66 It’s Not You, It’s My Enemies + 95 Sleep Intimacy Starrk/Kisuke
— cherfleur
Starrk wakes with a splitting headache, a body sprawled across his, and someone’s breath tickling the back of his neck. It’s… strange, after so long on the run, to wake up like this.
(How much did he drink last night?!)
(Shit– Lilynette– where–)
“Rise and shine, lazybones!” Lilynette cries as she launches herself across the room and lands on the bed, jarring the whole thing. “Up, up, up! It’s morning!”
Starrk groans and drags a spare pillow over his head, trying to muffle Lilynette’s voice and quiet the pounding in his head. He’s (almost) comfortable for the first time in years, he can’t sense any of the people after Lilynette, and the only thing currently ruining his mood is the hangover. And Lilynette’s hyperactivity, but he’s used to that at this point.
“Maa, maa, I think my new boyfriend and I deserve a lie in, don’t you?” says the person clinging to Starrk’s back, shifting around to prop himself up on an elbow and leaning over Starrk in an almost possessive manner.
(’New boyfriend’? What the hell? He doesn’t remember this…)
(How much did he drink last night?!)
“Aww, but Starrk’s always sleeping in! He’s so lazy!”
The person chuckles and leans over further, Lilynette’s offended yelp letting Starrk know that the man had ruffled her hair. “Well, we did spend most of the night taking out those people chasing you, so I think that warrants some extra sleep, wouldn’t you say?”
Lilynette groans and hurls herself off the bed in a huff. “Fiiiine! You get an hour!”
“Ask Tessai to make you breakfast,” the man calls after her as she stomps out of the room, then gently tugs the pillow out of Starrk’s hands and smirks down at him. “Well, well, good morning gorgeous.”
Starrk snorts and squints up at the other, taking in the man’s shaggy blond hair and pale skin, fragments of memory beginning to filter back in at the sight. He remembers sitting with Lilynette in the cheap, trashy bar, sharing a burger and a stack of fries between them, all they could afford after their latest hasty escape that cost them what little supplies they’d scraped together. He remembers the man coming over to them from the bar, dropping into a seat and plonking a beer down in front of Starrk with a cheesy grin.
He remembers telling the man they were more trouble than they were worth, that he should go away, forget he’d ever seen them, forget they existed–
“Did we really…?”
The man laughs, dark-silken-deadly, and leers down at Starrk. “Take out an entire division of the people chasing you then come back to my place for some good alcohol in celebration? Absolutely.”
Starrk chews on that for a moment, mind sluggish with pain and disbelief. No one had ever bothered to give a damn about him and Lilynette before, always looking the other way whenever their hunters caught up with them. “You shouldn’t–” A hand covers his mouth, cutting off his attempt to make the man see reason.
“Ah ah ah,” the man says when Starrk glowers up at him. “We’ve already gone over this last night, and you agreed to give me a week to prove that we can protect you and your sister.”
Starrk huffs and drags the pillow back over his head, ignoring that the man’s hand is still over his mouth. If the fool wants to pretend that he’s capable of standing up to the entire organization out to get Lilynette, Starrk will let the man keep his optimism.
He’ll remember the man’s sacrifice when it’s time for them to run again.