Wedding bells ain't going to chime, with both of us guilty of crime

[letsplaysurgeon.livejournal.com]

Who: letsplaysurgeon and deathsdoctor 
What: Katas, cigarettes and copious amounts of banter. Muraki alone on a roof at daybreak with someone he's deeply smitten with.
When: The morning after this, so backdated to the fifteenth of February.
Where: On the roof of CH2.
Summary: A fortuitous meeting when Muraki has an early morning nic-fit and heads to the roof for some smoke and fresh air.
Rating: PG-13 for now, but it's looking like it'll progress into an R rating later.
[Light was creeping through his window as faint as a phantom, and it didn't break the shadows apart as opposed to washing them in a grainy blue tint. This wasn’t nighttime, but it didn’t really qualify as morning, either: it was the hour in between where daylight was slowly being dragged from the dead. And he was awake to experience it. As a matter of fact, he was far more conscious than nature was at this moment.

He watches the world develop contours, bringing his bedroom into sharper focus. He stares at the same corner of his ceiling for ten minutes before deciding he didn't like the clash between the catatonic morning and his buzzing brain. He could get up, shuffle around his apartment and wait on his hands, or he could venture out into the world and watch it sleep.

When was the last time he had a cigarette? He puts on his shoes and coat and then leaves the apartment.

The decision to go up to the roof occurs to him after he acknowledges the familiar way downstairs and decides it wasn't worth the effort. Instead he treks up five flights of stairs and pushes open an unfamiliar door, met with a cold burst of February air before he even walks outside.]

Comments

[letsplaysurgeon.livejournal.com]

[It wouldn’t surprise him—he’d take it as one more thing you two had in common. Muraki collects beautiful broken people. The more dysfunctional, the deeper his affections ran.

But more than that, while you knew a part of him that many others were too naïve to see, you didn’t know what he believed to be artificial about his being. It was one thing to love him despite the obvious risks and another to love him knowing the entire picture. Things that he only expected Tsuzuki to understand.

He laughs again, warm and restrained. But not for the same things you find amusing. It was your next comment. He patronized it mentally at first, thinking how quaint it was that you offered to mend his wounds. Then he notices the undercurrent of hunger beneath his humor. Pain combined with comfort—the full spectrum of experience. You just hit a nerve, making his smile crooked with interest.]

I have no doubts that you could. [And that was all he was going to say to that, at the high risk of making—or egging on—occupational dirty talk.]

It’s a deal.

[Finally he reaches for your face, thumb grazing the corner of your lip as it moves over your cheek and lingers there for a moment.] ...I’ll be looking forward to it, Mr. Law. [And then he turns to leave.]

[deathsdoctor]

Till then...

[He considers inviting you to the Battledome beforehand - he has time booked there that day, and wonders momentarily if that would help get across a few things they need to cover before they ever get truly physical. But no. It's enough that you know he's a fighter - seeing it and the messy aftermath is a whole different matter.

He's not quite sure yet how you would handle it. Not the holographic blood and gore. That he's sure won't cause you to bat an eyelash. But him utterly off his leash, and pushing himself to his limits? That might put you off. They call people like him and Mister Strawhat and Mister Roronoa and Sanji monsters, and not only because they all savour their fights (and oh, the good ones? They're something else.) but because they all come across as utterly inhuman in the process with their power and skill. Levels of power that's difficult to process for some.

But then again, that's a side of him that one day you'll have to get to know. It's as much a part of him as is the Doctor.]

I'll see you at eight.

[Eight should allow you to get a meal in before you meet him.]