Loveless, Damaged Goods

Title: Damaged Goods [Seimei/Soubi]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13? It’s hard to tell with Seimei. Should I warn for creepiness?
Summary: Seimei has a few choice words for Ritsu-sensei.
AN: Apparently written for the challenge “Gratitude” but I can’t figure out for what.

Damaged Goods

“You’ve trained him to do all this weird stuff!”

Soubi blinked when Seimei-san slammed his palms down on Ritsu-sensei’s desk, but didn’t turn from the window he was standing quietly next to. He didn’t want to attract the attention of either of them, frankly, and he could just as easily watch the argument in the reflection of the glass.

“Soubi-kun is more than satisfactory in every respect for your needs.” Ritsu-sensei sounded bored, dismissive, and Soubi didn’t blame him. It was hard to take Seimei-san seriously when three inches of wrist were sticking out of his shirtcuffs, his voice holding the whine of a crack held just barely in check.

“You took his ears!” Seimei-san shouted, and Soubi shivered with equal amounts fascination and horror at the tone he was using with Ritsu-sensei.

“I had to, I’m afraid, you could read his emotions like a 500 yen doujinshi.” Ritsu-sensei flicked a pointed glance at Seimei’s own ears, which were pressed flat against his skull with rage, fur on end.

“You shouldn’t have touched him! He’s mine!”

“You should be grateful to have a fighter at all,” Ritsu-sensei replied coldly, the change in his inflection slight, but loud in Soubi’s ears. “That can be changed, if this arrangement does not please you.”

“Grateful!” Seimei-san spat when they were outside, yanking his wool coat closed against the October chill. “The nerve of that guy!”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Seimei-san stomped off down the sidewalk, sending the stones in his path clattering into the street with abrupt scuffs of his boots. Soubi followed a half-step behind, then nearly collided with Seimei-san when he stopped suddenly after several blocks. He glanced back over his shoulder at Soubi, face neutral.

“Should I be grateful for you, Soubi-kun?” Seimei-san asked silkily, and the calm made Soubi more uncomfortable than the temper did; such a face did not belong on a 14-year-old. He took a step closer when Soubi didn’t answer immediately, his forehead barely coming to Soubi’s collarbone. “Are you grateful for me?”

“Of course,” Soubi said, holding very still as Seimei-san brushed chilled fingers over Soubi’s throat, the smooth skin buzzing against his fingers as Soubi spoke. “A fighter is hopeless without a sacrifice.”

“Hmm.” Seimei-san gave Soubi’s throat a last flick and let his hand drop, turning away. “I suppose you have your uses, even if you are damaged goods.”

Soubi remained silent as he fell back into step behind Seimei, where he belonged. He still felt the burn of Seimei-san’s fingertips against his skin.

“Ah well,” Seimei-san said at length, “I’ll just have to find some other way to show everyone else that you’re mine.”

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