(no subject)
[ ...this is what happens when two sensitive characters lacking antagonistic influence collide in my brain. Shut up, it's perfectly logical. -_-; Takes place sometime after Zell's meeting with Eiko. ]
It would have been a lie if Zell claimed he didn't enjoy the spectacular, sickening way his room mate's nose cracked when the punch landed. The only thing that was better than the satisfaction of knowing he'd broken something the first go was the spurt of blood a split-second later and the way Horatio fell back against the four-poster bed, shocked speechless and grasping at the bloody mess that was suddenly his face. "That's for being a fucking asshole!" Dincht informed, shaking the stinging sensation from his right hand and the droplets of blood transfer from his fingerless leather glove.
Long story short? Zell hadn't been lying when he assessed that Horatio Hornblower was going to fucking die.
Horatio sat up, stared, then made a sputtering little attempt at speech when all the pieces of the painful puzzle fell into place. "You son of a -- " The insult to Zell's mother was lost somewhere in the frantic lunge he made across the short distance, all gangly legs and arms in an untrained attempt to get as good as he'd gotten.
It was a testament to how pissed off Zell was already that he didn't take more offense at the half-garbled insult to his ma, nevermind being too busy attempting to avoid all the sound and fury of someone more than a half foot taller than him. He sidestepped in a gracefully fluid movement and punched into Horatio's unguarded kidney.
Without actually hitting on target, the momentum alone would have easily toppled him to the floor, but the sharp pain in his back did the job efficiently and he heaped onto the dormitory carpet with a grunt. "Fuck, Zell!" Winded, wincing, but not about to give up the fight, Horry scrambled for a heavy book laying on the floor and chucked it at the shorter boy's head for sheer distractive purposes, rolling up to his feet and lunging at him again in the ensuing confusion.
A book corner bit into his forehead, the bulk of it deflected with a guarding arm, and Zell was still a little dazed by the dirty tactics when his head thudded sharply against the floor. There was a weight on his chest he hardly recognized as Horatio before a fist cracked into his face with surprising force. Wiry fucking Englishmen!
"Fuck -- " Horatio punctuated the expletive with another punch, then threw two more in for good measure. " -- you!"
There was some half-choked German from Zell, probably something excessively nasty judging by the way he snarled it, before he made a sharp jab for a pressure point near Horatio's recently abused kidney and threw his weight upwards to dislodge the Brit from sitting on him. Once free, he rolled away and spent a few minutes laying with his back to his room mate, inspecting his split lip and checking for all his teeth. Talk about not expecting the Spanish Inquisition.
To his credit, mostly because he thought he might die at any second from the pain, Horatio curled up into a ball and didn't pursue the matter.
"...can't believe you told Dr. Takashima, you dick."
"Fuck you -- " was more or less the only thing Horry could croak out in response.
"Take a number," the blond muttered into his hand. "Your mom already did."
Not surprisingly, when Horatio finally pulled himself up from the fetal position and headed for the dormitory door, the last thing he did on the way out was kick Zell in the ribs. Considering he played football, that must've hurt.
It did.