|This ain't Thermopylae High (lady_ganesh) wrote,|
@ 2010-08-30 19:01:00
The last of the fics, prompt 'oral fixation.' Weiss Kreuz, Nagi/Mamoru, contains my terrible sense of humor. Thanks to lindentreeisle for betaing.
Nagi's mouth tasted like a rotten slice of bread, and his head felt like it'd been trampled on by a herd of cows.
"You awake?" a voice asked softly. Male, familiar.
Mamoru. What was he doing in--
This wasn't his bedroom. This wasn't his apartment. "What--"
Mamoru's eyes widened as the windows rattled. "Calm down," he said. There was a hint of shake in his voice. "What do you remember?"
Nothing, Nagi wanted to snap, but he searched his memory instead, putting his hands up to his temples in an attempt to ease the throbbing. There'd been some kind of glitzy reception last night; someone in the Diet celebrating something that wasn't really important. The real purpose had been for Mamoru to talk to the Defense Minister, which he'd done, and then....
Then things got fuzzy. The last clear memory he had was of taking Mamoru by the arm and telling him it was time to leave, now.
"Oh," he said.
"I think it was Rohypnol, maybe," Mamoru said. "You said you were okay, so I just kept checking your pulse."
There was a memory in the haze of Mamoru's fingers on his wrist, soft pressure. He might've asked Mamoru to fuck off. He might've asked Mamoru to fuck him. That part was pretty unclear. "Did I--"
"You were fine," Mamoru said, which was reassuring even though it meant nothing at all. "You going to be okay if I leave you for a second? I want to check around."
"I'm okay," Nagi said. "Don't get killed."
"Got it," Mamoru answered, and slipped out the door.
Nagi took the lack of screaming that followed to be a good sign and closed his eyes.
When he woke up again, the cows had quieted down some. There was something cool on his forehead; a washcloth. Mamoru had apparently stuffed it with ice. Nagi reached up and held it in place with his fingers to sit up.
Mamoru was sitting in one of the bedside chairs, reading. Nagi squinted and the cover resolved itself into a John Grisham novel.
"Why are you doing that to yourself?"
Mamoru shrugged. "It was in the hallway." Mamoru had taken his jacket off and loosened his tie; his pants and shirt were still on. Nagi heard a crunch; Mamoru was chewing something. Nagi's stomach reminded him he hadn't had anything to eat since the night before, and he hadn't even gotten any of those fancy snacks before the room started spinning.
"You got any more of that?"
Mamoru looked confused for a moment, then apologetic. "It's ice," he said. "You hungry?"
"I don't know," Nagi said. "Think so."
"You okay to leave?"
He needed to piss and his head still felt awful. "Give me a minute," he said. He got up, and the room didn't spin; good sign.
"Okay," Mamoru said, scooping another chunk of ice out of a plastic cup he had resting on the heater and popping it into his mouth. "It looked all right in the hallway."
Nagi walked carefully around the bed. One of the bedside lamps-- it looked like it'd been an ugly combination of metal and glass-- had shattered. There were tiny bits of sparkly things in the cheap carpet, and the wastebasket was full of wires and broken metal. "I do that?"
"Yeah," Mamoru said, turning a page and crunching more ice. "You were pretty out of it for a while." If it wasn’t for the ice, you couldn’t have told anything had happened at all.
Nagi fought down the desire to push Mamoru onto the bed and break that annoying fake calm. Maybe give him something better to stick in his mouth. "At least it was just a lamp."
Mamoru nodded at his book.
The room shimmered a bit and Nagi rested his hand on the wall for balance. "I think I want a shower first," Nagi said.
"Okay," Mamoru said.
The world mostly straightened out in the shower. The water pressure sucked, but it was hot, and while it felt weird getting back into last night's clothes, at least he'd gotten the worst of the night washed away. He hoped he hadn't said anything stupid.
There wasn't a toothbrush, of course, but he washed his mouth out the best he could in the sink. There was a trace of blood around the drain. He checked his mouth, just in case, and then found the bloodied cloth in the wastebasket. His heart was pounding as he opened the door. Mamoru looked up for a moment from his book, and Nagi watched his eyes widen.
"Tell me," he demanded, and Mamoru shook his head.
"I hurt you. Tell me."
Mamoru shrugged. "It's not bad. You were-- out of it. It's--"
"I need to know. Tell me."
Mamoru put his book down-- Nagi noted with dark amusement he'd kept his place-- and carefully took his jacket off. Nagi could see the area over his shoulder where he'd bled through the fabric. "It was the lamp," he said. "You shoved me back, and I hit it. Not hard, it just hit wrong. It's all scratches. Didn't even need a Band-Aid most places." He glanced over his shoulder at Nagi and read his face, then sighed and pulled his shirt over his head so Nagi could look.
Mamoru'd been right; it was all scratches, though a few were deep and thick with dried blood. "You need to tell me about this," Nagi reprimanded, tracing his fingers over the one that looked the worst.
"For the next time you get drugged?"
"I need to know," Nagi said. "It's important. I...." He couldn't finish.
"All right," Mamoru conceded. "I'm sorry. Can I put my shirt back on?"
"Yeah," Nagi said, and turned his attention back to the room. "Let's get out of here."
Mamoru was gnawing on the knuckle of his middle finger. Nagi'd never seen him do it before. Usually it was a pen, or ice, or something a little less...physical. It was distracting.
"Will you knock it off?" he finally growled, earning a satisfying jump from Mamoru.
"Sorry," he said, looking down at his hand like it was a new, alien thing.
So okay, they'd been stuck in the basement of the safehouse for three hours, but it wasn't like they hadn't done this stuff before. Hadn't stupid Weiss worked in a basement? This should've been Mamoru's happy place. "Just calm down," he said.
"I don't like being the target," Mamoru said, and checked the darts in his jacket for the thousandth time.
"You picked the wrong line of work."
Mamoru stood up. "I didn't pick any of this." He checked the monitors. "I would've taken all this down by now," he said. "What are they doing?"
"It's possible they're even stupider than--" Nagi chose not to say Weiss. "--we would've thought."
"Or they've got another plan," Mamoru said, leaning in. "Or they've hacked the monitors."
It's what I would've done, Nagi thought. "Who handles this security?"
"Someone Grandfather hired," Mamoru said, leaning down to take his laptop out of his briefcase. "I don't know anything about them."
"Great." Nagi sat down next to the monitors. "That's reassuring."
Mamoru opened his laptop and tapped impatiently on the case while he waited for it to wake up. "I'm not here to make you feel better."
"Likewise," Nagi snapped, watching the screen. There it was-- the slight jerk of the video looping itself. "There," he said, reaching out and tapping the glass. "How long do you think it's been looping?"
"Too long," Mamoru said, but he seemed relieved. He stood up and snapped the case shut. "Let's get out of here."
"Maybe they're waiting for that," Nagi said, but he got up too. Anything was better than waiting around.
Mamoru already had his laptop put away again. He had a dart stuck between his lips, an action so stupid Nagi couldn't be bothered to comment on it. But having a purpose had calmed him, though it clearly hadn't reduced his oral fixation. "Don't kill them unless you have to," he muttered through his clenched teeth.
Mamoru pulled the dart free for a moment. "Let them think they have a chance," he said. "They won't bring as much firepower next time."
“Fine,” Nagi said. It made sense, for once. “Don’t prick yourself with that.”
Mamoru looked confused for a moment, then remembered the dart. "I've been resistant since I was ten," he said. "You think they're down here?"
"I would be."
Mamoru nodded and gestured at the door. He caught Nagi’s eye for a second, and Nagi realized he was sucking, deliberately, on the tip of the dart.
Nagi froze, feeling a little like a fish whose lip had just caught on the hook. Mamoru swallowed, rather deliberately, and Nagi turned away. Fine, he thought, swinging the door slowly open. Let's see how good you really are with that mouth of yours.