I don't own No. 6

Just some fluffy drabble to empty out my mind for a while.

The small underground room smothered in inky blackness every night. No windows allowed moonlight to filter in, and the flickering candles beside the lamp had been snuffed before bed. One wouldn't know that the morning sun had risen if a small mouse hadn't squeaked its alarm at daybreak. Nonetheless, in this perpetual darkness, Nezumi swore he could see Shion's snowy hair sharing the pillow next to his own. He felt the desperate urge to stroke it gently, like one might a cat. Rats shouldn't like cats, he thought absentmindedly, laying curled against the other body for warmth and, dare he admit it, comfort.

Shion hadn't been here for long, but the more time he spent in the naïve boy's company the more drawn to him he grew. Drawn to him. He had told Shion that a word such as drawn was a weighty, important word. One only to be used for a special, irreplaceable person in your life. Deep down, he knew it fit. At this point he couldn't imagine an empty bed every night, or coming home from work to an empty house instead of a smiling boy and a pot of over-seasoned soup for dinner.

Shion muttered something unintelligible and rolled over in Nezumi's arms to face him, slowly blinking awake. "Nezumi?" he called softly into the darkness, feeling a fluttering heartbeat against him instead of the slow, calm beat of a sleeping person. "Why are you awake?"

"I could ask you the same thing, your Majesty," Nezumi smirked. Before Shion could reply, his head was pulled forward and buried in the crook of Nezumi's shoulder and collarbone. He didn't resist, understanding that if the other wanted to cuddle, something must have been off. He intertwined his legs with longer ones, wrapping his arms tightly around Nezumi's waist, and attempted to look up.

"What's wrong?"

A heavy sigh escaped pale lips, which frightened the rat. He'd been going against his teachings all too often as of late. "Nothing that should concern a little prince such as yourself. Simply too many thoughts running around tonight."

Shion lay silently for a moment, before almost whispering. "You're worried, aren't you?" He pressed a hand to Nezumi's heart, memorizing the pulse beneath his fingertips. "But your heart is beating, and you feel warm. So what do you have to be anxious about?"

Nezumi had to admit that on several occasions he had discovered that a sleepy Shion could be much more eloquent than an alert one, but it unnerved him nevertheless. He continued to stroke the soft locks nuzzled against his chest and took a calming breath. "If I ever leave, don't listen to every philosophic voice that calls you." He could sense the confusion painting Shion's face with these words, and fully anticipated the reply.

"Where are you going, Nezumi?" his sentence was broken by a yawn, and the rat stroked his scarred cheek with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry. I don't want to leave this charming snake," he exhaled softly, pressing a light kiss to the top of smooth white hair. His actions were so uncharacteristically gentle, Shion hardly knew how to react. Instead, his arms tightened around the thin, muscular yet slightly malnourished waist and he looked up to press a chaste kiss to faintly chapped lips above him.

Nezumi's haunting voiced echoed words he remembered uttering all too well. "Was that a good night kiss?" He felt Shion shake his head against his chest.

"A promise. I won't leave you. You won't have to sleep alone in this bed, and you won't have to come home with no one to welcome you back. That's what you're worried about, right? Separation?"

Though it wasn't quite the mark, the point hit close enough. Nezumi made a noise of recognition in the back of his throat and rolled over, pulling Shion to lay on top of him. The weight and warmth were comfortable, and the albino didn't object. He took one last deep breath, feeling the emotional weight lifted off his chest. Emotions were too foreign of a concept. They couldn't be analyzed as easily as a story or a play when they wrestled around in the confines of his own mind, so he typically opted to ignore them rather than expend the energy to untangle them. But Shion made it easier to cope with.

"My little prince wouldn't leave me willingly, but if he doesn't exercise some caution he may break that noble promise."

Sheepishly, Shion turned to face the wall. "I'll see what I can do. I'm learning quickly as it is." Another yawn interrupted him, and Nezumi held the boy tighter. "I understand you so much better when you're not acting so emotionless," he murmured.

Nezumi cut him off promptly, out of habit if nothing else. "Time to sleep. You have to wash dogs in the morning." Before he could reply, Shion fell back to sleep soundly, using Nezumi as his pillow. He combed black hair back from his face with his fingers before pulling the shared blanket over both bodies, and slipping into his own sleep until the shrill squeaking woke him up.

Where no sun shone resided a tiny world of blankets and body heat, the one and only space where Nezumi dared let his carefully constructed fortress slip and his feelings to spill out. Only Shion would be there, non-judgmental with precise answers that nullified his weaknesses. He didn't have to worry about the light shining on his fragility of spirit to prove the existence of faults; he could pretend defenselessness was nothing more than a dream. Shion's small arms were tightly wound around him as his breathing evened out slowly, and Nezumi could only wish that the seemingly-eternal night truly would never end.