then whatever chains us down;

[soukahisoka]

Day: 12
Characters: Hisoka Kurosaki soukahisoka, Grell Sutcliffe chainsaw_juliet
Summary: SHINIGAMI, HUDDLE UP.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: 1AM, just after this thread and this thread.
Status: 2 parter in one post; Closed and Complete~

Comments

Whyfor you make me cry so early in the morning ;___;

[chainsaw_juliet]

"B-but you don't like it when-" He fell silent, chewing his lip though he was careful not to let the sharp teeth puncture the tender flesh. Grell did not have much blood to spare.

So close to him, Hisoka would feel the little tremors that Grell's now mortal body gave in an attempt to create heat in the muscles. Slowly the redhead rested his cheek atop Hisoka's hair and closed his eyes, trying not to think of how disgustingly indecent this was; sitting without proper clothing and even ruining his friend's own clothes.

He listened patiently, clinging to every word spoken because through them he was able to imagine he was anywhere but here. He imagined all the characters wore Oriental silks, like the kind the nobles paid ridiculous amounts of money to import into England. Even William, his handsome boss, was no longer decked in black but a lovely rich blue. And the rabbit, why the rabbit had to wear red of course...

It might not have been Shakespeare or even Mister Wilde, but it was enough for Grell. Gratefully his body eased away into sleep to try and repair the damage it was so unfamiliar with.

bc ilu <3 end part 1?

[soukahisoka]

Grell was shaking, which only confirmed to Hisoka that lending the death god his body heat had been the right choice. He sat stiffly, horribly uncomfortable with touch, but as he told the story, he unwound, just a little bit. He'd never had someone lean on him the way Grell was doing, slowly slumping against him like a weary rag doll. It was... weird. Hisoka didn't quite know what to make of it, but relief crept through him when he felt Grell's body relax into sleep against him.

Hisoka stayed for a while longer, to give Grell the advantage of the heat for as long as possible, until the trembling seemed to have calmed down. He could be alone with his thoughts for hours; alone with his feelings, now, too. It didn't bother him to stay still and stare at the floor, or his feet, or turn his head to check Grell's bleeding, moving occasionally only to carefully wipe blood from the shinigami's skin.

Even the intercom had quieted down by the time Hisoka moved out from under Grell's arm. He adjusted the blankets neatly, like a nurse with a patient, tucking them in around Grell so that the heat would stay in as long as possible. He left the teabag on Grell's desk; he'd be back later to make as proper a cup of the stuff as he could. Moving quietly, he gave Grell one last looking-over -- the death god seemed woefully rumpled and sad, even in sleep, but a little cleaner, Hisoka almost thought, a little better than he had before -- and then he was out of the room, Grell's stained shirt and jacket slung over one arm, wondering why he'd done what he just had, and why he was headed to the showers to handwash them as best he could.