Animus Facit Nobilem, Chpt 7

[camudekyu]

Title: Animus Facit Nobilem
Chapter: VII. Affection
Author: Camudekyu
Rating: M
Pairing: Lenalee/Lavi
Length: 6 pages
Warnings: No spoilers. Language, "substance" use, sex.
Summary: When a series of bizarre events prompts the Black Order to dispatch exorcists, Lenalee and Lavi find that there is more going on in this small village on Malta than anyone could have expected. To make matters worse, the truth is going to hit just a touch too close to home for our Bookman cum Exorcist.
A/N: In reality, the Maltese lira was not circulating until 1972, but I think it is a prettier word that pound, which was the currency at the time of this story, so everyone pays for their dinners with lira. Also, Toshe is pronounced TOH-shuh. A beautiful southern Slavic name, I believe.

Previous chapters: I, II, III, IV, V, VI


VII. Affection

The dining area was crowded when Lavi and Lenalee returned to their hotel. It was nearing five o'clock, and the other guests were gathering around the three long tables as a rather frantic-looking young Maltese woman brought out wooden bowls of rice and vegetables to patrons. The man at the front desk looked up and waved at the exorcists when they came in, calling out a cheerful "Hawn!" to them. Both Lenalee and Lavi felt that their nerves were a touch ragged after their afternoon, and the warm domesticity of the little inn was quite welcome. Unbeknownst to the other, both Lavi and Lenalee wondered if this was what Karmenu's belonging elixir felt like.

Giorgio and Bill were sitting at the end of one table, as close to a corner as they could, their backs to the wall, and Giorgio rose to his feet and waved at Lavi and Lenalee when they came in. Lavi gave a quite wave of recognition back, and he and his partner began weaving through the other guests toward their table, where the finders waited with two empty bowls before them. There were quite a few children darting around their feet. Lavi made an effort to avoid them at first, but for all his precision with his hammer, this was like trying to swim through a tub of puppies without getting kicked. He let one boy collide, headlong into his left leg and fall into a whinging pile onto the floor, and after that, the children made a greater effort to avoid Lavi. Lenalee stayed close behind, moving in his wake.

"We were afraid we had lost you," Giorgio said, smiling. He gestured for the two exorcists to take seats and then waved down the server.

"Can you tell her I want a beer? Something dark?" Lavi asked. Giorgio gave him a look Lavi could not quite interpret but agreed. He and the server exchanged some quick words, and she hurried off. Giorgio turned back to his colleagues and looked them over furtively.

"Are you well?" he asked.

Lavi put his hands in his pockets and leaned back in his chair. He felt his knees bump and his feet hit the table legs as he stretched them out. "We met the Spirit Doctor," he said.

"And?" Bill pressed, his pale eyes a little red.

"And we're skeptical," Lenalee answered. "I want to do more poking around before I pass judgment."

"I'm ready to pass judgment right now, actually," Lavi interjected. "I think the guy is a consummate con artist. He sells these tinctures that he claims can make you experience things like elation or grief or anything you can think of. And half this town is totally buying it."

Bill and Giorgio exchanged a glance. Lenalee noticed.

"What?" she asked. "Do you know something about it?"

Giorgio looked troubled when he cleared his throat and said, "We overheard something while at St. Matthias. Something we should not have heard." He clenched his jaw a moment, crossed himself-the motion was quick, a mere flicking of his wrist-and he went on. "A priest was speaking to a novice. This is... this is quite unorthodox. He should not have repeated what was confessed to him," he muttered. "He was speaking in Latin, and I didn't understand all of it. The priest spoke of going to police headquarters. He does this daily, you understand, to hear the confessions of anyone there. He said he spoke to the captain of the grounded ferry."

Lavi sat forward, intrigued. "Our grounded ferry?"

The server then returned with two bowls and a sweating brown bottle. She set them down on the table and hurried away with a smile and a nod. Both Lenalee and Lavi tucked into their dinners without hesitation.

Giorgio waited for the girl to leave. "Yes," he answered at last. He looked around and lowered his voice. "The priest said the man was Sicilian. He was very upset, inconsolable even. They're charging him with negligence."

"Negligence?" Lenalee asked. "Was he drunk when we wrecked?"

"I do not know," Giorgio said. "I did not hear. The priest did say, however, that the captain told him that it had been so long since he'd tried it and he did not think this would happen."

Lavi swallowed a mouthful of beer and asked, "He said that?"

"Yes, I remember this distinctly. It had been so long since he'd tried it, and he did not think this would happen."

"Did he mention anything about a feeling? A specific feeling like freedom or resignation or anything?" Lavi asked.

Giorgio shook his head. "He might have, but I did not hear."

"Wait a second," Lenalee said, trying to rein in the conjecture. "He might have meant it had been so long since he had docked in Malta. Maybe he was out of practice?"

"There are only so many things you can do to get yourself charged with negligence," Lavi said, turning to Lenalee. "I'll bet you the rest of your stipend that Captain Negligence decided to celebrate his arrival in Malta with a shot of happy juice."

"That'd have to be pretty powerful happy juice," Bill remarked, "I mean to make a man do something that careless."

"We don't know what it is, but if our hunch is right, then this is the same stuff that is drawing people in from the mainland," Lenalee said. She saw Bill shudder slightly, almost imperceptibly. "This is starting to seem more and more like something illegal with every person I talk to."

They decided then that the next thing to do would be to interview the priest. Giorgio looked appalled that they would even suggest coercing a confessor into repeating what the captain had said, but Lenalee told him it had to be done. Lavi would have handled Giorgio's Catholic sensibilities with much less delicacy, but when he opened his mouth to say something unfriendly, Lenalee stomped on his toe hard. As Lavi yelped and whined, she ignored him and grinned apologetically at their translator.

Bill and Giorgio tossed down some coins and got up to leave as the dinner crowd was thinning. They were staying with Giorgio's cousin, Carmelo Pasquale, who lived a good walk north of town. As it was nearing dusk then, they decided to call it a night. They would all reconvene outside St. Matthias in the morning, they resolved, and they would go from there.

Lenalee listened to Giorgio swap words with the innkeeper at the reception desk before he and Bill left through the creaky front door. Once they were alone, Lavi tipped his beer up into his mouth, draining it completely, then put the bottle down hard.

"I think you broke my toe, Lenalee," he harped at her.

Lenalee glared. "Maybe next time you'll stop and think before you say something that might offend somebody! I swear, you interact with people like you swing that hammer of yours."

Lavi narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means not everything is a big game of whack-a-mole," Lenalee said, throwing her hands into the air. "I know it's a stretch for you, but could you at least attempt to have some tact?" Lavi scoffed. "Tomorrow is the Feast of the Ascension, so there're going to be a lot of people around who won't appreciate the jokes. So just," her shoulders sagged a little as though she were already resigning herself to a day full of Lavi's crap, "Just try not to get us kicked off the island."

He'd never been terribly good at saying no to that face, that do-it-for-me face. "For you, Lenalee," he began, "I'll stifle the rolling commentary."

She smiled at him gratefully. Just then, the server came up to their table and asked them something in Maltese. Lenalee looked to Lavi, who by day two, had proven he was much better at the miming and flailing than she. He put up two fingers and said, "Tea?"

The server nodded, gathered their bowls and Lavi's empty bottle, and swept off to the kitchen.

"Well, that was easy," Lavi said with a shrug.

A moment later, the young woman returned carrying two steaming tea cups in saucers. She set them down a little sloppily before Lavi and Lenalee, tea sloshing over the lip of the cups. She left and returned quickly with a small tin cup of cream and a glass jar of white sugar. Lavi watched Lenalee scoot herself and her saucer closer to him until her right knee was pressing into his left thigh. She clearly was expecting what he was expecting, so he pulled the little brown bottle from his pocket.

"Affection," Lenalee mused. "I've got to say..." She grinned a little mischievously, "I'm curious."

Lavi had not anticipated her being so enthusiastic. "Uh, Lenalee, have you ever, you know, done anything before?" If he went on what he knew of her, Lavi thought it was safe to assume that she'd never even had wine before.

"No," she said, taking the bottle from his hand. Lavi shifted even closer to her, pressing his shoulder to her shoulder to better conceal what they were doing. Lenalee unscrewed the top of the bottle and loaded the dropper. "Karmenu said three drops, right?"

Lavi was getting apprehensive. "Why don't you do two? Or better yet, just one?"

"Why?" Lenalee asked.

Lavi blinked. He had thought that would be obvious. "Because you're small... and a girl."

Lenalee was clearly not amused by this, and she released one, two, three drops into her tea. Lavi sighed a defeated sort of sigh, took the bottle from her, and did the same to his tea. They didn't speak, both too nervous, as they cupped their hands around their steaming tea. Lavi watched Lenalee blow gently a few times at the steam, and simultaneously, they tipped their cups toward their mouths. Lavi expected at least some hint of the bitter bite of opium-he, unlike Lenalee, had once been a thirteen-year-old boy in and around the Golden Triangle, and, therefore, had an idea of what he was potentially getting into. But black tea with a pinch of affection tasted like black tea. It was, perhaps, sweeter. Not the static, dry hint of cane sugar, though. This was the complex, rolling sweetness of honey.

"Do you feel anything?" Lenalee asked.

Lavi looked down at himself, then into his tea cup, and then over to Lenalee. "Not a thing."

They took their time finishing their tea, checking in with one another between sips. But nothing happened and nothing happened. Lenalee tried her hand at tasseomancy to pass the time, peering into the dregs of Lavi's teacup and saying things like, "All I see are hammers." That parlor trick eventually lost appeal, though, and soon they were tossing a couple lira on the table and heading for the stairs. Night had settled already, thin and airy the way nights are by the sea.

Lenalee was two steps above Lavi and, perhaps, halfway up the stairs when she stumbled. Lavi caught her, his hands on her shoulders, and righted her. "You okay there?" he asked, laughing.

She put a hand to her head, and when Lavi set her up on her feet, she seemed to waver. "I just got kind of dizzy."

They lingered a moment on the stairs, Lavi keeping a grip on Lenalee until she got her weight under her and waved his hands away. "It's okay," she said, "It's passed."

Another dizzy spell struck her as she approached her hotel room door, and she sagged against the wall to her right. This time, Lavi joined her. He felt his own forehead, watched the hall twist one way and then the other. He squeezed his eye shut. "Just get your door open," he commanded Lenalee, who was stabbing her key in the direction of the lock but missing. "If I'm going to puke and pass out, I'm not doing it in public."

Lavi's wooziness passed before Lenalee's did, and in its place, he felt a tide of concern. This didn't feel like affection at all. He saw Lenalee try and fail to get the key in the lock once more, and, seizing his moment of lucidity, Lavi put his hand over hers and thrust the key in the lock himself. They turned it together, and Lenalee stumbled in, looking like a pretty, young drunk. She flopped onto the bed, face down, her arms tucked underneath her, and lay motionless.

When the hotel room began to swim in Lavi's vision, he collapsed onto the bed as well, but he managed to angle himself so that he was propped up on one of the pillows.

Soon, Lavi's dizziness subsided, and he was able to push himself up against the headboard. Once he was settle, Lavi was able to appreciate just what a terrible idea trying Karmenu's elixir had been. He unwound his scarf and unzipped the collar of his coat to try to get some air.

"Shit," he muttered, "Komui is going to kill me when he hears about this."

"What makes you think I'm going to tell Komui?" Lenalee grumbled, her face pressed to the blanket on the bed.

While this certainly was not becoming of either of them, Lavi was confident that the scolding Lenalee would receive would be nothing compared to the corporal punishment in store for him. He didn't feel much gratitude, though; he was quite preoccupied with watching Lenalee and waiting for her to give him some sign that he had not just facilitated her OD-ing on affection.

Suddenly, Lenalee rolled over and sat up. She whipped her head around to look at Lavi, her eyes wide with a sort of wonder. "Do you feel that?" she asked.

Lavi blinked and assessed. "Feel what?"

Lenalee's voice became airy, more distant. "It's like a..." her mouth moved but nothing came out. She looked away. "A sort of warmth." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Like someone's holding me."

Either she was high as a kite and really impressionable or this stuff was starting to kick in, Lavi thought. He watched her sort of snuggle down into herself, a dreamy smile on her face. And then it struck him as well. He felt the fear drain out of him.

"I don't know how to describe it," Lenalee went on. "I feel like... like everything's all right. Or it's going to be all right..."

The feeling settled around him like a mantle. Lavi knew exactly how to describe what he was experiencing. It felt like a grey morning in October. It felt like a small room with clean sheets, a fire lit, cedar logs burning. It felt like the quiet between assignments, sequestered away somewhere safe and simple. A cup of hot coffee. Curling his toes into thick carpet. A window seat on the last train home.

Home?

"Oh, Lavi," Lenalee breathed, putting her hands to her cheeks. "It's working... it's real..."

It felt like the way blood rushes to the surface when skin touches skin. The way hearts recognize each other in proximity and begin to beat in time. Distantly, objectively, Lavi knew that panic would be the correct response to these feelings. But he could feel nothing but comfort, safety. Affection, he realized, is an incarnation of attachment. If attachment is an idea, affection is the expression. This was bad.

"I know this is out of the blue," Lenalee said, turning big, hopeful eyes on Lavi, "But can I hug you?" Normally, Lavi would expect to see her blushing while asking a question like that, but her skin was porcelain.

No, why? "Okay."

Lenalee scooted herself up to his left side and stretched her length alongside his. She draped one arm over his solar plexus and wormed the other around his back. He felt her cheek resting against his chest, her arms cinching around his ribs.

Lavi could not clearly recall the last time he had hugged someone for the sake of hugging someone. Certainly in the last couple days, he and Lenalee had found themselves clinging to the other but for purely utilitarian purposes-he told himself. In the past, he'd carried the wounded, caught the falling, shielded the vulnerable. And in those cases, Lavi didn't sense the buzzing he was feeling now, the distracting weight of skin on skin where her cool cheek touched his sternum through the unbuttoned collar of his henley. Lenalee had so much of her pressed to him, it was making his already affection-addled nerves begin to stretch taut and sing like the strings of an instrument.

Again, abstractly, something told him to take her shoulders and gently push her away. This voice, like a gramophone left on in another room in his mind, instructed him not to put his arms around her. He did anyway. And the calm chaos of things thrumming in his blood seemed to sigh and swell. Affection begets affection, and if lying alone after taking the tincture had felt warm and safe, Lenalee's body against his felt like Christmas.

Her head lifted from his chest, and Lavi looked down at her. He could see the layered browns in her eyes, fruitwood and honey and earth. Her lashes were a black fringe, and Lavi could have counted them, could have stroked them with a fingertip so they all lay flat and straight.

"Lavi?" she asked as though she did not already have his rapt attention. "Can I kiss you?"

Had Lavi been in the same room as that gramophone, he would have noticed how she didn't stammer or look away demurely or pink at all. Instead, she watched him, her two eyes focusing calmly, insistently on his one. She waited.

No, said someone else. Someone in the next town over. Perhaps on another island.

"Okay."

Lenalee inched up, the entirety of her against him, tilted her head back, and pressed her lips to Lavi's.

He hadn't touched a woman in months. It had been even longer since he had kissed one. All those hours, those thoughts and nights seemed to press against a sort of integument in him. He was aware of the strain-Lenalee's skin smelled like hickory and damp soil-and only after it snapped did it occur to him that that had been his restraint.

Lavi seized Lenalee by the shoulders and flipped her onto her back. She let out a squeak of surprise, and he swallowed it. He sat back and yanked the zipper down on his heavy exorcist's coat. With her mouth unoccupied, Lenalee laughed into her fingers as she watched him.

"What?" Lavi asked, struggling to negotiate his arms out of the sleeves.

Lenalee answered by putting her hands on either side of his face and pulling him back down to her. Wriggling out of his coat was much more difficult with his mouth captured, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

He felt her thighs creep up his sides and tighten. Her ankles crossed against his lower back, her heels resting against his tailbone.

Months...

When Lavi sat back a second time, it was to fumble with his belt buckle. Lenalee stared at his hands for only a moment before squirming away to slip her underwear out from under her skirt. She seized him once more, dragged him down to press her lips frantically to his, and Lavi balanced on one hand over her, his other still clumsily working at the recalcitrant buttons on his pants.

With a quiet slish, he sank into her. Lenalee whimpered against his shoulder. He felt a sigh, the slackening in his blood, relief after after such pulsing, pressing anticipation. Whatever was in that tincture, the affection coursing through his veins seemed to glow, to sing. Lavi dropped his forehead against the pillow under Lenalee's head and allowed himself a moment just to savor. The warmth and the security. The incredible puzzle-piece precision of how he fit into her. The simple profundity of that link, of sharing that space with her.

Lenalee began to squirm, to rock her hips against his, and the moment passed.

She made poorly restrained noises, clawed at his back, pulled his hair. She yanked his bandana off and threw it to the floor. Lenalee seemed to move expertly, to set the pace at gasping and frenzied. Had Lavi been able to think of anything other than that moment, he would have been a bit surprised. He would not have expected such from a girl like Lenalee.

When she came, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, tasted his shirt. The next time, she whined his name into his ear, breathed hot and fast against it. The next time, she pulled his hair and made him look her in the eye for an almost hallucinatory moment before her head rocked back, her back arched up, and she cried out.

He gave her a moment to recover, and when they resumed, Lavi felt Lenalee fist her hands in his shirt, squeeze his ribs with her knees, and she began to chant his name. She inundated his senses with that sound. He could feel a chord so close to being struck, like the pitch was just barely off, like somehow, the name she mewled wasn't quite right.

Lavi found himself propped up on his elbows to meet her eyes. He was brushing her hair out of her face. He was watching her eyes watching his. He was breathing against her mouth, "Toshe." And then, "That's my name. Toshe."

Lenalee stared into his eye as though she were trying to discern words on a distant billboard. She watching him so long, lay so still. Then she put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him close. Lenalee touched her nose to his and, their lips just brushing, she breathed, "Toshe."

He shuddered. He'd never heard anyone say it like that.

"Toshe."

He began rocking against her once more, his face buried in her hair.

"Toshe."

He dug his fingers into her shoulder blades, clung to her. The noises in his own throat sounded foreign to him.

"Oh, Toshe."

Lavi felt the crescendo break, the coiling strings in him snap. He came in long, wrenching pulses, almost painful, wiping words from his thoughts, drowning his senses except for, "Toshe, Toshe, Toshe..."

He collapsed against her. Lenalee wrapped her arms and legs around him, stroked his hair, blew cool breaths across his neck. The air was thick and heavy, and Lavi moved with an underwater sort of sluggishness when he managed to meet Lenalee's eyes. She smiled at him, tender and unabashed, and pushed his hair out of his eye. And when the buzzings in their blood began to quiet, they rolled apart and fell asleep, dressed and above the covers.