A/N: Long time no see, loves. My first D-Gray Man fic, so please don't be too harsh. I will get back to my other fics shortly. Working full time has its downsides. Less time on here. More fiction is being posted at my LJ, but that is friends-locked. If you express interest, PM me. Thank you!

Recommended listening: Love Song Requiem - Trading Yesterday

First Time

Oneshot

The first time they had slept in the same bed, it was on a mission, an odd number of months after they had first met.

The mission was only them alone, as Lavi had to travel with Bookman for some research and Lenalee was under Komui's guard and she had her own little mission to deal with. Somehow, Allen wasn't comfortable with the mission, especially because he had with Kanda of all people, and even though he knew that it shouldn't be wasted by arguing, he found himself fighting with the other exorcist quite a bit throughout the first day, Honestly, couldn't Kanda remember that his name was Allen and not 'beansprout'? Seriously? Their lodgings turned out to be another one of the hut ordeals, namely with the usual problem that really annoyed Allen off to no end and, he was sure, Kanda as well.

One bed.

Through what seemed like hours of verbal fighting over whoever was to get the bed – since, apparently, Allen was too cursed and not man enough to share the bed with Kanda – Allen eventually gave up and decided to spend the night on the floor. Kanda looked pleased with that and, being a total prick in Allen's opinion, took one of the two blankets – namely the longer one – and laid down to sleep. Allen curled up on the floor, muttering something about the long-haired Japanese male having womanly issues. Some of which he didn't dare even whisper, for the hidden fear that, yes, Kanda would have his head for those thoughts, especially if they turned out to be true. Allen didn't want to test it.

The British boy drew himself into a small ball under the too-small blanket and his exorcist coat and attempted to stop shivering. Of course, the hut had to be someplace where it was cold. Bloody perfect, in Allen's – now sarcastic – opinion. He tried thinking otherwise, perhaps of a warm fire or the hot sun, but nothing worked. He heard a few creaks come from the bed and figured it was just Kanda turning over in his sleep or something. The silver-haired boy let out a shuddering breath and he felt as if he were sleeping already. His body wasn't on the cold, harsh ground anymore and he was floating in the air, convinced subconsciously that, yes, he was dreaming. Yes, this was what sleeping felt like. The cold was replaced with warmth and he forgot about the harsh floor as he was met with something as extremely soft and firm, causing his drowsy mind to think of what he could possibly be lying on before sleep overtook him.

When he woke up, however, he was still warm and the first thing he noticed was that the ground was no longer hard as stone, but soft, like a pile of firm pillows. The next thing he noticed was that he was facing outward and seeing the ground below him, so he knew he was elevated. It took him a few sleep seconds to realize he was on the bed and bloody hell, he was warm and there was something breathing behind him. Allen cautiously glanced over and his mouth nearly dropped at the sight of Kanda – Kanda, of all people! – asleep behind him, his straight-cut bangs falling over his closed eyes. And Allen was – oh, was he seriously – curled against the elder exorcist, his small back pressing against Kanda's broad chest, the warmth radiating from the shared body heat.

Allen turned away and blushed. How the bleeding hell had he gotten into the bed!? Without Kanda slicing him in two?! How was he alive?! He had just survived the impossible, hadn't he?

Allen was grateful to God that Kanda didn't stir when he got up and snuck away to take a cold shower... only then to curse to the same God that the place they were in didn't have proper plumbing and thus no shower was to be had. Well, damn.

The first time they had kissed, it had happened in a corridor without any true intent or reason behind the actions. The wall was like a gigantic ice cube against Allen's back when Kanda pushed him up against it, but the discomfort vanished when that other body pressed against his. Again, without reason. Lips descended after a choice insult and Allen couldn't reply well with the firm pressure against his mouth, cutting off any complaints he had. Or he would've had, had he not already had some underlying feelings already.

Allen learned quickly that Kanda was forward, blunt, and more to the point, rough. Those lips on his were pressed to a bruising degree, but the younger male found himself caring little about that as he turned his head and responded to Kanda, opening his mouth when probed and allowing that slick muscle to enter and take it all. He sparred with the elder exorcist, groaning at the friction between them and making a slightly startled noise when Kanda bit down on his tongue almost – dare he say it? – playfully, which was more stimulating than it was harmful, Allen noted.

He felt his hands twitch uselessly in Kanda's vice-like grip, keeping him pinned between the samurai and the wall. Allen let out a small moan when Kanda searched him, tongue gliding over tongue, over teeth, across gums and places that caused the British boy to shiver. And when Kanda pulled back, Allen opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and looked into the darker ones before him. There was a split second when he thought he saw something in those orbs and when he blinked it was gone; he was set on looking for it again, but that mission was cut short when he met those lips again and went through the roller-coaster of emotions again, feeling need and want and just from that kiss, he knew Kanda wanted something just as badly.

In the aftermath of the kiss, Kanda turned away without a word, stalking back down the corridor by himself, and Allen wondered what had stopped them.

The first time they had sex, it was after the Ark incident and Allen had been stressed to the point of nearly snapping before he had been taken in arms that prevented him from being broken like a twig.

Link was watching him all the time, forcing paperwork over him, and repeatedly asking about the piano piece and Allen's connection to the Noahs. Everyone was treating him different, even Lavi, who had promised Allen that he'd never see him in a different light and despite it all, that single green eye always was so bloody skeptical when it rested on him. Yes, everyone was treating him differently, save for Kanda, who hadn't changed, much to Allen's relief.

Which was why Allen found himself on the path to said exorcist's room. Link was behind him, calling him back, insisting that there was more to be done and this was the first time Allen turned around and yelled at him, telling him to bugger off because he really didn't need Link's job over his head at the moment. Didn't anyone consider him Allen Walker anymore!? Needless to say, Link hadn't gotten the point and continued following Allen, coming up with random excuses to drag him back. There was a point in which Link grabbed Allen by the arm, eyes insistent, and the young exorcist had almost thrown the other man over his shoulder in frustration had a certain sword not revealed itself and placed its tip in Link's face.

Allen looked up to see Kanda and let out a sigh of relief, backing up against his comrade and away from Link, who had released his arm. Despite the death threat and the promise of pain just from having Mugen in his face, Link continued to protest that he had to watch Allen at all times. Kanda had made a disapproving sound and turned on his heel, dragging Allen with him, back to the his room. When Link followed and ended up trying enter the samurai's room, he was met with a glare that was worse than anything Kanda had pulled before. This one promised more pain than the very fire of Hell should the Vatican dog even think of entering the Japanese male's room. And then the door had been shut without a word.

Kanda had looked him over, commenting on his scuffed attire. "You look like shit."

Allen remembered replying, "I know."

There had been a silence between them; an understanding silence, much like the times when Kanda listened to Allen before and his only reply had been a pat on the head before leaving in comfortable solace.

Allen remembered how he had told Kanda how afraid he was of it all – the Fourteenth, Mana and his memories, the position he was in – and how uncertain he was on his promise to keep walking forward, for more than just his sake. Allen remembered not getting an answer for that. Not a verbal one, at least.

Fingers hooked under his chin and forced his head up, getting those tired, grey eyes to look into darker ones, ones that conveyed more than Allen thought possible. He remembered the fingers changing into a hand on his cheek, tracing his scarred eye. He remembered lips falling on his.

He remembered submitting to that comfort. Lips stroked his, tongue touched tongue and there was an awakening fire inside Allen that he knew was nothing of the Fourteenth's doing, but his own. These were his feelings, his emotions, his want, his need. These feelings belonged to no one else but the being that was Allen Walker.

The heat that had cleansed him that night was a cold fire to his scars that refused to heal. Lips traced over his left eye with a gentleness unexpected and a hand unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the long scar caused by his own sword. Calloused hands traced that long scar, from his right shoulder down to his left hip with a flitting touch. Lips replaced hands and Allen remembered feeling a heat that he'd never known existed, rippling in his arms, his legs, pooling in his chest and sliding down to his nether regions.

The heat intensified when Kanda was pressed flushed against him, skin on skin, everything lying bare between them; no secrets because there were no answers for no questions asked. The hourglass across from the bed reflected them, their movements, their rhythm caught in a mirror that did not reflect back upon the world, but rather that absorbed the perfect image and held it in secret. A lone petal slipped to fall from the top of the time-turner and slide down to the smooth glass as Kanda moved with Allen in time. The only sounds were moans bitten back by teeth or cut off by rough kisses that were eagerly replied to as the rhythm sped up and teeth sunk themselves into a pale shoulder, evicting a cry that changed into the other's name and there were no insults this time, just the throes of pleasure and distraction and the whispered names between them.

Allen remembered crying out to Kanda at the end, clutching at him as if he were the last thing he was going to hold in the material world. Both breathless, both panting with flushed faces, there was a shared kiss and then foreheads pressed against each other as one another attempted to get their breathing under control. There was another kiss and Allen leaned against the steadily dying warmth that was the sweat-glistened body of Yuu Kanda and shut his eyes, knowing that for once, tension had been lifted from his shoulders.

And for those moments they had been together, he didn't have to shoulder the burden on his own.