Togaochi 8/9
Other chapters
Gratuity in this chapter: gratuitous General Cross, gratuitous fish, gratuitous completely unimportant OCs
Title: “咎落ち Togaochi”
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Characters: Cross/Komui, mention of Tyki/Komui, Linali, and Allen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: gratuitous gratuity, implied sex
Word Count: 870 (wow, that's about chapters 1-7 put together)
Disclaimer: D.Gray-man not mine.
Sitting in a box in a dirty alley with rusty chucks of scrap metal careful salvaged from the garbage, the last person former Supervisor Lee had expected to see was General Cross. The general was missing both his coat and his hat and smelled faintly of fish entrails.
Komui blinked up at him stupidly. Cross looked like a man who had just heard the key hit a door while in bed with a woman with a wedding ring. He seemed to decide against bolting and lit a cigarette. Komui continued to stare dumbly.
Cross breathed out close-in to his face, causing him to break into a fit of coughing. It reminded him of Tyki. Maybe they smoked the same brand. It smelled the same, but he didn’t know cigarettes well enough to know. Komui kissed him.
The general didn’t act surprised or disgusted. He stood back and lit another cigarette. The smoke mostly but not completely masked the aroma of fish.
“I heard about Headquarters.”
It wasn’t a great, unexpected statement. How could there be anyone who hadn’t heard? It wasn’t even an accusation--why were you not there; how are you alive? Regardless of anything, Cross wasn’t one to be that horribly, horribly hypocritical.
“I heard… later. General…”
“Getting all official. You’re not thinking I’m going to rally the Order.”
“I don’t.” Komui sounded pathetic, whimpering, weak. He hated that; he was strong, he had to be strong. “I would not presume to give you orders, General. You understand the change of circumstances, but you were never closely involved in organization hierarchy, so your specific mission and methods should be affected minimally.”
Cross tossed a pocket handkerchief at him. “Cry,” he ordered. “Then come back to my hotel room with me and tell me everything you know.”
Komui looked at the handkerchief like an alien object and slowly smudged rust dirt around his fingers with it. Cross put an arm over his shoulder and led him through the streets.
They were called to by numerous moneylenders and even more prostitutes, all of whom Cross pushed off masterfully. A few blocks later they were stopped by two prostitutes who called Cross “General.”
“Anya. Miriam,” he greeted them without a trace of a leer.
“We handled every one that revealed itself, but escaped the harbor explosion, sir.”
“Good. When my idiot apprentice gets back, I’ll send him to the harbor repair crew.”
As he led him away, Cross whispered to him. “Natural Accommodators, thrown out by their families. Being a Gypsy and a Jew, they never trusted the Order enough to go to it. I’m brining them to Cloud Nine.”
Komui nodded listlessly. Cross tightened his grip. He was not going to cry, even if he was having trouble forcing himself into his cold scientist mode. He just needed a moment. Linali being taken hadn’t broken him; neither would this. He just needed a moment, then he would move to action.
“Linali… means more to me than the rest of the human race.”
“That would have always made you a dangerous liability to the Order.”
“I can hide the truth of my feelings in ways other than melodrama.”
“You’re not saying this as a prelude to saying you’re the traitor.”
“Linali is.”
The general didn’t look surprised and he wondered how much earlier he had worked that out. Stray strands of red hair tickled his cheek. Cross didn’t say “That’s obviously why you’re still alive” because it was, well, obvious.
They reached Cross’ hotel and the older man pushed him gently down on the bed. He took off his glasses and slowly carded his fingers though his face. Komui was surprised to find his face wet. “I’m a traitor. If I were an Exorcist, I’d be Togaochi.”
“You’re less of a traitor than you could have been.” Cross’ body against him was solid and real and the other man kissed his wet cheek.
Komui found himself sobbing with little choking gasps and tried to curl up into a ball. The General’s arm was over his waist, moving around to touch his stomach, thigh, arm, chest, keeping him from succeeding at tensing up.
His sobs finally quieted and he stuck his wet face in the blankets, but was pulled back by his hair before he could smother himself. He buried his face in Cross’ neck. He felt the ghostly sensation of what the glasses he wasn’t wearing would have felt like pressing into his face.
Cross leaned down and kissed him with a tenderness that completely contradicted his famous disposition. “Didn’t you think were this nice…”
“I’m not nice. I give people what they need. You don’t need to be told to shape up by me; you need to break down, then you can put yourself together properly.”
Cross kissed him again, not passionately, but with clear, firm announcement of his intentions. Komui reached up to bury his hands in long red hair. He wanted to drown in him; Cross had been right, again.
Cross’ hands were unbuttoning and removing their clothes with the confidence of someone who had done this many times. He was being treated like something fragile. Komui surrendered and gave himself over to the general of his Order.
Gratuity in this chapter: gratuitous General Cross, gratuitous fish, gratuitous completely unimportant OCs
Title: “咎落ち Togaochi”
Fandom: D.Gray-man
Characters: Cross/Komui, mention of Tyki/Komui, Linali, and Allen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: gratuitous gratuity, implied sex
Word Count: 870 (wow, that's about chapters 1-7 put together)
Disclaimer: D.Gray-man not mine.
Sitting in a box in a dirty alley with rusty chucks of scrap metal careful salvaged from the garbage, the last person former Supervisor Lee had expected to see was General Cross. The general was missing both his coat and his hat and smelled faintly of fish entrails.
Komui blinked up at him stupidly. Cross looked like a man who had just heard the key hit a door while in bed with a woman with a wedding ring. He seemed to decide against bolting and lit a cigarette. Komui continued to stare dumbly.
Cross breathed out close-in to his face, causing him to break into a fit of coughing. It reminded him of Tyki. Maybe they smoked the same brand. It smelled the same, but he didn’t know cigarettes well enough to know. Komui kissed him.
The general didn’t act surprised or disgusted. He stood back and lit another cigarette. The smoke mostly but not completely masked the aroma of fish.
“I heard about Headquarters.”
It wasn’t a great, unexpected statement. How could there be anyone who hadn’t heard? It wasn’t even an accusation--why were you not there; how are you alive? Regardless of anything, Cross wasn’t one to be that horribly, horribly hypocritical.
“I heard… later. General…”
“Getting all official. You’re not thinking I’m going to rally the Order.”
“I don’t.” Komui sounded pathetic, whimpering, weak. He hated that; he was strong, he had to be strong. “I would not presume to give you orders, General. You understand the change of circumstances, but you were never closely involved in organization hierarchy, so your specific mission and methods should be affected minimally.”
Cross tossed a pocket handkerchief at him. “Cry,” he ordered. “Then come back to my hotel room with me and tell me everything you know.”
Komui looked at the handkerchief like an alien object and slowly smudged rust dirt around his fingers with it. Cross put an arm over his shoulder and led him through the streets.
They were called to by numerous moneylenders and even more prostitutes, all of whom Cross pushed off masterfully. A few blocks later they were stopped by two prostitutes who called Cross “General.”
“Anya. Miriam,” he greeted them without a trace of a leer.
“We handled every one that revealed itself, but escaped the harbor explosion, sir.”
“Good. When my idiot apprentice gets back, I’ll send him to the harbor repair crew.”
As he led him away, Cross whispered to him. “Natural Accommodators, thrown out by their families. Being a Gypsy and a Jew, they never trusted the Order enough to go to it. I’m brining them to Cloud Nine.”
Komui nodded listlessly. Cross tightened his grip. He was not going to cry, even if he was having trouble forcing himself into his cold scientist mode. He just needed a moment. Linali being taken hadn’t broken him; neither would this. He just needed a moment, then he would move to action.
“Linali… means more to me than the rest of the human race.”
“That would have always made you a dangerous liability to the Order.”
“I can hide the truth of my feelings in ways other than melodrama.”
“You’re not saying this as a prelude to saying you’re the traitor.”
“Linali is.”
The general didn’t look surprised and he wondered how much earlier he had worked that out. Stray strands of red hair tickled his cheek. Cross didn’t say “That’s obviously why you’re still alive” because it was, well, obvious.
They reached Cross’ hotel and the older man pushed him gently down on the bed. He took off his glasses and slowly carded his fingers though his face. Komui was surprised to find his face wet. “I’m a traitor. If I were an Exorcist, I’d be Togaochi.”
“You’re less of a traitor than you could have been.” Cross’ body against him was solid and real and the other man kissed his wet cheek.
Komui found himself sobbing with little choking gasps and tried to curl up into a ball. The General’s arm was over his waist, moving around to touch his stomach, thigh, arm, chest, keeping him from succeeding at tensing up.
His sobs finally quieted and he stuck his wet face in the blankets, but was pulled back by his hair before he could smother himself. He buried his face in Cross’ neck. He felt the ghostly sensation of what the glasses he wasn’t wearing would have felt like pressing into his face.
Cross leaned down and kissed him with a tenderness that completely contradicted his famous disposition. “Didn’t you think were this nice…”
“I’m not nice. I give people what they need. You don’t need to be told to shape up by me; you need to break down, then you can put yourself together properly.”
Cross kissed him again, not passionately, but with clear, firm announcement of his intentions. Komui reached up to bury his hands in long red hair. He wanted to drown in him; Cross had been right, again.
Cross’ hands were unbuttoning and removing their clothes with the confidence of someone who had done this many times. He was being treated like something fragile. Komui surrendered and gave himself over to the general of his Order.