totally not even friendly

[i-love-crock.livejournal.com]

When; Now
Rating; R for language
Characters; i_love_crock, at_titude, and anyone in B#11 who wants to drop in
Summary; Spitfire has extremely questionable taste in music. ...actually, Spitfire is questionable. Period.


A twitch shot across Kaito's face so hard and his mouth so twisted fast that teeth nearly cleaved the end of his cigarette off cleanly. Eyes attempted to drill fiery holes into the apartment door before his irritated self, as music violently vibrated off the wood, desecrating his brain.

WHAT THE FUCK. Why had he agreed to this rooming arrangement in the first place? He fucking hated AT users! Well, granted, some weren't half as bad when obeying the law. So why the fuck was he sharing a room with, not only a road king, but a fucking gay beautician-by-day and FLAMING FUCKING PLAYBOY FIREHEAD-BY-NIGHT?

Sucking on his cigarette as if holding a severe grudge against the comfort, Kaito pushed into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind his entrance. Although irritation shimmered from his lean body like ghostly crimson lightning, his face managed to keep a relative calm. Somewhat calm. At least his mouth hadn't erupted with curses. Yet.

Comments

[at-titude.livejournal.com]

Well now, that was rather uncalled for. Spitfire peered at the now ruined speakers of his newly bought sound system and gave an accepting shrug. It’d served him well; let it rest in peace. Kaito, on the other hand, still needed to prove himself useful. The man was a bouquet of dynamite ready to explode and it suited Spitfire’s requirements right up a certain point. That point had almost been reached. Though, he’d really been hoping for a conniption. For now, he’d start small and work his way up to an agreeable resolution.

The waters still had to be tested, of course.

After all, picking strangers up wasn’t part of Spitfire’s normal routine. Not that the idea didn’t pique his interest, but he had better things to do. Like observe AT riders and watch for that moment, that special little seed within all riders, to bloom into a fragrant blossom of wings. Sometimes, reconnaissance was hard work. He’d watched Buccha for the same reason and his eyes still needed cucumbers galore to wipe the bags away.

Thankfully, he didn’t have nightmares about it anymore. It helped that ‘Wind’ G-men’s leader, Shinjuku’s crocodile, had come into the picture. And what a lovely picture Kaito made!

”Oh?” a loose smirk flared across his lips, “That wasn’t nice.”

An instant of flames curled outwards, fresh and fierce as if the very make-up of Spitfire's form was constructed of heat. Fire. Like Apollo, he became the sun stretching its arms out to push the sky back and then merge with it as one.