You don't know what you've got till it's gone
Who: Komui Lee, Cross Marian
Where: Cross' room
When: Backlog! Monday of No Power week
Summary: The loss of power hit Cross far harder than expected, and Komui goes along to make sure nothing cracks.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, the effects of drinking, implications of non-platonic events.
Komui hurried through the halls of the facility, slippers flapping. He was worried by Cross' behaviour. The man appeared to be taking the loss of his magic and Innocence hard. He hadn't even threatened Komui once for using his given name, or for impugning on Cross' manly pride by suggesting he might not be completely and utterly one hundred percent fine.
Or maybe it meant Cross was growing closer to him... Komui shook his head. No, it was just shock. He halted at Cross' door, knocking gently before pushing his way in.
The red haired General was sitting on his bed, back leaning against the wall. He had a cigarette between his lips, and was apparently doing nothing more but watching the smoke from it curl upwards and onto the ceiling. He tensed slightly when there was a knock on the door, and then jerked up fully when it opened. Once he realised it was just Komui, however, He relaxed back with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face, his bare, whole, naked face, and he couldn't see for shit without his glasses, which were attached to his mask, which was sitting on the bed next to him being useless. Just like him.
He hadn't felt this weak since... well, a long time ago.
"Hey." He greeted, though it was less gruff than usual. He was completely powerless, what use did he have for bravado?
Komui stopped as Cross spoke, staring at him for a few seconds before remembering to shut the door. It was even worse in person than it had seemed over the network. It was as if his spark had been snuffed out when his Innocence was stolen from him.
"Hey." Komui echoed softly, coming over to the bed. He shuffled in his slippers as he stared, unconsciously awkward, staring at the other man.Cross looked... old. For the first time since Komui had known him, he could see the other man's age on his face. The slack, unfocussed staring made the fine lines across his face, the delicate, broken veins that one hardly noticed usually all the more clear. Cross should never look like that. He was vital, a force of nature, a human typhoon who defied rules and regulations and God and time, revelling in every moment he lived.
And then something inside Komui broke and he climbed on the bed, kneeling and leaning over and wrapping his arms around Cross' head, pulling the other man against his bony chest and holding him there as if the sound of his heart would remind the other man of life existing outside of the blank fog that had covered him.
Cross hadn't really been expecting that, he concluded as he was suddenly surrounded with everything Komui. Blinking, he listened to the other man's heartbeat, alive and young and fast. It wasn't like he didn't think about his age very often. On the contrary, he dwelt on it a little more than he should. He was forty for Christ's sake. Yaegar had lived to much older than that, late sixties if he remembered right. But Yaegar had been in the order for 20 years. Cross had been in it for 35.
He had held the power to end lives (and save them) for over 30 years. It was a small wonder he was shell shocked, and hadn't simply fallen into a complete depression.
Because he wasn't depressed. He knew what depression was. He was just... thinking about things.
What if he got stuck like this, for instance.
"Hey, Komui." He said into the silence, counting the beats and rumbles of their hearts and their breathing. Completely unsynchronized. They didn't work together at all. Of course not. "Realistically, if you got kicked out of the order, what would you do?"
"I'd sit outside the gates and follow Lenalee on her missions to make sure she's safe." Komui answered, without a seconds hesitation. "At least, until I found a way back. I did a lot to get into the Order and I'm willing to do that and more if it got me back in again. " He chose not to go into it any more than that. Those years weren't something he liked to remember.
"Marian." Komui leaned his head down, stroking the other's hair, still magnificently thick and red. "Marian, don't worry. This is only temporary. By next week you'll be raising corpses like nothing happened." He gave a small smile into the other's hair. "Even if you desynchronised, don't think you're escaping. The science department would be willing to spend a good part of its budget on wine if it meant keeping that mind of yours nearby."
Cross snorted. "If it means working under you, I'm going to need more than wine." Lots and lots of money, and a new gun. Nothing would replace Judgement. Or Maria. Or the freedom of travelling wherever he wanted to go, so fuck the world and all their problems when he has his own to deal with. He sighed. "But you know I don't like sticking in one place."
Something inside of him twitched. He felt claustrophobic. He wanted out of these stupid white walls and experiments and the idiocy of having to endure other people. He wanted an open road, his gun, a couple hundred Akuma, and a low supply of ammo. That was life.
He sat bolt upright, nearly throwing Komui off him. Mood swings be damned, he wanted to move. He wanted to do something. With his hands, with his feet, something.
He kicked the bedpost. It hurt. He grinned.
The bed jerked under Komui from the force of the blow, causing his balance, already precarious from Cross bolting out of his arms, to fail completely. He let out a startled 'oof' as he landed on the covers.
"Marian!" He cried out, pushing himself up. "Would you at least use an ashtray if you smoke on your bed?" He wiped his mouth vigorously against his sleeve, trying to get out the taste of cigarette ends. The disgusted look on his face faded back into worry as he looked at the other. This was still off, despite the grin.
"Marian, that's not going to help." He said quietly, unsure if it was right to speak at all. Maybe tearing his room to pieces would help the other man, at least until he realised it wouldn't solve the problem.
"One, stop calling me that." Cross said, appraising the dent he'd made in the metal. "Two, my bed it my bed, if you're going to sit on it, deal with it." He walked over to the wall, and assessed it. "And three... it may not help, but it's really fucking fun." He announced, kicking the wall with enough force to ensure there'd be an imprint of his shoe until reset, as well as a nice, long crack in the plaster that snaked it's way up to the ceiling. He hopped back, shaking his leg out, and gave a short laugh.
"Look, Komui." His voice was a little more serious, but the life was coming back into it. "You have your sister to look after, a country to go back to and a profession to fall back on if things go to shit for you. Me? I got nothing. If I weren't so fucking useful, the Order would probably have me put to death for heresy, among other things." Okay, now his foot was caning, and he really wanted a drink. He limped lightly over to his closet, snubbed out his dying cigarette on the wall, and found a bottle of Jack Daniel's he'd swiped from that city a few weeks ago. He was getting good at this rationing thing. Breaking the seal off with practiced ease, he took a swig. No magic to booster his liver, but whatever. He wasn't going to keel over from something this simple. "The last time I didn't have any weapons - and I mean anything, magic, Maria, Judgement, the works, - I was about 6 or 7 years old. Soon as I could hold a gun, I was out there. Must have looked like a complete idiot." His old holster used to be as long as his leg and strapped to his back instead. He was kind of a midgit kid.
Komui sighed. This was going to be difficult. It wasn't the first time as a Supervisor he'd dealt with these types of crises, but never had it been due to powers lost so completely.
"Ma- Cross, why don't you come sit down?" He asked, patting the bed beside him. He had no intention to get drunk, though maybe a little swish would get the lingering ashy taste from his mouth. He was more concerned with having to drag Cross back up if he collapsed. For all they were the same height, Cross was solid muscle where Komui was skin and bone. He was more likely to throw out his back than to lift Cross.
"You're not that child any more, Cross." Komui continued. "You've had decades of training and experience. You know more languages and customs than most, you've got a way of charming people and you could snap me over your knee without trying."
Cross quirked an eyebrow, but went and sat anyway, offering the bottle to Komui without a word. "Only you know how to make a compliment sound like a list of parts for a robot." He grumbled. The alcohol burned his throat, somehow searing hotter than usual. He'd forgotten how much he'd been using magic to supplement his body's alcohol tolerance. "I'm not that good at languages, you've heard my accent in Chinese. But yeah," he smirked. "I could still end you. Most other people here too, since we're all in the same boat now. The other exorcists would give me trouble maybe, Kanda and my stupid apprentice. Don't let the height fool you, the kid is ripped."
Komui took a small sip of the whisky, coughing at the burning. That was more than enough to clean, he thought, his eyes watering. Unfortunately, the whiskey had not so much removed the ash taste as much as it had made his mouth taste like Cross'. He quickly passed the bottle back.
"I've seen when I've patched him up." He responded, nodding in agreement. "He's quite impressively solid. He'd probably be able to back flip over and pull you down by the hair." The mental image made Komui giggle. He glanced over at the other man, switching back into his native tongue.
"Even if you've got an awful accent, at least you can understand me, which is better than most."
"Hey, when you have to get info out of Chinese whores, it's best to speak their language." Cross replied, then a sour look crossed his face. He swigged from the bottle. "And the brat did actually do that to me once. He swears he doesn't remember it, but that might have been something to do with how hard I beat his ass." The room was swaying ever so slightly. He frowned. Surely not already. He was not that reliant on magic. He was not. It would only last a week, just a week. Keep the mantra in your head, just a week just a week just a week.
That probably explained quite a bit about Allen's personality, if Cross wasn't making up tales. Komui made a mental note to one day get out the X-radiography device and check for hairline fractures in Allen's skull. If Cross hadn't put any there, his habit of being flung through buildings might have caused some. But getting onto that subject might cause arguments, which wasn't a good idea with Cross in such a delicate state.
"I'm not sure if I should frown for you using those poor women or congratulate you for contributing so well to the Chinese economy." He settled for saying, taking another, small sip of the drink. It really was strong. Even Cross was swaying visibly.
"Pope's got too much money anyway. Might as well spread it around." His accent was slipping further. The room was still moving without his express permission. "Fuck you, digestive system." the General grumbled. "I could always do round the world tours. Only I can't stand most people. Huh. Running out of options." He scratched his beard. "... Could write a book, I guess. My life's so awesome that nobody would believe it's non-fiction."
"Or you could use your knowledge to work for the Empire, exploring far off lands and convincing the natives you're one of their Savage gods." Komui pointed out, joining in the game. "Or as a spy, seducing foreign wives of important dignitaries to learn dark secrets."
"I would make a kick-ass spy." Cross grinned. "But the Empire's losing territory fast, people are uprising, getting ideas. Better to give up on that crap." He knocked back another drink, refusing to be beaten. "I like the travelling idea though. I might just do that by myself." Nothing better in life than an open road. He was pretty sure he was thinking in circles now. Like he even cared. Caring too much would probably set him off again, and drunk as he was he didn't want that.
"Why don't you save the rest of the drink for another day?" The circling was not unnoticed by Komui. Cross was looking unfocussed, not only from the lack of correction for his long-sightedness, and as much as Komui wanted to help he didn't particularly want to have to wipe up vomit. He reached over to Cross, brushing the other man's hair away from his face completely, cupping his cheeks in his long-fingered hands, the familiar side and the secret, hidden part, both held in his palms.
"Maybe a sleep is what you need?" He suggested, slipping into the comforting lilt he usually reserved for the younger Exorcists. "A nice nap and you'll feel better. I can sit here if you'd like, or let you enjoy your own company."
Cross gave him a somewhat bleary stare, eyebrows pulling together as he tried to discern Komui's expression from this close. Komui's hands were smooth, or at least smoother than his own. They were also cool, which felt strange on his face, slowly beginning to heat. "A nap." he said, partially considering it. "I'm not five, Komui." But he was slurring his words like one, and the bed was very inviting looking.
"Of course you're not." Komui immediately responded. Yes, Marian would benefit from a good nap, as long as his pride didn't interfere. The other man was likely to make himself stay up all night just to prove he could, but the drunken flush under Komui's hands was worrying. Komui slid his hands down Marian's face, wrapping his arms around his muscled neck and pulling the older man close as he lay down.
"You wouldn't deny me the chance to take advantage." He asked, smiling. "What is it you call me? 'Soppy as a woman'?"
"That'd be about right." Cross slurred. Fuck it, he was drunk, tired, emotionally drained and lacked the patience for anything else. Thoughts filtered through drunkenness, and he awkwardly rolled over and planted a quick kiss on Komui's cheek, mumbling something that might have either been an insult or a gratitude.
He hated his stupid, ageing body sometimes.
Komui lay very still as Cross settled down against him after the kiss. It was a drunken gesture, borne out of tiredness, nothing else. Nothing. He gave a little, humourless smile to the ceiling as he pushed down the flutterings. Kanda was right, in his own gruff, indirect way. Letting himself feel too much for this man would be dangerous. It was almost a certainty his heart would be ripped in two.
His fingers combed absently through Marian's hair as they both drifted off to sleep.
Where: Cross' room
When: Backlog! Monday of No Power week
Summary: The loss of power hit Cross far harder than expected, and Komui goes along to make sure nothing cracks.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, the effects of drinking, implications of non-platonic events.
Komui hurried through the halls of the facility, slippers flapping. He was worried by Cross' behaviour. The man appeared to be taking the loss of his magic and Innocence hard. He hadn't even threatened Komui once for using his given name, or for impugning on Cross' manly pride by suggesting he might not be completely and utterly one hundred percent fine.
Or maybe it meant Cross was growing closer to him... Komui shook his head. No, it was just shock. He halted at Cross' door, knocking gently before pushing his way in.
The red haired General was sitting on his bed, back leaning against the wall. He had a cigarette between his lips, and was apparently doing nothing more but watching the smoke from it curl upwards and onto the ceiling. He tensed slightly when there was a knock on the door, and then jerked up fully when it opened. Once he realised it was just Komui, however, He relaxed back with a sigh. He ran a hand over his face, his bare, whole, naked face, and he couldn't see for shit without his glasses, which were attached to his mask, which was sitting on the bed next to him being useless. Just like him.
He hadn't felt this weak since... well, a long time ago.
"Hey." He greeted, though it was less gruff than usual. He was completely powerless, what use did he have for bravado?
Komui stopped as Cross spoke, staring at him for a few seconds before remembering to shut the door. It was even worse in person than it had seemed over the network. It was as if his spark had been snuffed out when his Innocence was stolen from him.
"Hey." Komui echoed softly, coming over to the bed. He shuffled in his slippers as he stared, unconsciously awkward, staring at the other man.Cross looked... old. For the first time since Komui had known him, he could see the other man's age on his face. The slack, unfocussed staring made the fine lines across his face, the delicate, broken veins that one hardly noticed usually all the more clear. Cross should never look like that. He was vital, a force of nature, a human typhoon who defied rules and regulations and God and time, revelling in every moment he lived.
And then something inside Komui broke and he climbed on the bed, kneeling and leaning over and wrapping his arms around Cross' head, pulling the other man against his bony chest and holding him there as if the sound of his heart would remind the other man of life existing outside of the blank fog that had covered him.
Cross hadn't really been expecting that, he concluded as he was suddenly surrounded with everything Komui. Blinking, he listened to the other man's heartbeat, alive and young and fast. It wasn't like he didn't think about his age very often. On the contrary, he dwelt on it a little more than he should. He was forty for Christ's sake. Yaegar had lived to much older than that, late sixties if he remembered right. But Yaegar had been in the order for 20 years. Cross had been in it for 35.
He had held the power to end lives (and save them) for over 30 years. It was a small wonder he was shell shocked, and hadn't simply fallen into a complete depression.
Because he wasn't depressed. He knew what depression was. He was just... thinking about things.
What if he got stuck like this, for instance.
"Hey, Komui." He said into the silence, counting the beats and rumbles of their hearts and their breathing. Completely unsynchronized. They didn't work together at all. Of course not. "Realistically, if you got kicked out of the order, what would you do?"
"I'd sit outside the gates and follow Lenalee on her missions to make sure she's safe." Komui answered, without a seconds hesitation. "At least, until I found a way back. I did a lot to get into the Order and I'm willing to do that and more if it got me back in again. " He chose not to go into it any more than that. Those years weren't something he liked to remember.
"Marian." Komui leaned his head down, stroking the other's hair, still magnificently thick and red. "Marian, don't worry. This is only temporary. By next week you'll be raising corpses like nothing happened." He gave a small smile into the other's hair. "Even if you desynchronised, don't think you're escaping. The science department would be willing to spend a good part of its budget on wine if it meant keeping that mind of yours nearby."
Cross snorted. "If it means working under you, I'm going to need more than wine." Lots and lots of money, and a new gun. Nothing would replace Judgement. Or Maria. Or the freedom of travelling wherever he wanted to go, so fuck the world and all their problems when he has his own to deal with. He sighed. "But you know I don't like sticking in one place."
Something inside of him twitched. He felt claustrophobic. He wanted out of these stupid white walls and experiments and the idiocy of having to endure other people. He wanted an open road, his gun, a couple hundred Akuma, and a low supply of ammo. That was life.
He sat bolt upright, nearly throwing Komui off him. Mood swings be damned, he wanted to move. He wanted to do something. With his hands, with his feet, something.
He kicked the bedpost. It hurt. He grinned.
The bed jerked under Komui from the force of the blow, causing his balance, already precarious from Cross bolting out of his arms, to fail completely. He let out a startled 'oof' as he landed on the covers.
"Marian!" He cried out, pushing himself up. "Would you at least use an ashtray if you smoke on your bed?" He wiped his mouth vigorously against his sleeve, trying to get out the taste of cigarette ends. The disgusted look on his face faded back into worry as he looked at the other. This was still off, despite the grin.
"Marian, that's not going to help." He said quietly, unsure if it was right to speak at all. Maybe tearing his room to pieces would help the other man, at least until he realised it wouldn't solve the problem.
"One, stop calling me that." Cross said, appraising the dent he'd made in the metal. "Two, my bed it my bed, if you're going to sit on it, deal with it." He walked over to the wall, and assessed it. "And three... it may not help, but it's really fucking fun." He announced, kicking the wall with enough force to ensure there'd be an imprint of his shoe until reset, as well as a nice, long crack in the plaster that snaked it's way up to the ceiling. He hopped back, shaking his leg out, and gave a short laugh.
"Look, Komui." His voice was a little more serious, but the life was coming back into it. "You have your sister to look after, a country to go back to and a profession to fall back on if things go to shit for you. Me? I got nothing. If I weren't so fucking useful, the Order would probably have me put to death for heresy, among other things." Okay, now his foot was caning, and he really wanted a drink. He limped lightly over to his closet, snubbed out his dying cigarette on the wall, and found a bottle of Jack Daniel's he'd swiped from that city a few weeks ago. He was getting good at this rationing thing. Breaking the seal off with practiced ease, he took a swig. No magic to booster his liver, but whatever. He wasn't going to keel over from something this simple. "The last time I didn't have any weapons - and I mean anything, magic, Maria, Judgement, the works, - I was about 6 or 7 years old. Soon as I could hold a gun, I was out there. Must have looked like a complete idiot." His old holster used to be as long as his leg and strapped to his back instead. He was kind of a midgit kid.
Komui sighed. This was going to be difficult. It wasn't the first time as a Supervisor he'd dealt with these types of crises, but never had it been due to powers lost so completely.
"Ma- Cross, why don't you come sit down?" He asked, patting the bed beside him. He had no intention to get drunk, though maybe a little swish would get the lingering ashy taste from his mouth. He was more concerned with having to drag Cross back up if he collapsed. For all they were the same height, Cross was solid muscle where Komui was skin and bone. He was more likely to throw out his back than to lift Cross.
"You're not that child any more, Cross." Komui continued. "You've had decades of training and experience. You know more languages and customs than most, you've got a way of charming people and you could snap me over your knee without trying."
Cross quirked an eyebrow, but went and sat anyway, offering the bottle to Komui without a word. "Only you know how to make a compliment sound like a list of parts for a robot." He grumbled. The alcohol burned his throat, somehow searing hotter than usual. He'd forgotten how much he'd been using magic to supplement his body's alcohol tolerance. "I'm not that good at languages, you've heard my accent in Chinese. But yeah," he smirked. "I could still end you. Most other people here too, since we're all in the same boat now. The other exorcists would give me trouble maybe, Kanda and my stupid apprentice. Don't let the height fool you, the kid is ripped."
Komui took a small sip of the whisky, coughing at the burning. That was more than enough to clean, he thought, his eyes watering. Unfortunately, the whiskey had not so much removed the ash taste as much as it had made his mouth taste like Cross'. He quickly passed the bottle back.
"I've seen when I've patched him up." He responded, nodding in agreement. "He's quite impressively solid. He'd probably be able to back flip over and pull you down by the hair." The mental image made Komui giggle. He glanced over at the other man, switching back into his native tongue.
"Even if you've got an awful accent, at least you can understand me, which is better than most."
"Hey, when you have to get info out of Chinese whores, it's best to speak their language." Cross replied, then a sour look crossed his face. He swigged from the bottle. "And the brat did actually do that to me once. He swears he doesn't remember it, but that might have been something to do with how hard I beat his ass." The room was swaying ever so slightly. He frowned. Surely not already. He was not that reliant on magic. He was not. It would only last a week, just a week. Keep the mantra in your head, just a week just a week just a week.
That probably explained quite a bit about Allen's personality, if Cross wasn't making up tales. Komui made a mental note to one day get out the X-radiography device and check for hairline fractures in Allen's skull. If Cross hadn't put any there, his habit of being flung through buildings might have caused some. But getting onto that subject might cause arguments, which wasn't a good idea with Cross in such a delicate state.
"I'm not sure if I should frown for you using those poor women or congratulate you for contributing so well to the Chinese economy." He settled for saying, taking another, small sip of the drink. It really was strong. Even Cross was swaying visibly.
"Pope's got too much money anyway. Might as well spread it around." His accent was slipping further. The room was still moving without his express permission. "Fuck you, digestive system." the General grumbled. "I could always do round the world tours. Only I can't stand most people. Huh. Running out of options." He scratched his beard. "... Could write a book, I guess. My life's so awesome that nobody would believe it's non-fiction."
"Or you could use your knowledge to work for the Empire, exploring far off lands and convincing the natives you're one of their Savage gods." Komui pointed out, joining in the game. "Or as a spy, seducing foreign wives of important dignitaries to learn dark secrets."
"I would make a kick-ass spy." Cross grinned. "But the Empire's losing territory fast, people are uprising, getting ideas. Better to give up on that crap." He knocked back another drink, refusing to be beaten. "I like the travelling idea though. I might just do that by myself." Nothing better in life than an open road. He was pretty sure he was thinking in circles now. Like he even cared. Caring too much would probably set him off again, and drunk as he was he didn't want that.
"Why don't you save the rest of the drink for another day?" The circling was not unnoticed by Komui. Cross was looking unfocussed, not only from the lack of correction for his long-sightedness, and as much as Komui wanted to help he didn't particularly want to have to wipe up vomit. He reached over to Cross, brushing the other man's hair away from his face completely, cupping his cheeks in his long-fingered hands, the familiar side and the secret, hidden part, both held in his palms.
"Maybe a sleep is what you need?" He suggested, slipping into the comforting lilt he usually reserved for the younger Exorcists. "A nice nap and you'll feel better. I can sit here if you'd like, or let you enjoy your own company."
Cross gave him a somewhat bleary stare, eyebrows pulling together as he tried to discern Komui's expression from this close. Komui's hands were smooth, or at least smoother than his own. They were also cool, which felt strange on his face, slowly beginning to heat. "A nap." he said, partially considering it. "I'm not five, Komui." But he was slurring his words like one, and the bed was very inviting looking.
"Of course you're not." Komui immediately responded. Yes, Marian would benefit from a good nap, as long as his pride didn't interfere. The other man was likely to make himself stay up all night just to prove he could, but the drunken flush under Komui's hands was worrying. Komui slid his hands down Marian's face, wrapping his arms around his muscled neck and pulling the older man close as he lay down.
"You wouldn't deny me the chance to take advantage." He asked, smiling. "What is it you call me? 'Soppy as a woman'?"
"That'd be about right." Cross slurred. Fuck it, he was drunk, tired, emotionally drained and lacked the patience for anything else. Thoughts filtered through drunkenness, and he awkwardly rolled over and planted a quick kiss on Komui's cheek, mumbling something that might have either been an insult or a gratitude.
He hated his stupid, ageing body sometimes.
Komui lay very still as Cross settled down against him after the kiss. It was a drunken gesture, borne out of tiredness, nothing else. Nothing. He gave a little, humourless smile to the ceiling as he pushed down the flutterings. Kanda was right, in his own gruff, indirect way. Letting himself feel too much for this man would be dangerous. It was almost a certainty his heart would be ripped in two.
His fingers combed absently through Marian's hair as they both drifted off to sleep.