theme/day: silence/voiceless, day 1.

pairing: established Allen/Kanda, Kanda/Allen.

rating: t for language.

warning: none, really; boy love-ish; kind of angsty, kind of fluffy. unbeta'd.

a/n: SO IT BEGINS. Yullen Week '11. Not much to say about this piece except that it's established they have some kind of relationship, that's why Kanda doesn't start off as get-the-fuck-away. Other than that, enjoy, and leave a review on your way out?

standard disclaimer applies.


It's one o'clock in the morning, on the dot, when Allen comes into his room with mussed hair and haunted eyes.

He's had another nightmare.

Kanda doesn't react when the boy takes a seat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands and a small trembling to his shoulders. It's painful to see but Kanda just scowls, whether at him or the dream that caused this, he's unsure. He sits up, pushing the comforter away from his body and swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he's beside the beansprout. Neither speaks and the silence is nearly overwhelming.

Allen's human arm has angry red nail marks, and there's a bruise forming on his shoulder.

"That bad?"

Allen nods.

"…It wasn't real."

Kanda hides his surprise when Allen grabs his hand, writing an invisible message on his palm.

I killed everyone. I killed you.

The samurai frowns, running his other hand through dark strands of hair, only to have them fall back into his eyes. He can't count how many times he's been in this position now; it's become a routine for Allen to invade his room, drowning in haunting half-truths and eyes betraying the despair that hides behind half-constructed masks. It's not in his nature to help, so he offers up the only form of comfort he knows: silence.

Allen accepts this, embraces it; having some form of companionship beside him while he sorts out his mind is a safety blanket he can't explain. The assignments are slowly drowning them and it's on the nights they both have to themselves that the dreams plague his already frazzled mental state. Link is sound asleep in Allen's room; no one knows about his ventures past midnight.

And they're both okay with that.

On the next night it happens, they're staying in a rundown inn with rundown walls and rundown beds.

It's uncomfortably roomy as they share the same bedroom, Allen taking the floor just because it doesn't feel right to hog the bed all to himself; Kanda disagrees and takes the floor as well. In the end, they end up beside each other, laying across cold blankets and colder pillows, nestled into a protective cocoon while the snow falls outside the window and Link drifts away in the bed. They say nothing; not when they fall asleep a good distance apart and wake up three hours later in arm's length. Allen shivers, sweat beading on his forehead, and Kanda sighs.


Allen nods, closing his eyes. He sees death and destruction, blood-spattered walls and blood-stained flesh.

"Stop thinking, beansprout."

Opening his eyes, blood is replaced with scowls and torn flesh is replaced with somewhat-hesitant arms.

Allen smiles gently and inches closer so he's snuggled close to Kanda, enough to be comfortable but far enough apart to ease the awkwardness.

He doesn't dream.

Sometimes, hallucinations brought on by sleep deprivation interrupt his eating.

Sitting in the cafeteria with numerous plates surrounding him, Allen drops his fork in surprise as he suddenly sees Lenalee fall forward in a heap of burnt skin. He jumps up, prepared to call her name, when the scene abruptly disappears and he's left with an empty ache and shaking hands.


Link puts a hand on his shoulder, his stoic face breaking for just a moment.

"I'm fine," he replies, smiling at the blond before exiting the cafeteria and heading anywhere but there; Link gets up and follows, but Allen just collapses onto his bed and sighs a weary sigh, fading away from the world.

Link takes the opportunity to finish the paperwork he was assigned.

In the heat of battle, however, the hallucinations turn relatively simple battles into dangerous situations.

"Beansprout! Watch what you're doing, damn it!"

Allen nods, blinking away remnants of creeping shadows, but the split second the imagery took away ends with the virus spreading through his bloodstream rapidly. Hardly daring to panic, Allen places a hand to his chest and wills away the offending serum, purifying it as quickly as possible. His stomach burns from where the wound was dealt but he ignores it as he takes his sword and plunges it through the demon's head.

Later on, the two exorcists and Link pile into the hotel room and bandage themselves up; Allen disappears into the bathroom to clean up the near-infected wound, hissing in pain when it begins to bleed further. When he's satisfied with the result of his makeshift medical care, he steps outside to see Kanda with his arms crossed, looking severely pissed off.

"Pay attention when you're fighting, beansprout," he says, turning away and glancing out the ice-covered window. "Unless you're trying to get yourself fucking killed."

Allen doesn't respond.

When the hallucinations come again, he's walking down one of the many corridors of headquarters.

He collapses to the floor and groans, grabbing his head and trying to stop the steady poundpoundpound of pain resonating through his mind. His body shakes, he feels ill, and his lunch is ready to leave through his esophagus. He can no longer tell the images apart as they blur together, creating something akin to a phantasmagoria; it's disturbingly realistic, occupying his thoughts daily and assaulting his unconsciousness at night. Just as he's about to release the contents of his stomach on the newly cleaned floor, someone pulls back his hair so it doesn't mix with the vomit.

It's messy, disgusting, and he doesn't feel much better once he's done hacking and coughing, but the hands are still there and they carry a sense of reassurance.

He turns around and finds Kanda looking away, silent and silently worried, and Allen manages a small smile through the blurriness of his surroundings. Kanda scoffs, draws back his hands—but Allen doesn't let him, grabbing a rough one in his own and pulling him down so they're side by side in the empty corridor.

"The fuck, beansprout?"

"Stay…" he whispers, eyes closing; Kanda is about to retort angrily but he decides not to when he sees Allen sleeping. The companionable relationship they've formed causes him to stand instead, lifting the light boy into his arms and carrying him back to his own room where a distressed Link is waiting.

"He's getting better at getting away." Link sighs and steps to the side so Kanda can place Allen in the waiting bed.

"Then maybe you should give him a fucking break," Kanda replies. "Tell Leverrier to shove his accusations up his ass."

When Kanda leaves, the room is silent.

Link isn't sure what to say.

They're resting against the wall in the dojo, one of the rare times where Allen isn't being followed and Kanda isn't in a snit about something or other.

It's quiet and peaceful, light breathing echoing from Allen's mouth as he fingers the dark blue training shirt around his thin frame. It's been three days without a dream, proper sleep or hallucination and he owes it to the meditation Kanda has been "teaching" him. With no assignment to go on, for they are both on temporary leave due to injuries, they find themselves spending the days training. They don't speak much, and Allen can count how many words he's said to the elder in the last couple days, but neither mind and Allen's just grateful for the company.

"Link returns tomorrow," Allen murmurs, staring up at the ceiling. "Today's the last day."

Kanda mutters a che before sighing, turning his head to glare at the white haired boy.

"Your point?"

"Why don't we do something?" Allen asks, tilting his head to the side. "Together."

Kanda doesn't respond so Allen takes that as a yes.

"Like… sleep."

This catches Kanda off-guard.


Allen nods, more enthusiastic than Kanda has seem in weeks. He's smiling, a real, tentative smile, one filled with hope and understanding and everything Kanda can't comprehend and doesn't really care to. It holds a sense of innocence, a sense that Kanda has only seen on Lenalee.

"S'been a while since I've slept properly," he admits quietly, stormy eyes lowering to the floor. "And… it's easier to sleep when there's someone else."

"It's noon," Kanda states, raising an eyebrow. Allen laughs, pushing himself off the floor and leaning over Kanda.

"I know it is," he says, holding out a hand. "But that's what makes it even better."

Kanda ignores the offered limb and stands up on his own, brushing off invisible dirt. Allen shrugs off the semi-rudeness, dropping his arm and a smile still in place, as he nods towards the doors. It's a simple request and Kanda knows why he's doing it; he's tired, needs rest, but can't obtain it.

They end up in Kanda's bed, Allen silent and asleep, his back against the wall.

And Kanda cannot seem to figure out when his simple, isolated life had become so entangled with the boy's beside him.

He finds he doesn't entirely care as he allows Allen's hand to clasp his own.