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Darkness Is Light
By: Nanaki BH

Occasional persisting nightmares aside, Clair Leonelli believed that after all that had happened, his sleep had become much more enjoyable. It wasn't like he didn't like sleeping before. He was fairly certain that any sane person would agree that sleeping is preferable to just about everything else. At least when your head is still resting comfortably in your pillow and your blankets are still wrapped snuggly about you. Otherwise, he did rather enjoy a good explosion still from time to time – nothing that Daisuke Aurora had to worry his little head over anymore though, unless their business coincided again somehow.

But sleep, he believed, was incredible. It was a lot like just being somewhere where you feel completely safe. Maybe that wasn't how other people thought of it necessarily, but that's what made it so precious to Clair. For the good ten hours he typically gave himself, he'd be in a place of pure bliss and relaxation. It reminded him of the rare times his father would be kind and come in to tuck him in. He'd kiss him gently on the forehead and when the light from the hallway would fade as the door closed behind him, he'd believe that things would be different the next day.


His father. What a selfish bastard, he thought, eyebrows furrowing.


He closed his eyes tighter, refusing to wake up and face the sunlight with the infuriating thought of him still on the edge of his brain.

"Hey. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

No. And he didn't care. He hated it when one of his father's men would come in the next morning to wake him instead. Things were never different between them. His brief moments of kindness were probably just to keep him from killing himself anyway. He hated him.

He hated him. He hated him. He hated him.

He wanted nothing more than to blot out his existence from his every memory.

"...Clair." The bed shifted around him as whoever it was crawled their way onto the bed. Warm hands circled his wrists and eased his hands out of the grip they'd taken in his hair without him realizing. Eyes still shut firmly, his hands reached out and wandered, first finding their way to strong shoulders, up a tempting throat, and then to claim a fistful of strangely cropped hair.

He smirked. Well, maybe his father's men weren't so bad.

Letting his hands fall limply to the bed, he released a sigh. "I didn't hear you come in," he said, finally opening his eyes to look at the man who knelt over him. Giobanni was so unlike anyone else. His father taught him hate, Mauro showed him concern, Daisuke brought him the thrill of a chase... But Giobanni gave him something so different.

"I hope you know it's well past three o' clock now."

"Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" he asked, stretching his arms up above his head and then resting them comfortably behind his pillow.

Giobanni remained silent for a moment, just looking at him. "You looked too cute asleep. I apologize."

Clair's expression was indeterminably blank.

"You weren't looking too happy when I walked in just now, so I thought you might be having a nightmare or something and would like to be woken up finally. I... didn't like your expression. Thought my hair might make you laugh or something like usual."

Clair's blank stare quickly faltered and turned into a laughing fit. He reached up and grabbed his bodyguard around the neck and pulled him down onto the bed, twisting his fingers up in Giobanni's strange mohawk of blue. He tugged him closer and pressed a fervent kiss to his lips.

"You succeeded then."

What Giobanni gave him was something a lot like love.

A/N: I wrote this for Springkink on Livejournal for a prompt. Hope you enjoyed reading!