[fic;dsrk|dogs] like an animal in your care ; giovanni x raidou kuzunoha xiv

Title: like an animal in your care;
Fandom: DOGS: BULLETS & CARNAGE / SHIN MEGAME TENSEI: DEVIL SUMMONER
Character(s)/Pairing: Giovanni/Raidou Kuzunoha XIV.
Rating: G to R.
Feedback: yes please.
Disclaimer: none of the characters/sources are mine.
Notes: for yoite because I'm horrible and it's been eating away at me today.
Summary: a series of shitty drabbles. from 1am to noon. let's see what happens. game-verse. pwp. writing practice. too much excuses.


[ MORNING ¦ AM ]

[ 01:00 ¦ 1AM ] Focus is on wholeness of self and the banishing of any shadows.

It's not anything. He's not anybody just a shape in the dark in the shadow of the alleyway where the light of flickering streetlamps doesn't quite reach (a blind spot in the rolling retina of the city) but Raidou's head snaps up to attention anyway just a few heartbeats before he walks by the figure. A hand raised in a salute, a greeting, no harm intended, good intentions flowing out like bad smell from the sewers.

(empty hands doesn't necessarily mean innocent)

"What do you want?"

[ 02:00 ¦ 2AM ] Ridding partnerships or relationships of negativity.

The room is stark, bare, devoid of any furniture it's almost spartan as Raidou steps in and Giovanni shuts the door after him. The click of metal sliding into place electric up the spine, stinging needle when a hand find the curve of his shoulder. To get his mind off the fingers pressing hard against muscle and bone through clothing he focuses on what's there in the room. Counting a bed a chair a table a pillow a lamp, it's a play on singularity; there's no room for anyone else here. Some people would call it selfish, some might call it independent, but there's almost nothing in particular going through his head when the other turns him around with slight pressure of those fingers. Face to face now.

[ 03:00 ¦ 3AM ] Determination, especially in matters that seem to hold you back.

Catch of breath, teeth caught on lips against the taut muscle stretched between the ear and the throat curving brim murmuring against the skin there, a laugh that doesn't quite make it out past the hollow of the collarbone. He's stretched between the table and the wall with the other man's weight half on him the other half pulling back to run his hand down the front of his shirt and buttons pop open loud in the dark. Fingers in his hair, the hat knocked off tumbling onto the floor sometime during the struggle (almost like a fight but not quite; there's too much teeth and heat and skin sliding against each other). Amidst all this, he is somehow more concerned about his hair than the copper taste spreading in his mouth (gnawing, more teeth and tongue than lips, feels like he's going to bite them off, rip them right off). It's much in the same way the other's eyebrows furrowed into a vague frown (corners of his mouth turning down) as he slipped the jacket off and draped it neatly in the back of the chair. Tie next. Bed next.

[ 04:00 ¦ 4AM ] Improved luck or victory over a specific set of deterring circumstances.

By the time they make it to the bed, the situation is a lot better and a lot more worse than he thought (they thought) it would be. Even though he is thin he is heavy and he presses his hand against the centre of Raidou's chest and leans his weight down until the ribs strain and crackle air whoosing out with an audible rush but then Giovanni bends leans his head down and catches his wrist with his hand bony thin fingers wrapping around firmly and tightening. Knees and noses and teeth knocking against each other it's sloppy and messy and this really isn't what he'd have liked but somehow it's alright. Heat and air sucked into lungs wet slick flesh against each other they're generally good and all but mostly Giovanni likes the silence the best.

[ 05:00 ¦ 5AM ] Encouraging growth of the psychic self.

It hurts, it's good, it's uncomfortable, it's right, it's wrong, it's strange, it's hot and he's too close hands against hips against bare skin and then something else (breath choking words out of his throat) as the other presses in just right where it feels good this is wrong, he wants to say, it feels wrongrightwrongrightrightyesthereright

[ 06:00 ¦ 6AM ] Tenacity and perseverance, especially with something you have been putting off.

And silence. The springs creak as Giovanni pushes Raidou away and rolls to his side next to him on the bed. Slow, even breaths. That's good. Even is good. Just a moment earlier (even just two minutes earlier) it'd been unstable unsteady frantic but now it's nice and even and quiet and he can hear the other's breathing slowing down the heartbeat thudding from gallop to trot to walk. He can't see anything with the blinds drawn down all the way, and there's no light not with the moon outside like that a pale sliver-nail cut out with a knife. The whole room is wrapped in near darkness and the sun hasn't come up yet, the thin strip of sky he could see over the edge of the blinds are blackdarkgrey like the rest of everything. Giovanni a dark shape outlined against the lighter dark of the sheets.

[ 07:00 ¦ 7AM ] Hope, improved insight and perspective.

Birdsong.

Dim light.

Turning his head away.

It's warm.

[ 08:00 ¦ 8AM ] Personal change aimed toward the conscious mind.

Light. It's bright. That's what he thinks when he wakes up, opens his eyes. He's back in his own room. Slept in. It's bright.

He's late.

That's what he thinks. But it's not, because as he sits up the mattress dips in an odd way that definitely isn't the way he's used to in his own room and there's a hand that rolls, falls from his shoulder onto his lap with the sheets all bunched up that's very male and very alive and very not his own. Raidou stares down at it uncomprehendingly until the other shifts, blinks awake (yellow eyes in the dark, green in the half-light now; reminds him of something) and there he freezes.

His hand still on his thigh.

After a minute's silence, Raidou silently moves it away.

[ 09:00 ¦ 9AM ] Assistance for others, focusing on concrete matters.

Eggs on frying pan, Raidou realises that he'd been staring down at it for three whole minutes before he remembers to turn the heat down. Sunny side up. Bright yellow faces turned towards him. A pair of eyes floating against the dark of the pan. Yellow like Giovanni's eyes. He erases that thought from his head, turns to get the plates.

Ten minutes later, sitting at the table. Giovanni sits on the only chair, Raidou at the edge of the bed. The table is dragged over. They both avoid meeting each other's eyes, which is almost equally as strange for both of them. A tiny clink of fork-metal against plate-ceramic, Giovanni looks down at his plate. He likes his eggs scrambled, but he says nothing to the breakfast.Raidou stares, keeps his eyes fixed at eggs yellow like the other's eyes resting on the plate. Eyes on the plate. Watching.

"--So." Giovanni begins, stops himself, looks uncertain for all of two seconds. Raidou picks up the fork.

[ 10:00 ¦ 10AM ] Improving personal convictions and resolutions.

"What's your name?"

Pausing at the doorway. Hair neatly combed back, hat on his head. Usual clothes, usual hair, usual facial expression (as far as he could tell; his face feels somewhat numb) and Giovanni shrugs. Why did he ask? A spur of the moment. So unlike him. Wasn't like he needed to know. He had no reason to know. Hands in the air, much like last night (how they met -- but Giovanni doesn't stop to think further; dangerous territory). Should he say something? He isn't used to being stared at, not in a way like this. Giovanni smiles tightly across the threshold at Raidou, one handed grip on the doorknob making it creak.

(nevermind)

"Just go away."

[ 11:00 ¦ 11AM ] Energy directed toward transformations which may have seemed impossible.

Giovanni closes the door and leans his forehead againt the cool surface for a moment, smells the rust and the coldbitter tang of metal. Breathes in. What a stupid thing to do. So unlike him. He makes up his mind to move. Immediately. Find another drunk, kill him, blood on his shoes, blood on the keys. Messy. Breakfast is untouched, still there egg congealing white onto the plate. Brains. Eyes. Giovanni takes one look and picks the plates up, forks and all, and quick step threefourfive he opens the window and throws them out.

[ 12:00 ¦ 12PM ¦ NOON ] But remember, what I give I expect back ten-fold.

The doorbell rings. No, he doesn't have a doorbell. Knocking on the door. Hard knuckles rapping against the door rusted shut. Giovanni was- what? (sitting there staring at the rumpled unmade bed like it was going to come alive any moment and eat him whole all the stupid childhood nightmares coming back but he'd never had them, no. is this (ab)normal second childhood flashbacks bloodbonecrunchsmokeredwhite

black).

It's that person from last night. Giovanni opens the door. Their eyes meeting, then Giovanni's gaze slides down the length of the other's cape.

Yellow and white.

Eggs.

He opens his mouth.

"I like mine scrambled."