Tomorrow

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Why am I doing this? He asked, leaning back against the inn door and shifting his burden into a more comfortable position. Why?

The empty room refused to answer his silent question as he glanced over it. The room was typical of most inn rooms. Brown, badly varnished, wooden walls, a single bed built for two with thick wooden posts and white coverings. A nightstand/dresser was shoved next to the bed, a single candle stub shoved into the remnants of former stubs. A few candle nooks along the walls held the same type of stubby candle shoved into hardened drippings. Along the left wall, opposite from the bed was a small thick legged chair in front of a window only shut with shutters. He shoved away from the door with a sigh and headed for the bed, settling his burden onto the white covers.

Zelgadis sighed again as he straightened, this time in relief of his burden lifted. Again he questioned his reasons for this. What was I thinking saving him like that? He glared at the figure who lay like one dead on the covers of the bed. The figure still clutched the forked staff with a grip Zel had been unable to break. The look of agonized concentration had been wiped from the elegant features by the trip to the inn, but Zel could still see the strain of the spell in the labored breathing and fluctuating pulse.

Constrained by time at the moment of the figure's salvation, Zel had been forced to simply whisk them away instead of healing him on the spot. A healing he preformed now, still questioning himself. Damn him. Seconds later, the figure breathed easier, pulse steadied, and the imperceptible marks of strain melted away into peace as he continued to slumber.

The figure's savior stepped away from the bed and paced, unable to still the roiling questions. Why did I save the bastard? He deserved to die! Sadly, that question was answered. He saved my life, so I am merely returning the debt. Right? But why did he save me? A question that would most likely be answered by "sore wa himitsu desu". Damn the Trickster to every hell for making me save his sorry ass.

Xellos moaned and stirred, muscles bunching as he unconsciously tried to rise, only to fall back again with a whimper. Zel glanced over, frozen like a bird in the thrall of a snake. The Trickster shifted restlessly for a few moments, then was still, face smoothing into peace once more. Only when he was sure the demon was within the realm of sleep, did Zelgadis return to his side, glaring down at him with hate filled eyes.

The hatred intensified as he reached out and gently brushed violet hair from Xellos's face, resting his palm against the smooth copper cheek, caressing. Sapphire eyes narrowed in calculation and he slapped the Mazoku. Nothing. Not a single reaction as the head was thrown to the side by the slap, a angry red mark forming on the demon's cheek. Zelgadis snarled.

"WAKE UP, DAMMIT!"

The silence following the shout was broken only by Zel's breathing, hard and fast as he struggled to control the anger fueled hatred of Xellos. Clenching his fists at his sides, he forced his eyes closed and desperately held his temper in check. Damn him, damn him, damn him. They were enemies, why did he force this debt on him? Sure, he had hated the bastard before they became mortal foes, but that had been during the good old days. Days when the Trickster had followed after Lina for reasons of his own. Days before the war.

Now ... now ... Lina and her friends were a single band of humans caught between warring factions of light and dark. A single band of chaotic order that struggled to stop the war that waged across their world. They, he, were hunted by the chosen executioner of the Mazoku: Xellos. And now the scum has to save my life! Why?! Xellos hated them, taunted them mercilessly, laughing as they struggled to free themselves from his various, sadistic traps. They were mortal enemies, dammit. Even Lina had declared her hatred of the purple haired bastard. Why, why did he save me?!

He opened haunted eyes, gazing down at the demon that had dogged their steps. Crystal-like tears trickled down the handsome face, startling Zelgadis out of his anger. Wha - ?

Carefully, he turned the face back to it's former position and gently brushed the tears away with a thumb, even more startled when his fingers came back wet. No illusion ... Zelgadis almost fled from Xellos's immediate presence, whirling and shoving the shutters of the window open, allowing a stream of moonlight inside. Wrong, it was so wrong. Demons couldn't cry. He knew that Xellos did not know regret or sorrow. Unable to hate or love, just a being who fed on negative emotions and played games for his own undecipherable goals.

He spun, the anger flaring up at Xellos's sleeping form. He should kill the bastard, he had fulfilled his debt after all. No need to continue to help him. No reason at all. Zel stalked back to the bed, a dagger slipping into his palm with ease. He raised it to plunge it into the demon's heart ... only to notice the staff was held in slack hands.

What? Xellos had maintained a death grip on the staff until now. So why this sudden release? Sliding the knife back into his wrist holster, he placed a hand on the staff to remove it from Xellos's grip. The gloved hand tightened again. Scowling, Zel jerked at it, but the hand held fast. He needed this for their future survival. Without his staff, surely Xellos would be weakened enough to kill ... Perhaps another approach is in order.

Zelgadis released the staff and leaned back on his heals, considering the matter. Then he pulled off his finger-less gloves and took Xellos's hand, gently massaging the wrist. The grip slackened slightly, just enough for the tips of his fingers to reach to the palm. He continued his caress, rewarded by progress. Slowly, the hand relaxed, letting the staff roll onto the bed, but Zel hardly noticed.

The lavender glove was frustratingly deceiving. Brushing his fingertips along the curve of every gloved finger he couldn't really feel them, just guess with the annoying shifting of the silky fabric. Finally having enough, he just pulled it off, revealing a strangely delicate hand. Zel bent his head and brought the hand to his lips, kissing the palm, before trailing down to the wrist. What am I doing?!?! Tonight had too many questions, he decided. The anger was still there, a coiled snake hovering with his hatred, but it had faded to the background for the moment.

Correction: What am I thinking?!?! Pain for pain. He hurt us, I'll hurt him. Yes, that was it. Lifting his head, he stared at his face, considering as he continued to clasp Xel's hand, caressing. Setting the Trickster's hand to the side, he touched his cheek, brushing the bright red palm mark with gentle fingers. Damn the bastard for his semblance of humanity. There was the dig. The thing that irritated Zelgadis the most. Xellos, no matter how inhuman he was, looked human. Zel was a chimera, a monster, no matter his human heart. Especially in this world torn world. Xellos could charm anyone he pleased, Zel had a hard time getting people not to kill him on sight. And I hate you for it.

Frustrating, so very frustrating ... Stop trying to throttle him when he's asleep, he can't feel it. Zel let go of Xellos's neck, watching the head loll back into the covers as he struggled to contain the hatred again. Once he had mastered himself, he looked up again, noting the bruises forming on the copper skinned neck. Such marred beauty. That brought a rare smile to his face.

Beautiful ... Zelgadis touched Xellos's cheek again, caressing the smooth curve, reveling in the feel of it on his bare hands. Kneeling beside the bed, he continued, lightly trailing his fingers across the Trickster's features, brushing aside the glossy violet strands of his hair. Bewitching ... A tickling temptation tugged at him. Why not?

Cupping Xellos's face in his hands, he gently kissed him. Not enough to taste, only to taunt. Even in sleep, the demon was a tease. He frowned and kissed again, crushing his lips to the Trickster's, flicking his tongue across the curves. Zel pulled back with a gasp, hardly aware of the tiny thread of pleasure winding it's way through the hate. It was intense even without Xellos's participation. Or was it intense only to him?

He stood, shaking. What was wrong with him? Even considering the path his thoughts were taking, considering an action only Xellos would stoop to? Zelgadis shook his head and re-centered himself before he gazed down at the sleeping Mazoku. He glanced at the staff. Somehow, it no longer seemed important. It's possession meant nothing to him anymore. Yes, he needed it to cripple the Trickster, but there would be another time ... another time ...

Picking the staff up he placed it in Xellos's bare palm, which closed over it possessively. Bending, he took a moment to stroke his cheek before whispering in an ear.

"Tomorrow ... Tomorrow, we will be enemies once more."

Zelgadis then firmly constrained himself to taking only a gentle, chaste kiss from Xellos's lips before he turned, left the room, and didn't look back.

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