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Twenty Questions
Summary: A wafty D. Gray-man fic about Kanda and Allen in a game of twenty questions.
Lavi was the one who brought it up.
“Let’s play a game,” he said.
“No thanks,” Allen said, not even a second after Lavi had finished his inquiry.
“Why not?” Lavi had a puppy-dog look on his face, as if he had been grievously wounded by the quick words. He gripped his chest with his hands and looked pleadingly at Allen.
Allen looked away. “Because I don’t trust you.”
“When have my games ever harmed anyone?” Lavi coaxed.
Allen began to silently count the number of times he was put in a horrible situation by Lavi’s game. By the time he ran out of fingers, Lavi was already trying another tactic.
“Besides, it’ll be about Yuu this time.”
“Oh?” Allen perked up immediately, and a scheming look dawned on his face.
In the corner of the room, Kanda eyed them both suspiciously, but kept his tongue. He did, however, begin to polish Mugen in a pointed fashion.
“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Yuu’s—well—a human?”
“Eh?” Allen looked over at the corner in a not very nonchalant manner. “Not very often.”
Kanda scrubbed at his weapon harder, polishing the tip especially.
“That means he’s affected by human behavior! Which means, he might also like someone!”
“Ehhhh?” Allen was taken aback at this newfound realization.
“And that someone might even be in this very building.”
“Re-really?” Allen was scandalized. What sort of innocent person would Kanda prey upon? Did that person know? How could there be so many innocents in the world? Who was the victim?
“So! The game I propose is Twenty Questions!” Lavi had a brilliant smile on his face, like the sun was on the horizon and everything was right in the world. More specifically, everything was right in his world. “You ask Yuu twenty questions about who he likes! But if you don’t guess right within those questions, then you’ll have to play a punishment game. With me.”
A cold shiver ran down Allen’s spine.
“What happens if I win?”
“I guess that’s up to you and Yuu.” Lavi waved his hands around ambiguously.
“. . . If I win, Kanda has to treat me to dinner.” Allen had the evil look on his face, the one hidden behind the usual cheerful smile. Lavi suddenly thought the temperature had dropped dramatically, and shivered. He tried to look away from Allen.
“Oi, oi, try to be reasonable here . . . “
“It’s just dinner, Lavi.”
“I never agreed to this,” Kanda snapped, finally giving up on the pretense that he was polishing his weapon threateningly. He swung around Mugen, holding its tip towards the ground. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
But Allen only had a sinister smirk on his face, and walked out of the room, still chuckling to himself in eager anticipation.
“I’m sorry, Yuu.” Lavi lowered his cap so it shadowed his eyes, and patted Kanda’s shoulder sympathetic. “I . . . I didn’t mean to do this to you.”
Noticing Mugen was still unsheated and, indeed, drawing nearer to his throat, Lavi also took the opportunity to exit the room, stage left.
--
“Is it me?”
Kanda glared at the intruder of his meal. Allen had decided to the opportunity to seat himself across from Kanda. It was crushing to Kanda’s ego. Though he didn’t directly pride himself on being the scary person of the Black Order, he still enjoyed (not that he’d tell anyone) his reputation. That way he didn’t have to deal with annoying people.
Like Allen.
“That you like, I mean,” Allen quickly clarified. He chuckled and blushed and looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck in mock embarrassment. Or real embarrassment.
“No,” Kanda snapped. He buried himself back into his meal.
“Oh,” Allen said. He rubbed his chin, still eating. Kanda refused to look up again, and concentrated on eating as quickly as possible.
“Is it Lavi?” Allen asked cautiously.
“Never,” he managed to snarl.
“Oh. That’s good.” Allen sighed. “But this is going to be tougher than it looks.”
“Then don’t play.” Kanda looked up, expecting to see Allen looking hurt or whimsical or devastated at the suggestion, but instead was faced with a row of empty bowls.
He was gripped with a moment of fear that Allen had been forever lost in the bowls. That the tower of bowls would tumble and there would be no more Allen. His appetite really had been the end of him! And that thought hurt more than he thought it would, especially for such a ridiculous situation.
“Allen,” he said, a little too sharply and a little too concerned. He tried to shift over a stack of bowls to see the other side of the table. It was heavy to move, but he felt something like worry when all he could see was another stack of bowls. “Allen!”
“Yeah?” Allen appeared next to Kanda, already with three more bowls on his tray. Kanda felt a pulse of irritation, accompanied by some relief, before he turned around sharply and marched away.
“Ow! Kanda, your hair hit me in the face . . . “
--
“Do they have black hair?”
“No.”
“. . . Is it your twin sister?”
“. . . No.”
Kanda finally gave into temptation and raised an eyelid at the last question. But Allen remained oblivious, sitting on a rock near the waterfall, dangling his feet into the water. Then he closed his eyes again. It was stupid to be distracted. He had to train.
“Is it Lenalee?”
He felt another pulse of irritation. Did Allen presume that he would like men more than women? And why was the first option for a girl his theoretical sister?
“No.”
“Really? But Lenalee’s nice.” Kanda could feel Allen’s nostalgic beam, even when his eyelids still shut. “She buys food.”
So apparently the beansprout’s love for people depended on the amount of food they gave him. Kanda made a mental note never to give him any food.
“What do you think of Lenalee, then?”
Kanda finally opened his eyes again. The waterfall continued to crash onto his head, as per training. “Is that one of the questions?”
“It’s not a yes or no,” Allen said. He seemed highly attracted to a carp swimming near his feet. “Hey, look. I wonder if I can keep him as a pet.”
“You won’t be able to feed him.”
“I’ll name him Emergency Rations.”
Kanda shut his eyes again.
“Am I disturbing your training?” Allen asked, his voice full of concern. “I know you train everyday.”
“Yes,” Kanda said, in hopes that Allen would then wander away.
“Oh.”
A splash.
“Is the person you like blond?”
“No.” Kanda finally stood up and descended into the water. It was impossible to do meditation with his constant chattering. It would be better to just train his swordsmanship skills.
Allen offered him a towel.
He grudgingly took it.
“Does the person you like have pink hair?” Allen asked cautiously.
Kanda dried his hair. “No.”
--
“Do they like sweets?”
“No.”
“Do they keep their hair long?”
“No.”
“Can they play the zither?”
“No.”
--
Kanda woke up to the unpleasant sensation of someone hovering above him, breathing uneasily. It was clearly friend, not foe (or else they would have already been sliced to bits), and he supposed he had been too exhausted from training to notice their clumsy tiptoes across the room.
Well. He could always use the excuse that he was too drowsy to notice that they were a friend. He slowly reached for Mugen.
“Is it Timcampy?” Allen said in an anxious voice.
“. . . No.”
“Oh, good.” Allen collapsed on his bed. Kanda felt an even stronger pulse of irritation, but grudgingly allowed Allen to squirm next to him. Timcampy fluttered above him. Annoying little bug thing. Kanda gave the evil eye and it, with a squeak, fluttered towards Allen. Did that thing even have a gender?
“I couldn’t sleep a wink because of that,” Allen said mournfully. “It’s a good thing I won that game with Lavi. I got a copy of the key to your room with it.”
Kanda could always use the excuse of sleep-walking to kill Lavi. After all, it was most likely a form of self-defense. Lavi was simply dangerous to his overall health.
“Does the person enjoy long walks on beaches at sunset?”
“How would I know?”
“I do,” Allen chimed in helpfully. “Enjoy them, I mean.”
“Get out of my bed.”
“Your room is so dark. I think mine has a bigger window.”
“I don’t care.”
“But at least we have rooms.” Allen nodded to himself before he sat up abruptly and glanced around the room. “It’s nice to have a place to return to. There really isn’t a place like home.” That stupid kid’s smile almost brightened the room in the darkness.
Kanda turned away. “Hmph.”
“The person you like,” Allen said, “Do you push them away?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Was that his answer to everything?
“Why do you have a lotus in your room?”
“I don’t need to tell you.”
“You never tell me anything,” Allen said mournfully. Then he fiddled with his fingers a bit. “Kanda . . . it’s okay if you tell me things, too.”
Kanda decided to throw him a bone. “It’s important to me,” he said shortly. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Oh.”
It really was his answer to everything.
“A-ah . . . Can I stay here for a little longer . . . ?”
“No.”
He felt Allen’s form wiggle against him slightly. It was warm, and strange. But he was too tired to object—or he didn’t want to. Not that he was growing soft-hearted.
“It’s hard to be alone,” he heard Allen say. “Is the person you like . . alone?”
“No.”
“That’s good.” He felt Allen’s breath role over his neck. Timcampy had landed on his desk and was snuggled in for the night.
“Don’t go to sleep here,” Kanda said, but it was too late. He already heard faint snoring.
--
“Is the person you like a boy?”
“No.”
“Do they like elephants?”
“. . . No.”
“What about giraffes?”
“No.”
“Is it a square?”
--
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re like the rest of us.” Allen propped his chin on his knees. “I don’t mean that in a mean way. But you’re always so shut off.”
Kanda grunted.
Allen gave him a brilliant smile. “It’s okay to open up to other people, too.”
Kanda grunted again.
“Have you ever told the person you like . . . that you liked them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“But we’re friends.” Allen pleadingly looked at him, with the same defiant look that Kanda still remembered on the first mission they did together. He glared back, but it was a losing contest. He was forced to turn away. Those burning eyes that promised to save the world. He sometimes hated them.
“You don’t need to know,” he repeated, in a louder voice.
Allen looked at him curiously. “Are you afraid?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid about letting people into your life? Because,” Allen said, “You’re afraid they’ll leave?”
“I’m not so weak.” Kanda hated those eyes.
“I know.” Allen gave him that smile again. That happy smile, as if he hadn’t returned from an emotionally tiring mission, as if he wasn’t forced to watch people die, as if he still wasn’t questioning himself to go faster and be better.
“You still have five more questions,” Kanda said shortly.
Allen laughed. “So you like answering them, huh?”
“I don’t want to treat you.” Kanda looked to the distance. Nobody who had money in their pockets would want to treat Allen.
. “A-ah . . . “ Now the beansprout seemed to be taken aback. Was this a surprise? No, how could this be a surprise?
“Well? Ask.”
“. . . Is the person you like . . . Do they . . . like flowers . . . ?”
“No.” Kanda ticked off a finger. “Four.”
“Are they taller than you?”
“No.” Three.
“Kanda . . . “ Allen looked him in the eye with the same defiant look. “Would you be disappointed if I didn’t find out who you liked?”
“No,” he said shortly. “That counts as a question.” He then looked away. The other exorcists had already wandered away, leaving them alone in the court yard.
“You’re pushing me away,” Allen insisted. His eyes were so earnest. “Just trust me. Please.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Kanda.” Allen took his hand and held it close to his own chest. His eyes were large as they looked at Kanda’s face almost questioningly. But he knew the real message in those eyes.
Trust me.
“Is it me?”
There were so many answers.
No. He could just say no. End of the line. End of the questioning. Back to his world, his own room, his own lock, his own training. Didn’t need anybody else. Not that he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid.
He could just say no.
“. . . Yes.”
--
Kanda, for the next month, worked overtime to pay his debts.
- 8/15/08
Lavi was the one who brought it up.
“Let’s play a game,” he said.
“No thanks,” Allen said, not even a second after Lavi had finished his inquiry.
“Why not?” Lavi had a puppy-dog look on his face, as if he had been grievously wounded by the quick words. He gripped his chest with his hands and looked pleadingly at Allen.
Allen looked away. “Because I don’t trust you.”
“When have my games ever harmed anyone?” Lavi coaxed.
Allen began to silently count the number of times he was put in a horrible situation by Lavi’s game. By the time he ran out of fingers, Lavi was already trying another tactic.
“Besides, it’ll be about Yuu this time.”
“Oh?” Allen perked up immediately, and a scheming look dawned on his face.
In the corner of the room, Kanda eyed them both suspiciously, but kept his tongue. He did, however, begin to polish Mugen in a pointed fashion.
“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Yuu’s—well—a human?”
“Eh?” Allen looked over at the corner in a not very nonchalant manner. “Not very often.”
Kanda scrubbed at his weapon harder, polishing the tip especially.
“That means he’s affected by human behavior! Which means, he might also like someone!”
“Ehhhh?” Allen was taken aback at this newfound realization.
“And that someone might even be in this very building.”
“Re-really?” Allen was scandalized. What sort of innocent person would Kanda prey upon? Did that person know? How could there be so many innocents in the world? Who was the victim?
“So! The game I propose is Twenty Questions!” Lavi had a brilliant smile on his face, like the sun was on the horizon and everything was right in the world. More specifically, everything was right in his world. “You ask Yuu twenty questions about who he likes! But if you don’t guess right within those questions, then you’ll have to play a punishment game. With me.”
A cold shiver ran down Allen’s spine.
“What happens if I win?”
“I guess that’s up to you and Yuu.” Lavi waved his hands around ambiguously.
“. . . If I win, Kanda has to treat me to dinner.” Allen had the evil look on his face, the one hidden behind the usual cheerful smile. Lavi suddenly thought the temperature had dropped dramatically, and shivered. He tried to look away from Allen.
“Oi, oi, try to be reasonable here . . . “
“It’s just dinner, Lavi.”
“I never agreed to this,” Kanda snapped, finally giving up on the pretense that he was polishing his weapon threateningly. He swung around Mugen, holding its tip towards the ground. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
But Allen only had a sinister smirk on his face, and walked out of the room, still chuckling to himself in eager anticipation.
“I’m sorry, Yuu.” Lavi lowered his cap so it shadowed his eyes, and patted Kanda’s shoulder sympathetic. “I . . . I didn’t mean to do this to you.”
Noticing Mugen was still unsheated and, indeed, drawing nearer to his throat, Lavi also took the opportunity to exit the room, stage left.
--
“Is it me?”
Kanda glared at the intruder of his meal. Allen had decided to the opportunity to seat himself across from Kanda. It was crushing to Kanda’s ego. Though he didn’t directly pride himself on being the scary person of the Black Order, he still enjoyed (not that he’d tell anyone) his reputation. That way he didn’t have to deal with annoying people.
Like Allen.
“That you like, I mean,” Allen quickly clarified. He chuckled and blushed and looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck in mock embarrassment. Or real embarrassment.
“No,” Kanda snapped. He buried himself back into his meal.
“Oh,” Allen said. He rubbed his chin, still eating. Kanda refused to look up again, and concentrated on eating as quickly as possible.
“Is it Lavi?” Allen asked cautiously.
“Never,” he managed to snarl.
“Oh. That’s good.” Allen sighed. “But this is going to be tougher than it looks.”
“Then don’t play.” Kanda looked up, expecting to see Allen looking hurt or whimsical or devastated at the suggestion, but instead was faced with a row of empty bowls.
He was gripped with a moment of fear that Allen had been forever lost in the bowls. That the tower of bowls would tumble and there would be no more Allen. His appetite really had been the end of him! And that thought hurt more than he thought it would, especially for such a ridiculous situation.
“Allen,” he said, a little too sharply and a little too concerned. He tried to shift over a stack of bowls to see the other side of the table. It was heavy to move, but he felt something like worry when all he could see was another stack of bowls. “Allen!”
“Yeah?” Allen appeared next to Kanda, already with three more bowls on his tray. Kanda felt a pulse of irritation, accompanied by some relief, before he turned around sharply and marched away.
“Ow! Kanda, your hair hit me in the face . . . “
--
“Do they have black hair?”
“No.”
“. . . Is it your twin sister?”
“. . . No.”
Kanda finally gave into temptation and raised an eyelid at the last question. But Allen remained oblivious, sitting on a rock near the waterfall, dangling his feet into the water. Then he closed his eyes again. It was stupid to be distracted. He had to train.
“Is it Lenalee?”
He felt another pulse of irritation. Did Allen presume that he would like men more than women? And why was the first option for a girl his theoretical sister?
“No.”
“Really? But Lenalee’s nice.” Kanda could feel Allen’s nostalgic beam, even when his eyelids still shut. “She buys food.”
So apparently the beansprout’s love for people depended on the amount of food they gave him. Kanda made a mental note never to give him any food.
“What do you think of Lenalee, then?”
Kanda finally opened his eyes again. The waterfall continued to crash onto his head, as per training. “Is that one of the questions?”
“It’s not a yes or no,” Allen said. He seemed highly attracted to a carp swimming near his feet. “Hey, look. I wonder if I can keep him as a pet.”
“You won’t be able to feed him.”
“I’ll name him Emergency Rations.”
Kanda shut his eyes again.
“Am I disturbing your training?” Allen asked, his voice full of concern. “I know you train everyday.”
“Yes,” Kanda said, in hopes that Allen would then wander away.
“Oh.”
A splash.
“Is the person you like blond?”
“No.” Kanda finally stood up and descended into the water. It was impossible to do meditation with his constant chattering. It would be better to just train his swordsmanship skills.
Allen offered him a towel.
He grudgingly took it.
“Does the person you like have pink hair?” Allen asked cautiously.
Kanda dried his hair. “No.”
--
“Do they like sweets?”
“No.”
“Do they keep their hair long?”
“No.”
“Can they play the zither?”
“No.”
--
Kanda woke up to the unpleasant sensation of someone hovering above him, breathing uneasily. It was clearly friend, not foe (or else they would have already been sliced to bits), and he supposed he had been too exhausted from training to notice their clumsy tiptoes across the room.
Well. He could always use the excuse that he was too drowsy to notice that they were a friend. He slowly reached for Mugen.
“Is it Timcampy?” Allen said in an anxious voice.
“. . . No.”
“Oh, good.” Allen collapsed on his bed. Kanda felt an even stronger pulse of irritation, but grudgingly allowed Allen to squirm next to him. Timcampy fluttered above him. Annoying little bug thing. Kanda gave the evil eye and it, with a squeak, fluttered towards Allen. Did that thing even have a gender?
“I couldn’t sleep a wink because of that,” Allen said mournfully. “It’s a good thing I won that game with Lavi. I got a copy of the key to your room with it.”
Kanda could always use the excuse of sleep-walking to kill Lavi. After all, it was most likely a form of self-defense. Lavi was simply dangerous to his overall health.
“Does the person enjoy long walks on beaches at sunset?”
“How would I know?”
“I do,” Allen chimed in helpfully. “Enjoy them, I mean.”
“Get out of my bed.”
“Your room is so dark. I think mine has a bigger window.”
“I don’t care.”
“But at least we have rooms.” Allen nodded to himself before he sat up abruptly and glanced around the room. “It’s nice to have a place to return to. There really isn’t a place like home.” That stupid kid’s smile almost brightened the room in the darkness.
Kanda turned away. “Hmph.”
“The person you like,” Allen said, “Do you push them away?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Was that his answer to everything?
“Why do you have a lotus in your room?”
“I don’t need to tell you.”
“You never tell me anything,” Allen said mournfully. Then he fiddled with his fingers a bit. “Kanda . . . it’s okay if you tell me things, too.”
Kanda decided to throw him a bone. “It’s important to me,” he said shortly. “That’s all you need to know.”
“Oh.”
It really was his answer to everything.
“A-ah . . . Can I stay here for a little longer . . . ?”
“No.”
He felt Allen’s form wiggle against him slightly. It was warm, and strange. But he was too tired to object—or he didn’t want to. Not that he was growing soft-hearted.
“It’s hard to be alone,” he heard Allen say. “Is the person you like . . alone?”
“No.”
“That’s good.” He felt Allen’s breath role over his neck. Timcampy had landed on his desk and was snuggled in for the night.
“Don’t go to sleep here,” Kanda said, but it was too late. He already heard faint snoring.
--
“Is the person you like a boy?”
“No.”
“Do they like elephants?”
“. . . No.”
“What about giraffes?”
“No.”
“Is it a square?”
--
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re like the rest of us.” Allen propped his chin on his knees. “I don’t mean that in a mean way. But you’re always so shut off.”
Kanda grunted.
Allen gave him a brilliant smile. “It’s okay to open up to other people, too.”
Kanda grunted again.
“Have you ever told the person you like . . . that you liked them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“But we’re friends.” Allen pleadingly looked at him, with the same defiant look that Kanda still remembered on the first mission they did together. He glared back, but it was a losing contest. He was forced to turn away. Those burning eyes that promised to save the world. He sometimes hated them.
“You don’t need to know,” he repeated, in a louder voice.
Allen looked at him curiously. “Are you afraid?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid about letting people into your life? Because,” Allen said, “You’re afraid they’ll leave?”
“I’m not so weak.” Kanda hated those eyes.
“I know.” Allen gave him that smile again. That happy smile, as if he hadn’t returned from an emotionally tiring mission, as if he wasn’t forced to watch people die, as if he still wasn’t questioning himself to go faster and be better.
“You still have five more questions,” Kanda said shortly.
Allen laughed. “So you like answering them, huh?”
“I don’t want to treat you.” Kanda looked to the distance. Nobody who had money in their pockets would want to treat Allen.
. “A-ah . . . “ Now the beansprout seemed to be taken aback. Was this a surprise? No, how could this be a surprise?
“Well? Ask.”
“. . . Is the person you like . . . Do they . . . like flowers . . . ?”
“No.” Kanda ticked off a finger. “Four.”
“Are they taller than you?”
“No.” Three.
“Kanda . . . “ Allen looked him in the eye with the same defiant look. “Would you be disappointed if I didn’t find out who you liked?”
“No,” he said shortly. “That counts as a question.” He then looked away. The other exorcists had already wandered away, leaving them alone in the court yard.
“You’re pushing me away,” Allen insisted. His eyes were so earnest. “Just trust me. Please.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Kanda.” Allen took his hand and held it close to his own chest. His eyes were large as they looked at Kanda’s face almost questioningly. But he knew the real message in those eyes.
Trust me.
“Is it me?”
There were so many answers.
No. He could just say no. End of the line. End of the questioning. Back to his world, his own room, his own lock, his own training. Didn’t need anybody else. Not that he was afraid. He wasn’t afraid.
He could just say no.
“. . . Yes.”
--
Kanda, for the next month, worked overtime to pay his debts.
- 8/15/08