D.GRAY-MAN | hourglass {lavi/allen}
TITLE. hourglass.
FANDOM. D.Gray-Man.
PAIRING. Lavi/Allen.
PROMPT. "bathroom" -- aruka_san
RATING. high T?
NOTES. UM. THIS IS LIKE... really random and disjointed and Lavi-centric BUT THEY DO MAKE OUT IN A BATHROOM OKAY um, yeah, idk.
They are exorcists losing a war, and they are teenagers wishing and waiting on stars. Lavi’s newly found, sticky, rapidly beating heart pounds in his ears, over the hum of forty-eight voices and a hundred different stories to be told.
“This is it,” he goes, staring at the Arc. Allen and Kanda both nod. They are fifteen-eighteen-nineteen, and they are on a suicide mission for a cause none of them really believe in.
--
It’s all porcelain fixtures and marble tile when they collide. Allen is fifteen, so very young, and yet so old. Not wise - not even Bookmen were wise, these days - but jaded so subtly you couldn’t tell unless you were too. Lave is. Lavi was. Deke wasn’t.
Allen’s back is pressed up against the door while Lavi’s mouth drags over his throat, teeth scraping his pulse. “We," he groans, arching, “we really shouldn’t be doing this.”
His arm is a mangled, red throbbing mess and tangling in Lavi’s hair. He is a little boy in hero’s clothing. Lavi tries to sink into him, into his skin, and holds on tight.
--
Lightning crackles around them. Allen’s arm is still red and throbbing, but eager to rip Tyki apart by his seams and stitched mouth. Kanda’s sword is at his hip. A thousand miles away, Lenalee lies in a hospital bed with bruised legs and a broken, crooked smile.
“Keep them both safe,” she’d told him. “But keep yourself safe first.”
Allen had been there, in the hall, when he’d walked out.
“She told me to protect you,” Lavi’d said to his unasked question, “but she told me to protect myself, first.”
“She told me the same thing.” Allen had replied with his tiny half-grin, and he was so very fifteen.
Now, Lavi bites his lip and knows he is no longer just observing.
--
Lavi slips his fingers under the back of Allen’s shirt and traces a path up his spine. His voice is muffled, lips pressed against the skin just under Allen’s ear. “I don’t care anymore.”
Allen digs his fingers into Lavi’s hips, hard and desperate. There are too many zippers on their uniforms, too many buttons that could easily be torn off and not so easily fixed. Lavi rocks and Allen bites his shoulder, breaks the skin. They are too young to die.
Outside their cheap motel room, Kanda sleeps soundly and a storm stirs.
--
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Kanda hisses at them, like they don’t already know. Like this is any other fight to be won.
“Since when have I ever done anything stupid?” Lavi’s smile is forced, and he is already thinking of who his fiftieth alias will be. Kanda snorts and Allen laughs humourlessly, and he finishes with, “don’t answer that.”
“Don’t have time to,” Kanda growls, and Rhode’s illusions start to ripple.
--
“We could die tomorrow,” Allen says between gasps. Lavi’s fingers are slick and horrible on him. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t, either,” Lavi grunts. He thinks of Kanda’s anger and Lenalee’s bravery; of the Bookman’s disapproving, objective stares and Allen’s strength; of all the Akuma he fought and all the people he might never save. He is eighteen. “It’ll be okay.”
Deke laughs at the lie the way Lavi used to. Lavi presses his forehead against Allen’s shoulder and remembers how to feel.
--
Lenalee smiles at him when he walks in. He knows her name because Kanda had told him. He knows Kanda’s because they’d dragged each other back half-dead to their base. He knows the other boy’s name because -
Because -
“Hi, Lavi.” Lenalee looks so relieved it almost hurts. “I’m glad you guys are back.”
There are many things no one has told her. He sticks out his hand and grins.
“I don’t know you actually,” he goes, and her whole face crumples. “But my name’s Allen.”
A thousand miles away, a boy in the ground is fifteen and always will be.
FANDOM. D.Gray-Man.
PAIRING. Lavi/Allen.
PROMPT. "bathroom" -- aruka_san
RATING. high T?
NOTES. UM. THIS IS LIKE... really random and disjointed and Lavi-centric BUT THEY DO MAKE OUT IN A BATHROOM OKAY um, yeah, idk.
They are exorcists losing a war, and they are teenagers wishing and waiting on stars. Lavi’s newly found, sticky, rapidly beating heart pounds in his ears, over the hum of forty-eight voices and a hundred different stories to be told.
“This is it,” he goes, staring at the Arc. Allen and Kanda both nod. They are fifteen-eighteen-nineteen, and they are on a suicide mission for a cause none of them really believe in.
--
It’s all porcelain fixtures and marble tile when they collide. Allen is fifteen, so very young, and yet so old. Not wise - not even Bookmen were wise, these days - but jaded so subtly you couldn’t tell unless you were too. Lave is. Lavi was. Deke wasn’t.
Allen’s back is pressed up against the door while Lavi’s mouth drags over his throat, teeth scraping his pulse. “We," he groans, arching, “we really shouldn’t be doing this.”
His arm is a mangled, red throbbing mess and tangling in Lavi’s hair. He is a little boy in hero’s clothing. Lavi tries to sink into him, into his skin, and holds on tight.
--
Lightning crackles around them. Allen’s arm is still red and throbbing, but eager to rip Tyki apart by his seams and stitched mouth. Kanda’s sword is at his hip. A thousand miles away, Lenalee lies in a hospital bed with bruised legs and a broken, crooked smile.
“Keep them both safe,” she’d told him. “But keep yourself safe first.”
Allen had been there, in the hall, when he’d walked out.
“She told me to protect you,” Lavi’d said to his unasked question, “but she told me to protect myself, first.”
“She told me the same thing.” Allen had replied with his tiny half-grin, and he was so very fifteen.
Now, Lavi bites his lip and knows he is no longer just observing.
--
Lavi slips his fingers under the back of Allen’s shirt and traces a path up his spine. His voice is muffled, lips pressed against the skin just under Allen’s ear. “I don’t care anymore.”
Allen digs his fingers into Lavi’s hips, hard and desperate. There are too many zippers on their uniforms, too many buttons that could easily be torn off and not so easily fixed. Lavi rocks and Allen bites his shoulder, breaks the skin. They are too young to die.
Outside their cheap motel room, Kanda sleeps soundly and a storm stirs.
--
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Kanda hisses at them, like they don’t already know. Like this is any other fight to be won.
“Since when have I ever done anything stupid?” Lavi’s smile is forced, and he is already thinking of who his fiftieth alias will be. Kanda snorts and Allen laughs humourlessly, and he finishes with, “don’t answer that.”
“Don’t have time to,” Kanda growls, and Rhode’s illusions start to ripple.
--
“We could die tomorrow,” Allen says between gasps. Lavi’s fingers are slick and horrible on him. “I don’t want to.”
“I don’t, either,” Lavi grunts. He thinks of Kanda’s anger and Lenalee’s bravery; of the Bookman’s disapproving, objective stares and Allen’s strength; of all the Akuma he fought and all the people he might never save. He is eighteen. “It’ll be okay.”
Deke laughs at the lie the way Lavi used to. Lavi presses his forehead against Allen’s shoulder and remembers how to feel.
--
Lenalee smiles at him when he walks in. He knows her name because Kanda had told him. He knows Kanda’s because they’d dragged each other back half-dead to their base. He knows the other boy’s name because -
Because -
“Hi, Lavi.” Lenalee looks so relieved it almost hurts. “I’m glad you guys are back.”
There are many things no one has told her. He sticks out his hand and grins.
“I don’t know you actually,” he goes, and her whole face crumples. “But my name’s Allen.”
A thousand miles away, a boy in the ground is fifteen and always will be.