Chapter Text
<I hereby confirm today’s close of business for the Sinners.>
A wave of relief washed over some of the Sinners. Today had been stressful, the usual for them. Dealing with a breached Ardor Blossom Moth and Ambling Pearl because of a couple of mistakes was annoying. Especially for someone like Ishmael since her hair was both burned and got a bunch of green gunk in it before Dante rewound.
“Thank you kindly. Starting now, you all will be given a maximum of 12 hours to partake in sleep and rest; the duration is subject to change. Have a good night.”
With Faust’s conclusion, some of the Sinners got up from their seats and made their way to the LCE’s showers. Ishmael, Hong Lu, Heathcliff, Rodion, and Sinclair were all dead set on taking a shower ASAP. Don Quixote was going to the bathroom as well, but that was to get a dry bath from Rodya. The gunk from that Distortion got everywhere. And they truly meant everywhere.
And since they didn’t have to take a night shift like they usually did, they were all free for the rest of the day… Hopefully. Unless another Distortion or Abnormality broke out they’d be fine.
“Oh, that’s brilliant~” Heathcliff cooed out from his shower, “Bloody fantastic~” Feeling the warm water run down his body was great, making him and his sore muscles feel truly at ease. A clean body made for a clear mind, and boy did he feel great. The steam in the room afterwards was even better since it calmed him down a ton. “Hooo~ ‘at was great,” Heathcliff said as his right hand flushed out and hit Sinclair’s clothed shoulder, “wasn’t it lad?”
“Y-yeah,” the blond boy stuttered, a dash of blush on his cheeks, “ca-can you please put your clothes on, He-Heathcliff…?”
“What? Embarrassed by another bloke in his boxers?” The teasing remark only made the blond blush more and avert his eyes. “Lighten up, lad,” Heathcliff grinned while walking over next to him and crouching under the sink’s counter, “I’m only ‘avin’ a bit o’ banter.” Pulling his bag out, the brunet opened it and pulled out his clothing before throwing it onto the counter. “Are ya mad ‘cause ya can’t take the piss?” Heathcliff innocently asked while placing his two-in-one back, “‘Aven’t ya learned that I’m only jokin’ with ya by now?”
“W-whatever,” Sinclair muttered while rolling his eyes, clearly uncomfortable with his joke, “it wasn’t funny in the first place.” Heathcliff gave him a little nod while putting his floral patterned shirt on.
“Fair ‘nough. Sorry ‘bout that, lad,” Heathcliff apologized, making the blond sigh as he picked up his toothbrush, “won’t happen again.” Standing up, the brunet shoved one leg in through his black shorts and pulled them on before slipping into his slides.
Though it was rather senseless since the chances of another Abnormality breaking out was all but guaranteed at this rate, Heathcliff didn’t care. He wanted to lounge around and relax after that shit-show earlier. And being in comfortable clothes was the first step.
“Right, I’m gonna head out n’ see if Don‘s gonna play chess against Hohenheim again or somethin’.”
“You’re not going to brush your teeth?”
“I’m not goin’ to ‘ave a kip just yet,” he laughed right after, “n’ I didn’t get that nasty gunk in my mouth like Ishy did.” He felt bad for her, but he’d still take a jab at her since it was just a little bit funny…
“Didn’t you drink those weird so—”
“I told ya not to bring that up again, lad,” Heathcliff angrily said while glaring and holding the doorknob, “not cool.”
“What?” Sinclair mimicked while wearing a sinister smile, “Can’t take the piss, Heathcliff?”
“Oh you slllyyy bastard.” He was grinning like a mad-lad despite the vein on his forehead bulging out in anger. “That’s a good one,” he said while opening the door, “that was a goood one.” Stepping out, Heathcliff shut the door behind him before walking to the right and immediately kicking something and nearly tripping over it. “Oi! What the…” Before he let his anger completely consume him, the brunet looked down. “Oh, ‘sup lass. ‘Ow was Rodi’s hair wash?”
“‘Twas fine, Young Heathcliff,” she happily replied with a gilden smile, “Young Rodya’s fingers were divine as always~” That was true. When she and Hong Lu styled his hair, her touch was a ton more gentle.
“Nice, nice,” he repeated, trying to gather the words needed to hit the nail on the head, “question though… Why’re ya right there? Waitin’ on Sinclair or someone?”
“Indeed I was,” smiling up at him, Don Quixote flashed her teeth with joy, “doth thou wish to set thy gaze upon the television and witness the brave adventures of the valorous woman clad in the name of Red?” He scoffed with a smirk, finding her way of putting that absolutely ridiculous. It was also just like her. Always getting way too excited about her favorite Fixers and whatnot.
“If that means ya wanna watch that anime with Kali, then sure, lass. Sounds like a great way to relax~” Even if she squealed, or squeezed him to hard in excitement, it still sounded amazing. “Your room this time?”
“Mm!” Try as anyone might, the blinding happiness that filled Don Quixote's heart would spread. Infecting all that dared to give her the time of day. She was a virus, one without a cure. “Prithee, I wish to set mine eyes upon the Red Mist as soon as possible, Young Heathcliff!”
“Right then,” he said while holding his arm out, “off we go then, lass.” For such an annoying day, he was being rather nice. If anyone else saw him, they’d definitely point it out… Only to ruin one of the very rarest of moments. One where Heathcliff was calm and nice.
Taking it with gusto, Don Quixote pulled herself to her feet. And taking him with fervor, she pulled him away.
It was impossible to catch his footing; she was running incredibly fast. A testament to how bad she wanted to watch anime with him. It was kind of cute. But liking how cute she was didn’t make him run any faster.
It wasn’t until she came to a stop that Heathcliff did as well. Slamming into her side should’ve toppled her, but the lass was sturdier than a brick wall. Budging was going to be impossible. The only time she would move would be when she wanted it to happen. And she wanted to pull Heathcliff into her room and throw him onto her bed.
“Young Heathcliff!” she shouted in the soundproof room on Mephistopheles, “Prepare thyself!” Oh no. He knew what that meant. Hell, he could even see what she was about to do ‘cause of where she was standing. And that was a good six feet away from the foot of her bed.
“Wait, oi oi,” Heathcliff warned her as he backed up, “don’t you bloody dare, Don! You cracked my rib la—shite.” If he accepted his fate from the get go, then he could’ve prepared himself better. Maybe even grab a pillow and put it between them.
But nope! He was just crushing some Fixer plushies, the ones that didn’t fall off the bed, under his arse. And they would soon be crushed more with Don Quixote’s weight on top of them.
“Uhf!” The wind was knocked out of his chest by Don Quixote’s own. Her arms wrapped around his back before it touched the bed, sealing him in a hug that he couldn't escape.
Nestled in the crook of his neck, because slamming head first into his chest would've killed her, Don Quixote happily stayed. Silence was what filled the room. Which was odd because it never was.
Sometimes the tv was playing a cartoon, a documentary, or an anime. Or she was yapping about a Fixer or something. Or Heathcliff was ‘avin’ a little chat with his best friend. Whatever way the sword fell, the room never fell into total silence.
If she wasn’t breathing, her total stillness would’ve made him worried… Well, he actually still worried, but not because he thought she was dead or anything. It was more so on an emotional scale. What made her so… unlike herself?
“Hey…” Heathcliff started, mulling about his next words over and over in his head, “are you alright, Don Quixote…?” A lass would've replaced that normally. Even when they were alone without anyone around.
He wasn’t quite used to calling his girlfriend anything but lass…
“Mm…” If she wanted to be believed, then she should’ve put more energy into the hum. But she didn’t… And that made Heathcliff do something rash. Something so foolish that he would never have considered it.
He hugged her back, something he got used to, but also lifted his hand. That fluffy blonde hair was off limits for him unless he was in front of the others and roughing it up out of pride and whatnot. Her hair even went untouched by his chin when she sat in his lap and leaned against him.
But not now. He broke one of the several rules he laid out for himself. And that was burying his ring within her locks. His left hand could never give her the gentle touch he desired to treat her to…
“If ya wanna talk, then go right ahead. I’m listenin’, lass.” Whether it was right now, or ten minutes from now, he didn’t care. And if she didn’t feel right in telling him either, then that was fine too. He just didn’t want her to stay in this funk…
‘Cause it was familiar. Way too familiar…
She once got like this after he told her all about Catherine. About how she looked, how she acted, how she even smiled. Things only he and Dante remembered because she went forgotten by reality itself. Nobody but them knew… and nobody else ever would.
Not even Don Quixote really understood what he was talking about. And that threw her into that little mood of hers for those three days. All because she couldn’t properly grasp anything that Heathcliff said…
Or even properly picture Catherine in her head, making it impossible to draw her. She wasn’t the best at sketches, or drawing for that matter, but she wanted to have a reminder of this woman as well. This ‘Catherine’ meant a lot to Heathcliff… and Heathcliff meant a lot to the knight herself.
His approval of Don Quixote's drawing was what brought her out of that funk. And his tight hug on that cold night was what led them to where they were today. It was the night she realized what the flutter in her heart over his encouraging words in the LCE was from. She loved him. A lot in fact…
Which was why she boldly confessed to him during that hug. Something he initially declined but gave into. He believed that his heart would forever belong to Cathy, he truly did. But the beat changed. The constant rhythm was interrupted by the warmth she gave to him.
And only him.
“… Heathcliff…?” The blood froze in his veins. There was no ‘Young,’ no ‘Sir…’ Something was really wrong. “… do you truly love me…?”
Thinking wasn't always his strong suit. At least about the complicated shite. When it came to the stuff he considered important, his gut did the thinking for him. This wasn’t something he could say with his gut however. It was his heart that took over for him.
“Of course I do, Don. Ya’ve…” He hesitated, not out of fear, but because he thought about his memories with her. The good, the bad… all of them. “Ya’ve truly grown on me y’know.”
“I used t’ wanna smash that delusional head o’ yours in n’ see why you were always so bloody annoyin’…” He smirked at the ceiling, tracing the glow in the dark stars with his eyes. “Just as I used t’ think I’d only be in love with Cathy. But things changed. I changed…”
For better or worse? He couldn’t tell. All that he knew was that this… it felt good. It felt right. Even if it was wrong, even if it hurt, this was right.
“… will you change again…?”
“About the way I feel about you?”
No.
Never.
Neither word left his lips.
A warm feeling was all that left them.
“D-did you just…”
Don Quixote’s cheeks were flushed as she looked up at from his chest. He had the gall to smirk as if he didn’t just do the most audacious thing in the world. Something she truly never ever expected him to do.
“Yep~”
“Surprised by my kiss, lass?”
“Y-y-yes…” Don Quixote spluttered as her face grew even brighter at his words, “Wh-why did you… do it…?”
“Wanted to,” he calmly admitted, looking utterly chuffed at her as she looked away, “n’ it’s been gnawin’ on my noggin for a little. So I figured now’s the best time for it.” Her cheeks boiled, bubbling over with rising infatuation. “Did’ya like it so much ya dropped your act?”
“Ah—” She opened her mouth to argue against him. And that accusatory finger was meant to help point her to the right person… But she just couldn’t speak. There wasn’t a single thing to argue against since he wasn’t wrong at all. “A-ahm, indeed I did, Young Heathcliff. ‘Twas rather pleasant.”
“Good~” he beamed, hoping to light the rest of her day up the same way she did for him, “What say we watch that anime now, eh lass?” With a simple nod, Don Quixote leapt from his chest and off of her bed.
Hurrying to her closet, the blonde lass opened it and wheeled out the cart with a tv on top of it. The anime they were watching was supposedly a ‘collector’s item’ due to it being on a VHS tape. And she had just the right TV for it too. After plugging both into the wall, she turned them on and popped the tape in before running over to her bed and tackling Heathcliff again.
“Hey, lass,” Heathcliff began, opening his mouth just as the staticky opening of the anime played, “you’re gonna miss your favorite part.” While the amount she liked the episodes varied, there was one thing that never waned. Her love for both the opening and the ending. He couldn’t lie either, the music was pretty catchy.
“And?” Don Quixote asked as she nuzzled against his chest, “What of it, Young Heathcliff? Hast thou perhaps entertained the idea that I wish to remain against thee for the remaining time within my very beloved opening?” Now was perhaps the best time as any for him to blush. When she wanted to, Don Quixote could say such endearing things. Things that made his heart thump heavily in his chest.
“To think,” Heathcliff smirked, keeping his head trained on the top of her head, “I’m more special to ya than the show. ‘S really nice hearin’ ‘at.”
“Of course thou’rt,” Don Quixote happily purred, shutting her dreamy eyes, “there is nary an equal to mine best companion, Young Heathcliff.” A deep breath allowed her the time to collect her thoughts. “Even before our union at my foolhardy behest.”
“Bloody odd way o’ saying I was your best friend, but yeah. I’d ‘ave considered you mine too, Don.” Unlike most other blokes, she actually gave a shite about him… all the time actually. “Now come on n’ get up, show’s ‘boutta start.”
Giving him a solemn nod, Don Quixote flipped herself over and shuffled her way into his lap. When the back of her head went against his chest, the anime started. And only moments he grabbed her hand and ran his thumb across it.
He truly loved the knight.
Cherished her a lot too.
Don Quixote meant…
… she meant just as much as Catherine did to him…
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