by Cal (Calenlass Greenleaf)
Rated PG-13/T for angst/creepiness
I don't own DGM; it belongs to Hoshino.
Prompt: Meme written for LJ rp. This was one of the filled prompts. The meme? Three kisses. *sob*
Summary: Vignette. "A little more trust wouldn't hurt at all, Link." Not-quite-there 14!Allen/Link; I still don't write shounen-ai/yaoi and this is no exception. I call it harrassment XD
Link does not look up. Only a few people can getting away with calling him by his first name.
An arm winds around his neck, distracting him from whatever he's doing. The muscle under his eye ticks; beyond that, he does not move.
"It's not polite to ignore when someone calls your name, How-ward."
"And neither is it polite to persist in calling someone by a name they don't wish to be called by," he wearily replies. It's an old conversation they've had, but at least it's easy to keep up with the familiar. Even if the familiar was once disturbing. It's...minimal now, to other possible things.
"Do you hate your name that much? Like that Kanda does?"
Fingers dig into his hair, tugging on his braid. Link almost has the urge to suddenly jerk his head, bring up his arm and shove the other away. But he never does. "It's a term of familiarity," he says flatly. He keeps his gaze on his pen. "I'm not familiar with you like that."
"Would you let Allen use it?" A soft puffing sound near his ear made him flinch a little. If that was a laugh, to him it was disheartening. So different from Allen's laugh. "If he ever decided to drop more formalities."
"...just how many times can you repeat things?" He's long grown tired of the same conversation. "I've told you my answers before; they don't change."
"Goodness, if you're so tired of them, then why not say something different?" The arm finally leaves him and he can slack just a little in his seat. "You never seemed to tire when you talk to Allen Walker." Footsteps tell him the other has walked away just a bit.
"He doesn't like hearing the sound of his own voice."
"...good." your voice is still his, though. That doesn't help matters, ever.
"You really hate me, don't you, Howard?"
"Your rhetorical questions are banal," Link says, scratching out an angry mark on his papers.
"It's amusing, really." He's coming back; the footsteps draw nearer. "How humans can care and hate at the same time. Or, care about one characteristic of a person and hate another characteristic of his."
"You're not him."
"No?" That single word was such in such a way characteristic of Allen then he finally does end up raising his head. But the next words are certainly not the Exorcists. "That only goes to show how much you think you know. Or want to know."
"I know enough."
"About things you want to know."
"All you Noah love to talk a certain way to manipulate our answers," he finally snaps, swivelling around to face the other. "I don't see how different you are from all of them." Amber-coloured eyes narrowed. "But I've know him long enough to know he doesn't think like you think-you're not him."
He knows he's throwing words carelessly. He knows this situation is...delicate. But the higher-up don't know because he hadn't said anything. Didn't want to say anything. He has to wonder who he's protecting though...the Order, or Allen? Or was he simply denying the inevitable and pretending to ignore things?
If anything, he can't judge anymore. Not when his right/wrong instincts have been blurred.
"For someone supposedly twenty, you have so many worry lines." A finger nudges his forehead.
"You make me worry, Walker," he instinctively retorts and then instantly regrets it when he realises that his gaze had gone unfocused and that he wasn't talking to Allen.
The Fourteenth just gives him a smile. "And yet you always say I'm not him." Voice dripping with sweetness that was so heavy it was sickening.
"My mistake that time."
"Hmm..." He forces himself not to move when hand wraps around his throat, and then moves upward. It's to his credit he doesn't swallow or breathe faster. "Puppets."
"Everyone is a puppet to one thing or another. We all serve...to some calling."
"I suppose you would say you didn't."
"Actually, I do." Another thin smile. "But my strings are far looser than yours."
Link simply raises an eyebrow. "Your point being?"
Gold-coloured eyes gleam. "My host has always been a bundle of contradictions. What he wants, others don't. You ask him to choose a side, he chooses both. A mind of his own, and a war of his own. But you know that all too well, don't you, Inspector."
...well, that was his title. A bit of an improvement from the deliberate use of "Howard." Still, he's wary. "Get to the point, Fourteenth."
"Impatient, the lot of you." A wave of his other hand. "And you don't know half the things I could do because none of you want to understand. Oh yes, I have things with Earl I must finish, but it is hardly the larger scope of things. The only person who's made an attempt to understand is Allen. Sad, really."
Link doesn't like where this is going, nor the hand on him, lightly cupping his chin now.
"I only have one thing to ask of everyone, yet...they never seem to be able to give it." And here he pauses.
Several minutes tick by. Link finally does break the heavy silence. "What?"
"The same thing Allen asked of you." And before he can reply, the fingers tighten on his chin and his head is tilted to the side and there's a soft touch of lips to his cheek and a whispered phrase before the Noah abruptly steps back, enigmatic smile in place.
Link is far too shocked for thought beyond 'You did not just...do that.'
"You might want to learn to be self-serving in time, Howard." He barely hears the other stepping away-somewhere, still in the room, but out of his sight-because the soft words were still echoing in his mind:
'A little more trust wouldn't hurt at all, Link.'