Disclaimer: I own nothing in this very creative universe; it and its boys belong to Asano Atsuko (and will, next year, also belong to Kodansha).

Author's Note: Another one of my humble contributions to this fantastic universe; seriously, I am so damn excited that Kodansha is picking up No.6. Now I just have to wait ::pouts::. That's going to be hard.

In any case, this short little one-shot is the sequel to Simple Gratitude, and I hope you enjoy it just as much as its predecessors. I promised an online acquaintance a series of one-shots, so you'll definitely be seeing more from me, in addition to No More Farewells. Please enjoy!

Rating: T (for language; very mild otherwise)

Summary: Nezumi frets when Shion is late returning from work one boneachingly cold winter night…(Mid-Series. Drabble-y. One-Shot. SEQUEL to Simple Gratitude)

"Speech"

Personal Thoughts (Italics)

.:Delicious Warmth:.

By Sentimental Star

There were no clocks in the West Block. At least, none that Nezumi ever cared to spend his hard-earned gold on.

On nights like this, however, just once, he wished he had given in to the temptation to buy one.

Shion was late. Much later than he ever had been before.

Where the fuck is there even water to wash those mangy mutts in the first place? Most of the bloody river is frozen solid!

Not that the mechanical contraption would have done a bloody bit of good. Time wouldn't speed up just because Nezumi wanted it to. Nor would it rewind, for that matter. At least it would give him something to watch, rather than stare mindlessly at a blank wall or the closed door.

He started reading, in an attempt to whittle away the minutes until Shion arrived back from work. He lasted all of a half an hour before realizing that as riveting as Les Misérables was, it hardly matched the nervous dread tightening his stomach because Shion wasn't home yet .

He tried to ignore it, and continue reading, but soon realized he spent more time watching door than reading the words splayed across the page.

Within the hour, he came up with at least a dozen possible different scenarios about what might have happened and where Shion might have gone. At first, his thoughts were relatively mild:

Maybe he got waylaid by Rikiga, or stayed with Inukashi. It's fucking freezing outside, after all...

Thirty minutes later, his thoughts hit the calm side of panicked: Shit. What if he got mixed up with the Cleaners? What if the Hunt started early? What if-

Fifteen minutes after that, Nezumi all but charged out into the sleet and rain and wind in search of his wayward companion.

His fingers had just closed around the leather of his jacket when the latch of their door rattled. A moment later, a muffled pounding invaded the room:

"Nezumi...! Open the door—it's me!"

IOIOIOIOIOI

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Shion blew in on a gust of chill wind, shivering wildly despite his coat and trying to keep his hat on his head with one red hand, raw with cold. Nezumi slammed the door shut behind him and locked it, before whirling on his white-haired roommate with a hiss, " Shion -!"

Shion's teeth chattered, even as the searing heat of their underground room enveloped him. He clutched a white paper bag to his chest, "W-Work."

"Work ?" Nezumi snarled. "You stayed out this late because of work ?"

Shion scowled, gripping the bag with trembling fingers. "N-Nezumi...! W-Why is that a problem?"

"It's a frozen hellhole outside, Shion!"

Shion's scowl deepened, even as his teeth continued to chatter, "I-I didn't notice..."

"Of course not," Nezumi's voice was sharply sarcastic, "why would you? It's only fucking -1 degrees Centigrade outside, that's all, you delusional air—mmph!"

Apparently tired of his rant, Shion shoved something deliciously warm and wonderfully solid into his mouth, turning away and leaving Nezumi to cough and hack in utter startlement. "Ch-Chew your food, N-Nezumi," he returned pleasantly, in spite of the tremors still wracking his slender frame, and made his way towards their small space heater.

Once Nezumi recovered himself enough to take a proper bite of his unexpected muffle, flavor exploded on his tongue-rich and meaty and warm . It took him a moment to understand that it was a pork bun.

I haven't had one of these in fucking forever. How did Shion...?

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Shion must have stayed later to run errands or do some sort of additional work for Inukashi, in order to earn a few extra coins. With that extra money, he was able to purchase something considered nothing short of a delicacy during these winter months.

Shit, I don't even want to fucking know how much this cost him.

Extracting the pork bun from between his teeth and letting it warm his hands, Nezumi watched Shion with something between bewilderment and anger.

"Where the hell is yours?"

Shion didn't answer right away, shrugging gently and holding his hands up to the tiny stove, "That's for you, don't worry about me."

Nezumi hissed unhappily through his teeth and glared down at the hapless bun: "You fucking idiot…!"

Before Shion could even process his movement, Nezumi had grabbed his aching hand and roughly yanked him into his chest.

His collision with Nezumi's body expelled all the air from Shion's lungs and he sucked in a sharp breath, a little beyond stunned. As one of the other boy's arms clamped tightly around his lower back, Shion's eyes grew large.

"Nezumi-" he began.

Nezumi shoved half the pork bun into his mouth. Shion supposed the "Damn airhead," pressed to the skin of his neck could be considered a rather flustered and frustrated, 'Thank you,'

Owari (The End)