warmskies: (sassybird) (Russians do not operate on the)
Sawada Tsunayoshi || Vongola Decimo TYL ([personal profile] warmskies) wrote2022-06-14 11:10 am
Entry tags:

Cloud - Sleep Intimacy

Chikusa falls asleep anywhere, and sometimes that's a little bit of a problem. 

On one hand, Chrome thinks it might be something of an advantage, and she's a little bit envious. More than once, she's felt the need to find rest, but her body refuses from awkward positions, or too hard surfaces, or it's too hot or cold. By being able to fall asleep anywhere, Chikusa proves that he can truly make it as a criminal. She's not so lucky. 

On the other hand, sometimes she looks up towards the rafters in Kokuyo Land, and Chikusa is on the verge of falling straight off of a beam. 

Unsurprisingly, Mukuro doesn't seem to find it any sort of problem. If anything, he seems to find it hilarious whenever he comes across Chrome and follows her gaze as she stares blank and straight up towards a rather worrying position. "Fu fu fu... I wonder how many times he's nearly broken bones, now?" 

Chrome isn't sure if she wants to ask about how many bones he's actually broken. "He's still sleeping soundly," is all that she comments in the end. 

"Ah, but he's quite easy to wake, you know," Mukuro drawls, and steps up onto thin air. He walks without looking, bending reality around him once again until he's able to reach it to the corner that Chikusa has squeeze himself into. It's not even a proper beam of any sort;  it's just some sort of crown molding with ambition. Chrome doesn't know how he got up there. 

And she doesn't know how he stays asleep, either, with the way that Mukuro moves his hands underneath that far too thin body of his, pulling him into his arms even despite the fact that Chikusa bumps his head into the wall. 

She waits, patiently, for Mukuro to walk back down the stairs which disappear behind his feet with each step he takes, before she says anything. "He's still asleep." 

Mukuro glances down at him for that - not hard to do, with how much lank is in Chikusa's entire body and which has only really seemed to keep growing since they've settled in Japan for the while. He nearly folds into half, a perfect fee, even there in Mukuro's arms. "Hm," Mukuro hums, like he's marveling at some fascinating little thing, rain that's fallen against the windows and turned the rest of the world into a kaleidoscope. "I well suppose he has." 





She always finds Ken in the tightest squeezed spots imaginable and he's unconscious every single time. 

And there are a lot of small spaces to squeeze into, at a dilapidated place such as Kokuyo Land. There are holes in the walls from constant fights or just the decay of time, or piles of old furniture that have been shoved to the side. Once, when she's coming in from a visit from Namimori, she even manages to find him hidden away in a tangle of fallen trees and debris, not caring at all that he's covered in mud. 

Now, Chikusa cares very much, later on when he finally slucks inside, that he is covered in mud and bringing more mud over onto everything else, but that is a wholly separate problem. 

He manages to sleep well enough, when Chrome is just passing by. But one day, when she pauses just to peek down at him, his eyes suddenly snap open, and his lips are already parted over his teeth in the start of a snarl. She doesn't react, because one can't react every time that Ken snarls at them... and, anyway, he cuts it off, right in the middle. "Oh, it's just you," he sniffs, sinking back into the hole he's found for the day. "Ugh, go away! You woke me up, stupid!" 

Why he'd react that and not every other time, is something that Chrome doesn't wholly understand. Not until one day when she's watching Chikusa go through one of the more "accidentally open" hallways of Kokuyo Land, and there's Ken, tucked away in some of the resulting debris. It's far from an unusual sight... up until Chikusa, down the hall away from him, actually bothers to pause for a moment. Until he lets out a quiet sigh that seems to go through his whole body, and he reaches up, adjusting his glasses in their place. 

And that's when something strange happens. Chikusa actually makes an effort, turning away and going to the direct outside that's right there so that he circles around Ken's napping spot. It's only from the opposite side that he approaches Ken's hole, leaning down to briefly drop by some crispy snacks in their packets. 

When she asks him about it, Chikusa just stares at her blankly. She stares back at him, equally blankly. The silence lasts for a few moments, going neatly into minutes. 

Finally, Chikusa lets out a long and slow breath (different from his sighs, Chrome has noticed), and his gaze drifts elsewhere like seaweed on waves. "...It's the wind..." When she just keeps staring at him, Chikusa really does sigh this time. "If he can smell you and hear you... Then what's the problem?" 





Mukuro doesn't sleep. At the very least, he seems to prefer it very much if people don't believe he does. 

In the core of her, Chrome understands why. Months and months, memories of years spent in that miserable prison, able to only make an escape through the realm of mist and dreams... Why would he want anyone to ever look at him and be reminded even slightly of that time in his life? Why offer up such vulnerability that few people have ever earned, not even the boss? 

Chikusa and Ken have earned it, of course. 

Chrome learns of it when she finds Ken settled right outside of one door in particular, back to wood and his head threatening to bump into the knob as he plays on some game system she's never seen him before - stolen, probably. She learns of it when Chikusa is nowhere to be found in the entirety of Kokuyo Land, even in the rafters high up dozing off or fiddling with his various poisons in a place far away from where any of them can accidentally mess something up. 

She learns of it when she has something to give Mukuro, and reaches out with the gentle brush of mist against leaves. Mukuro-sama?

It was a long time ago when she first separated herself from Mukuro's illusions completely, made her own rolling fog that kept her safe and whole, an illusion in an illusion made real. Still, the connection the two of them have made between one another is a deep thing. Stronger than reality is on its own. She can feel the way his presence stirs, reacts. Mm, yes, my dear Chrome?

I have something for you. Do you want me to leave it with Ken?

There's a hum that isn't a hum, mindless thought that twists with no clear direction or voice. Food from the Sawadas, is it? I suppose I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth if they still haven't learned their lesson. Bring it in, then, or I imagine that Ken will devour the whole box without a bit of hesitation.

He says things like that, but Chrome thinks a part of him actually likes Nana Sawada. She knows he likes Tsuna, too, even though he snaps and bites at him, too proud to let himself be pulled into such a group. If nothing else, he likes the food they bring. 

That decides that, she supposes, and Chrome makes her way through Kokuyo Land while holding the large stack of bento there against her chest. Ken is there, as he always is, and he perks up at the smell of food. "Hey, what's that?" he says, eyeing it with more than a little bit of hunger. Chrome isn't sure this is noteworthy; Ken is always hungry. 

He can probably smell every grain of rice, too, and so Chrome doesn't bother to answer that question. Instead, she just tilts her head to the side. "Mukuro-sama said I could come in," she says matter of factly. 

Ken's expression wavers between grudging acceptance and some gluttonous envy. "You could leave all that junk out here, then, so you don't bug Mukuro-sama with it," he suggests. 

It is perhaps the most cleverness that Ken has ever tried to bother with in his whole life. It is just also, in trademark Ken fashion, incredibly obvious as to what he's angling for. "But Mukuro-sama said to bring it in with me." 

In Kokuyo Land, what Mukuro says is what happens. Chrome passes through the door, leaving behind a whining Ken. 

She doesn't know what this room was used for, once upon a time, when this was still a legitimate and proper place for entertaining families on lazy weekends. That's the case for a lot of places here. Not all of them can be obvious, like the bowling alley, or the theatre, or half-buried exhibits that once housed animals before a landslide washed over them all. It's just a room - not even the room Mukuro likes to keep all of his things in. But a simple plain little room that has had all of its old belongings moved out, leaving it bare except for three things: 

A couch, in better condition than most of the half-rotting furniture that claims Kokuyo Land as its home. Chikusa, sitting atop it, his long legs stretched out in front of him patiently. And Mukuro, laying across the couch, his head on Chikusa's lap. 

Chikusa doesn't seem particularly surprised to see her or the boxes she's carrying. Probably, he'd just heard her talking to Ken outside, but she can't discount the idea that maybe Mukuro told him about her dropping by.... even with Mukuro laying there, eyes closed and breathing slow. All Chikusa does is blink owlishly at her. "You can put it down wherever," he says. 

So she does, putting them on the floor to the end of the couch holding up Mukuro's feet. Probably, she could just leave, and that would be expected and accepted. 

Instead, right there on the opposite end of the couch and by Chikusa's feet, she settles down as well with her knees drawn up and her eye focused right ahead of her on the one entrance into the room. Even not looking back at Chikusa, she can feel the weight of his gaze right there on the back of her head. Even if he doesn't say anything, she can imagine what the question is. "Keeping watch," she tells him simply. 

Keeping watch like Ken does, the first line of defense right there outside the door, able to smell and hear things other people can't. 

Keeping watch like Chikusa does, Mukuro's most trusted right hand, able to make quick decisions on the fly and prioritize things without getting caught up in the details. 

Smooth assassins fingers, poison having long since sunk into the grooves of his fingers, slide into her hair fondly. "My dear Chrome," Mukuro says, in a voice that is Chikusa's, amused but undoubtedly fond. 

All she does is tilt her head into the touch and smile.