sativa: (DtB - Hei - Lounging)
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Title: Intermission
Written for: [ profile] 31_days -09.20.2009 theme: Appealing to Emotions I simply do not have
Pairing: Hei/Conrart
Fandom: Crossover: Darker than Black/Kyou Kara Maou (In the Shadows-verse)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 594
Warnings: Rife with retrospection.

Summary: Hei's watching Conrart as they wait for their sparring grounds to clear.

Authors Notes: Hei's voice is still a bit elusive, but I figure I need to start getting it back. Written fairly quickly for [ profile] 31_days and edited up a bit.


Hei leaned against the wall; his black clothing blended into the shadows and grey concrete as he watched Conrart clean his gun. They had paused momentarily during their nightly training session, waiting for the cops to clear out of the warehouse they had chosen to use as their hunting ground. Right after a raid was the best time to train as most were still hiding and the rest, well, sometimes they got caught in the crossfire.

Even so, sweat still coated his back, chilling him where damp cloth met cold concrete at his back. Hei kept his face emotionless as the chill spread through him in wave after near shivering wave. He wondered if Yin was watching them, watching him watch Conrart.

How many men would do as Conrart had done night after night without complaint? Hei wanted to know how far he could push Conrart before he broke. Would he be disappointed? If it wasn't for the softness in Conrart's eyes and the brief hesitation before taking aim, Hei would think Conrart too had shucked off all emotion, bargained it away for a Contract.

And he was only getting better.

Conrart's fingers slid along the nozzle of his gun, rubbing a soft cloth against it as he dried it, cleaned it. The gun was scarred, chipped as Conrart was forced to use its body time and again to knock Hei's throwing knifes out of the air. But the gun was well cared for, if not loved. Each dent worn smooth by the rhythmic caress of Conrart's hands, the diligent care he bent towards it.

Hei shifted slightly, pressing his back more fully against the wall, welcoming the chill of awareness it brought. He had taught Conrart well, both in choosing his battles and in understanding that a loaded gun could mean the difference between life or death. One's weapons meant everything when so little was known.

Blood gushed through Hei's body, warming it only briefly before all heat was leached out of his skin. Hei would never admit that he enjoyed these lessons and the absolute dedication that Conrart lent to their nightly activities. Contractors lost their humanity when forced to take a contract. It was a proven fact, one of the few.

Hei knew it well. How often had he watched Pai slumber, caressing her cheek and holding her close? She never cared to keep a tally of the dead. But still, she mourned the loss of the stars and the sky.

Hei flexed his fingers, pressing them into the black of his pants as he loosened their stiffness. He would need to teach Conrart how to handle cold, how to fight with numbed fingers that failed to grip or pull a trigger.

To admit he enjoyed Conrart's company and the near silent exchange of blows and half-muffled footsteps as Conrart fled to another hiding place was impossible. To admit that he was starting to take note of Conrart's hands as he fitted the pieces of his gun back together or that look in Conrart's eyes when he thought he managed to strike his opponent was irrational. To act on any of these was not in his nature.

Pai had long since left him, taking those needs away.

Hei shifted again, watching closely as Conrart filled the chamber with the first round, ready to spring away at the first shift of the gun in his direction. Why should he admit to anything, when he'd have to kill Conrart some day?


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