Sorry for another long hiatus, but I'm finally trying to get this ball moving again.

Enjoy this chapter, where I painfully drag out the plot and drop infuriating hints!

No Backing Out Once Inside - 7

Kanda skims through the eyewitness accounts, trying to sort out the inconsistencies, but who is he kidding? This is Lavi’s forte. Though he’s not exactly lacking in the intelligence department, Kanda is most definitely the brawn of this team. And if Lavi can’t make sense of this information, Kanda sure as hell doesn’t have a chance.

This is the big fish. The one they are hoping to find more about in France. Kanda narrows his eyes as he reads through the words. Like a demon… just appeared behind me… nothing else was touched, it just vanished… most sinister smile I have ever seen…

A strange cross-like mark on the forehead. A scar, I reckon, though it was black.

Kanda digs the point of his fountain pen below that statement, pursing his lips. That is the only true lead they have. It marks the perpetrator as a member of the Noah clan.

Kanda sighs and shoves his chair back as he stands up, leaving the stacks of papers spread out on the table as he heads through the living room and to their room. He pushes the door open quietly, reminding himself to grease the hinges when they offer a pleading groan. The room is still dark, the shades blocking the traces of morning sunlight filtering through the clouds outside. Kanda steps carefully, remembering from that morning where Lavi’s shoes, bag and other miscellaneous items are scattered on the floor, no matter how many times Kanda has barked at him to be neater, and slips his feet into the shoes waiting patiently at the foot of his already-made bed. He reaches for the wallet on the top-right corner of his dresser and tucks it into his pocket and turns around.

He steps over to the lump on the other bed, his eyes accustomed enough to the gloom to make out Lavi’s sleeping face, the skin between his eyebrows puckered in discomfort. From this angle, Kanda can see both the bandages covering the gunshot wound and the flexible cloth wrapped as a sling around his shoulder to keep it in place. Kanda places his hand on Lavi’s forehead, gauging the temperature with his own, relieved to find it lower than it had been the night before by the time they’d returned home from their assignment. Lavi stirs, pressing his lips together as if trying to speak, fingers lifting weakly as if trying to grasp something.

“Ummî…” Lavi murmurs, face turned toward Kanda, and when Kanda takes his hand back from his forehead, cries again, louder, “Ummî…” and proceeds to babble something in what Kanda recognizes to be Arabic, sounding like a child asking his mother not to leave. Kanda gets the strange feeling that it’s exactly what Lavi’s doing.

Kanda hesitates, but there is nothing for him to do here, nothing he can do save tuck the covers tighter around Lavi. It’s not the first time Lavi’s called his mother in his sleep, but it is not usually accompanied by further words, especially in Arabic. All things considered, it is simply a side effect of the fever, Kanda tells himself.

0o0

When Kanda returns, closing the door behind himself with a foot, hefting the sack with today’s bread and fruits in his arm and dropping the newspaper on the kitchen table, Lavi immediately makes it known that he’s awake and thirsty for attention. Which is not a fact that changes with the time of day, as it is.

“Yuu, where were you?” he hears from the bedroom, and Kanda rolls his eyes and bites back a groan. He drops the grocery bag unceremoniously on the counter, taking out the items one by one and putting them away, not bothering to respond to Lavi’s call since Lavi’s going to continue talking anyway. 3… 2… 1…

“Yuu, I was all by my lonesome,” point one for Kanda, though it’s not worth keeping track of, unless Kanda were to get something in return, say, Lavi being quiet for a whole day, “and in pain! That was much too inconsiderate, cruel even! Are you going to come say hello? I need you help!”

Kanda follows the pauseless stream of words to the now bright room, courtesy of drawn blinds and the light bulb, and stands at the doorway, arms crossed and Mugen tilted just short of ideal unsheathing position, subtlety which Kanda knows Lavi can read by this point in their partnership. Lavi is standing in front of his dresser, still clad in his pajamas, and Kanda sees at once what the problem is. The drawer can only be opened by pulling the handles on both sides, and with Lavi one-handed, the drawer remains stuck in a faintly diagonal and completely useless position.

“Ah, there you are,” Lavi says happily, “Will you strip me?” Kanda’s first reaction is to gape before he realizes that Lavi’s pulling his leg. After Lavi’s done laughing at his initial expression he sits on the bed, fingers splayed delicately over his injured shoulder, “Much as I would enjoy you doing that, I think I can wiggle out of my sleeping clothes by myself. I do need help opening the drawers and dressing though.”

So while Lavi wrestles himself literally single-handedly out of his pants and button-down shirt, Kanda sifts through the drawers. He pays attention to what shirt and pants he’s picking, as opposed to just picking at random like he does with his own clothes since Lavi’s clothes are less likely to match at random than Kanda’s are. The beauty of a monochrome wardrobe, Kanda thinks.

“Here,” he says, tossing the clothes next to Lavi’s grunting and writhing form. The pants are off, but his head is halfway out of the collar, as he tries to unbutton the last button to allow his head to go free. Kanda considers leaving him like that, maybe even watching for amusement, but Lavi suddenly yelps in pain as he twists his shoulder and Kanda scowls and goes over to flick the last button free and carefully pull the shirt over Lavi’s head.

“Aw, I love it when Yuu shows he’s a human being,” Lavi mumbles, gingerly placing his hand over his shoulder in that human tendency of touching the source of pain in an attempt to soothe it, even when that will do nothing. His grimace quickly turns into a grin when Kanda’s scowl darkens and he raises the pants and shirt for Lavi to change into.

“If you want any help with these you better stop spouting damn inanities out of that mouth.”

Lavi pouts, but finally shrugs, not really up to it with his shoulder throbbing angrily in demand for attention. He would take painkillers, but unfortunately, those mess with his state of mind as well, and he can’t work without being clearheaded, so no pain meds for him. Kanda sits next to him and unwraps the bandages around his shoulder, and Lavi cranes his head to get a better look. The bullet went clean through, which is a good thing because it means there had been no need to remove it, and it lessens the chance of infection. Downside is that it hurts like hell, but he’d complain either way. The wound is still red and swollen, sensitive to any movement, and even lack of. It will most definitely scar, Lavi thinks with annoyance.

“It’s not festering, but I’ll put some disinfectant on it to make sure. You’re still running a fever,” Kanda mutters, reaching behind to get the disinfectant and cloths from the drawer. The process is short, but painful, and Lavi babbles about the new case Arbiter’s assigned him to settle to distract himself, knowing full well that Kanda is not paying him any heed. He doesn’t tell him to shut up either, though.

Quite honestly, Lavi just wants to get back in bed and sleep for a while longer, but he has things to do. Damn occupational hazards, getting in his way. Kanda’s the grunt work precisely because he can take damage without a problem. Kanda helps him ease into the shirt and vest, and with buttoning his pants, growling when Lavi just can’t resist making a jibe about that particular position.

“Eggs and biscuits for breakfast,” Kanda calls out from the kitchen a few minutes later, and Lavi hears the rummaging of pans and utensils when he finishes brushing his teeth.

“Put bacon in mine!” he yells back above the noise of running water, putting up his toothbrush and yanking a washcloth from its hook to wash his face. Kanda normally makes breakfast, since he’s always up earlier than Lavi, who’s often stayed up late the night before reading cases and files. It’s a nice routine they’ve established—Kanda makes breakfast and then Lavi will make either lunch or dinner, with the other one usually being eaten out or ignored. It also works because adorable as Kanda’s domesticity may be, it is only practical and not far-reaching; Kanda doesn’t know how to make much more than breakfast foods. Like he said: it’s a nice routine.

Lavi wanders into the living room and drops down on the couch in the middle of their sparsely furnished flat, leaning his head back and listening to the crackling of eggshells from the kitchen. Finally, he resigns himself to consciousness, damning the comfiness of their couch, and fishes for paper and pen amongst the mess that is his living room work area. He sees Kanda has been trying to make sense of the files as well, and he chuckles at the mental image of Kanda’s surely frustrated face as he did so.

“It’s ready,” Kanda informs him, poking his head through the doorway some time after the smell of oven-cooked biscuits has been lingering around his nose in hopes of gaining his attention.

“Great,” Lavi looks up for a split second before returning his attention to the letter in his hands, “Give me a second to finish this.”

Kanda disappears without any scruples, sitting down to begin eating on his own.

“Oh, you brought me the paper. Thanks,” Lavi says as he joins him and sits down, picking it up immediately to scan the front page. Normally, he’d eat and read at the same time, one hand holding up the paper, the older holding his fork, but as it is, he would have to lay the paper on the table and put his fork down every time he wants to turn the page or stab the paper with his index finger as he makes a comment that Kanda won’t really understand, not being in tune much with politics and news. Lavi’s commentary is rather lack-luster this morning, and there is no finger-stabbing.

Kanda is washing his plate when Lavi sighs and puts his fork down, staring down at his half-finished meal, “Just… leave that there in case I get hungry later,” he pulls himself out of the chair, “and I have a favor to ask,” he adds, before wobbling back into the living room.

Kanda frowns and follows Lavi, watching him sink down on the couch and lie down, covering his face with his good arm. Kanda narrows his eyes at the stack of papers on the table that Lavi has already scanned in the hour he’s been awake. Lavi shouldn’t really be up and moving about quite yet, though the injury isn’t anywhere near life-threatening. But he’s running a fever, and between the mission and the uncomfortable night, Lavi hasn’t gotten more than a scant few hours of sleep. The idiot really should be resting right now. But Kanda’s sure Lavi knows this on a logical level, and Kanda doesn’t really know how to voice his concern, so he simply crosses his arms and stands over Lavi, “What’s the favor?”

Lavi motions vaguely to the table, not even bothering to open his eyes, “There’s two envelopes there. Deliver them, will ya? I was supposed to meet with them today, but I don’t really think I’m up to it, and everything I was going to tell them can be done by letter anyway.”

Kanda grunts to show his agreement, takes the two envelopes, gathers his things and when he’s about to step through the door, hesitates. He looks back at Lavi’s limp form on the couch, arm still thrown over his face, and finally mutters, “Don’t be stupid.”

Lavi chuckles, “Love you too, Yuu. I’ll keep my sorry ass in bed all day if that’s what you want.”

The corner of Kanda’s mouth twitches upward, “Like I care,” he scoffs as he closes the door and takes out the envelopes from his pocket. The first one says Arbiter, and Kanda assumes it’s the report of the night before—there’s something small and round in the envelope, presumably the ring. The second envelope makes Kanda stop in his tracks.

It says Miranda Lotto.

0o0

Hell no. Hell no. There’s no fucking way he’s … Kanda growls in frustration and almost stabs the man who bumps into him, though in these busy streets, that is an expected and trivial occurrence. Luckily, he checks himself before he actually draws Mugen and simply leaves the man one step closer to heart attack. Kanda seems to be doing that to a fair number of people this morning.

He wonders with vicious intent if Lavi did this to him on purpose. He can’t believe he has to step foot again in that place. The unbidden thought I don’t want to see him flashes through his mind and Kanda frowns further as he realizes that makes it seem like he’s trying to run away from that slut and the incident, and if there’s one thing Kanda isn’t, it’s a coward. He will not let something as insignificant as the possibility of running into someone keep him from going anywhere or doing anything. If there’s one thing Kanda is, it’s prideful.

So, for the fourth time that week, Kanda finds himself in front of the Katenshi, gazing up at its subtle Eastern-style tints and tastefully patterned door. He takes a deep breath, clearing his head and replacing fire for frost in his eyes before he steps in, forging his way quickly across the wide lobby.

“Master Kanda,” Ray greets him with a slight bow of the head and a warning in his glance, “What a pleasant surprise,” by which he really means, Kanda bets, ‘I can’t believe you’re showing your face here again.’

“I’m not here willingly,” he says curtly, removing the appropriately labeled envelope from his pocket and placing it between them on the counter, “From Lavi.”

Ray takes it and eyes it before sliding it into his pocket, “It will be delivered. May I ask why Master Lavi could not be with us today? We were looking forward to his presence.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees a young girl descending the stairs and pays her no heed, “Hazards of the job,” Kanda eventually offers, after cutting the ‘it’s none of your business’ that had threatened to spring up.

“Oh? I hope—”

Had Kanda been outside in the streets, or had it not been a young girl, the two seconds it took her to approach him would have been plenty of time for him to realize what was going on and block her. As it is, coming out of nowhere in a place it has no business coming from, even after he realizes what she is about to do, he does not stop it, and the resounding echo of the slap is as harsh as the sting that flares across his cheek.

“Lenalee!” Ray admonishes immediately, his calm demeanor momentarily breaking to show him flabbergasted. Kanda stands there, dumbfounded as well, while his mind supplies that this is the girl that he’d bumped into when he’d come to retrieve his bracelet a few days ago, with the pretty hair and the friendly smile. This time, however, her Chinese features are frozen and tense with rage, her hand likewise frozen in the air in the follow-through of the slap. Instead of lowering her hand however, she proceeds to dig her finger into Kanda’s chest and glare at him with an authority and command that he’d thought impossible for someone more than a head shorter than he is. Someone else clambers down the stairs shouting something, and Kanda freezes when he sees an unmistakable shock of white hair, but is distracted again by the girl in front of him as she starts her rant.

“How dare you come here! After what you did to Allen, you monster!” she snarls, shaking with her righteous fury, “All over a bracelet!” she raises her hand, ready to slap him again, but this time he’s prepared for it and catches her hand before it lands, gripping it tightly in warning, his eyes reflecting the same counsel. She gasps, and Ray shouts, Allen shouts, but there is no fear in her eyes, if anything, they burn even more, and she wrenches her hand from his grasp. Allen reaches them, grabbing Lenalee’s shoulders in an effort to prevent any further attacks. Kanda refuses to look at him.

“Lenalee, you can’t—” Allen looks helplessly between Kanda and Lenalee, “It’s not really his fault, I—”

“Nothing you could have done gives him the right to hurt you like that,” Lenalee cuts him off, standing in front of him, unafraid and unrelenting, as if blocking him from everything she holds precious behind her. Kanda doesn’t know what to do about her, bewildered by her lack of response to his usually effective glare, “You better leave and never show your face around here again,” she says with a tone icy enough to match Kanda’s on even a bad day.

“I never planned to,” he snaps, turning on his heel, ignoring Allen’s calling of his name and nearly slamming the door behind him. He’s halfway down the stairs when he hears Allen’s voice again, but he crosses the street and lets the bustle of the city swallow up the sound.