Dean Winchester (ezby_deanwin) wrote in strangergamesrp, @ 2012-11-15 15:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | closed, dean winchester, kamizuki izumo, log |
LOG: Making Amends
SG - Dean Izumo - Making Amends
*
Who: Dean Winchester, Kamizuki Izumo
When: June 13th
Where: The Infirmary
What: After their joint Game, Dean and Izumo have another fiasco in the infirmary.
Warnings: Izumo, swearing, injuries
Open or Closed: Closed
Observable: No
*
Izumo was sitting up, propped up carefully by pillows. He was eating, and it was simple stuff he was used to, rice and fish and vegetables, along with green tea. He sat very still and moved only a little. He didn’t want to bump anything into hurting.
Dean moved slowly down the corridor towards where he had been told Izumo was. So, maybe he still wasn’t completely better but he was fine. Fine, fine, fine. He’d told the medics over and over until he’d gotten bored and just walked out and back up to his own room.
Okay, so ‘walked out’ probably wasn’t what the medics would have called it but he hadn’t shot anyone or anything so really he’d done a pretty good job of being reasonable.
Dean had put off the trip back down to the infirmary as long as he could, he didn’t really want to see Izumo. Shooting a guy - even by accident - didn’t usually endear people to you. But then Izumo was a freakish ninja so perhaps he wouldn’t care?
Dean shook his head and took the last few steps that would get him to Izumo. “Hey.” He came to a stop at the foot of the bed and let his gaze fall on Izumo’s collar.
“Hey yourself, brat,” Izumo declared, through a mouthful of rice. “Good to see you walking.”
He waved a little, and kept eating. His henge was up today, at least: he’d regained enough control of his chakra, though it was the most basic of illusions, patching over his right eye to make it brown. It did not hide the faint marks of age on his face anymore, the beginnings of wrinkles and lines. He now looked a solid twenty-five, not simply young.
His pain medication (cut by himself from the dose they wanted him to have) was on the downslope. He’d have to be careful. Hopefully Dean wasn’t feeling up to shenanigans.
“Yeah.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “The medics wanted me to stay in bed but what do they know? They were on about the effects of the gas or some other shit but-” Dean fell silent for a few moments, picking at the end of the blankets absently. Why was this so hard? “How’re you doing anyway? I guess if you’re eating you must be kinda okay?”
“They’re right, that was poison gas. If you’d breathed too much of it, your lungs would have turned into sea sponges. Full of bloody holes.” Izumo nibbled at his rice. “I’ll heal. Sit down, kid.”
He tipped his head and eyed Dean, the pensive posture and the weight of guilt. Izumo was mildly ticked off, but he wouldn’t take it out on Dean. Much. He curled his toes carefully.
Dean fell heavily into the chair set next to the bed. “I guess that explains why my lungs feel like sandpaper.” Fucking hell. He worried at his lip for a moment before speaking. “Try not to get in the way of my bullets next time, ‘kay?”
“That would be why. Take it easy.” Izumo nibbled on his chopsticks a moment, before scooping up another bite of rice. The moment Dean had entered, he’d started eating with elegant careful motions, on display, despite the slump of the rest of his body against the pillows. He tipped his head to the side and eyed Dean.
“Like I had a choice. She was fast enough to put me where she wanted. I could only dodge.”
“How d’you even eat with those things?” Dean shook his head. “I thought you were all ‘super-powered ninja’ and didn’t get hit?” Dean considered Izumo for another few moments. “Are you actually putting on a show right now? I know you told me about the posh people or whatever but I think we established I’m not one of them and you could be saving your energy for something that doesn’t involve impressing me.”
“Same way you eat with anything else,” Izumo retorted. He considered Dean’s words, then laid the chopsticks down. He held out a hand, laid flat. “I’ll give you a picture. Say a civilian is on this level. Here’s a Genin.” He put his other hand over the first. “Here’s Chuunin. That’s me.” Hand up again. “Here’s Special Jounin. Here’s full Jounin. Here is S-class, and that’s Itachi.”
He put his hands down again. “I’m low-end Chuunin. She was a higher-end Chuunin, much more chakra. She was also more combat oriented. Fighting is not my best skillset, not head-on battle like that.”
He shrugged and picked up his chopsticks again. “Answer your question?”
Dean hummed a noise that could have been a vague agreement, trying to keep the strange words straight in his head. “So, basically there are five levels and you’re a level two? A...Joonin? Choonihn?” He stumbled over the word, making an actual attempt to say it properly instead of deliberately messing it up.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice you ignoring everything else I said. Seriously, you are an uptight robot, dude. You need to chill. And you need pie instead of whatever that is.” Dean inclined his head towards Izumo’s food, wrinkling his nose in an exaggerated expression of disgust.
“It’s called having manners, dimwit. And this is excellent rice.” Izumo ate a few more bites of it. “It’s ranks. You graduate into Genin and Chuunin, but you test for anything else. Except S-class, you are or you aren’t, and there aren’t a lot that qualify.”
He picked up a piece of mushroom and popped it into his mouth. “It’s Geh-neen, Choo-neen, and Joe-neen.” His rice was gone now, and he was down to the mushrooms and the water-chestnuts from his veggies. The fish was all gone as well - Izumo ate his food in a certain order.
Dean snorted out a laugh, “Whatever you say, douchebag. Red meat over that any day; burger, fries and pie is a meal fit for a king.” He sat back and openly stared at Izumo, as if the ninja was a fascinating creature. “You’re weird.”
“All that grease is unsettling,” Izumo pointed out, and ate the last mushroom bit. “So why am I wierd?”
He’d indulge the brat. He scooped up a water-chestnut and crunched it happily. Mmm, good food. He was full, his hip only hurt in a vague throbbing ache, and he was feeling pleasantly comfortable. And Dean was talking again and not skulking guiltily.
“It’s just...” Dean trailed off and tried to figure it out, for once in his life putting some thought into the words he was about to say. “Whatever you think of my ‘training’, I do have some idea what I’m doing. I know how to read people. And you just. You never react how I expect, that’s all.”
Dean slumped back into the chair, “And sometimes you look different. Like today you look older. I dunno, man, you’re just a freak. Same as me, I guess.”
“I’m a ninja. I’m trained to read and react to the situation accordingly.” Izumo shrugged. “The looks are the easiest to change, honestly.” He grinned, and set his chopsticks down in his empty tray. “Watch close, kid.”
He pulled at his chakra. It came reluctantly, slippery under the drugs. He folded his hands through a short set of signs, and put his henge up to the “normal”: face smoothed and ageless, eyes brown, and the small scar on his chin gone. Then he folded his hand through a second series of signs.
His features shimmered and settled. Dean’s own face smiled at him with the perfect quirk of Dean’s own sharply amused smile. With a second tweak Izumo’s longer black hair was gone into Dean’s usual spikey ‘do. Izumo cleared his throat, pitched his voice, and said in a damn good imitation of Dean’s voice and American accent, “Small illusions are my strong point, man. Easy as pie.”
Dean watched Izumo, eyebrows raised, waiting for something to happen. “Holy shit!” He stood quickly from the chair, making it skid back a few feet, it only just staying upright. “That’s really fucking disturbing.”
Dean stepped right up to the bed and leant forward slightly. It was like looking in a mirror, a flawless imitation of himself. He took a few steps back and eyed Izumo’s face critically. “Fuck it. I really do have girly eyelashes.”
“Oh, no, they’re attractive,” Izumo answered, still in a close approximation of Dean’s voice. “Very boyish and young.”
He shrugged, and folded his hands through signs again. The illusion rippled and settled, and now Izumo’s face was much younger, around sixteen, with green eyes and brown hair dyed purple and blue in shocking streaks. There was a little mole under his right eye and a lip-stud piercing that glittered as he smiled, a little gap-toothed in the front.
“But not too young,” he declared, pitching his voice higher and softer, younger and a little breathy.
“Thats just wrong.” Dean groaned the words at him. “Seriously, what the fuck? Though you could probably make a killing doing porn you know? Make yourself look all twinky.” Dean turned and grabbed the chair, pulling it back to the bedside and re-taking his seat. “So, what do you actually look like? You don’t have tentacles do you? Or slime? ‘Cause I don’t think I wanna know if you do.”
“With the right genjutsu you can fake anything. and I do mean anything.” Izumo grinned cheerfully, and let it all flow back into his “normal” henge. “But the bigger the illusion, or the more complex, the more chakra it takes. And no tentacles, or slime, but I could genjutsu you into seeing some if you want.”
He smirked at Dean. “So you don’t think my real face is sexy enough?” He gestured - though the wrinkles were patched over again, face ageless and anonymous, both eyes brown. It was a lie but one very close to the truth.
Dean shuddered. “Ugh, no thanks. Had enough fucking slime for one lifetime.” The whole illusion thing again. Just not fair. Dean really didn’t like that skill; it seemed almost more dangerous than if something was just being fired at you, if you couldn’t tell what was reality then how could you defend yourself?
He pursed his lips and gave Izumo a slow once over. “I dunno, man. Maybe you’d look sexier if my dick was in your mouth? I could definitely go for that.”
Izumo snorted. “Give me a day or two to get over being just a little pissed that you shot me, how ‘bout? Also, I gotta be able to kneel, and at this point, that’s a no-go.” He shifted very, very carefully and pointed at his hip. “Guess you’re getting over that no-homosexuality thing, hmm?”
The smile dropped off Dean’s face for a second before he plastered a smirk on and shrugged. “Hey, a mouth is a mouth, right? As long as you don’t expect me to return the favor. Although, if you could make yourself look like a girl I might think about it.” A thought struck Dean and he grinned. “Hang on, can you give yourself boobs? ‘Cause if I could do that I’d probably never leave the bedroom.”
“Not to feel. I could make it look like it, but it’s just an illusion. Nothing to grab.” Izumo shrugged. “You’d at least give me a good kiss and a handjob out of the deal, right?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“Depends on how good you are, baby.” Dean spoke flippantly. “I dunno ‘bout a handjob but I could manage a kiss. Pucker up.” Pity about the breasts. That could have been entertaining. Though if Izumo could make it look like it...
“Dude, please make it look like you have boobs. Please.”
“Dude,” Izumo mimicked. “You know they won’t look half as appealing on me with my face, right?”
He raised his hands again, and framed the signs, concentrating. He was wearing scrubs. What did Anko’s lovely, lovely breasts look like under the scrubs? Nice and jiggly, just so. Izumo closed his eyes and concentrated and framed the illusion.
He didn’t see the effect, because he was too busy visualizing Anko’s wonderful D cups and how they moved - if he stopped they wouldn’t flow right anymore and then that would just look tacky. He kept his eyes closed and lowered his hands, leaning forward to give Dean the full effect and a great display of cleavage.
And before Dean’s eyes cleavage did appear. “Man, that is unbelievable amounts of awesome!” He managed to pull his eyes from the view and took in Izumo’s whole appearance which was admittedly bizarre but so worth it. “You should have those all the time.” Dean shook his head. “I seriously need to go out and get laid again.”
His eyes were drawn back down to Izumo’s chest but, hey, Izumo was a guy and understood the pull of cleavage on show, plus he’d basically done it for Dean so technically Dean could look his fill and wouldn’t get smacked for it. Though, really the kind of girls Dean hung around with so didn’t care. Anyway the point was: Boobs. All for Dean.
“So what happens if I touch ‘em?”
“Your hand goes straight through. It’s a visual hook only.” Izumo cracked an eye to glimpse Dean’s expression, and the illusion wavered. He closed his eye again and concentrated for a few moments longer, leaning back and remembering the way Anko’s lovely bra-free breasts swung when she did that. Then he let the illusion go and opened his eyes, his image rippling a moment before settling into normal.
“Aww, man.” Dean pouted when the view disappeared, eyes still fixed to Izumo’s chest. Which he realised after a moment was kinda weird, so he flicked them up quickly to meet Izumo’s eyes. “Umm, awkward.” He spoke in a sing-song voice.
Dean tipped his chair backwards onto two legs and kicked up his feet to rest them on the edge of the bed, aiming a shit-eating grin Izumo’s way.
Izumo snorted, then smirked, despite the tired drag he was feeling. “So. I give you free boobs, what about that kiss, sexy?” he teased. He knew it wasn’t happening but it was a good way to rile Dean up. He liked Dean better when the kid was off-balance and not pretending to be all self-confident.
Dean grimaced. “Ummm.” Oh, what the hell, Izumo wouldn’t be expecting it so...
He stood quickly, bent at the waist and placed his lips unceremoniously against Izumo’s, flicking out his tongue to swipe across Izumo’s lips and then pulling back a self-satisfied grin on his face. “I like ‘sexy’ much better than any of your other names for me.” And with that Dean sat back down and kicked his feet back up onto the bed.
Izumo raised an eyebrow and stayed very still, unconsciously licking his lips. “Well. So if I push hard enough you’ll bend.” He slipped a small smirk on. “Good to know.” He honestly didn’t want to make the kid that uncomfortable. Either everyone had fun, or it wasn’t good.
“Woah, now your dick is coming nowhere near me, okay? That kiss was...it doesn’t matter, pretend it never happened.” Dean scrubbed across his mouth with the back of his hand, partly a childish move as if to rid himself of cooties and partly to hide his smile at Izumo’s reaction. See, he was totally a sex god. Definitely.
“Just teaches me to be careful about pushing.” Izumo smiled. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know. I like you anyway.”
He shifted, and had to go perfectly still, jaw clenched against the sudden spike of pain that broke through the thin level of pain medication that was wearing off. His hands clenched white-knuckled in the sheets, quivering under the force of the grip. His eyes shut tight and he couldn’t even breathe for fear of making a noise.
Dean opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but stilled before speaking. Izumo had frozen like a statue. “Dude, are you okay? You don’t look so great.” He looked around the room, as if a doctor might suddenly appear. “You want me to fetch someone?”
It took a long moment before Izumo could speak again, the edges of his voice rough. “I’m fine. A little careless. I’ll remember better next time,” he answered, opening his eyes, schooling his face into blankness. Then he smiled at Dean. See? No pain.
“Okay, now I know why no-one ever believes me when I say that.” Dean crossed his arms. “You’re pretty obviously not fine, dude. If you wanna deal without drugs that’s up to you but it’s kinda pointless to lie ‘bout it.” He shook his head and searched for a different topic. “And I’m glad you like me, least now I don’t hav’ta worry about you killing me in my sleep or something.”
“Not unless you shoot me again,” Izumo warned, but with a little smirk.
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean flapped a hand at him. “Whatever you say, robocop.” There was a pause for a moment. “Izumo, I meant Izumo, okay? Don’t freak out about nicknames again.”
“I’ll let it slide this once,” Izumo answered back, but he offered Dean a little smile as he did. “Why all the nicknames anyway?”
Dean shrugged. “I dunno. I just say them. I’m not really one for analysing why I do the shit that I do.” He glanced at Izumo’s expression. At least he didn’t seem pissed off. “And, dude, something about you just begs for a nickname.”
“Does not,” Izumo snorted. “You’re just trying to be disrespectful. Brat.” He stuck his tongue out, piercing and all.
“Hey, now, if you were a cop or a teacher maybe I would be trying.” Dean held up his hands in an ‘I’m innocent’ gesture. “And you totally do need a nickname, you’re the exact sort of uptight that needs it. Plus, you call me enough names.” Dean just barely resisted the urge to say ‘so there’ but did stick his own tongue out. Izumo had done it first.
“Right, uptight. I’m known as being one of the hardest partiers in all of the desk Chuunin,” Izumo answered. “If you have to nickname me, you can call me Momo. I’ve told you that before.” He reached down slowly and rubbed at his hip, fingers moving tenderly.
Dean’s gaze flickered down to Izumo’s hip, noting the movement but decided to say nothing. “I said you’re the sort of uptight that needs a nickname. And you’re really not a Momo. That’s too...chickflick for you. You’re more of a-” Dean tilted his head and squinted one eye. “Robot. Or maybe...Iz-bot. Mo-bot? I like robocop, too. Very you. Or dude works.”
“Momo means peach,” Izumo replied. “And I’m not like a drone.” Those were his closest reference to ‘robots,’ honestly.
Dean bit his lip against a smile. “Yeah, ‘cause that makes it so much better.” The sarcasm was practically dripping from the words. “And sometimes you kinda are, dude.”
“No. What makes you say that?” Izumo gritted his teeth as a sudden throb spiked through him. Yeah, he’d need those pain meds soon now.
“Just take some damn meds for God’s sake. You’re the one who made me take those pills for my hand, you dumbass.” Dean rolled his eyes and glared at Izumo then carried on the conversation as if nothing had happened. “‘Cause you’re so... You act like kind of a perfect human being. Like if someone made a human from scratch you’d be it. Just like a robot.”
“Image is everything, in my line of work.” Izumo grinned, sharp and hard and without mirth. “I can be whoever or whatever I want. People can trust a well-presented front, Dean, and they like it.”
He reached under his pillow and produced half a pill. “Pass me the glass of water, please.”
Dean picked up the glass of water and waited for Izumo to take it before speaking. “Yeah, well, I don’t. Like it or trust it. It’s too well-presented. And it’s really not you. I like you much better without it.”
Izumo swallowed the pill dry, then took the water. “I have a job to do here, Dean. I have a role to play. I can’t just drop that because you don’t like it.” He held the water out for Dean to put back on the bedside table.
Dean took the glass from Izumo. “Whatever you say, robocop.”
Izumo clicked his tongue at Dean. “You know about duties. You know about jobs. You go on about how your father taught you to be responsible. Just because what I do is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s any less serious.”
He smiled, though, to soften the words. He wasn’t chastising Dean, merely explaining.
Dean sobered up then, letting a more serious expression settle on his features. “I know it’s not, man. Just if you ever feel like dropping the act ‘round me then you can. M’kay, robocop?” He raised an eyebrow and grinned.
“Call me that again, and torn hip or no, I’ll give you a new hole to breathe through,” Izumo threatened, deadpan, then grinned. “Way to attract the ladies then.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean thumped his palms down onto the bed and used them to push up from the chair. “You seem... okay, so I’m gonna leave you now. See you around, robocop.”
Izumo saw the motion start but couldn’t get the words out fast enough - his mouth was open when Dean’s hands impacted the bed, and the pained cry was unmuffled. Bright white agony spiked through his hip and up his side and Izumo clamped his teeth on any other noise, hunching tense and face gone paper-white under his naturally dark skin-tone.
Shit, shit, shit! God-fucking-damnit! Dean backed away from the bed, coming to a stop just inside the doorway. He felt vaguely sick. “Hey! Need some help in here!” He called the words out of the doorway and glanced back to the man on the bed. “Shit!” The word little more than a breath.
Izumo breathed in sharp shallow pants, a muffled whine caught between his teeth, hands clenching and twitching in the sheets.
A healer came running in response to Dean’s shout. “What happened?” she asked, moving closer.
Izumo hissed at her, tears beading his lashes, and she didn’t touch, only hovered. The medics had learned he got really unhappy when they did anything too quickly or unexpectedly.
“I jarred the bed.” Dean spat the words out harshly but they weren’t aimed at her, he was pissed off with himself. Everytime. Every-fucking-time he screwed up. “Don’t know if he’s taken all the meds he should have anyway, he’s been being stubborn about it.” He glared at her when she didn’t move quickly enough. “Well! Fix it!”
“Izumo, I have the break-through pain meds that were ordered for you. If you’d let me?” The medic reached into her pocket.
“Fuck...you,” Izumo managed. “Touch me...and I’ll...break your other....fingers this time.” He dragged in a deep breath through his nose, jaw clenched hard, tears on his white cheeks but determination in his eyes. His henge was gone, and he was shivering-tense but he wasn’t letting them drug him senseless. He hated it.
The medic backed off. Izumo had broken her pinky. “I’m afraid, Mister Dean, Izumo is a very stubborn patient,” she explained.
Izumo panted for breath in shallow gasps before dragging in another deep breath. He raised his head and glared at the medic, bangs hanging askew; one brown eye and the barest glimpse of paler jade-green behind the black hair.
“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean didn’t take his eyes off Izumo’s tense body. He took a step closer to the bed before speaking. “Hey man, I think you should let her give you something. She can help you.”
“They are not...drugging me senseless...more than...has to,” Izumo forced out. His breathing was starting to steady, as he dragged it back under control by main force of will. He was pale and his cheeks were wet but he was not going to be knocked out with Dean around.
Not that he didn’t trust the other; he didn’t trust him that much, however.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure they have to right now.” Dean grimaced at him. “You seriously don’t look good. Just take the damn drugs, alright!” The latter sentence unconsciously spoken in a copy of his dad’s drill sergeant voice. The one even Sam didn’t disobey.
“Fuck. You.” Izumo bared his teeth in a grim parody of a grin.
“If you take the meds I’ll think about letting you. How ‘bout that, huh?” Dean wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying, just letting whatever came into his head pour out of his mouth. “Look, dude, I can’t... I don’t wanna be to blame for that. Please, just. Take the meds.”
Izumo sucked in a shuddering breath, and let it out smoothly, fighting everything back under control. Still quiet gods that hurt and he took another breath. Easy, see? Nothing wrong here. It took a conscious effort to smooth his face, though his jaw was still clenched. “I will be fine,” he said, softly, evenly, a little too controlled.
Dean huffed out a breath. “Yeah, you will be. What about now? I know I’m not the greatest about taking meds but jesus there’s a limit!”
“Dean. Shut up.” Izumo folded his hands through one-two-three signs and flung the lash of genutsu hard, catching Dean and probably whoever was nearby: the hard driving pulse to remain alert struggling against the heavy fog layer of drugs, the pounding desperate need to move and unable to twitch under the drugs.
Reality again.
“Not happening if I can help it.”
Dean stumbled back, winded, some force catching his on the chest and pushing hard. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. “Fine. Do whatever the hell you want. You’re not my problem.”
“Go eat some pie,” Izumo instructed, unclenching his hands. He bit his lip, then smiled for Dean, all pretty and sweet.
Dean huffed a disbelieving sound. “Whatever you say, dude. You are something else, you know that?”
“Yes.” Izumo kept the smile and the pleasant tone. All better. “I know. Now go eat some pie. For me.” He winked, playfully.
Dean huffed again, not believing Izumo’s ‘I’m okay’ act for a second. “Alright, I’m going. For pie, since you seem so obsessed with it.”
“Nope, I’m only suggestion what you like to make you more agreeable and to subconsciously motivate you to like me,” Izumo retorted, still smiling. He pried a hand from the sheets and offered a jaunty wave. “Have fun, sexy~!”
Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Freak.” Well, if Izumo really didn’t want him there and didn’t want to accept any help then Dean may as well leave. “See you ‘round, then.”
“See you later.” And as soon as he was gone Izumo could stop holding the smile. It was starting to make his face ache.
Dean chewed his lip and then nodded once, turning and striding out of the room without looking back.