[Log] A Steady Hand (1 of 2) Who: Balfour Vallet, Kamizuki Izumo When: September 11th Where: The Domus What: Balfour goes to the Domus and has a bad experience. Izumo steps in to rescue him. (Part one of two) Warnings: TRIGGER WARNINGS: sexual assault, murder, talk of abuse Open/Closed: Closed Observable: Yes
Balfour had decided to head back to the club that he met up with Izumo in, having decided to investigate the place more thoroughly. He was dressed in a flattering blue button-up and black slacks, hands tucked into the pockets as he sidled around the dancing crowd, intent on hitting the bar and maybe getting a Screaming Orgasm.
Someone else clearly had other ideas, as he was tugged over toward the wall by a familiar looking woman with long, red curls. She was wearing a skimpy black dress that was showing too much cleavage for his taste, but he said nothing, only smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Perhaps she wanted to dance? Balfour didn't have the heart to disappoint a woman at the moment, so he tilted his head and asked her if that was the case.
The redhead laughed, the harsh sound in his ear giving him chills in all the wrong ways.
"Oh, no, darling," she drawled, running a hand down his front. "I had other things in mind for us..."
With that, she turned them around, shoving Balfour against the wall despite the fact that he had tried to brush her off, her lips going to his neck, hand sliding down his pants as she whispered meaningless, soothing words to him.
"Get off!" He growled, shoving at her again. She laughed and surged forward.
"Don't worry your pretty little head, blue eyes. I'm gonna make you feel good!"
That was the last thing Balfour wanted. He was trying to fight her off, but disturbingly enough, she was stronger than him and had somehow kept him from crying out.
He was terrified as she opened his pants, paralyzed where he stood against the wall, eyes clenched shut, trembling horribly. There was nothing he could do.
Izumo had been having quite the night of it: he'd already hit his drink limit and he was chatting up a pretty nervous new brunette. She was getting more comfortable, and while Izumo doubted he would bed her tonight he was making a good foundation for it later. He was having fun anyway, and he'd won enough in the pool games to pay for his drinks entirely. For three weeks.
"Hey Izumo!"
He turned as his name was called, saw Megs with her blonde hair and white bunny ears. The ears were real, the blonde was not. "Hey Megs!"
"I saw your friend Balfour," Megs said, concern on her face. "That slutty redhead Tanika was pawing at him."
"Thanks. Megs, this is April, she's new. Help her feel at home, okay?" Izumo grinned despite the sudden worry. "Thanks. Sorry, honey, I gotta go."
Megs pointed and Izumo went.
He didn't see Balfour at first, but he knew better than to ignore the shadowy alcoves. People used them for trysts and getting frisky.
Izumo spotted the readhead and what she was doing to Balfour.
His reaction was instantaneous, the hard flare of anger biting through him. Two steps was all it took, and he wrenched the woman away by a double handful of hair. He flung her aside, against the wall, sidestepping to be between her and her victim. She screamed, he clamped a ruthless hand over her mouth and drew his tanto.
"Filthy raping bitch,," he hissed, and stabbed her low in the gut, blade grating over her pelvis. She screamed and bit his palm. Izumo twisted the blade, and in a jagged pull gutted her like a fish.
Hot blood poured over his hand as Izumo casually pulled his tanto out, reversed it and hit her in the throat with the butt of the grip, effectively crushing her voice box. No more screams as she choked, fought as her intestines spilled out over their feet, the scent of blood and feces and death rising thick.
Balfour was glad to feel the hands and mouth on him disappear, though he didn't have the courage to open his eyes. He just sank to the ground and slid his arms over his head, shaking like a leaf and unable to hear anything past the roaring in his ears. It took him a couple minutes to stand, closing his shirt as best as he could and zipping his pants before ducking his head and raising his shoulders to duck through the crowd. He felt sick and wanted nothing more but to break down and cry, but he couldn't afford to here. He had to get out of the club, get away from all of the women, away from what had just happened.
Most of all, he wanted Izumo. He didn't try to find him, though. It was best he didn't know
Balfour didn't know that Izumo already knew.
Izumo heard Balfour go, and quickly wiped his tanto clean before sheathing it again. He left the corpse still twitching and kicking in the alcove. He adjusted his henge to hide the blood as he turned and went after Balfour. He didn't need to be alone in the press of the club right now - he needed to be gotten out, gotten somewhere he'd feel safe.
There.
Izumo reached out with his bitten hand, grabbed a handful of Balfour's shirt, and called his name.
When Izumo grabbed his shirt, Balfour screamed, whipping around to shove and punch at Izumo, trying to get loose so that he could just get away.
Yeah dammit immediate intervention. Izumo reeled Balfour closer with chakra in the the grip and translocated them both. It was quick, rough, and Izumo stumbled to his knees when they landed in Balfour's dorm room. It was a goddamn long way to jump for him, and he had to sit a moment on the floor, almost dizzy from the abrupt drop in his chakra.
"Get off me!" Balfour yelled, squirming when Izumo pulled him close, eyes wide, frightened, unseeing. He stopped squirming at the jump and rough landing, collapsing to his knees...and then just staying there, head down, hands on the floor as he shook, first trying to catch his breath, then trying not to cry, his breath coming faster and rougher.
But he couldn't cry. He wasn't alone.
"Get out," he said harshly, voice deep and rough as he pointed a shaking hand at the door.
"Hey, hey, Balfour, it's okay. It's just me," Izumo soothed, getting to his feet, letting the henge drop. There was blood all down his jeans, his hand, sprayed across his chest and face in fine droplets. He'd killed her in the messiest and most painful way possible under the circumstances.
He doubted Balfour would calm down so easily. In fact it might be better to leave him alone for an hour or so, let him get his composure back. Izumo rubbed his tack hands on the sides of his shirt, wiping the clotting blood away.
Balfour looked up at Izumo, still struggling to breathe properly, to not cry, his hand still pointed at the door. He looked terrified, face terribly white, eyes dilated, taking in every detail. It took him a moment to recognize Izumo, but when he did, his hand dropped and so did his head, fingers scratching idly at the wood flooring under his hand.
"I hate women..."
"Easy, easy," Izumo crooned, crouching down to be more on Balfour's level, now that the immediate panic was abated. He didn't move closer, let the distance stay. "Easy now. Just breathe, okay? We're in your room. You're safe here."
A fat drop of blood splatted on the floor, dripping from his knee. He wiped it up with a quick swipe of his thumb.
"You don't...have to stay..." he grated out, shifting a little closer to the man. He wanted him to stay, to hold him, but he wouldn't make him. Not to mention, he didn't want to cry in front of him.
"I'll stay if you want me to. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe." Izumo kept his voice low and soothing, noting the shift towards him. He hoped that was a good sign. "You're safe now."
He stayed still, watching, waiting. He remembered how much he hated the feeling of drying blood on his skin. He'd have to take these jeans off in the shower later.
"Easy now. Talk to me, okay? Tell me what you need, Balfour."
Balfour closed his eyes, focusing on Izumo's voice, taking long, deep breaths to banish the need to cry he would not cry in front of Izumo, would not make him deal with him breaking down like that. Sure, he wanted nothing more than to be held while he broke apart; he'd been attacked, after all. He wouldn't do it, though. Right then was when he needed to act like his brother, he needed to be Amery more than anything else.
And it was those thoughts that drove his eyes open and shifted him to get up, to move over to Izumo and run his fingers through his hair as he knelt there. His face was cold, blank except for a tiny hint of affection in his gaze.
"You're a good friend, Izumo...but don't you want to get cleaned up?"
The words pained him. He wanted Izumo to stay, wanted to crawl in under the blankets with him and be held safe, but that wasn't what was best for the other male.
"Thank you...for getting her off of me."
Who else would it have been?
Izumo watched for hesitation, fear, and stayed very still, non-threatening. He found nothing but fragile forced strength, in Balfour's eyes and trembling hands and voice.
"Balfour," Izumo said, quietly, accent heavier than usual on the other man's name. "Balfour, don't do that to yourself. You're safe here. Let it go. I've been where you are. Don't do that. It's okay to feel..."
All of that. Normal to feel the pain, the fear, the shame, the violation. The devastated hurt.
Not the cold control. Izumo knew it wasn't real and wasn't healthy.
Right then, Balfour didn't want to feel. He wanted to have the control that he was so desperately clinging to. Instead, he compromised with his warring desires, nuzzling his face into Izumo's neck and keeping his hand tangled in his hair, but no longer breaking down. He didn't want to break down. He wanted to be brave, to be strong. He wanted to be able to handle anything, even a woman forcing herself on him.
"You're covered in blood," he said softly. "Go get a shower. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"
"Balfour..." Izumo shivered - Balfour was so tall leaning over him stop it get over it notathreat - and remain where he was, voice calm, pitched low. "I'll go wash," he agreed, after a moment. "Do you want to come sit in there while I do?"
He'd need to borrow something to wear. Balfour probably didn't want or need any nudity right now.
"No," he said softly, carefully winding his arms around Izumo, hugging him briefly before pulling away and stepping back several steps. No threat.
"No, I think I'll just...crawl in bed, okay? If you want, you can join me."
And while Izumo was in the shower, Balfour would get past what had happened. Needless to say, he wasn't going back to the club alone any time soon.
He hoped Izumo would come back.
"Alright. I'll be quick." Izumo waited until Balfour stepped back before he got to his feet. He kept his motions slow, deliberate, and borrowed a shirt. Balfour's pants would not fit, no way in hell.
He stepped into the shower fully clothed, and let the water soak the drying blood loose. He stripped off the wet clothes, washed quickly, but spent several minutes prying blood out from under his fingernails.
He left his weapons arrayed on the bathroom counter, grabbing only a single senbon and sliding it into a seam of the overlarge shirt. He looked a little like a child as he emerged, pattering hesitantly towards the bed.
"Balfour," he called, softly.
Balfour curled up in his bed and pulled the cover up to his chin, watching Izumo as he moved around the room. He didn't watch him like he was a threat but as if he was interested in what he was doing.
When he was left alone, finally, he broke down, sobbing silently into the pillow. By the time Izumo was back, it had passed. It was clear that he'd been crying, despite the tiny smile he offered. He lifted the blanket, patting the bed beside him.
"Hey. You look less like a serial killer," he said with a laugh.
"I am one," Izumo answered, hesitating, face quiet and serious. The invitation, the mask of the smile, the tears still on Balfour's face....
Izumi didn't trust this "everything's okay" facade. Balfour had been pretty upset, and had reined it under control as Izumo'd watched. He didn't like it. Being sexually assaulted, damn near raped, it was ugly and the aftereffects were long-lasting and far-reaching. Izumo did not believe Balfour was okay as he was playing at.
So he sat on the bed, leaving a careful distance between them, and set his hand down on the covers, palm up, in easy reach if Balfour wanted to grab it.
"You don't have to lie for me, you know."
"I was teasing," Balfour said, flinching a little at his tone, at the way he kept his distance. Was it because he couldn't fight the woman off? Was it because of what happened? Balfour wanted Izumo, wanted him close, but Izumo wouldn't come too close anymore.
Was he ruined?
He kept those thoughts silent, not realizing that he was showing them on his face, in the way he'd begun to tear up again. He just shook his head, fingertips barely touching Izumo's hand.
"I'd rather pretend it didn't happen," he said softly, voice shaking a little. He wanted to be strong. He didn't want to be broken and ruined for Izumo.
Izumo smiled sadly, returned the touch, tangling his fingers with Balfour's. He moved a little closer, watching carefully for any fear, any flinch. "I know. I know. But that...doesn't make it go away."
He paused again, measuring the distance, half a foot between them. It took people so differently: some wanted to be held, others couldn't stand another touch. Balfour didn't seem to be afraid of him, but...Izumo still didn't want to startle him. His shoulder was going to be bruised from getting clipped alone by that punch Balfour had thrown at him.
"Pretending...doesn't change the hurt," he murmured, lightly stroking Balfour's gloved hand with his other hand.
"No, but it makes it easier to deal with," he said softly. He did the same thing with almost anything that hurt him, from the bullying to that terrible, nagging distance between him and Izumo. He pretended it didn't exist, that it didn't bother him.
He tugged at Izumo's hand when the older male tangled their fingers together, silently pleading with him to come closer.
"I'll deal with it all later. Curling up here sounds much more pleasant."
"Balfour..." Izumo followed the tug and laid down, slowly, on top of the covers. He kept hold of Balfour's hand, held it to his chest.
"Just as long as you deal with it. Don't...don't let it eat you up," Izumo whispered.
Balfour moved closer once Izumo had laid down, laying his head on his chest, arm winding around him despite the awkward positioning. He held on tight, eyes closing firmly as he shuddered.
"I won't. Just gotta let it pass," he whispered. "Are you mad?
"Not at you," Izumo answered, instantly. He reached up and hesitantly stroked Balfour's hair, testing to see if that would freak him out. He curved an arm gently over Balfour's back.
He made a soft soothing noise, feeling Balfour shake.
"I'm sorry I didn't shove her off. I couldn't. She was stronger than me," he whispered, face pressing harder into Izumo's shoulder but by no means shying away from his hand. He trusted him.
"It's not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for," Izumo told him, earnestly, running his hand through Balfour's short dark hair. "You did nothing wrong."
No, that would be Izumo, killing her. He didn't regret it, not by any means, but he might get in trouble for it.
Balfour looked at him for a second, then snuggled close to him.
"Did you kill her?" he asked softly, his tone somewhat grateful. He already suspected that he had. Such a woman didn't deserve to live.
"Yes. I should have done it slower."
No guilt or even the faintest hint of empathy. Anger lingered in the edges of his voice, heat against the bland tone of the truth. His hands on Balfour stayed gentle, caressing.
Balfour pulled away a little, just enough to press a kiss to Izumo's lips.
"Thank you," he said softly, laying back down after, his arm reaching to tug at the blankets. "Get under here." He wanted to be close. He was glad Izumo was nearby, at least.
"Alright." Izumo shifted, slow and careful as he slipped under the covers, wet hair splaying against the pillows. "Want me to talk or just be still?"
"I don't know," he said, pulling the covers over them both and tucking a knee just above Izumo's, his head on his chest. "We can talk if you want."
Just as long as Izumo was there, Balfour was happy. He felt a lot better with Izumo right there, despite the fact that he couldn't cry like he wanted to. It forced him to get over it.
"Did you have brothers or sisters?"
Izumo kept his hand stroking over Balfour's hair, though he was surprised by the question. "Neither. My mother died giving birth to me and my father never remarried." Sounded respectable enough when you left out the poverty, the hate, the alcohol, the abuse. Izumo shrugged, lightly.
"Balfour...I...you don't have to pretend. I've been through this kind of thing before." Izumo couldn't help the visceral twist in his gut as he said the words, the way his heartbeat kicked up a notch. "I've...I've been assaulted before. You can talk to me about and I get it. It's goddamn hard and it hurts like nothing else."
Funny how even the words, flat and undescriptive, could tangle up in his dry mouth, heart beating hard against his ribs, palms sweating. He'd not just been assaulted, he'd been raped and even gang-raped before and talking about was hard. Even this much was enough to make him want to stop thinking.
Balfour had opened his mouth to talk about Carina when Izumo said that he had been assaulted as well, confirming Balfour's suspicion and making him more determined to not speak of what had just happened.
"I figured," he whispered. "But it's okay. I don't want to talk about it." He didn't want to hurt Izumo again, and he suspected that talking about what had happened would do just that.
"I have a sister," he murmured, arm tightening slightly around Izumo as he gracelessly changed the subject. "She's a few years younger than me. She was the sweetest thing, really."
Izumo grimaced, but backed off. He'd definitely keep an eye on Balfour. "Just...don't try to bottle it up, okay?" he whispered, with a long sigh, trying to calm his heartrate.
"Okay."
What else was he supposed to say? He didn't want to talk about it with Izumo, not right now. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him.
"Maybe later, okay? When we're both up to it."
Izumo chuckled dryly. "I'm alright. I'm...just worried about you. Your headspace. Just...when you're ready."
He stroked Balfour's hair, hand never wavering.
"I...I appreciate it," he said softly, shifting against him, drawing himself closer, hand clenching in his shirt. "I just thought she wanted to dance, you know? I didn't...know that was going to happen. She was strong, too... I guess I just froze..."
So much for not talking about it. It seemed to come out, like word-vomit.
Well, after all the balking... Izumo murmured a listening noise, soothing, not interrupting. The sudden blurting confession felt familiar; the way Balfour's voice wobbled was very well-known to him. His hand never stopped, keeping the steady slow rhythm through Balfour's head, framing the fragile curve of his skull.
He was so ashamed. He could fight off Airman, dodge over-eager prostitutes, but one woman with her hand on his dick had made him freeze. He took another deep, shuddering breath and pressed closer.
"...can't believe I couldn't..." he was muttering in Izumo's neck, unaware of the tears beginning to form. He grumbled a couple things about being weak, a pushover, as he sobbed into Izumo's shoulder. So much for not breaking down.
Izumo made a slight face. Okay, tears he had not really expected, exactly, but he'd deal. He wrapped both arms around Balfour and held him close, muttering the soft nonsense phrases of comfort that really meant nothing. It was the voice, knowing one wasn't alone.
He was going to deny those damning words about being weak, being guilty, but he'd wait until Balfour could listen again. He kissed the top of Balfour's head and kept holding him.
Balfour broke down completely right there in Izumo's arms and it took a while for him to cry himself out, and even then, he was still clinging to Izumo like he was going to disappear on him, trembling something terrible.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just...freak," he whispered after a long silence.
Izumo shook his head. "It's fine. Perfectly normal response," he answered, softly, wondering how long it had been. He'd lost track of time and it was dark in the room now. He reached up and tangled his fingers in Balfour's hair. He wasn't going anywhere.
"It's okay. None of this was your fault," he whispered.
Balfour, unsure what to say to that, said nothing. Instead, he pulled the blankets up a little bit more, scooting closer as if trying to crawl into Izumo where he would be the safest.
"Will you stay?" he asked when he noticed that it was getting late. The question was posed calmly, voice flat in order to keep from pressuring him any more. Sure, he wanted him to stay, but he didn't want to make him stay.
Either way, he was going to have nightmares.
"Yes. As long as you want," Izumo answered, gently. "It's not your fault, Balfour, none of it." He sighed and stroked Balfour's hair, in easy rhythm.
He thought about it. "There's ugly rumors about her. That she's not all human."
"I like when you're here," he whispered. "I feel safe with you." He didn't mean to let that slip, so when he realized he said it, he frowned a bit, but let it go. There was nothing to do about it.
"Not quite human how?"
"She corners people too easily," Izumo answered, thoughtfully. He kept petting Balfour's hair. "And people don't like her."
He considered the "feeling safe," then added, slowly, "Do you...want me to get you something to help you sleep"
"All for the better she's dead then," he said softly, eyes drifting closed.
"No thank you, I think I'll be okay without anything."
As long as Izumo was near, he would be safe. He knew that much, at least. Izumo had proved that he'd protect him.
"If you're sure. I can get my hands on some sedatives," Izumo told him, quietly. He didn't tell him that the sedatives were prescription for Izumo. No need for Balfour to know that.
"I'll let you know if I need them, but I don't think I do." He smiled into his neck, pressing a sweet kiss there.
"You're a good friend, Izumo. I'm sure most would have just turned their heads." Actually, most people were turning their heads at the club, pretending not to see him and the girl. "I owe you big time."
"You owe me nothing," Izumo returned, briskly. "Nothing."
He let his hand still, cupping Balfour's head, fingers buried in his hair.
Balfour moved again, raising up, fingertips brushing gently across his jaw as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Izumo's lips.
"Thank you, again, for helping me."
Izumo kissed back, gently as he had the first time they'd made love. He didn't push, didn't press. "You're welcome."
Balfour smiled softly back at Izumo, snuggling back into his neck, eyes fluttering closed. The kiss seemed to settle something in his mind because he seemed more at peace. He was going to try to sleep.
Izumo let him snuggle. After a moment, he started humming, low and soft. It was an old shinobi lullaby, a quiet swinging tune with bloody lyrics. He stroked Balfour's hair, between his shoulderblades.
Balfour smiled as he heard Izumo start singing kissing his neck as he drifted off to a slightly restless sleep. It had been a very long time since he'd been sung to. It was usually him doing the singing.
Izumo hummed until he too nodded off. He slept hard and curled around Balfour, breathing deep and even.
Balfour didn't sleep very well, soon enough ending up tossing and turning in Izumo's arms, quiet whimpers coming forth. He woke with a start an hour and a half after he had dozed off, sitting up slowly.
Izumo woke when Balfour sat up reaching sleepily after him, but gently. "Hey. Okay?" he slurred.
Balfour flinched a bit at the voice, but quickly remembered that Izumo was with him. He nodded a little and stretched before putting a hand on Izumo's thigh.
"I'm fine. Did I wake you?"
Izumo shook his head. " 'M fine," he muttered, touching Balfour's hand.
Balfour shifted, tangling their fingers together as he leaned against the wall, debating telling him about the nightmare. It didn't seem like a good idea, though, so he didn't say anything more, just ran his thumb along Izumo's fingers.
"Want a brownie?" he asked after a while. "I never did offer last time you were in here. I can also make some tea."
"Nnn. Don't like sweets," Izumo grumbled, shifting. "Dreams gettin' ya?"
His voice was slurred with sleep and lingering drunkenness, accent slipped all the way down into gutter-thick slang.
"Ahh, just can't sleep," Balfour said, shifting to snuggle back with Izumo, touching his lower lip briefly. "Your accent is adorable when you're tired, you know that?"
Okay, so that was stupid and sappy, but he wanted to focus on something pleasant, something that wasn't that woman's hair and eyes and voice dripping poison into his ear.
"Fuck my accent with a rusty kunai," Izumo snorted, grimacing, and shook his head, slipping back into something like proper grammar. "Want me to distract you? Backrub? Hot shower? Sedatives?"
"Nn, keep talking like that," he murmured when Izumo cursed his accent, laughing and squirming closer, throwing a leg over one of Izumo's. "I like it."
But he wanted to cook, which was a bad thing at two in the morning.
"Tell me about your world, hm?" That would distract him, but it was vague enough to give Izumo an out to anything terrible.
"I live in a hidden ninja village in the middle of the Fire Country. Village Hidden in the Leaves." Izumo shrugged. "I know forest giants so wide around you can put houses in them. The trees here are sad and scrawny and not near goddamn big enough for branch-hopping."
He lifted his head and kissed Balfour's cheek. "I can go get the sedatives, you know. Give you a baby dose."
"Ah I must agree with you there. The trees here are wimpy." He chuckled, then frowned at the offer of sedatives. As much as he wanted to deny them, to wear himself out in wonderful, pleasant, fun ways, the idea of sex made him twitchy. Maybe later on that, he decided.
"Yeah, I think I’ll take you up on that. Otherwise I'll cook and I don't really need to be cooking right now.
Izumo yawned deeply. “Alright. I’ll be back in a minute, if my roomie doesn’t stab me.”
He sat up, shifted away from Balfour, and translocated. Zaku was either sleeping very deeply - unlikely - or he was gone. Izumo got into some clean sleeping-clothes, grabbed two of his pre-loaded syringes, and translocated back. He landed standing beside the bed.
“Hey,” he greeted, setting one syringe on the bedside table and crawling up on the bed. “Got ‘em.”
Balfour had gotten a brownie while Izumo was gone and was sitting in a pile of pillows and blankets, nibbling at it when he got back.
He seemed rather disappointed that Izumo had ditched his shirt in favor of his own pajamas, giving him an exaggerated pout as he crawled up on the bed, leaning over to touch his knee. He didn’t say anything about it, though.
“Mm, good,” he murmured, eyeballing the syringe. “You’re going to stick me again, aren’t you?”
He didn’t seem too wary, though, if the way he scooted closer to Izumo said anything.
“Yeah. Fastest working,” Izumo answered serenely. He snuggled close to Balfour, taking an arm and laying it across his knees. He dug in the pocket on his ninja blacks - the ones with the knees patched in bright purple that he used to sleep in - and pulled out an alcohol prep from the infirmary. The little packets were the greatest idea ever, in Izumo’s opinion.
He laid syringe and prep pad down, the held a hand up. With a single twisting sign, he lit a little chakra-light.
It was a child’s trick, a play-thing, but Izumo didn’t use it often both because he liked the dark and because he too-often needed to conserve his chakra. The light was foxfire green, long and tapered like a candle-flame, only it burned steady and straight above Izumo’s palm. He bent close in the eerie, otherworldly glow and examined Balfour’s arm for a good vein to stick him in.
Balfour didn’t seem too unnerved that Izumo was going to stick him this time, but he had warning this time. He rested there quietly, fingers curled a little bit as Izumo took his arm and moved it, but forgot to watch the man when he lit a bright green flame in the room.
“Cool...” he whispered, checking out the tall flame, then looking back to Izumo as he leaned close, reaching up with his other hand, stroking Izumo’s shoulder gently. The calm air he was giving off was far from what he was feeling. He was still rather upset, his mind replaying the events of the night and the dream over and over again. He preferred to focus on Izumo, what he was doing, than to think of those things.
“Mmm, here, I think.” Izumo tapped a vein just above Balfour’s wrist, and reached for the alcohol prep. He didn’t look up, focused on the spot, and didn’t say a word about how fast Balfour’s pulse was beating. He wasn’t as calm as he was trying to pretend.
Izumo tore the packet open with teeth and one hand, then cleaned the area thoroughly. He put his thumb right above the vein, holding pressure, and flared the light brighter. He concentrated hard and moved his hand - the light hovered, flickering now as his control wavered. He moved quickly, efficiently, uncapping the syringe with his teeth and expertly angling the needle. A quick stab, a slow push, and Izumo pulled the needle free and shifted his thumb to press over the bleed. The light flickered out.
“You’ll probably start feeling woozy in about two minutes. And if you don’t remember me saying that later, don’t worry. It’s pretty common. I have no idea what your tolerance is so I gave you a little bitty dose.” Izumo shrugged and lifted his hands away, blindly recapping the needle.
The syringe was still two-thirds full. Izumo had very high tolerances.
Balfour winced a little as Izumo found the vein and stabbed it, his fingers twitching, but he didn’t move or shy away from the needle. It was clear that Izumo knew what he was doing.
“I trust you,” he murmured, shifting to sit up, pressing a kiss low on his cheek, hugging him for a moment before shifting to lay back down, his head going into Izumo’s lap, arms still around his waist.
It didn’t take long for the sedative to kick in and he was yawning, nuzzling into his thigh without a thought. He hoped Izumo would stay but didn’t dare say anything. He’d already asked him to stay before.
What he didn’t realize was that a very garbled “Stay” had come out of his mouth before he passed out.
Izumo had no intentions of going anywhere, not after he’d drugged Balfour, who slipped under very quickly. Definitely not used to sedatives. He waited until Balfour was good and asleep before he shifted them both, and laid down comfortably, close to the other man. He laid there a moment, measuring the rhythm of Balfour’s breathing, before he closed his eyes and let himself drift off.