DGM: "Uniform Discipline"
The new uniforms had brought about a very few positive effects, in Kanda's book, but mostly they had prompted one very, very big negative -- they had made him look at Lenalee.
Written for springkink, to the prompt Kanda/Lenalee: obsession/denial; "She intrigues him, which he finds disturbing." Mild sensuality, unless you're Komui, in which case mind-blowing sensuality. Partly inspired by this crack image from Gray Ark.
uniform discipline
Kanda hated the new uniforms.
His own was fine. It had the intimidating look he preferred, but it was easy to move in. Most of the others were fine -- they even made the idiots he worked with look more or less like competent people.
He hated Lenalee's uniform.
It wasn't something he'd been able to identify until the idiot rabbit expressed leering interest in her short skirt, and instead of showing him its practical purpose by kicking him in the jaw, she lifted up the frilly pink to show the tiny shorts she was wearing beneath. The idiot rabbit had stared slack-jawed, and the idiot beansprout had tried to get her to behave more modestly, but Kanda had only been able to look away and try to get the sight out of his mind.
He hated her new uniform, but it was in his head now.
Lenalee had been in his head for a long time. When he had first met her he had been new to everything, ordinary people most of all, and Lenalee was the pinnacle of everything ordinary: she was human, emotional and caring and good, sweet and whimsical and inviting, but at the same time possessed a strength and a ferocity that kept her alive, even as fragile as she seemed. She was an extraordinary sort of ordinary, and Kanda had never wanted to be interested in her, but on some level he always had been.
The high, bright laughter when she learns that he’s not a girl -- that first meeting -- that first moment he can’t quite forget, her soft hands wrapped around his like iron shackles.
When she comes back after they’ve taken her away again and he asks her why she’s so quiet, she lifts her hands to her face, and the crystal drops that leak between her fingers catch at his fascination.
A sharp glare, filled with emotion, so intense that actually succeeds in stopping him in his tracks when he was just about to leave the incapacitated Finder to his fate.
She had always remained on his mind, even after all this time.
But now he thought of other things.
Like the full curve of her thighs. The playful ruffle of that damn skirt was obscene -- it was designed to capture attention, to draw the eye to her legs, to make one imagine what was underneath, the place where those incredibly long legs came together.
Kanda didn’t want to think about her that way. He hated that his normally disciplined mind went there, imagined her as a shapely body instead of an embracing smile and a generous strength. And he hated even more that if he didn’t wear himself out practicing each night, then he dreamed of her in disgusting ways.
She deserved so much better.
He was so focused on his routine, on working himself until sweat poured off him in sheets and he couldn't breathe, that he didn't hear Lenalee until she lifted her voice. "Kanda?"
He whipped around, snapping, "What?" while his heart raced and his hair stuck to his skin.
If she'd known what he was thinking, she might not have been so quick to stay, but she reacted with, perhaps, instinctive defiance, hands going to her hips. "Don't act like that. I stayed well out of Mugen's reach so you have no reason to treat me like I'm getting in your way."
He mopped at his forehead irritably with one arm. "What is it?" he asked, more evenly. Say what you want and go.
She wasn't wearing the uniform, for which he was grateful. Like him, she was simply wearing the thin sleeveless turtleneck and shorts that she wore under her uniform coat and skirt. He liked the shorts. (But not too much.) They were familiar, businesslike.
"You've been in here ever since you got back from your mission. You missed dinner, so I decided to bring you something."
Despite himself, Kanda flicked another glance at her, and saw that she'd placed the tray on the desk low table behind her. He made a vague grunt, intended to be some sort of appreciation, and she smiled at him in a way that he couldn't miss, maybe not even if he'd been facing the other way.
"Well, don't just stand there." Lenalee waved him over.
Kanda said, "I'm not done--"
"I'm not leaving until you eat." Her smile took on a strange quality.
So he ate his dinner, sullen, and she sat across from him and talked about news from the city and the still-continuing excavation of the old headquarters and how Komui was handling that irritatingly bossy Bridget woman. Kanda contributed nothing except the occasional noise of amusement or contempt, but it didn't seem to bother her, and he liked listening to the sound of her voice, and the occasional glance at the contentment she wore openly on her face.
He didn't understand her. It frustrated him that he wanted to.
Then, finally, when he was done, she got to her feet. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He had to admit that it wasn't, which he did by not responding to her in the slightest, simply getting up himself. Lenalee took a step closer and touched his arm lightly, ignoring the damp of the cooling sweat, and gazing up at him with a more private smile.
"You're welcome," she said. "You always are."
There was a perfect lotus in her hair, posed sweetly as if tucked behind her ear. Kanda held his breath, not sure what to think for half a beat, and then took her other arm carefully in hand and drew her closer. He thought -- that he might want to kiss her.
But she met his lips before he could steel himself to do it.
...And after that, he really, really hated her skirt. He knew what it made men think.
Written for springkink, to the prompt Kanda/Lenalee: obsession/denial; "She intrigues him, which he finds disturbing." Mild sensuality, unless you're Komui, in which case mind-blowing sensuality. Partly inspired by this crack image from Gray Ark.
uniform discipline
Kanda hated the new uniforms.
His own was fine. It had the intimidating look he preferred, but it was easy to move in. Most of the others were fine -- they even made the idiots he worked with look more or less like competent people.
He hated Lenalee's uniform.
It wasn't something he'd been able to identify until the idiot rabbit expressed leering interest in her short skirt, and instead of showing him its practical purpose by kicking him in the jaw, she lifted up the frilly pink to show the tiny shorts she was wearing beneath. The idiot rabbit had stared slack-jawed, and the idiot beansprout had tried to get her to behave more modestly, but Kanda had only been able to look away and try to get the sight out of his mind.
He hated her new uniform, but it was in his head now.
Lenalee had been in his head for a long time. When he had first met her he had been new to everything, ordinary people most of all, and Lenalee was the pinnacle of everything ordinary: she was human, emotional and caring and good, sweet and whimsical and inviting, but at the same time possessed a strength and a ferocity that kept her alive, even as fragile as she seemed. She was an extraordinary sort of ordinary, and Kanda had never wanted to be interested in her, but on some level he always had been.
The high, bright laughter when she learns that he’s not a girl -- that first meeting -- that first moment he can’t quite forget, her soft hands wrapped around his like iron shackles.
When she comes back after they’ve taken her away again and he asks her why she’s so quiet, she lifts her hands to her face, and the crystal drops that leak between her fingers catch at his fascination.
A sharp glare, filled with emotion, so intense that actually succeeds in stopping him in his tracks when he was just about to leave the incapacitated Finder to his fate.
She had always remained on his mind, even after all this time.
But now he thought of other things.
Like the full curve of her thighs. The playful ruffle of that damn skirt was obscene -- it was designed to capture attention, to draw the eye to her legs, to make one imagine what was underneath, the place where those incredibly long legs came together.
Kanda didn’t want to think about her that way. He hated that his normally disciplined mind went there, imagined her as a shapely body instead of an embracing smile and a generous strength. And he hated even more that if he didn’t wear himself out practicing each night, then he dreamed of her in disgusting ways.
She deserved so much better.
He was so focused on his routine, on working himself until sweat poured off him in sheets and he couldn't breathe, that he didn't hear Lenalee until she lifted her voice. "Kanda?"
He whipped around, snapping, "What?" while his heart raced and his hair stuck to his skin.
If she'd known what he was thinking, she might not have been so quick to stay, but she reacted with, perhaps, instinctive defiance, hands going to her hips. "Don't act like that. I stayed well out of Mugen's reach so you have no reason to treat me like I'm getting in your way."
He mopped at his forehead irritably with one arm. "What is it?" he asked, more evenly. Say what you want and go.
She wasn't wearing the uniform, for which he was grateful. Like him, she was simply wearing the thin sleeveless turtleneck and shorts that she wore under her uniform coat and skirt. He liked the shorts. (But not too much.) They were familiar, businesslike.
"You've been in here ever since you got back from your mission. You missed dinner, so I decided to bring you something."
Despite himself, Kanda flicked another glance at her, and saw that she'd placed the tray on the desk low table behind her. He made a vague grunt, intended to be some sort of appreciation, and she smiled at him in a way that he couldn't miss, maybe not even if he'd been facing the other way.
"Well, don't just stand there." Lenalee waved him over.
Kanda said, "I'm not done--"
"I'm not leaving until you eat." Her smile took on a strange quality.
So he ate his dinner, sullen, and she sat across from him and talked about news from the city and the still-continuing excavation of the old headquarters and how Komui was handling that irritatingly bossy Bridget woman. Kanda contributed nothing except the occasional noise of amusement or contempt, but it didn't seem to bother her, and he liked listening to the sound of her voice, and the occasional glance at the contentment she wore openly on her face.
He didn't understand her. It frustrated him that he wanted to.
Then, finally, when he was done, she got to her feet. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
He had to admit that it wasn't, which he did by not responding to her in the slightest, simply getting up himself. Lenalee took a step closer and touched his arm lightly, ignoring the damp of the cooling sweat, and gazing up at him with a more private smile.
"You're welcome," she said. "You always are."
There was a perfect lotus in her hair, posed sweetly as if tucked behind her ear. Kanda held his breath, not sure what to think for half a beat, and then took her other arm carefully in hand and drew her closer. He thought -- that he might want to kiss her.
But she met his lips before he could steel himself to do it.
...And after that, he really, really hated her skirt. He knew what it made men think.