me."

"—you could take the pants off rather than molesting me through them."

The boy looked up at that, his eyebrows drawn high on his forehead. "Am I that good?"

Tyki snorted. "No, but you're very convincing."

"That makes me sound like a polite rapist."

"God, no." Tyki shuddered at little at the fingers against him grew suddenly tighter, and paused for a moment while he tried to recall what words had been waiting to come out of his mouth. "Lavi…"

This time, the apprentice Bookman smiled. With speed that was just slow enough to make the movement seem sensual, Lavi pushed himself to his knees and arched his back in the effort to divest himself of his shirt. The action exposed a goodly portion of his stomach for a moment before the garment was gone – baring shoulders and chest. Tyki traced a line from the small, white-pink scars on the boy's left side to the place that the metal rod had come through the boy's shoulder. Lavi, even with those little marks, was perfect, too.

With a breathy sound of desire, Tyki met the kiss that Lavi bent to give him, tugging at the boy's belt and pants as he did. They came loose rather easily, but pulling them down Lavi's hips proved rather ineffective. Tyki tried not to be distracted by the press of Lavi's mouth or the tangle of fingers in his hair or the palm still wrapped around his clothed length. It was a complex balance, but he found himself rewarded when the apprentice Bookman pressed himself naked against the older man's clothed frame, a sly smile taking the boy's lips.

"Like this, I feel like I'm worried about nothing." Lavi admitted in a whisper. He pulled for a moment at Tyki's pants, just until they were open. "You know?"

"Yes." Tyki agreed at once, and lifted his hips enough to assist in pushing away his pants. He had never been more thankful for taking off his shoes at the door, nor had he ever been less thankful for the cool, polished wood that composed his kitchen table. The wood pressed against him was a chilly reminder just how warm the body above him really was. But he couldn't think about any of that – not while Lavi was saying things to him and teasing finger-trails along his thighs at the same time. "Like this," Tyki went on breathily, "it's hard to imagine anything that would change us, isn't it?"

The redhead nodded. "Helps that you're so fucking hot, though…" Lavi tilted his head up as if he hadn't meant for those words to come out of his mouth, and cracked a crooked smile. "Can I start with the interesting part?"

The Noah nodded.

It took quite a bit to make the Noah of Pleasure blush. It took even more to make him turn his face away and close his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, focusing on the sensations running through his skin. The feel of Lavi's fingers tracing nonexistent patterns on his thighs and a palm smoothing over the skin of his left hip was enough. Perhaps the thrill of uncertainty and the tickle of embarrassment all stemmed from the same, pleasant source, or perhaps it came from something entirely masochistic and inhuman. Tyki did not particularly care. He only embraced the emotion that welled in his chest, laced his fingers in Lavi's hair and pulled the redhead into a kiss. The little touches that tested him and prodded encouragement made him smile into the heat of the boy's lips. The exquisite caress of tongue against Tyki's alerted him to what small thing the two of them were missing. He pushed Lavi away ever so gently, a small smile on his heated lips.

"Oil – lotion – something—"

"One more kiss. Or two. Or a bajilliony-hundred and five—"

"Lavi..."

The redhead got his kiss, long and hard, almost bruising. There was fire in him that hadn't been there. Bloodlust, maybe, put likely not. In any case, he didn't complain about the dried blood on both of them, the smell of it thick in the air, heavy like perfume. Instead, Lavi pulled away with a meaningful, deep look to his eyes and a long trembling breath before he dismounted from the table and made for the cabinet behind him, fingertips dragging over the copper handles with deliberate slowness. Everything Lavi did was seductive for an instant while he pulled down a bottle of terribly abused olive oil.

Tyki pushed himself up enough to tilt his head to the side and smile at the younger man, his mussed and gore crusted hair falling into his eyes before he shook it away with a chuckle. He didn't need to explain the sound. He needed only to let his eyelids fall to half-mast and lift a hand in his lover's direction, indicating the curve of the redhead's spine with his fingers. "Pet..."

The redhead in question gave him a thin-lipped smile before his eyes turned dark with some distant, distracting memory. "Don't call me that." He whispered, with quiet melancholy in his eyes and a terrifyingly sweet edge to his voice. "Just Lavi."

The Noah nodded. If it wasn't enough to require more than a moment's pause, it wasn't worth stopping over. Instead, he let his hand fall once again to the cool wood of the table, which he thumped lightly with his fingers. "Then please, Just Lavi," Tyki showed his teeth along with his enthusiasm, "don't stand in the middle of my kitchen gawking forever."

"I never planned to."

After that, they came together again gingerly, to avoid bruising each other on their hastily chosen berth. Moaning, Lavi managed to open the bottle of oil with little difficulty and prop Tyki's left leg over his own right, the redhead's entire body bent over the older man so he might still look Tyki in the face. It couldn't have been too comfortable, bending so far without aid, but Lavi didn't complain. He buried one hand in Tyki's hair while the other placed the upright bottle on the tabletop.

"Ever done it this way before?" Lavi let his hand card the Noah's hair before he took the bottle in two hands, wetting the right one.

Tyki thought for a moment about how he should phrase his response. How exactly did one explain being the Noah of Pleasure? "The short answer, disregarding the convoluted rejection of lovers and changing of lives, is yes."

"Oh. Say that word again."

"Lovers?"

"Convoluted. God, that's sexy..."

The Portuguese man laughed and tilted his hips upward, winding a finger in the boy's neck hair. With a tremulous sigh, Tyki watched Lavi's rather certain right hand move between his thighs, then pause. The hesitation passed without word. Flesh touched flesh with teasing unsureness, circling, sliding, slick, and sensitive on Tyki's skin. It took nothing more than a thought for the Noah to relax to the touch. The pressure that followed was just as easily ignored – he remembered and he understood, and he trusted Lavi in ways that he couldn't even explain. It felt a bit invasive, a bit out of the ordinary to say the least, but that did not make him slow or stop the younger man or even worry the Noah. He couldn't worry. Not when he could feel how Lavi breathed and could see how Lavi looked at him, like the world would end if even a breath separated them at the moment.

"Convoluted." Tyki whispered, hooding his eyes to the light burning sensation where Lavi touched him. "Conundrum, transgression—"

"Oh... that one's good, too."

"Diversion—"

"Hm."

"Saccharine."

A soft, breathy moan seeped its way through Lavi's parted lips. "If you say sacrosanct and ambivalent, I might just finish before we get anywhere." He breathed, and his right hand came up glistening in the kitchen light. Tyki didn't need to watch where it went to know what was next, to feel the quiet anticipation building in his chest and in his gut. It was the redhead's eyes that the Portuguese man focused on, twin, mismatched gems set in an expression of yearning.

Tyki moved his palms to Lavi's hips and pulled him in.

It should have been too fast to be comfortable, it should have been too swift and too awkward when Lavi had only the ghost of a skeleton of a memory to follow the pattern of. But it wasn't. The movement was fluid and straining, like water striking the wall of a dam and lashing it, over and over again, without loosing momentum. The Noah, shuddering, a breath of a name on his lips, met Lavi's mouth with aching surety, every inch of him demanding more. He did not need to think or wonder or fight or hope. For the moment, with his arms wrapped around Lavi's frame and the boy telling him to wait for his own sake, Tyki could be nothing but as human as he had ever been. It was refreshing after the day, after the boy with the sword, after the blood, the death, and Lavi's seeming inability to remain in the same mood for more than a few moments. The harshness was balanced by the desire for tenderness, and that balanced by the need for his teeth to touch the apprentice Bookman's neck.

As Tyki bit down, lifted his hips, and groaned at the feel of Lavi matching him with faltering movements, his mind went back to the cellar, and to the words that made the blood on his lips all the sweeter.

'Don't hurt him.'
'I couldn't. Even if I wanted to.'

There had never been a truer lie. But hurting and killing, lovemaking and kissing – did they not go hand in hand? Was it not the same as fuel consumed in flame? All of the passion he felt, would it not build until one day he would be so full of desire and pleasure that he would press his hand into his lovers chest and pull out his heart?

'Don't hurt him.'
'I couldn't.'

'I couldn't.'

'I couldn't.'

I want to.

"Oh...God..." Lavi's shaking voice broke on the last word, his body shivered with ill repressed yearning. "You're so good at... Tyki..." He must have lost his train on of thought. His free hand – Tyki could not see which was holding the boy up and which wasn't – caught the edge of the Noah's shoulder and pulled them closer, pulled Lavi's chest into Tyki's. "Hold..."

Tyki wound his arms around the smaller man's frame and did as he was told, holding the redhead as tightly as his distracted muscles would allow. The fire that burned in his abdomen was nearly enough, given their closeness, to draw a word of warning from the Portuguese man's lips.

"Lavi—"

The apprentice Bookman almost mewled at him, almost begged – the sound came out like a strangled word that somehow conveyed warning. Tyki understood perfectly. He met every movement of Lavi's body with as much desperation as he could feel in the younger man, feeling that perhaps there was fire inside of him, willing its way toward Lavi. Tyki's eyes closed. This closeness, with his arms around Lavi and the boy inside of him and so many, many sensations running through his body, made the moment sear into his memory – he never wanted to forget. Reality, the swordsman, none of that had any bearing on their proximity.

Only he couldn't think straight anymore. The thoughts and worries left him in little more than a breath. The light above them, Lavi – Lavi – what else could there be in the world? They were moving too hard and too fast for him to think beyond that, and their tempo seemed set on only increasing for the moment. He willed it to. He met every thrust and glide of his lover's hips, and tasted blood on his lips. Lavi's blood. Salty and sweet perfection. Tyki shuddered and arched away from the table, holding back, pulling down, losing it.

The rush was impossible for him to describe, predicted, but surprising. The release itself left him in a wave of pleasure and tension, prying open his mouth so a meaningless sound of desire might seep from it. The surprise was how Lavi bent into him, the redhead's fingernails dug into the Noah's skin and held him more or less in place while he slammed with wood-creaking intensity into the older man. It was almost animalistic, if not for the words that fell so carelessly from the apprentice Bookman's mouth.

"...I love... but..." It was a panting, gasping, horrified whisper, those words. "Tyki!"

But? The word didn't matter. Tyki simply held on to Lavi, still meeting him halfway, draining them both for all their lovemaking was worth. Their slow finish left the Noah breathless and sweating, which in turn alerted him to how very cold the kitchen was as well as how warm Lavi's skin had become. He relaxed against the wooden table all the same, his tired, shaking hands pressed to the tangles of Lavi's sweaty hair.

The boy didn't speak for a time, catching his breath. The fact that the two of them were wound together like some sort of artistically sexual centerpiece in the middle of the kitchen table did not seem to bother him in the slightest. After a long, silent minute, Lavi sighed and lifted himself to his hands, looking down at the older man with tired eyes. "I think... I might be able to make it to the bed now. If you can."

Tyki smiled. "I think I'm inclined to try."

– – –

The night was an unseasonably cold one. Allen woke in the middle of it from a restless dream able to see his breath in Link's hospital room, Tim – who might not have felt cold at all – snuggled very close to his side. The white-haired teen slithered and shivered his way off of his cot and eventually into the hall, taking the half-sleeping golem with him. It had to be midnight or later. The lights in the hall were almost yellow as if they lacked power somehow. No nurses greeted him when he left the room proper.

In fact, he might have been the only person alive in the whole of the building by the sound of things.

Allen had left the room intent on trying Kanda one final time. Or maybe not final. Final until the following morning. He did not get the chance to.

"Hello?" He called into the dimly lit hospital. His voice carried farther than it should have, then came back in a ghost of an echo. The air seemed colder. This wasn't right, was it? The way the lights flickered, the way Tim was a dead weight in his hand, it wasn't right at all.

And the dark figure at the end of the hall, one-eyed and blood-soaked, wasn't really there.

With a short, breathless cry of fear Allen Walker woke from a dream within a dream, sweat-drenched and panting, the covers pushed away to the foot of his bed. A dream. Just a dream. That face, Kanda's face, had been a dream, an illusion. And yet, the boy realized belatedly, he had woken already sitting, the starlight streaming in from the window and across his lap.

He touched his face with his left hand for a moment, took a deep breath. He wasn't that worried. Kanda was alright, he just hadn't had the chance to call. Or he had lost his golem somehow. In any case, Allen was not gone enough to dream about the swordsman like that. In fact, the British boy had only just become comfortable having creepy dreams about himself – it was not yet time to start on someone new.

It would be better if I just forgot all about him.

"Shut up." Allen hissed in a whisper. At his side, Tim moved as if he might have heard, but Allen ignored the golem. It wasn't unheard of that sane people might talk to themselves, was it? "Not Kanda. Leave Kanda alone."

Leave me out of this.

The feeling that his thoughts were out of his control passed after a few seconds and Allen leaned back again, looking up at the white ceiling with thoughtful, tired eyes. Tomorrow, the moment it came, Allen would call Komui and report Kanda missing. And if that didn't work – if Komui hadn't heard from him and couldn't guess the location of his golem—

The soft beating of wings turned Allen's eyes to the window, to the sky that lacked a moon but not light. A black, bat-like thing fluttered on the sill, it's leathery wings moving in a rhythm that just barely kept in in flight. A golem. Kanda's golem. At once Allen pushed himself to his knees and threw the window open, allowing the little machine to enter with the chill night air. Even before he could question it, before he could make a suggestion as to what it meant to do by coming to him, Tim was awake and hovering just beside it as if expecting a meal.

Allen batted the golden golem away and took the black one in his hands, looking down at it's single, soulless eye with fear dancing in his own. "Take me to him."

– – –

Oh, the plot goes on without a pause! Unless you count that sex scene (which I'm not overly proud of for some reason) as being a pause. Just a warning. Things are about to get complicated and very serious. If you read this fic for the smut, there will be more just... not right now.

Also, I will be going to Oregon to visit my father the 23rd through the 26th. In all likelihood, I will take my laptop and lack the proper time to work on any fiction at all.

Thank you for reading.