Work Text:
“Yoi-chan,” Ruruka says, meringue-soft. “I’m back.”
Sonosuke’s head is bowed over his work; innocuous — unguarded. “So quick,” he hums, and lifts an expectant palm.
A skull will cave regardless of the girl that wields the hammer, trembling, muscles overwrought from steel and fear. “Thank you,” Sonosuke adds, before she has even delivered the tool, and Ruruka’s heart soars with shame. She envisions him devastated in ribbons of sinew, and of course her angel is none the wiser as her weapon passes into his possession, safe, bloodlessly sound.
Ruruka drapes over him, silent; wonders how long their poisoned haven will last.