Title: Black
Rating: PG-13
Type: Angst
Challenge: #21: violence; pillage/plunder; extortion

A/N: Finally, this mayor hiccup is off the road. QQ; I was so dreading writing this, and took way too long on it. It could be better, but... eh. I want Hatori/Ayame FLUFF. XD I'm definitely bad at angst. Continues from 'Blue Remembrance'.

Warning: Spoilers!

Black

Hatori found it impossible to focus on the medical records of Momiji Sohma, even if the file lay organised in front of him, on the desk. It was a perfectly normal desk, well-lit and clean; the same desk as usual. There was no reason why Hatori wouldn't be able to focus on the tasks at hand.

Still, every sound in the hallway distracted him.

Every sound coming from the hallway could be Ayame's. Their God had summoned the Hebi to him, and Ayame was hardly in a place to refuse. Hatori knew what it would be about, as it was a rare thing for the hyperactive and overall annoying snake of the Zodiac to be allowed near Akito's presence. So anything worth standing Ayame's presence for had to be very severe in Akito's books.

Several times already had he confused the stumbling of Momiji for his cousin's loud, bouncing strides. The entire situation was incredibly annoying, especially since he was supposed to be angry at the man. Though right now, worry pervaded his system more than his anger.

Even in their childhood, the man had been impossible to stay angry with. Ayame had such a naïve, uncaring outlook on life that he didn't think it mattered, if people didn't like him. He was the one that decided if people could keep in his life, not the other way around.

What Ayame had done was unforgivable. Ayame seemed to know it too, as he didn't even have the courage to contact him as much as he usually did. Ayame had sent him an immense amount of text messages, and would sometimes even dare to call, only to hang up when Hatori finally picked up the phone. Caller ID was not resistant to people like Ayame. Some people called it obsessive; Hatori called it violent. Ayame was violent in everything concerning his life. It always had to be about Ayame, like he was the centre of everything.

The most excruciating part was that now, Hatori had fallen for it too. After all the years claiming he never would, never could be lured in by his insane cousin. He snorted as his eyes travelled to Shigure's file. They suited each other more than even he'd expected. The dog was probably laughing now.

He could still feel the lips brushing his own, warm and supple and almost desperate as the Hebi meshed their lips together. He remembered the way the moonlight shone from Ayame's pale, almost unhealthy skin. Hatori wished he didn't remember at all. The thought of it still made him queasy.

Still, his hand reached for the Ayame's medical records. Ayame's powers were certainly not stable, but they were definitely a danger, Hatori reasoned. He tried to shut down his personal thoughts completely as he skimmed the papers.

---

He hesitantly stepped inside, hanging his head in a desperate attempt to hide from Akito's ubiquitous eyes. Silently, he thanked his wonderful younger self for growing his hair out, as it hid his face perfectly from Akito's wrath. Now if Akito could just stop breathing angrily between her lips, everything could be forgotten and he could imagine himself back in the arms of a certain Ryuu.

"Ayame."

No such luck. He quickly kneeled, not wanting to upset the God more than he already had.

Akito's voice was icy, and Ayame flinched unwillingly. All his boisterous claims were forgotten as he practically felt the piercing eyes staring down at him. It was true that Ayame didn't care about what happened to him; what he could do to Yuki, or Hatori, was far worse. However, that did not take away the feeling he got whenever his God came close to him. Fear, agony.

He probably deserved it too, after what he'd done to Hatori. Ayame closed his eyes in shame, accepting his faith, whatever it might be.

"This." The surprising one word, where Ayame was expecting a tirade, made Ayame stare at Akito, and noticed he was holding a magazine. Undoubtedly one that featured him. Ayame closed his eyes as he felt a chill crawl over his spine. He had not expected them to leave Paris.

Akito took a few steps closer to his kneeling stance, staring down in disdain. "Perhaps I should cut off your little snake. Who knows… maybe it will like when you neuter a cat… He loses his energy, and will be content to just watch the other people play."

Ayame swallowed audibly in the silent room, Akito patiently awaiting Ayame's reply. After weighing his options, Ayame decided it was best to go for the path he was most familiar with. After all; he wasn't going to come unscathed out of this room, one way or the other.

"But Akito-sama!" He looked up at Akito with a wide grin, tilting his head as he attempted to wave the bad vibe of the room away. "I think I kind of need it, for the throes of passion and for basic hygiene as well! You cannot let me move without the staff of passion!" Ayame pretended to imagine the alternative, and shivered.

Ayame didn't know whether he liked the grin his behaviour elicited.

"Then perhaps your hair? Yes, your so-called beautiful hair… It makes you look like a goddamn female. Yes, I think it would be very satisfying, ridding you of your prized possession you struggled so hard to keep…"

Akito shuffled forward on bare feet, catching some silver strands in his grasp and tugged on it playfully. A smile played on the God's chapped lips, when she tasted the hair, licking a few of the strands. Then she bit down, and tugged. A yelp escaped Ayame's lips, but forced himself to remain still, his knees chafing into the wooden floor.

"I know my shampoo smells nice, honestly Akito-sama, but don't you find this a little bit excessive?" Ayame wondered vaguely whether he had a death wish. Then again, this sort of behaviour kept Akito away from him most of the times, and Ayame persisted in anything he put his mind to.

"If I touch you, I hurt Shigure. You're both despicable people, and don't think I don't notice how you manage to keep each other standing, through the insanity and humour. I hate it. I hate how you overlook me!" Akito shook her head, seemingly gathering her wits again. When she continued, her voice was icy. "I hate how you make Shigure overlook me." Akito watched Ayame's Adam's apple bob up and down at the decreasing space between their bodies.

"…And yet, you smell of the Dragon," Akito hissed.

The slaps that followed echoed through the room, reverberating against the walls.

---

Ayame slumped down for the second time in a few hours, but the platform he landed on was considerably kinder on his bruised ribs. He stared at a few short strands of his hair, thankfully hidden under the longer ones which Akito deemed unworthy of touching further, then stared at the friendly face of Shigure helping him out of his torn clothes and under the blankets.

Ayame was sure his hair would look a lot better without the blood clotting the strands. Thankfully, Shigure was always there to help him, this time a brush in hand. With a thankful, fatigued smile, Ayame thanked the man, and weakly grabbed at the brush. Shigure swatted his hand away, moving the brush to Ayame's hair himself. "I can't take you to the bathroom yet… this is the safest room for you to be in right now."

Ayame nodded weakly, staring at the floor as the soothing strokes weaved through his hair, letting the calming sound calm him.

"You were beat up by a girl, Aya… how does it feel?" Shigure smirked at his friend, poking his nose jokingly.

Ayame snorted. Count on Shigure to see the humour in a situation like this. He never was one for spoiling Shigure's entertainment, and smiled as well as his bruises would allow. "Sore, but are you implying that females cannot be strong as well? In fact, I hold nothing but respect for the female population, as they are made to undergo excruciating pain in the throes of labour – although I doubt Akito will ever do that – and are forced to bear the pain of raising an undoubtedly energetic and tiresome child! I would almost go so far as to declare myself proud to be beaten up by a female!"

Shigure grinned. "Ayame, please do not mention labour and Akito in the same sentence ever again." Ayame's laugh was croaked, and Shigure became silent, placing some wet towels against Ayame's bruises.

Shigure was the first to break the unnatural silence between the two. When he spoke, the Inu sounded, amazingly enough, more serious. "Ayame, don't become like Haa-san."

"I won't, Gure-san… I can't stand the cold, remember?" Ayame asked, a sad smile playing on his lips.

"So, will you please be worried about Akito from now on? I can't protect you forever, you know. Clashing loyalties and all that."

"No, Gure-san!" Ayame smiled brightly, assuring Shigure that there was nothing wrong. Shigure wasn't fooled, and Ayame knew it.

"Shall I keep you warm?" Shigure grinned lopsidedly, and Ayame couldn't help but make sound a 'tsk tsk'. "Honestly, Gure-san, allowing my scent to rub off on you to make Akito envious. How very… you."

"But Ayame, you know you're my friend and I would do anything for you!" Shigure didn't even pretend to be innocent of the accusation.

"It's a good thing I'm no more a nice person than you are."

Shigure's grin increased when his friend's light frame cuddled against him. If only Ayame could see that he was not a bad person.

---

The door closed. The room was cold.

The steps that echoed into the room were loud for the Hebi's ears, which had gotten used to the silence of the room. Since Shigure had left, he had not expected anymore visitors.

Especially not from the doctor.

"Hatori…" Ayame breathed, not entirely from the pain wracking his body. As the room had gotten colder, the pain had nestled in his muscles.

Hatori cursed under his breath at Ayame's state, shivering and panting under some ragged blankets. "Ayame, are you alright?" Though it seemed a stupid question, Hatori could not find a better question.

"This is an untimely check-up, isn't it?" Hatori clearly remembered that he promised to see the Hebi only for a check up. The doctor sighed and shook his head. "You could've known your trip to Paris would end in failure, Aya. I wish you were slightly more careful. You know Akito wants the family to remain as much out of the spotlight as possible."

"Akito doesn't care about me, Tori-san." Hatori knew it was true; Akito cared only about the influence Ayame still had on the members of the family who did matter to Akito.

Hatori was shaken from his thoughts when Ayame's shoulders started trembling, and muffled chokes came from the hands that were trying to cover his face. Oh God… how long had he been in here? He'd come as soon as Shigure subtly let him know of 'snakes in the basement', but had been too wrapped up in his thoughts to actually notice the meaning behind the words. "Be quiet, Aya. I don't want to anger Akito any more. Let's just…"

"Please don't, Tori-san. I'm… I'm sorry."

"I know."

The silence that filled the room was just as uncomfortable as the sight of the cuts that decorated the Hebi's chest and face. Silently thanking Akito for not being more interested in doing more harm, Hatori wisely kept silent as he began treating the injuries.