Title: Veracity

Theme: Shadow

Fandom: D. Gray Man

Pairing: Yullen

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual intercourse between dudes)

Word Count: ~ 6,700

Summary: Figuring things out isn't exactly Allen's strong suit, but he's willing to try.

Notes: My first Yullen ever completed, guys; I wrote this back in July, I think. This Allen is different than any other Allen I've ever written, but I like him most, to be honest.*Shrugs*


Waking up in a swirl of long black hair is only now starting to seem normal to Allen. They'd gotten into the habit of sleeping together recently, which is a deviation from their generalized 'we're going to have sex and then refrain from speaking to each other for the rest of the week' ordeal. That had been working fine, sure, but most of the time Allen doesn't feel like getting up, showering, and returning to his room; Kanda doesn't seem to mind too much as long as Allen is sure to leave as soon as the morning light hits the window panels. He never used to seem to like letting Allen stay in his room – or even them having sex together there – but the guy hasn't seemed as concerned with it as of late. Not that it matters, because all the time spent in that room is either spent sleeping, or trying to keep as quiet as possible. That isn't really an issue for Kanda, but Allen is a bit more vocal than him in all respects.

Groaning, Allen sits up and looks down at Kanda's still sleeping form. He's never known Kanda to sleep in, but given the circumstances it isn't all that strange.

He doesn't often get chances like the one he is presented with, so he takes a moment and surveys Kanda's body. His eyes start at the top – that lacquered, black as night hair that sweeps around the both of them as if it's a blanket. Then he looks at Kanda's face – but more than looks, he observes. He takes in every detail of the beautiful man's face. From his flawless skin to sharp, dark eyebrows; his long, straight nose to his rather thin, but wonderfully tasting lips; his angular jaw-line, to his delicate looking neck (here, he takes a gamble and takes a soft nip; thankfully, Kanda doesn't wake up). He lets his eyes wander all the way to where the blanket stops him: muscular arms, rosy nipples. He giggles at himself a bit (inwardly, of course, so as not to wake the sleeping demon) and then climbs out of the bed.

Kanda's room isn't exactly what Allen would call 'cheerful.' It is dark and damp looking and most people might be scared to even enter the place, but Allen feels a sense of peacefulness here. A quiet serenity that's probably more attributed to the man asleep then he would like to admit. And he doesn't need to look around to know what's in the room. A bed, a man, and a flower.

Allen isn't sure of what the flower is. Yes, technically he knows it's a lotus blossom, but he can't even venture a guess as to what it means. Kanda does like tending to plants, he's noticed (or rather, he has a knack for it), but this flower seems…special. Like Kanda is the Beast, guarding his rose until that last petal falls. But that arrangement makes him Beauty, so he casts aside the notion and decides to keep his thoughts and theories to himself until Kanda is ready to explain it to him.

He watches Kanda as he dresses. He doesn't observe him as before, just takes glancing looks. Watches the man's chest rise and fall, his eyelids flutter slightly with each breath – Allen truly doesn't want to leave.

But he resents himself for that. They've come to a 'no-strings-attached' agreement, and it is going to stay that way.

No matter what.

As per their agreement, Allen and Kanda don't speak to each other when they see one another. It hurts Allen somewhat, but he isn't about to go back on their word. He isn't going to break any promises he made to Kanda.

The whole thing started on accident. It was kind of a mess at first (or rather, they were), in the sense that they had no idea of how to deal with the fact that they'd slept together. They snapped at each other more, and kept separate from each other for a while. But eventually they got over it. They both understood their own reasons, and Allen assumed that Kanda's were the same as his. Loneliness. There is that unfathomable thirst for human touch that everyone feels.

But the worst is over. They are old enough to understand what they feel and what they don't feel, and have worked out a fairly perfect system.

The great thing about casual sex is that it doesn't exactly matter if it's planned out or not. When two people in love want to have sex, it has to be that spur of the moment passion – that everlasting moment in time that they'll never forget. Kanda has no issues with simply telling Allen the next time they're going to have sex.

Sometimes, however, it is spur of the moment. Just being together can send them over the edge, pressing their bodies as close to each other as possible, mouths attaching in a flurry of kisses. Kanda might forcefully drag him into the nearest closet, or Allen, feeling particularly brave, might mash his lips on Kanda's after a rough battle – the adrenaline not yet worn off.

It's kind of inebriating, to know and understand that someone as beautiful and rigid as Kanda could want Allen as much as Allen wants him. He lets it get to himself too often, though, and that's another thing that bothers him.

The troublesome thing about casual sex is that, even when someone says it means nothing, the act of sex is way too intimate for it to actually not mean anything. Sharing your body with someone – it's just a very trusting and familiar act. Allen can't help but feel closer to Kanda; he can't help the bond that's formed. Even as much as he hates thinking about it – he can't deny it's there.

Most of the time, he can comfort himself by imagining that Kanda feels the same way. Even if the guy is brooding and seemingly heartless, he's still human – he still has that same psychology. Allen's pretty sure his brain works the same way. Almost. Maybe.

But the overall worst thing about casual sex is that it over-complicates everything. To be more specific, any and all sex outside of a relationship starts shit. Allen's been noticing that firsthand. How, even though Kanda is acting as mature as possible, Allen still catches little ticks – the overbearing awkwardness of any situation. Just sitting in the same room, listening to a mission briefing, reduces them to fidgeting virgins. It's a problem – because telling the Order of their relationship could get them fired, but not telling the Order reduces them to sneaking and just being generally awkward when confronted with a situation where they could, possibly, be found out. Which would get them fired. Which they had to prevent. Which they could only accomplish while being incredibly awkward. Which might get them found out. Which might get them fired. And the stretch of incomprehensive and repetitive thoughts never seem to end in Allen's head. He just can't stop them. They come in waves and waves – worry washing over him like a flood. Because what if they do get found out? What if they are fired? What if Allen is stripped of his title, just because of some fling with another, male, exorcist?

Why doesn't he care?

Well, he does care – but not as much as he feels he should. He should care enough to break it off - to never even look at the raven-haired exorcist again in his life, but he doesn't. He just wants to go back to Kanda's room and give him lazy kisses and lay in bed with him as the sun slowly heats up the empty room. He just wants to feel that attachment to another human being – and he wants it, surprisingly enough, to be Kanda.

Even if, in the past, he absolutely deplored the man, having sex changed those feelings considerably. Because underneath it all – and there are so many intimate layers that are pulled away during sex, there is no escape from the vulnerability that comes with it – Kanda is just like him. They're too similar. And in the past he hated him for it, but now…well – he doesn't hate him.

He imagines that he's gotten himself into a shithole too deep for him to get out of, but he doesn't really feel like climbing anyway.

The next time they have a conversation, or lack thereof because Kanda has probably never had an actual conversation in his life, it's because they're being sent to Australia to follow some lead on an important innocence. It's going to take them a lifetime and a half to get there, and Allen is pretty sure it would be a better idea to jump off and swim because the boat seems to move so impossibly slow. Kanda says, or rather mumbles, something like:

"Can't believe that fucking Komui would send me on a fucking trip on a fucking boat to fucking Australia."

So Allen replies with:

"You're actually enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

To which Kanda just sneers.

Allen knows that Kanda really appreciates nature. It isn't just that he thinks it's pretty, or peaceful, because Allen's pretty sure those words have never even entered Kanda's mind, but because - well – nature is something that deserves to be appreciated, and Kanda can see that.

Allen really wants to kiss him, suddenly – badly, but he isn't going to. Not here, even if they are alone, in the middle of the ocean. Not even though none of these people know the either of them, and really can't care less what they see. He hates himself for being such a coward – for not having strong convictions like Kanda does. If Kanda wanted to kiss him, he would regardless. He wouldn't do it at the Order, but he'd certainly do it here.

And Kanda isn't kissing him.

But what is he supposed to expect? They don't have that kind of relationship. Kanda is not going to twirl Allen in his arms and kiss him sweetly as the sun sets. Kanda's never even kissed him without the promise of sex before; never kissed him just because he wanted to kiss him. And he doesn't expect Kanda to. He doesn't expect Kanda to ever appreciate him as a lover, or even as friend.

So he grabs Kanda's arm and pulls him gently to where they're away from the watched world.

Pulls him away to where they can be safe in each other's company.

Kanda almost never objects to sex. Allen realizes it probably mainly due to the fact that he chooses times when Kanda can't really care less either way. Times like this, when the only thing wasted is a sunset – and they have thousands more of those to see.

But Kanda would probably object to a kiss. A kiss that, alone, would mean something other than a libido needed quelling. So Allen kisses him, but masks his passion in his wandering hands, exploring the beaten paths of Kanda's body.

His passion is really something that even he doesn't quite understand. He knows that it's more than it's supposed to be, but what does that mean? How much is more? How long can he hide his true feelings? Why does he want to, really?

Is it because of the promise made between them – that things would never get too serious? But why would he care so much about keeping that promise in the first place? For Kanda's sake? For his?

It's a very distracting thought process and Kanda's demanding his body now, so he tosses it and their clothes aside.

If Allen's a slut, Kanda is a total whore. He's pretty sure the guy's purposeful with the way his eyes smolder excitedly. He sinks down Allen's body very slowly, leaving a wet trail of saliva from his throat to his navel, to his abdomen. Allen's body arches involuntarily and prematurely, before Kanda has even taken a glance at his erection. He knows, his body knows – it makes no difference. And then Kanda's mouth is stretched impossibly over his cock, and his mind goes blank and white from pleasure. It's just that pure feeling, that lightning that shoots up from his balls to his throat and turns into a soundless whimper. Most of the time he's careful, but watching Kanda, his head bobbing up and down, dark eyes sensual and boring into his own – it's too much. He bites his hand, hard, and Allen feels more than sees Kanda's lips turn upwards in a smirk.

It's just another thing Kanda bests him at. Not moaning during sex, but still being able to let the other person know how completely blissful they feel. It might be in Kanda's eyebrows, the way they knit into a sharp 'V' at the first strike of pleasure, and release and move upwards as time goes on. It might be in his eyes, more open at these times than in others. It could just be his body in the way it reacts and completely subsides to Allen, even when Kanda is topping. He just understands how to move in ways that lets the other person know without words what they're feeling.

Kanda tongues the underside and Allen loses complete control. He's panting, mouth open, eyes closed as he tries to prolong the moments. His hands grip the bed sheets harshly, and he desperately tries to at least keep his vocal chords in check.

Allen tends to whine and moan and groan and writhe like a little bitch, especially when acting as the submissive. He doesn't mean to, really, at all – but he can't help it. Comprehensive thought is beyond him in times like these.

He must let out some kind of noise unintentionally, because Kanda's hand shoots up and covers his mouth. It harsh, and aggressive, and Allen likes it. His head tilts back, and Kanda's arm stretches to follow it. When Allen's head is cocked so far back he can almost feel his forehead against the pillow and Kanda is only able to press his fingers harshly to his mouth, he comes.

For the sake of the sheets, and Allen is fairly certain that's the only reason, Kanda swallows – well as much as he can. The remaining bits he wipes off of Allen's hips and his own, deliciously swollen lips.

He then flips them over so Kanda is underneath them. The man is simply laying there, hair splayed out, arms open. His entire posture just screams trust. His eyes are dark, and yet still hold some playful and deliciously sexual lights. The gray-black is maddeningly beautiful, and he reaches down and kisses Kanda.

Kanda stiffens a bit, because it probably wasn't what he was expecting, but he reluctantly goes with it. Their lips crush together quite harshly, needing; their tongues dance around and fight for dominance. The kiss itself is making him hard again, and he can feel Kanda's erection against his thigh. God, he wants to fuck him. Or be fucked by him. He really doesn't even care. Does Kanda realize? Does he care?

But he doesn't want to ruin what they have – even if it's something so emotionally unsatisfying. So he takes his mouth from Kanda's and sucks lightly at his collar bone before sliding his body down the other exorcist's and, quite unceremoniously, takes Kanda in his mouth.

Kanda's hips lift a little at the touch, and Allen doesn't even bother to pin them down – he snakes his hand up to Kanda's puffy, beautiful lips, and in possibly the sexiest thing he can do, he sucks Allen's forefinger and middle finger lightly – to the knuckles. His tongue wraps around the digits, almost plays with them in his mouth. Allen withdraws them and swallows harshly – because it could drive any man completely mad – and Kanda's hips buck into his mouth.

Allen's never been a complete fan of deep throating, mostly because it makes him feel like he's choking and he would not enjoy asphyxiation by penis. But sometimes he brings himself to do it anyway – powers past his gag reflex that screams at him maddeningly and gives Kanda as much pleasure as he possibly can.

Kanda's breathing rivals his from before. It's a panting – a desperate move to try and put some kind of air back in his lungs. But Allen can't do this for too long; he pulls up a bit to breathe, his mouth making a highly sensual noise when he detaches from Kanda's cock. Kanda is glaring slits at him, so after a moment, he begins again and sticks his first finger inside Kanda.

As usual, Kanda is making no noise at all, even though his entire body seems to be screaming and writhing in pleasure. The only sound is heavy breathing and the wet, sticky sound of a blowjob and fingering. Allen really, really, really wants to fuck Kanda – so, fuck Kanda; he's going to fuck Kanda. He adds another finger, removes his mouth and looks up. Really, Kanda isn't an idiot – he knows what Allen wants, and he almost looks like he wants to protest, but he doesn't.

Allen curves his fingers up and Kanda closes his eyes harshly, probably to block out the insane waves of pleasure that overtakes him. When Allen adds a third finger, Kanda is practically fucking himself on the digits, and he manages out:

"I swear to fucking god above I will murder you if you don't –"

He can't bring himself to say it, and Allen knows this, which makes him smile. But he doesn't really want to wait any longer either – no matter that he really enjoys teasing Kanda. He would probably never get the chance to, because even if he was flaccid before, one look into Kanda's eyes and he's a goner.

His favorite possible position is probably doggy-style, if not only because those times when Kanda does look back at him out of his own volition, he's floored. When he's on top of Kanda, the man closes his eyes, focuses on anything but Allen's face. Because he knows Allen is looking at his face, his expression. When Allen is behind him, he can't possibly see Kanda's face unless he allows him to.

And Kanda's face is always hopelessly hopeless and giving. Even if his stern expression doesn't really falter, his eyes speak to him. His eyes say more than words ever need to.

So he turns Kanda over, and Kanda complies, ass in the air.

Another fantastic thing about this position, was, if Kanda wasn't being completely giving and looking at him, Allen could bite his shoulder or pull his head back by his hair in such a way that he would have to look – if not only to glare. And he has such a fascination with pulling Kanda's hair. It isn't characteristic of him, and he doesn't like to inflict pain at all, but he knows it doesn't really hurt. It's more of a playful tug, really. A more feral part of him always wants to pull hard, but he never does.

He lines up with Kanda from behind, then, and pushes in.

It isn't really that Kanda needed a lot of preparation, they'd done this plenty of times before, but they both rather enjoy it.

Nothing is anywhere near as amazing as actually fucking him though. Allen always tends to start at a slower pace than Kanda and the man is actually pushing himself back faster than Allen is pushing forward, and it takes a few moments for them to synchronize, for each push and pull to be fantastically frantic and perfect.

This has to be Kanda's favorite position too, because his cock's hard as a rock, and, when he looks back at Allen the first time, blood is dribbling down his lips. He's biting them that hard. It's sexy and lecherous and vulgar and all those kinds of things Allen absolutely adores in Kanda's expressions. As he rocks into Kanda, hard and rushed and trying to convey his feelings but at the same time hoping they don't come through, he wraps one of his hands around Kanda's cock and jerks. Just once.

In annoyance, Kanda growls. He whips his head to the side, hair gathering over one shoulder, and he looks Allen square in the eye. So Allen does it again, just once. In this way he can tease Kanda at least, even if it's not necessarily the way he wants to.

Responding to Allen as if he were a hostile enemy, which as this point Allen was sure he was in Kanda's eyes, Kanda pulls himself away from Allen (at this point, Allen whines a bit) and then shoves the white haired boy back on the bed. It's hard and it hurts his shoulder and he secretly doesn't mind at all, even though he hardens his eyes a little. He knows Kanda was just waiting for the right moment – to take control even though he was the one being fucked – to completely use Allen.

He crawls on top of Allen, hands still bracing his shoulders, and lowers himself onto Allen's cock.

It's kind of amazing, that Kanda can seem so threatening and beautiful and angry even when he's doing something as completely degrading as he is. Because this act – all of it – is degrading. It's dirty and almost disgusting, but this doesn't stop them from completely relishing all of it, every tiny second.

Kanda lowers himself again and again, hands gripping Allen's shoulders still, eyes staring deep into Allen's. And Allen replies by bucking up each time, eyes staring, trying to make them equally as hard as Kanda's. But he's failing. Because Kanda's face is doing its best not to contort into complete ecstasy. He lifts Allen up in this awkward way and bends down slightly so that somehow there's friction between Allen's belly and his cock, and it kind of hurts Allen's back but he's loving that Kanda wants him so badly.

Then Kanda's head tips back. He fucks himself mercilessly on Allen's cock, and, surprisingly enough, growls out a low, keeling groan. It's most delicious thing Allen's ever heard, and he comes inside Kanda, eyes snapped shut in a vice-grip of pleasure. He then uses his hand to actually jerk Kanda off, and in a way so unlike Kanda he can't believe it, Kanda comes with a second moan. Although it's actually more like a grunt than a moan.

Then the dark haired man pulls himself up and falls onto the bed. It seems his arms are like jello. They're dirty and gross, but Allen doesn't really care. Kanda seems to, however, and after a moment, sluggishly drags himself to the adjoining bathroom. Allen groans and surveys himself and the bed. Both disheveled and covered in cum.

Once he lays back, head against one of the fluffy white pillows, he realizes he's also covered in sweat, and that he really, really does in fact need a shower. He just doesn't have the energy to do that. He doesn't have the reaction time Kanda does. He can't walk just yet.

So he closes his eyes, and ends up falling asleep happy because Kanda, the hypocrite, made the sexiest noises he's ever heard.

When he wakes up, he finds that he's actually clean. He isn't dressed, but he's underneath the sheets, so it doesn't matter. Kanda is in the other double bed in the room, one they hadn't even cared to notice earlier. Allen's a little disappointed, but he's happy that Kanda at least cleaned him up a little.

He still feels gross, though, and a little sticky, so he heads to the bathroom. He turns the water on a moderate temperature and waits for it to get to that temperature before stepping in. As soon as he does, he's completely awake.

He kind of just stands still for a bit, letting the water rinse off the remaining cum and sweat and dirt. And he thinks. At first he wonders what Lavi and Lenalee would do if they knew the truth. He can't possibly believe that they'd shun him, but really – would they be disgusted? Would they treat him differently? It isn't like he's gay or anything…is he?

This is just two people sharing their bodies with one another. Just a carnal act to satisfy the lonliness in his heart. But even in his head that sounds wrong. It isn't an act – so what is it? Are they…gay for each other? Is he gay in general? He's never thought about it. He had loved Nalei, so long ago, but he'd loved Mina too. Was it different? He loves Lenalee and Lavi and Miranda and Krory and everyone else at the Order.

Everyone else.


Of course he loves him! He loves him just as much as he loves the others! He's Allen's friend – a dear friend, like Lenalee.

But more?

How is he even supposed to know? Does having sex with Kanda prove anything? It hadn't started because of feelings, because if anything, he used to despise Kanda. But it's strange. He can't fathom the thought of sharing his body with another person. Certainly no one at the Order. They're his family. So what's Kanda?

He rests his head against the cooled tile wall and sighs. He is gay, there's no way around it. He's having sex with another man for fuck's sake. But how is it possible to be eighteen years old and only just noticing?

It isn't. Because somewhere he's always known. He's always known that love for Nalei was different from Mina's, and he knows now that the way he feels about Kanda is totally different from his feelings towards any other human being on the planet. He knows it, but he doesn't want to believe it. Even if he knows he's gay, and even if he knows there is something there for Kanda, he just can't bring himself to accept it.

What does it matter, anyway? Even if he cares for Kanda, it's not like they'll even be able to have a future together. The Order wouldn't accept it. And it isn't even that they're two men (though it is the Church and that's going to be a really, really big deal), it's just that the Order doesn't permit relationships between exorcists. That's the way it's always been.

And why would Kanda ever love him back? He can remember – he knows what Kanda's searching for. He knows it'll never come to fruition. Kanda will never be able to love him the way he loves her. He'll always look for her, because that's who his heart's set on. His icy, impenetrable heart that Allen cares about so fucking much it hurts. He wants to break down – just sit in the shower for hours and let the water wash over him and brush away all the realizations. All the hurt. He wants to disappear.

Don't stop – keep walking.

No, Mana. I don't want to keep walking. Mana I just…I want to be by his side. Stilled. Forever.

Don't stop – keep walking.

I know, but I can't.

Don't stop – keep walking.

It's a mantra in his head. He knows it's not Mana actually saying it, but something he's created so that he never does stop, and that he does keep walking. Because he needs to. Life cannot propel forward if he's sitting in the shower wallowing in self-pity. Nothing's going to change. He'll just always be wallowing in self-pity. He'll retreat into himself and dump all the blame and hurt and pain onto himself. He did it before, but that was so long ago now. It's such a distant memory. He doesn't remember a lot from the time just after he'd killed Mana – no, the akuma – set Mana's soul free.

He says it again and again in his mind until he's done washing his body and hair and stepping out of the shower. He messily rubs the towel over his hair in a sad attempt to dry it, then wraps it around his waist and walks into their bedroom.

He's dripping wet, and Kanda's definitely going to scold him, but he doesn't really care right now. No, right now he's discarding the towel on his bed, pulling on a pair of pants, and leaning over Kanda to look at him.

He realizes how creepy he's being, but he doesn't care. He braces his arms on either side of Kanda and leans against the bed ever so slightly. He expects Kanda to awaken, but he doesn't.

The small window in between the two beds is starting to cast a single beam of light onto the hardwood floor. It's probably around seven, and he's kind of hungry, but he'd rather watch Kanda sleep.

It's the second time he's able to do this. He appreciates it more now, knowing a bit of what he's feeling. He wipes a piece of hair out of Kanda's face and with this he wakes up.

Allen is sure he sees it. He can't be imagining things. There's no way his mind would pull a cruel trick on him like that. How can it be that the first thing Kanda sees in the morning is Allen and he actually smiles? It's a Kanda smile, granted, all soft eyes and relaxed lips. They don't point up, there's no teeth, but he's smiling. But then it's gone – in an instant. Time slowed just for that moment, though, and Allen's grateful. Because now Kanda is pushing him off, saying:

"Ugh, weirdo idiot Moyashi fucking watching me while I sleep. Fucking creep."

Allen isn't offended, but he does say, "It's Allen, Bakanda," as an automatic response. Kanda growls something else then and climbs off the bed, getting dressed. He gets fully dressed as well, even pulling on his coat. It's so hot; Allen isn't sure how he manages.

He grabs Mugen (Allen is actually quite surprised he didn't sleep with the damn thing this time) and starts to walk out the door.


Allen is surprised to hear his own voice; he didn't mean to call Kanda back. But the man turns, slowly, and watches Allen with careful eyes. He's guarded himself. He isn't going to be making that smiling face at Allen again anytime soon.

But why did he stop him? What does he want to say? Surely he doesn't want to tell Kanda – "I'm gay."

Everything is silent, and then Kanda actually coughs out something remotely similar to a laugh. He is smiling at Allen, and it's completely ridiculous and Allen is so – is so –


His ears are most likely bright red. He didn't really mean to say it.

"You're an idiot." Kanda muses, amusement in his dark eyes. "You act as if I didn't already know."

Didn't already –

His face is flushing now.

"I didn't," he mutters.

"That's because you're an idiot." And Kanda coughs out another 'laugh' before leaving the room. Allen isn't sure of what to think. Then one, single question: is Kanda gay? Is the answer obvious? If he asked Kanda, would he get another laugh from him? Another smile?

No. Kanda would probably beat his ass. Kanda's in love with her, not him.

Not that he's in love with Kanda – because that would be so totally shitty. Kanda would be the worst person to fall in love with. So, he settles with:

I love him, but I'm not in love with him.

And it's such an obvious and simple statement that he smiles and gets over his embarrassment. And maybe, yeah, he is gay, and maybe he totally didn't notice it before, but whatever – he is. That's all there is to it.

The afternoon is hotter than he'd like. His hair is just long enough now to be tied up, even though it's a little stub of a thing that makes Kanda's eyes glitter with amusement, and that helps. The breeze that rolls off the ocean is lazy and wonderful, so if he finds a good spot with shade, it isn't too bad.

When he sees Kanda again, it's at dinnertime. Everyone's sitting in the mess hall, shoving food into their mouths and chatting amiably. He sets down his trays across from Kanda, who shoots him this glare like they aren't in a very intimate and secret relationship, and smiles. Then he begins to eat.

Allen's favorite thing about Kanda, at times like these, is his lack of social finesse; mostly so that they don't have to talk while Allen shovels food into his mouth. He notices Kanda's usual, disgusted glare, but doesn't slow at it.

When they're finished, which happens about the same time because Allen planned it that way, they walk out together. He has this strange, sudden urge to grip Kanda's hand in his own, but he doesn't dare. He wouldn't even hold Kanda's hand if they were alone – if they were having sex. It's unlike any urge he's gotten in the past – it isn't sexual and it isn't motivated by anything in particular. Just standing next to the exorcist brought it on.

He hasn't said anything to Kanda since that awful, awkward moment, so he starts with:

"How was your soba?"

Kanda sneers. Kanda is always sneering. "Fucking horrible. Goddamn cooks don't know how to make noodles?"

In his own way, Kanda is saying something along the lines of, 'I enjoyed them, but not as much as Jerry's.'

Allen giggles a little bit and it's so totally un-masculine that he finds himself blushing. "What are you, a fucking girl?" Kanda asks, again, sneering.

Allen really, really has half a mind to bring up the previous night, but he doesn't. He smiles his polite smile, the one that says 'Go fuck yourself,' and continues walking up the deck with Kanda. Miraculously, the boy follows him. He isn't sure of why, but he doesn't care in the slightest. So, together, they walk. It's peaceful and trusting and Allen adores it almost as much as he adores the sex they have. They get to the bow, and Allen presses himself against the railing, leaning over a bit. He closes his eyes against the cool breeze and lets it rustle his white hair. He feels rather amazing, in that moment; protected.

And there is no war. There's no Earl, no Noah. There is Kanda and himself and the breeze and the ocean. He doesn't mind the slow pace for the first time and instead relishes it, lives in that moment.

Then he feels a hand at his back and he knows it's Kanda's and he doesn't know what's happening and he's freaking out a little, because – Christ his heart is beating fast and the love in him is welling up immeasurably. Then he feels himself being pushed forward, over the railing.

At the last second, Kanda grips Allen's shirt and yanks him back on board.

"Don't let your guard down, Moyashi. Fuck, it's like teaching a child."

As if helping Kanda to prove his point, Allen sticks his tongue out. Then Kanda is pulling Allen to him, using that shock that runs through Allen's body as a moment to take control and pry his lips open with a rough tongue. There are people around them and Allen finds himself caring less and less as the milliseconds drag on. It really, really feels like a first kiss, and Allen is maybe sorta melting into it quite a bit.

Not in love, stupid. Not in it. No, I just love him. I just love him a lot. But I'm not in love with him.

Even he can't deny that it sounds like a – well, denial. But really, it's his mantras at work again, repeating themselves in his head until he truly believes it. But as his tongue moves and dances with Kanda's, groans melting into his hot mouth, he's becoming less and less convinced. And maybe he'd never really convinced himself in the first place.

Maybe all these convictions he claims to have are fake. No, there are no 'maybe's about it. Every single thing Allen's ever felt and said has been a total lie. To himself more than anyone else. He's been living that way. He's been using Mana's words to help him overpower situations and lie to himself. Because if he dwells on the truth it's too depressing.

But that's what he needs – that's what they both deserve, the truth. That's all anyone deserves. And if Kanda completely rejects him Allen will just have to live with that. He can and will deal with the fact that there will be no happy ending for them.

And he wonders, briefly, why. Why can't they be happy together? Why can't they be happy and cliché and stupid together? What's wrong with that? Because Kanda kissed him and he's kissing Kanda back with every ounce of himself. Every single thing he's ever felt or said or saw or heard he's giving to the beautiful man in front of him. His knees are weak and he's crying and there are all these things he wants to say – has to say.

How his feelings, over time, have grown into these monstrous black holes that have slowly and mindlessly eating him without his knowledge from the inside. How it hurts with all the things he feels. How he can't seem to breathe at all and how he just feels like Kanda never caught him and he was still falling off the boat and waiting for that inevitable crash with the water.

And he's completely forgotten about the woman – about Alma. They aren't important. Fuck them. Kanda is his and he's going to have his fucking happy ending no matter what anyone says. Fuck the Order, fuck the fucking world. There is this man attached to him right now and he isn't going to live in the shadow of doubt or fear or lies again.


So fucking mushy. Oh god. Teh love. Teh love! And so much wordier than I usually write...

But anyway. This totally isn't late because Shadow's theme is STILL GOING ON.

And if you think this starts in the middle of things, and you'd like to find out how they got this way in the first place, hold out until the theme of 'Touch.' ;D