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devotedlywingedperfection · 5 months ago

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‘Burning Up Then Freezing Cold’

Fandom: Naruto (Naruto Shippuden)

Pairing: KakaIru

*this was planned for Feveruary, but we’ve been too busy, the medical accuracy should not be considered medical…, and please do note that this was created on short notice*

From: @devotedlywingedperfection and @runessss

The sharp ringing of the alarm clock ruptured Iruka’s peaceful sleep, the sound shrill and piercing to Iruka’s ears. Too many times had he heard the sound in his life, and it was about time he got sick of it.

Slowly raising himself out of bed, he sat up, running a hand through his hair, and looked around the room he had moved in 5 months ago. It felt like home by now.

The apartment they now shared together, that had originally belonged to Kakashi, was filled with traces of both men. Stacks of paperwork from Iruka’s students at the academy and Kakashi’s gear from his recent missions. Even with the clutter from a busy work week, it didn’t even look messy or out of place. It all felt normal.

Iruka slowly rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he glanced over at his sleeping boyfriend next to him. Kakashi, who had finished up a long and stressful mission the night before, was lying on his right side with his left arm draped over Iruka’s abdomen naturally. His resting face was peaceful and unbothered, serene.

Glancing at the clock that Iruka had originally woken up to, he realized that it was already 6 am. And to Iruka it occurred odd for Kakashi to not be awake even before him. Even at the early hours, Kakashi was up and about, training through sunrise and he rarely slept past the time Iruka usually woke up for school. It wasn’t something too unusual, considering that he often had trouble sleeping.

Thinking that he just needed more rest, Iruka gave Kakashi a light kiss on his cheek and climbed out of their shared bed. The hardwood floor felt cold under Iruka's feet as he shuffled to the bathroom. He shoved the sliding door to the left and headed straight for the sink, splashing his face with the cool water. The water dripped from his tanned face slowly into the sink as Iruka lifted his head, fully awake now.

Taking out a towel to dry the water off of his face, Iruka looked up and into the mirror at his reflection. Seeing the etched scar on his face, he sighed and leaned forward against the cool porcelain of the sink. With one hand he absentmindedly traced the scar on his face. He didn’t really remember how he got it, but it was most likely a kunai or shuriken accident when he was in his youth.

Iruka finished his morning routine and headed back to the bedroom to start getting ready for work. He made sure to walk quietly on the sometimes creaky wood floor so as to not wake a sleeping Kakashi. Quickly getting dressed in his usual Chunin uniform, Iruka’s eyes wandered to the side of the bed and latched onto the sleeping man, studying the features of Kakashi’s face.

Iruka did not think that he would ever get accustomed to seeing Kakashi without his mask. It had been a shock when he had decided to let Iruka see him without it one night over dinner. Trying to give him some privacy, Iruka had turned his head to look away, but at this Kakashi didn’t react well. He leaned forward and used one hand to redirect his face towards him and Iruka had let him do it. He still remember the intense stare that Kakashi gave him. And all that hand-touching and witty banter.

Smiling at the memory, Iruka left a kiss on Kakashi’s forehead and froze as a content sigh left the other man. He hated to leave for work without saying goodbye but Iruka was glad to know that he would have more time with the man he loved in the coming weeks.

Iruka stretched his arms above his head as he walked down the street towards the school district. After requesting some time off and getting approval, Iruka was eager to get home more and more each day as he looked forward to having Kakashi to himself over the break without work getting in the way of their time together.

—

Having a longer lunch break today, Iruka had decided to spend it with Kakashi after they had not had a chance to eat together in the past few weeks. With Iruka busy proctoring exams at the academy and Kakashi on back to back missions, they were both eager to have some alone time.

Iruka’s heart beat faster at the thought of finally being with his love again and what had been a leisurely stroll towards the apartment became a half-running half-skipping pace. He was anxious, in a good way, to finally talk to Kakashi about all of the important things that had happened in his life, since they had been separated for weeks.

Finally making it to the front door of their apartment, Iruka walked through the unlocked door and into the silent living room. A feeling of unease ran down Iruka’s spine as he slowly walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Something was not right. That’s what his gut feeling told him. It was too quiet.

He didn’t recall any missions Kakashi could have be on, since it was his ‘day off’. Maybe he went out, Iruka thought but as his eyes darted to the sort of foyer, he saw Kakashi sandals still neatly placed into the shoe shelf. A wave of insecurity hit him and he took out kunai, a way to be guarded.

After clearing the rest of the apartment, Iruka found Kakashi still asleep in their bed. The clock on his bedside table read after 12 pm. Ever since Iruka had known him, Kakashi had never been one to sleep in and definitely not till this late of an hour. And come to think of it, Kakashi never seemed to have been having a hard time waking up at his usual time. Until today, and this got Iruka all worried.

Walking towards the bed, Iruka sat down on the edge to get a good look at his partner to make sure he was alright. Iruka could already tell that there was something wrong with Kakashi. His usual pale skin had turned to a light but obvious shade of red that span across his forehead, cheeks, and neck. Beads of sweat glided down Kakashi’s face and dampened the pillow case that he laid still on. Iruka laid his hand on Kakashi’s forehead and he felt as his hand started to burn. He realized his guess was correct as he seemed to be running a high fever.

Iruka began to worry as he realized that he had left the other man alone and on his own all morning while he was not feeling well. It was improper of him and he started to regret his obliviousness. Iruka gently rested his hand on Kakashi’s shoulder and shook him awake. A quiet murmur left his lips as he was beginning to awake from the deep slumber he had been in all morning. His right eye slowly opened as his left eye stayed closed as it had not been covered overnight.

“Are you alright?” Iruka asked as he ran his hand along the side of Kakashi’s face in comfort. He could see that Kakashi was not feeling well even if he was trying to hide it.

“I am fine.” Kakashi whispered as he pressed his face into Iruka’s hand, the coldness easing his sweat-slicked, burning skin.

“You are not fine, darling.”, Iruka gently insisted, staring caringly into his lover’s eyes. “It’s past 12PM, you’ve been asleep for around 14 hours.”

Kakashi silently stared at his lover, not even being able to form words of acknowledgment or shock.

“I am going to go get you something to bring your fever down.” Iruka smiled and went into the connected bathroom to grab a bowl of cold water and a washcloth, until the rustle of sheets had him looking back into the bedroom.

Kakashi had swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, much to Iruka’s dismay. “Kakashi, don’t get up.”, he told his sick lover, but Kakashi brushed his suggestion off. “I’m fine, Iruka.”, he replied, getting up against the better suggestion.

The world spun in two different directions as he got up, and his body startled and wavered with the dizzy spell. He felt light-headed, and decided that it was better to sit back down instead of falling over. He grasped his disoriented head in pain at the sharp ache that clustered behind his eyes.

“You should not be out of bed right now, darling.” Iruka slowly rushed to Kakashi’s side, leaving the bucket of water and washcloth in the bathroom, and rubbed his back to make sure he was alright.

“I was just getting up to get a glass of water, that is all.” Kakashi smiled up at Iruka in reassurance that he was okay but the smile came out closer to a wince as the ground had not stopped spinning beneath him. A headache was starting to form, and Kakashi knew it.

“Stay in bed. I will get it for you.” Iruka cupped Kakashi’s face before heading towards the kitchen.

“Thank you.” Kakashi said after Iruka left the room and leaned back down onto his left side on the bed. If he had the energy, he would have used the duvet to cover his shivering body, but it would not let him move due to its exhaustion.

Iruka filled a glass cup with water and returned to the bedroom to see Kakashi laying still on top of the sheet, breathing shakily while he shivered. He seemed to be in blissful sleep, since he didn’t even reach to remove a few strands of his white hair from his face. Iruka settled the glass of water onto the nightstand, and with his free hands, he lifted the thick duvet and covered the sleeping form. The form stirred a bit and open his eye again, and his lovers name slowly slipped of his tongue in a tired whisper.

“Darling, just rest.”, Iruka whispered, tucking a few strands of hair behind Kakashi’s red ear, moving the hair covering his forehead, in order to kiss his forehead lightly. Kakashi murmured something Iruka couldn’t make out, while curling up underneath the blankets in what seemed to be a comfy cocoon. Smiling at how adorable he looked even when he was sick, Iruka made his way to the bathroom to grab the bucket of cold water and a washcloth.

Iruka placed the washcloth on Kakashi’s forehead to try to reduce his fever. Kakashi shivered, a sign his body was fighting the fever. The shivering of his body could be felt underneath Iruka’s warm gentle touch, and it was no surprise since Kakashi’s inner thermometer has always been broken, so his body couldn’t keep the temperature in check. He seemed to be having a dreamless sleep, as his usually tense face was eased into a peaceful expression. Iruka knew he couldn’t get good sleep often, and seeing him sick and also asleep without a disturbance made Iruka relieved for him.

Yet Iruka could not stop himself from worrying. In his two years of dating, Iruka had never seen Kakashi sick, not as sick as he was now. Kakashi could hardly stand and get out of bed, and it was right for Iruka to worry. He had never seen this state of him, even after Kakashi fell unconscious in his living room from blood loss.

He knew how to take care of someone with a cold or a fever, but Kakashi? He seemed to be showing a mix of many symptoms that he had never seen together before.

Deciding it was a good idea to take Kakashi’s temperature, Iruka walked back to the bathroom and hastily looked through a drawer's contents, before finding the ear thermometer. He went back to Kakashi and stuck the probe with the hygiene cover in his ear. The thermometer let out a little beep, and Iruka lifted it up to his eye level. His temperature was over 102 F/39 C degrees, this not surprising Iruka.

Iruka reached for the bowl of now-cold water on the bedside table and dampened the cloth before resting it back on Kakashi’s forehead. Without the use of any medication, this would be the quickest and most effective way to bring his fever down. It was an old Chinese remedy. Kakashi’s nose wrinkled slightly at the coolness from the cloth but he didn’t even stir, as Iruka gently set it on his hot forehead. Deciding that it was now best to wait for his recovery, Iruka leaned back and observed the other shinobi.

It had been a long time since Iruka had been in charge of caring for someone. Ever since the tragic passing of his parents, he was left with no one to care for as well as no one to care for him. However, even though he hated that the man he loved was sick, Iruka enjoyed having someone to look after.

Iruka had faint memories of his mother’s loving touch as she placed a cool washcloth on his forehead while he was sick with a fever during his years in the academy. He liked to think that he had gotten his caring nature from his mother and would pass that same care and comfort onto the man he loved.

Rustling sheets brought Iruka from his memories of his mother, to Kakashi who was starting to stir. Iruka would have liked it if Kakashi stayed asleep, since it was beneficial for his health. The wet cloth started to fall from his forehead, but Iruka grabbed it and gently put it into the bowl, squeezing the cloth in order to suck up more water.

Kakashi’s eyes started to open and tiredly glanced around the room before landing on Iruka. The smile that graced his lips felt reassuring to Iruka as he hoped that meant that the other man was feeling at least a touch better.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Iruka asked as he reached out for Kakashi’s hand. Intertwining their hands together, they sat comfortably facing one another as Kakashi cleared his throat.

“Like I have been sleeping for a week.” Kakashi said. Iruka let out a smile. “You wish, you’ve been asleep for around 30 minutes.”

Kakashi looked at him with disappointment, not at Iruka, but at himself. He wanted to reply something, but at that moment, he was thrown into a coughing fit, and tried sitting up in bed to be able to inhale more air.

Iruka, who stood up, rubbed Kakashi on the back and supported his weight with an arm around his waist. Iruka made sure that Kakashi would be able to hold himself up before dashing to the kitchen to retrieve another glass of water, in case one was needed. Returning to the bedroom where Kakashi was still attempting to take in air, Iruka made him finish off half the first glass before setting it on the bedside table next to the alarm clock and went back to his side.

The position had put them closer together and Iruka started to notice the slight tremble in Kakashi’s body. Iruka took out the thermometer, sticking it once again in Kakashi’s ear, and the thermometer gave him the same temperature. He didn’t get better, or worse.

“Are you cold?”asked Iruka, picking up the duvet from his side, while draping it over Kakashi's shivering body. Kakashi only nodded slightly.

Iruka rubbed his arms to attempt to gather some warmth but ultimately decided to raise the heat in the apartment, hoping that it would not bring up his fever.

After making sure that Kakashi was over his coughing fit, was resting against the headboard, and surrounded by pillows to keep him propped up, Iruka decided that it would be the best time to get some grading done for his students. Without much else he could do other than let Kakashi rest, Iruka grabbed one of the numerous stacks of papers from the kitchen table and brought it back with him into their bedroom

Iruka worked on grading the papers as Kakashi rested, falling in and out of restless sleep. The chills that racked Kakashi’s body kept him from fully staying asleep. However, all they could do now was let it run its course.

Before Iruka had even realized, an hour passed and he had only made it through half of the tests that he had given his students over the past few days. He rubbed the grogginess from his eyes and stood up to stretch his stiff body. Looking down at Kakashi, Iruka pulled the duvet up to his chin after it had fallen down to his chest and brushed silver hair from his forehead that was slick with sweat.

Even in his current state, Kakashi was still the most gorgeous man he had ever met. If he was awake, he would probably deny it but Iruka could not think of anybody else that he had ever loved and admired this much. Gazing at Kakashi, Iruka still had moments where he did not believe that he was finally able to be with the man he had been in love with for years.

Iruka took off the majority of his clothes, only keeping his pants on, and climbed into bed next to Kakashi. His chills had begun to subside and Iruka’s body heat along his were enough to keep the shakiness from returning. Even in his sleepy state, Kakashi wound his arms around Iruka’s waist and pulled him closer to crush their bodies together.

“My love.” Kakashi whispered as he nuzzled his nose into Iruka’s neck, begging for every piece that his love would give him.

Iruka smiled at the endearment and pressed a delicate kiss to silver hair. His arms squeezed tighter where they had rested on Kakashi’s shoulders and pulled them as close to each other as they could physically get. Laying there, both men could not help the wash of love and affection that blanketed them.

“Are you feeling better, darling?” Iruka asked. He was hoping that all of the techniques he had remembered his mother bestowing upon him had helped Kakashi get better.

“Yes. All thanks to you.” Kakashi kissed Iruka’s neck where his nose had been resting and relaxed his body weight onto Iruka.

Both Kakashi and Iruka had not realized how much they craved these moments together until reality got in the way and kept them from being together whenever possible.

Kakashi had become Iruka’s lifeline ever since the moment they met all those years ago.

Iruka had become the only person that Kakashi willingly let in and trusted with his emotions ever since the death of his sensei and teammates.

Kakashi and Iruka had become each other’s one and only and there was no doubt that they would fight any battle to stay that way for all of the years to come.

#naruto #naruto fandom #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #naruto shippuden #kakashi #hatake #iruka umino #umino #iruka #umino iruka #kakairu #kakashi x iruka #Kakairu fanfic #one-shot #fanfic #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #collab!

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roetrolls · 1 year ago

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(woagh! we did it again!! it's a collab between me and Chase @sasster! Look, there's a google doc!)

Appraisal

Emarra is still drunk on attention when he returns to his trailer, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill of a crowd. He expects Sylvie will follow him here soon enough, his little sprite always so eager for his praise after a successful show.

He’s already imagining what he’ll say to her, turning the words over in his mind as he busies himself removing his jacket and pushes past the beaded curtains into his home.

“Yumeno.”

He freezes. Now there’s a voice that will kill a mood.

Ever the performer. Emarra is quick to reel himself in, shocked expression melting into a smile tight enough to rival Faithful.

“General.”

An unscheduled visit from the Marauder rarely spells good news, but retiring for the morning to find the man waiting in your home? That’s a level of horror all its own.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks through gritted teeth.

Zerkev has already made himself comfortable–if such a word can even be used to describe such a straight-laced troll–in the seat by the window, gaze hard and stern.

“Sit.”

It is always cumbersome dealing with fuchsias that feel they can just walk into his home and tell him what to do. Resentment leaves a sick taste in the back of his mouth as he takes a seat opposite to the general.

“There’s no chance that what you’re here to talk about could have been a text message, I’m guessing.”

Zerkev’s expression tightens, not one for jokes on a good day, let alone on one where he is already beyond the threshold of having patience for the man.

“Why have you not found Mallum yet?”

Well, of course that’s what this is about. What else would The Marauder be making home visits for? There are so many ways Emarra can answer that question too, and they all flash in his mind one after the other.

Chiefly, he has been busy with his circus, and also it isn’t his job to play Pravus line babysitter.

Neither of these answers, however, would be met with the most pleasant of responses, so he swallows them down with the taste of resentment that now coats his throat.

“He’s in the company of professionals. You know that.”

“I was under the impression that you were a professional, Yumeno.”

“Gracious and the Roatus kid can’t find him either,” by the grace of God, he manages to swallow the indignance that tries so hard to claw its way out. “It’s going to take me some more time.”

“More time?”

Something snaps behind the general’s eye, perhaps his last thread of patience, something that somehow does not influence the rest of his expression.

Instead, Zerkev sits there stone-faced.

“Just a little patience, I’ll find him.”

“Mm,” comes the muted response. The seadweller stares a moment longer, gaze boring into Emarra with a scrutiny so intense he has to suppress the urge to shift in his seat. “Would you say you’ve been distracted from this task?”

Emarra all but scoffs at the accusation. Was he expected to put his entire life on hold until the kid was found? That’s a ridiculous idea, even for someone as work-focused as the Marauder.

“No,” he answers shortly, stopping himself before anything more insulting can tumble from his mouth.

Zerkev raises an eyebrow. “That so? I’d say otherwise, personally.”

He reaches into the jacket of his uniform to withdraw a phone. It’s almost comical how out of place the thing seems in his hand, but Emarra is in no mood for humor.

After a few seconds, Zerkev brandishes the screen, playing a short, looping clip of a shadow unfurling along someone’s wall.

The Ringleader feels a brief twinge of satisfaction as he makes note of the tiger-shaped nightlight by the bed, one corner of his mouth twitching as if to smile.

Then he squares his jaw, lifting a blank gaze back to his uninvited guest.

“What am I meant to be looking at here?”

The general cocks his head. “You tell me.”

“It’s a recording on your phone, why would I have that information?”

With a nod, Zerkev pockets the device once more and leans forward on his knees, fingers laced together. He pauses a moment, expression deceptively placid, before answering.

“I know you’ve more sense than to lie to my face.”

The statement, simple as it is, is easy to identify as a thinly veiled threat. Emarra, having worked with the general long enough to detect that threat a mile away, leans back into his chair as if trying to put some more distance between himself and the fuchsia. It takes some effort to conceal the panic working hard to bubble up through his chest, but he manages even then to keep his gaze level.

”Then you should know that I am not lying, to your face or otherwise.”

Zerkev purses his lips, and though his expression does not shift to betray him, he does possess the uncanny ability of letting his disappointment and irritation poison the atmosphere of the room without such dramatic shifts.

The Ringleader very briefly finds his thoughts drifting back to the other’s missing son. Yeah, I’d run away too if this guy raised and was looking for me, no question. Poor thing must’ve had an intolerable adolescence.

Locked in a terrible staring contest with his boss, Emarra then takes the opportunity to sift through a mental list of his choice in extracurricular activities up to this point. He risks being skinned alive if he admits how lax he has actually been about finding Mallum in the many perigees that have passed between now and his being given the assignment.

He risks a fate worse than that if he so much as breathes word about harassing that damn runaway of his own in the meantime.

Zerkev clears his throat, the time limit on his second chance at honesty clearly reaching its end.

“Are you telling me that you think every time something goes bump in the day that it will have something to do with me? Come on. Be real, Zerkev. I have a life, you know.”

A disappointed click of the tongue is his only response. Is he really tsk-ing him right now? Beneath his indignation, an invisible fist constricts around Emarra’s lungs, abated only slightly by the thin shred of hope that spawns in him as the seadweller rises to his feet.

Did that actually work?

Zerkev fiddles with his cufflink and hefts a weary sigh, staring ahead of himself as if lost in thought.

“Yumeno?”

For fuck’s sake, would he just go already? “Yes?”

Without warning, the Marauder’s hand shoots out to grasp Emarra by the hair, yanking him from his chair by the scalp. The motion wrenches a pitiful yelp from his lips, palms grasping at his assailant’s wrist in an effort to relieve the pain.

“I thought I told you not to lie to me, son.”

His voice, perfectly level, belies no hint of anger. He might as well be asking about the weather for all his tone suggests.

“Zerkev–”

The grip on his hair, already ironclad, grows tighter.

“General Pravus, sir,” Emarra corrects himself breathlessly, a nervous chuckle catching in his throat. It would be unwise to double down he thinks, but… Ah, screw it. He’s a carnie at heart. Honesty has never been his virtue. “I have a show to run. You really think I’m wasting my precious time on pointless games?”

Zerkev regards him carefully, lips pressed into a line. The silence hangs over them like lead, suffocating enough to prompt another anxious plea from the clown.

“You know how Maelia treats me! Why would I go looking for trouble under his nose?”

“Hm.” The general blinks slowly, fingers still wound tightly in the purpleblood’s hair. “I suppose you wouldn’t, would you?”

Emarra nods the best he can with his head practically glued to the man’s hand, eyes blown wide. “Exactly! I–”

“Yumeno.”

“Sir?” He swallows, choking down his pride with some hope of warding off the venom that lurks behind that stony expression.

“Did I tell you that was Drakon’s hive?”

Emarra’s stomach drops like a stone, the panic he’s been working so hard to suppress now lurching to the surface, plain as day on his face. Zerkev’s expression is unflinching, much like the tight and fearsome grip he maintains on the Ringleader’s hair.

A reply is hard to come by under that icy glare, but eventually the clown manages to find his voice.

“Wh-Why else would you be so upset?” he stammers, choking on his own desperation. “Everyone knows how you get about your privacy.”

The way Zerkev’s lip twitches, it’s clear that was not the answer he wanted.

“My livin’ with Drakon is public knowledge now, is it?” His tone, low before, turns downright dangerous. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ripped Emarra’s hair right out of his scalp.

Past the edges of his own hubris, the purpleblood can see that he is being given one final chance to come clean. As much as he hates the man, he can’t deny that the Marauder’s patience is astounding. Any other fish would have flown off the handle ages ago.

He swallows, fingers still clasped around the general’s assaulting wrist, and selects his next words with care.

“I made a mistake,” he says slowly, heart lodged in his throat.

“A mistake?” Zerkev echoes incredulously, almost amused at his audacity.

“A poor choice.”

“I’ll say. Unless you wanna tell me spyin’ on my home was a necessary part of the process?”

“I… I was just messing with the kid,” Emarra finally admits, voice small.

“Instead of lookin’ for mine.”

“Both! I was doing both! You couldn’t have expected me to drop my entire life for you!”

Zerkev exhales slowly, something between a growl and a sigh. It’s all the warning Emarra gets before the general throws his arm to fling him face-first into the wall, the ache in his scalp quickly replaced by a new searing pain and the scent of blood in his nose. He loses his footing in the toss and crumples to the floor in a heap, hissing quietly.

Before he has the chance to catch his bearings, the Ringleader feels a cold-toed boot upon his neck.

“I’d say I’m a reasonable man, Yumeno, wouldn’t you?” He grinds his shoe into the base of Emarra’s skull before easing up, not waiting for an answer. “So here’s what I think sounds reasonable.”

Still somewhat dazed, he can only grimace in response as Zerkev grabs him by the collar and hoists him to his feet to slam his back against the wall.

“You’re gonna get one warning. Keep that greasy nose out of my business. Leave my mate and his family alone. And find my goddamned son. Are we understood?”

Emarra squares his jaw and nods.

“Are we understood?”

His teeth are as good as dust with how hard he grits them. “Yes, sir.”

Zerkev regards him carefully, eyes flitting across his face as he, perhaps, tries to gauge the man’s sincerity. Emarra can’t help but bristle. Can’t he let him go already? What more does he fucking want?

The general frowns, evidently displeased by whatever attitude he can still detect on his underling’s face. The clown prickles under his scrutiny, for once facing down a type of attention he would sooner escape. Then, all at once, that attention is drawn elsewhere, to the small voice that sounds beyond the room’s beaded entrance.

“Emarra!”

Though Zerkev doesn’t release the purpleblood’s collar, his grip loosens considerably, just in time for Sylvie’s innocent, four-eyed face to push its way into the scene. Those eyes become saucers when they land on the Marauder, the woman’s delicate features overtaken by fear.

“General Pravus,” she squeaks, gaze darting between him and her ringmaster.

Zerkev nods in greeting, venom all but evaporated, and Emarra thanks the Messiahs for his sprite’s timely arrival.

“I-I, um…” She shoots him another anxious glance, hand unconsciously drifting toward her own nose as she spies the blood leaking from his. “I didn’t know you would have… company.”

“I was just leavin’,” the general answers, though he makes no move to do so.

Another silence descends on the trailer, with Zerkev’s pensive gaze now settled squarely on the mutant. Emarra can practically see the gears turning in his head, and he only wishes it could come as a surprise when the man opens his mouth again.

“I just got one more thing to square away ‘fore I go. Miss Selari, hon, would you mind steppin’ outside a minute? Won’t be long.”

Sylvie hesitates, again looking to the clown. With an agitated grimace, he sighs and gives her a nod. The sooner they can get this over with, the better.

His approval eases her enough to acquiesce, and soon enough she is padding back out on light and silent feet, the gentle rattle of beads all that announces her departure. The moment that faint click subsides, Zerkev’s attention is back on Emarra.

“She’s sweeter than you deserve.”

The Ringleader balks at him, the tameness of the insult somehow a bigger slap than his previous scathing reprimands. He doesn’t care what the bastard thinks of him, obviously, but it’s not the type of comment he expects during this kind of performance review.

“How long’s it been now? That you’ve had her?”

“This is what you’re hanging around to talk about?”

Evidently, the question was rhetorical, as Emarra’s non-answer glances ineffectually off the general’s chest. He finally releases him and steps away, at least, allowing the clown some room to breathe while he prepares to prattle on.

“Mallum’s always been a bright kid, you know. Wicked bright. Bit more self control and he’d be unstoppable.”

“Uh-huh,” the purpleblood responds, his irritation palpable.

“He had a hard time with schoolfeeding. Lacked discipline, always got distracted with other things. Ain’t his fault– We’re a species built on base impulse. Same reason we don’t rear our own young.”

What the fuck is he even talking about right now?

“Most trolls lack the ability to self-regulate. We found with Mallum… It sometimes helped to remove the distractions for him. He hated me for it, ‘course, but it did him good in the end.”

“I’ll remember that next time I decide to become a lusus,” Emarra deadpans, wiping the blood from his nose.

Zerkev locks eyes with him, placid expression once again turning grave.

“Yumeno. The next time you force me out here to remind you of your job, I’m taking Miss Selari back with me.”

#this guy is so fed up with his clowns #writing #guest star!#collab!#zerkev pravus #the marauder #oops i forgot sylvies here too #sylvie writing #zerkev writing

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