Yes! I found out Allen's nickname for Kanda (Bakanda). I was wondering of what else to call that anti-social humbug... .
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Allen couldn't get the frightful thoughts of Lector out of his mind. It had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to snap out of the paralysis that he'd been subjected to. He recalled Kanda taking him in his arms, sprinting like a cheetah to their cabin and then lying him down on his bed, where he instantly felt drained and exhausted. Allen found that the scent of sakura blossoms and ivory soap could calm him down now, make him at ease. It was a mellow, soothing scent; but most of all, it was Kanda.
At this moment, Kanda sat adjacent from Allen on his bed, leaning against the wall, Mugen across his lap. He watched the white-haired youth slowly fall asleep, daring only to breathe when he was sure Allen was comfortable. Kanda would never forget the way Lector gripped Moyashi's sweater so very tightly, yet at the same time lifted the hem up just so he could see a beautiful sliver of smooth, porcelain skin. How dare that motherfucking son of a bitch violate Moyashi like that? Kanda's eyebrows ticked at the very thought, and the samurai gripped his katana till his knuckles gleamed white.
"Fifteen years old isn't a child," muttered Kanda softly, so as not to wake Allen, "but it sure as hell isn't an adult either!" If that fucker Lector comes near Moyashi again, I swear, I'll kill him. Kanda settled into a deep, meditative state to pass the hours, but was awakened by the sound of Allen turning and sitting up. Only roughly forty-five minutes passed.
"Kanda…?" Allen called into the darkness, almost unsure of himself. God, I'm acting like such a wuss. He clenched his fists, Lector's nothing! He's not even an Akuma. I've got no reason to be so damn afraid. Allen exhaled loudly and said in a jauntier voice, "Kanda! Come on! We're getting some food, I'm hungry."
"Fine, Moyashi. Whatever." Kanda stretched slightly and then left with Allen to the cafeteria. He didn't want to admit it, but it struck him as… well, worth respecting that Moyashi was trying to hide his anxiety. And a little cute as- You did not just think that, you idiot!! Yes, it never happened, never happened. I guess. Kanda groaned. The day had been most eventful.
Allen and Kanda discovered that the cook, or "Cookie," had been replaced by a member of the cruise staff due to health issues. (Kanda coughed lightly, saying to Allen, "You go first.") It wasn't exactly time for dinner, seeing as it was the late afternoon, but having lunch now would be too late. As Allen was getting his fourteen platters of Turkey Delight, five plates of salad, half a strawberry cake, and a pitcher of ice water, Kanda quickly scanned the parameter for any Scarlet or Lector. They were not to be found.
"Meet you at our table!" Allen was considerably better now, and dug into the food, which wasn't half bad, with gusto. Kanda soon emerged with napkins galore, some spaghetti, a glass of ice water, and another cup.
"The food's really good, Kanda," Allen said, spraying the samurai with bits of turkey and vegetables. Kanda thrust the napkins at him roughly, nearly shoving them in his mouth, and sat down.
"Bakanda, you don't eat napkins!" Kanda ignored that statement most full-heartedly. Moyashi had obviously suffered brain damage, the poor lad! Alack, alack, alack.
"... Oi, you look retarded drinking from a whole freaking pitcher of water." True, Allen was attracting stares again for his "unique" eating habits.
"Heh, you're right. Anyway, do you know when we'll get to Hershey Park?" Allen had moved on to the salads now, and Kanda soon added vinaigrette as a food he'd never sample. Oh god, when Moyashi spoke, the burn! The burn of vinegar in Kanda's eyes!! The long-haired teen thought he'd go freaking blind.
"Oh, whoops, am I spitting a little at you?" Allen paused his, frankly, inhuman consumption process to stare at Kanda, who not only had squinted his eyes to little slits to cope with the pain of the edible acid, but in his confusion he was flinging forkfuls of spaghetti in random directions because he couldn't discern the route to his mouth.
"NO. YOU ARE NOT SPITTING." Kanda opened his eyes, now red and bloodshot. The unfortunate soul behind him sobbed in a pool of white clam sauce, tears diluting the lovely clamminess.
"That's (spit) a relief!" Allen beamed, emitting little happy rays. Kanda had truly changed! He was being so delightfully kind. Oh, he just smiled. Wow, this is amazing progress. I hope Komui's happy. The whole reason he sent us on a Journey of Recovery was because he saw us swearing at each other. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Komui's a bastard. Allen grinned happily again.
Thank God. Thank God Moyashi moved onto the desert. Kanda sighed with relief, flicking his hair back. Whipped cream can't sting.
Suddenly, the voice of the captain was heard over the loud speaker system. "Attention all passengers! This is your last night on board! We will be arriving at Hershey Park early in the morning and anchoring in the East Port! We advise vacationers to pack your luggage beforehand! Have a good night!"
"You have your answer," said Kanda sarcastically, looking distastefully at the sad remains of the accident that was his spaghetti. He threw down the fork, taking a long swig of water.
"Kanda, do you want some cake?" Allen offered the grumpy samurai a bite of strawberry goodness off his fork. The sight was very adorable, seeing that the cursed boy had gotten cream onto his cheeks and a few dabs around his mouth.
Kanda felt his head and visage grow hot. Confused, he growled, "Why the fuck would I want your cake?"
This must have hurt Allen quite a bit, for he lapsed into silence. "Err, I mean, I'm full right now?" Kanda hoped this half-hearted response- oh, alright; it was a complete freaking lie. Kanda was actually quite hungry- might salvage the boy's pride a bit.
"Of course! Kanda has been eating his noodles. I see, I see." Allen, once again, was joyous and continued to terrify those around him with his black hole of a stomach.
Kanda and Allen made their way back to the cabin, Allen very much satiated with his meal (enough to feed thirty small children or seventeen famished orphans) and Kanda not so much. But General Tiedoll taught him never to complain-much- and he'd be damned if he disobeyed his Master. The boys lapsed into a relaxed silence back in their accommodations, neither one saying much. Kanda fell asleep first, for he was more tired and had a semi-empty stomach. Allen, humming under his breath, was about to hit the sack as well when he saw the black sweater he was wearing. The black sweater Lector touched. Lector. Touched it.
With a frightened cry, Allen tugged the sweater recklessly over his head and threw it in the corner. He wanted to activate his innocence and burn it to bits, destroy it, annihilate it, as though it were another Akuma. Allen gasped; he'd forgotten Kanda was also in the room. No. I'm failing him again. Kanda would never act like this. Like a little damn girl. But I can't… I just can't fall asleep right now. Allen fell to the floor, arms limp. His fear was going to overflow. He felt more lost than ever, and then…
"Fuck, Moyashi. What the hell's wrong with you?!" Kanda was standing besides him again. The room was dark by now, as the light had long been turned off, and the black-haired exorcist was only in his silk boxers. Allen looked up at the never-ending, inky locks cascading down Kanda's shoulders like a rippling river, his strong biceps and immaculately tattooed torso a master sculptor couldn't have created. Allen wasn't able to speak.
Kanda saw Allen's guiltless, clear face, a face that displayed emotions so openly. He saw a frightened child, broken, swayed by terrible new experiences. Lector was different from battles the teens had fought. He more represented a force the Black Order, Allen, and Kanda, couldn't argue with, and couldn't fight with: the public.
"Moyashi, the world isn't sweet," Kanda whispered into his ears, warm breath making Allen shiver, though with pleasure, "but for your sake, keep on thinking it is." He picked up Allen as though he were a delicate doll, and laid him in his bed. He drew the covers and was about to walk away when a hand grabbed his.
"Kanda…" started Allen, "I know the world isn't sweet. And I know you think naïve people are deluded. But without people who believe in fantasies, life couldn't be. If I think like that, is it wrong? Is it so damn wrong to be this way?" Beautiful and fragile, thought Kanda, oh God, I-I can't think of a come back. He bent down and saw Allen still shaking. The hold on his hand increased. What can I do? The long-haired teen wanted to bring comfort. However, he also fell prey to seduction.
Kanda climbed in under the blankets and eased Allen's body closer to the wall so he'd have room, leaning his forehead against the younger boy's soft, bare back and wrapping his arms around a lean waist.
"No, Allen. It's not wrong at all."
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Oh my gosh. That has got to be the most serious chapter I've written about Kanda and Allen (not including the previous). Wow. Why do I feel tired?! Lol. XP