and live in harmony harmony /headbutts stars
[ It's just one pain in the ass after another.
Wherever it is that Kakashi's been placed now, he lands there hard, catching his elbow against the edge of a wooden table as he falls, snapping his head back in time to narrowly keep his chin from smashing against the hard floor. The impact hurts, knocks the breath from his lungs and momentarily ( Read more... )
Wherever it is that Kakashi's been placed now, he lands there hard, catching his elbow against the edge of a wooden table as he falls, snapping his head back in time to narrowly keep his chin from smashing against the hard floor. The impact hurts, knocks the breath from his lungs and momentarily ( Read more... )
Kakashi doesn't move, and he only glances down once when Mukuro's hand hovers over his own, over the glittering ball of energy held so delicately in the palm of his hand. He doesn't want to kill him, he doesn't, he doesn't know how many times he's told himself that, and it doesn't really help, it doesn't change anything.
Because, really, he kind of does.
And sometimes, he gets distracted, and it's hard for him to focus, he needs to fucking focus and think. Mukuro has it down, knows how it works, and Kakashi only gets part of it, only sees little glimpses, can't make out the full picture so he has to grope around blindly. Hold it. Steady. Think, but don't think too hard. ]
Aaa, really? [ The electricity sparks once, almost violently, and then it flickers, fading quietly before it abruptly goes out, right as Kakashi curls his fingers into his palm.
The light's gone, and it's dark again as Kakashi steps forward, one hand moving up to shift the band away from his eye, to tug his mask down, and when he breathes, the air stings his lungs, hurts the back of his throat. Kakashi drops his chin close to Mukuro's shoulder, before he's lifting his head, leaning close to his ear. ] If you're sure.
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There's a movement of body heat and Mukuro tilts his head towards Kakashi, closes his fingers around his arm- gently, nothing so crude as bruising. ] Watch your step. [ There's an audible creak when he shifts his weight, the floorboards speaking volumes. There's a double connotation in that single phrase, and Mukuro does love his little games. ]
You could hurt yourself, like that. [ The laughter's rising up in his voice, and his grip tightens momentarily, turns until they're nearly nose to nose, that's how close they are. ]
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For someone so cold, Mukuro is surprisingly warm, and the air, the atmosphere, around him is heavy like lead or cement, it weighs down on Kakashi's shoulders, on the back of his neck. He makes a noise low in his throat, something that could be acknowledgment, and lifts one hand toward Mukuro's side, and it hovers in the air, poised just inches from his jacket. ]
You should watch yours. [ The fingers of his other hand close tightly around one of the kunai at his belt as he tugs it free, and he leans into Mukuro, smiles faintly against his cheek, before he's moving to slam the blade toward his side.
His aim isn't to kill, but to rather even the score, smooth out the playing field just a bit, except. His head is cloudy again, and he still feels fucking heavy. Mukuro, in general, is just distracting, and he's not expecting it to hit, not really expecting much of anything, because.
He knows his odds, but he'll still test them. ]
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Maybe this isn't the city any longer after all, because the lacking feel of constraints makes his blood rush a little faster (surprise, surprise), and Mukuro was waiting for this. His mouth curls into a slow smile, all arsenic and snake eyes, and the weight of the trident falls into his hand. He leans against it lightly, and surveys Kakashi through the dark. ]
Oya, oya. [ A pause. ] Are you mistaking me for a monster in the dark, Hatake Kakashi?
[ The way he sounds, so absolutely fucking nonchalant, it's like Kakashi didn't really just try to gut him.
(You don't really think you'll win, do you?)
Mukuro continues lightly. ] Maybe you should turn the lights back on.
[ How much more would it take? At this point, it's mere child's play, and the trident's there for nothing but show. ]
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Kakashi feels his hand pass through nothing, and he literally forces it to stop mid-swing, tensing his arm as both eyes move, focusing up away from the floorboards over to where Mukuro's standing. And there's that magical trident of his, of course, the slippery little bitch. Mukuro maybe doesn't have his speed, but he doesn't need it, not when he can do everything else that Kakashi decidedly can't.
The kunai slips through his fingers, and he's flipping it over in his hand, pressing the sharp edge of the blade against the inner curve of his wrist. His expression is still passive and calm and unassuming, but his muscles are laced with a thin layer of tension now, prepared, on guard.
And he wonders, for a moment, just how far he'll go, but he already knows the answer to that, and maybe Mukuro does too. Or maybe he doesn't, and maybe that's why he's playing around, pulling at wires without even really trying. ]
All right.
[ He's close to a window, and he reaches back, digs his fingers into one of the boards and pulls. It comes loose, and a thin layer of light floods into the room. Kakashi hangs partially in the shadows and brings his hand back, brushes his wrist just under his nose. It's almost awkward, sheepish. ]
That was rude. I'm sorry.
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The light glances over him, bounces off the tines of his weapon where he's half set it against the wall, leaving it lax but close enough so that if-
Well, just in case, right? Because both of them are on edge now, and Mukuro thinks that maybe he'll push a little more. There's nothing else around for miles that could possibly be an interruption. ] Not at all. I'm sure it's an easy mistake to make.
[ The dark plays funny tricks on things. Mukuro hasn't stopped smiling, features half sunken by the traces of dark that linger, and he makes no move to shift out into the light. That brief escalation of tension's been momentarily eased away, Mukuro having given Kakashi a way out, of sorts, but for how long? How long of a reprieve is this, how long will it last? He's still intent on jerking his chain, you see. ] It would have been dangerous if that hit. Someone might have been hurt.
[ And Mukuro might have actually had to strike back- then they'd have a lovely mess on their hands, wouldn't they? ]
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Mistakes happen. They're bound to happen. But that's a mistake he shouldn't have really made, because he is human, yeah, he's as human as they come, but when you're dealing with someone who isn't really, it's best if you pretend that you're just as unphased as they are.
The edge of the blade starts biting into his skin, and Kakashi realizes then that he'd been pushing it into his wrist without even noticing. He relaxes, and he doesn't say anything at all, he's always bound by words but maybe he just needs to shut the fuck up sometimes, and he steps forward, moves into the light for a fraction of a second, before passing back into the shadows.
That distance that had been inched between them when Kakashi had moved to hit him ( maybe if he'd been just a little bit faster -- ) is quickly cut back down, and he stops just in front of him, casting one glance toward the direction of his trident. He looks at it for a second, shoulders taut, and then holds out his hand, the one with the kunai. ]
Mmn, here. Maybe you should take it. [ Safety first. :'> ]
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When it comes to dealing with men like Kakashi, Mukuro's well acquainted with how they work-- don't show any cracks, don't break, and whatever you do, don't turn your back on the enemy. So how many of those has Kakashi broken? It doesn't really matter though, either way, to Mukuro, because he knows exactly how this will work. He'll crush Kakashi into little pieces and then grind them beneath his heel, that's what.
Because everytime, he's buried men of this level, hasn't he? In a place much like hell.
He looks up, half tips his head at him and his eyes flick back from Kakashi's face to his trident. Mukuro extends his hand, and closes it around the sharp edge of the weapon, hard enough to nearly slice through his gloves. ]
It'll be in good hands.
[ And in that same movement, Mukuro flips it, high enough to very nearly score a scratch across the surface of Kakashi's face, before it lands solidly in the palm of his hand, and he laughs. ]
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Kakashi only knows little bits and pieces of how Mukuro works, of how he's put together, and he's one of those crazy motherfuckers that'll pretend they aren't. Because he's so fucking good at everything he does, at everything he says, at talking like he knows what he's saying, like he gets the gravity of it, and maybe he does, but that doesn't make it any better. And Kakashi knows he can't really contain it, he can't box it up and make it shut the fuck up, so why does he even try.
It's worse than playing with fire. It's more like -- bathing in poison, in toxic waste, and just splashing around in your eventual demise because why the fuck not.
( And that poison makes you sick, but it won't stop you, either.
Maybe he's wrong. Maybe this was never supposed to go anywhere to begin with. )
And when Mukuro flips his blade, and when it comes close to scratching along the side of his cheek, Kakashi doesn't blink, and his expression doesn't change. He does tilt his head back just slightly, just in case, and his hand is already moving up in the same moment that the kunai lands safely again in Mukuro's palm.
His fingers close around his wrist, slip all the way down to his elbow, and he's not thinking ( this doesn't require thought ) when he pulls his mask down the rest of the way, jerks Mukuro forward, and with all the compacted hotroughviolent torrent of binding emotion that came with having to deal with this bitch for over half a year, he kisses him hard enough to draw blood. ]
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So when he's jerked forward, he cuts himself on the blade this time- the blood seeping through his glove, warm and s(t)ick(l)y, coating is fingers, and there's only time for one more breath, one more second to react before he finds himself so unceremoniously grabbed and there's an intense sort of heat and now isn't really the time to realise that he's never seen Kakashi with his mask off, but the human brain processes only so much at a time and this detail stands out starkly for no reason at all.
Maybe Mukuro wants to laugh, maybe he does, and that's the brief, muffled sound he makes against Kakashi's mouth before he leans into, against Kakashi, sliced up hand with the kunai pressed right up the his stomach, bloody fingers curled in a fist around the weapon, and all it'll take is a single move.
One wrong move, one little thing that Mukuro doesn't find to his taste, and he'll gut him right then and there.
--he's really laughing now, shoulders shaking even as he kisses back, feeling the tang of blood permeate his mouth, sink against his tongue and the trident slips with a silent clatter.
Was that a bad idea? Ah, well. ]
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It's not intentional, it never is, he's just always been like this. Maybe a bit harder, a little bit rougher, when he was younger, but he's different now, changed, except he can only change so much . . . Mostly, he's tired of changing. That hand at his elbow moves up past his arm to the side of his face, thumb drifting beneath his chin, and Kakashi forces his mouth open wider, bites at his bottom lip, at his tongue, laps the blood he's drawn away.
Mukuro tastes as poisonous as he feels, but it's less noticeable, more addictive and damning. It's warmer than it should be, and this son of a bitch'll be the end of him ( he's known for awhile ), and Kakashi is either delusional or masochistic or he just doesn't give a fuck.
His other hand falls to his waist, digs into the fabric there, and he forces him back against the wall off to his right, the one plastered in faded Victorian wallpaper, almost impossible to make out in such poor lighting. He pins him bodily, traps the shorter frame there by slipping his fingers away from his jacket, pushing them against the wall right next to his head.
-- No, he gives a fuck. And he hates that fucking laugh, so he'll kiss him harder, he'll suck every bit of oxygen from his lungs until he can't laugh at all. ]
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It's funny, isn't it? How all that pent up frustration translates into something like this- but physical is as physical does, and Mukuro doesn't protest to it yet, not when Kakashi seems to be enjoying himself so much.
(Is this better?)
Mukuro flattens the palm of his hand (the free one) against Kakashi's stomach, digs his nails into the material of his clothing and keeps it there, doesn't make a single move until he realises that he can't fucking breathe, can't move like this, not when the air's bled dry and spots of white dance in his vision.
It's not until Mukuro's on the very verge of losing consciousness, giddy from the lack of oxygen and blood slowing pulse still racing-
That's when he shoves a knee up against Kakashi, pushes him back and bites down hard enough like he means it, he's really going to bite his tongue off if he doesn't back off. ]
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( No, don't. Rip his mouth open while you can -- )
For a fraction of a second, his fingers tighten around his jaw, dig into bone and muscle and skin harder, reflexively, instinctively, and then he's relaxing, his hand is slipping away to press against the wall. His other hand moves down, closes around the blade pressed against his stomach.
But he doesn't force Mukuro's hand away, he doesn't try to get that blade away from his stomach, whatever, he can do what he wants, and the only room he gives him is a fraction of an inch, his chin hovering close to the other's shoulder.
And he waits, lungs burning, for just a second, fingers of one hand digging into the crumbling wall, while the fingers of his other hand twitch over that blade, push down into the pulse in Mukuro's wrist. ]
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So there it stays, a twisted, indistinct sort of smile that Mukuro graces Kakashi with, and he lets the silence drag on for another beat before breaking it. ] Don't.
[ It should have sounded serious, but the way Mukuro says it, with that underlying current of laughter and amusement, it sounds anything but.
The blade's pressed between the two of them now, with nowhere to go for one way or the other, and Mukuro pushes it up against Kakashi, lightly, lets the sharp edges flirt along skin and bone. How much force would it take to break through both his hand and past fabric until it's grazing against skin, drawing blood? Enough, Mukuro thinks, to be difficult in such an enclosed space.
One second, two, three, and he tips his head towards Kakashi, light jumping over his eyes briefly. ] Are you satisfied?
[ He likes to think he's something more than human (maybe less), and you have to wonder if there's a pulse beating at all against Kakashi's fingers. ]
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And he could back off, but he doesn't really want to. So where does that leave him?
There's that question, too, and Kakashi is silent for another moment, for the few seconds it takes for his heart to tighten substantially in his chest ( you're a better man than this ). The fingers pressed against Mukuro's wrist curl into warm skin, into the long vein in his arm, and then they're moving, twisting down to wrap tightly around his wrist, force his hand and the blade away from his stomach as he eliminates that tiny inch he'd placed between them a second or so before.
He moves quick, using the entirety of his weight to keep Mukuro pinned against the wall, and his fingers work over Mukuro's own, pry them away from the kunai, as his other hand moves away from the wall ( flickering with instinctive energy, reacting to his emotions, to the hard pit in the bottom of his stomach ) and skirts up his side. His fingers dig into his hipbone, move up to press against every single one of his ribs through the clothing, before it finally stops at the back of his neck, curling hard into dark strands of hair as he jerks him forward against him, interfering with the weight he's applying to keep him pinned.
Is he satisfied? ]
No.
[ No. Fuck you, Mukuro. He's not. ]
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It's not like he had ever much in the way of morals anyway.
Fine, yeah, sure, if Kakashi wants to touch him though, Mukuro'll be good and stay put for that long, he'll even make an amused noise at the back of his throat, and let the weapon drop from his fingers in a detached fashion, with a muted clatter. But then, Mukuro laughs, doesn't even bat an eye when he's yanked forward and Kakashi radiates nearly red hot against him and really-
You're being greedy, aren't you? ]
And I've been generous thus far. [ This is when Mukuro rediscovers the use of his hands, clenches a fist in the front of Kakashi's vest and on, against him, dragging himself upward to close the height difference. It's nose to nose like this, with Mukuro unblinking and not even a millimeter spared between them.
At point blank, Kakashi can't miss the kanji changing in Mukuro's eyes, before there's the faint thump of something(s) heavy dropping around the, a soft, sibilant hissing filling the air, and the snakes are looping around them, curling languidly up a leg here, there, in a parody of an embrace. ]
Didn't I say? Someone's going to get hurt.
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