Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ A Difference of Sides ❯ :three: ( Chapter 3 )

~~Warning/Disclaimer~~

Digimon doesn't belong to me, sadly. Otherwise, they'd be doing a lot more than 'jogress' together. *grin* Okay…warnings apply, all disclaimer's apply-because this is rated for language and some strong sexual content. Hints of non-con.

This is also yaoi, if you couldn't tell…damn, it's the third chapter, I'd think you'd know by know. Anyhoo… Rated at least R for language, Daiken shonen ai-and it's not pretty. It's actually gonna get pretty rough…*snerk*

Thanks out to Aphrael, who read through this at all hours of the day. *snugs*

~A Difference of Sides~

~Three~

The sun crested through early morning clouds, rising slowly between the glittering metal buildings. At such an early hour, the city looked pure, clean. It looked majestic. The constant hum of traffic had died off earlier in the night, and now only birds and the occasional passerby filled the silence. It was nearing seven, and Iori had yet to locate his hidden companions. They had several spots they had agreed on meeting, and having traveled to two of them already, the skinny somber young man wondered if he'd have to walk all over the city first.

In the back of his head he wondered what exactly had happened. He didn't know what he would say to the others, didn't know what explanation existed to show why he was walking down the street, shivering slightly in the chill, and trying to look like he was out for a walk.

~Daisuke has a lot of explaining,~ he thought in irritation. First the boy had disappeared, now he was back after four days of no communication-and with someone, by Yama's account-Iori could only wonder what the hell the redhead was thinking.

~Well, no use worrying about it now,~ he thought, and rounded the corner. Out of the corner of his eye, a sleek black car prowled by. He paid it no mind as if he hadn't notice-but in the early morning silence he heard the hiss of a window scrolling down. ~Probably someone needing directions,~ he mused, and kept walking.

"Hey, kid!" a voice sounding decidedly waspish called out to him.

Blinking, Iori turned his head, looking surprised. "Uhm, yes?"

A man with long hair the color of white-gold, and a narrow expressionless face, peered at him in the black square of the door. "Come here. I have a question for you."

Alarms whispered through his instincts. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but moved closer. The man stuck an arm out the window, a small glossy photo in his fingers. "Have you seen this boy?"

"Why, did he do something bad?" Iori said, pinching the paper between thumb and finger, pulling it close. The man kept his hold, and stretched his arm. Iori didn't notice. His world had frozen, and it was only the same warning instinct that kept his face neutral as he examined the picture.

"No, nothing like that. His parents have hired us to find him-he's a runaway," the man replied matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry," the dark haired teen shook his head, but spoke as politely as possible. "But I haven't seen anyone out this early."

"Thanks for your time," the man said curtly, and pulled his hand, and the photo back inside the car.

Iori nodded, and began walking. Ahead of him was the bridge, and underneath it, he hoped, were the others. The car rumbled as it pulled away, the window already gliding back into place, the man's focus gone.

~I'm not even gonna ask what the hell he did.~ Iori waited until the car was out of sight before he began to run, his face scowling.

Daisuke had a lot of explaining to do.

~-~-~

Yama had enough time to shower, dress and grab something to eat before the customary knock sounded, and the front door opened. He looked up, mouth full of cereal, and watched Taichi dart across the kitchen entrance to head them off.

After a moment the blond dropped his bowl into the sink and followed. As he did he glanced into the living room, saw Koushiro bent over his laptop, and assumed the two on the couch had fallen asleep again. He looked ahead to where Kari and Miyako were hanging up their coats. They were still dressed in pajamas. Iori was shaking his head at something, looking distinctly annoyed.

Taichi laced his fingers behind his head. "-because this is serious," he was saying as Yama came closer.

"What's going on?" Miyako said, exasperated. "What did that idiot do now? And why did we have a level 3 alarm at five in the morning!?"

"Uh, that's a little hard to explain," Tai returned.

"Would it have anything to do with a bunch of men out looking for Daisuke? Some guy in a car was

flashing his picture," Iori remarked staidly.

There was a pause, while the uninformed exchanged confused glances, and Taichi caught Yamato's eye with an uncertain look. "There's someone looking for him already?"

"This could be bad," the blond remarked quietly. He sighed, muttering something under his breath, and fixed the group with a look. "Alright then, listen up. Under no circumstances is Daisuke to leave, and it's important that no one leaks this out. Top notch all the way, got that?" He fixed Hikari with a stern glare. "That means no telling Sora or Mimi. What you see in this place stays here, okay?"

Unhesitant, the girl nodded. "No problem."

"Great," Taichi slipped in. "Here's the deal. Dai got kidnapped, shaken up pretty bad, and got away. He walked for two days to get back here, so he's gonna sleep for a while. He's in a real bad mood, so none of you piss him off. The last thing I need is a postal Dai, okay?" A round of nodding. No one spoke. Tai hesitated before revealing the last secret, glancing again at Yama. The blond nodded faintly, and the leader continued in a quiet no-shit voice. "The thing is…he came home handcuffed to the missing Ichijouji boy."

The silence lasted much longer this time, all eyes staring at him in disbelief, before someone sputtered

out a strangled "say what?!" Taichi winced at the not-so-soft noise.

"Keep it down, Miya!!" he snapped in a whisper. "They just got here, and Koushiro's workin' on the cuffs, and no one-and I mean no one is going to bother them until they get some rest!"

"But-is it really him?!" the girl whispered back.

"Yeah," the brunette leader eyed her. "Which means that if Iori was right about someone looking for

Dai…we can't let either one outta sight."

Iori interrupted with a thought, pushing short dark hair away from his forehead. "It makes sense. They can't flash pictures of Ichijouji and not draw attention, but locating someone attached to his arm…or someone who might have seen Daisuke…"

"Good point," Yamato nodded. "Basic plan for now-keep the brat and his little boyfriend here."

Takeru smiled, amused and somewhat disinterested, then yawned. "Does that mean we can go back to bed now?"

"No," the older blond smiled cheerfully. "You get to go tell the other gangs not to spill, or we'll gut them on the freeway."

"Aw, fuck."

~-~-~

Huddled beneath a blanket that smelled of home and familiar things, a weight against his side, Daisuke twitched. His mind was reeling deep into a dark and hazy dream. His pale face and slight sweat went unnoticed by Koushiro-he was immersed within a program and a complex machine that he had attached to the exposed bit of copper. Getting a final reading and analyzing the possibilities were the only things that crossed his mind.

Within Daisuke's mind, however…

He was running. Running, feet stinging on the pavement, a heavy weight dragging at his arm. When he noticed it, and decided to look over, the world turned with him and he saw a body dragging in the mud. A pale upturned arm, bleeding at the wrist, and a mocking smile on the dirty face.

No…this wasn't supposed to happen…

Something laughed behind him, startling him until his heart choked him and he spun, digging for a dagger, for anything sharp and eyes too wide-the world spun itself over, tackling him at the knees until he splashed into a puddle. Coldness seeped through his body, deep into his bones, and he struggled to pull himself up.

He was sinking he realized with horror, feeling the cold and wet surface give way slowly, like sticky sand. He opened his mouth to scream, to yell for help, arms reaching up-for anyone-

Something seized his wrist.

He flashed to a memory, screams in his ears and cruel hands and Jun's frightened face-

-screamed for real, this time, jerking himself out of sleep with a wheeze, the bitten off cry never making it past his throat. It burned, choking at him until he gasped, forcing his muscles to relax. Forced himself to sit back-

"Dai?" a voice that sounded almost unconcerned whispered.

The redhead tensed, eyes flickering up automatically. "…did I scream?" he asked hoarsely. "Did I wake anyone?"

Koushiro raised a brow, expression neutral. "No, and it's past five in the afternoon. Most of them are out. Was it a dream?"

Daisuke nodded once, a tight cold feeling invading his chest. No. He wouldn't cry. Not over that. Not over a stupid thing that shouldn't have happened. "I was drowning, I think," he whispered after a moment.

"Ah." The ebon eyes flickered to the screen, and Daisuke belatedly realized his hands hadn't stopped typing. The muscles in his back were knotted, his body still shaking from the dream, and noticing that Koushiro hadn't bothered to stop wasn't helping his emotions.

Something moved by his side, and he glanced down to see a sleeping face covered with strands of

violet hair-seeing with a twisted pleasure the dirt and grime grained on the skin and clumping the hair-and shivered. It was too-

"Daisuke?" Koushiro turned his head again. "Are you okay?"

It wasn't something Koushiro normally asked him. The younger redhead shrugged half-heartedly, the tight feeling twisting in his stomach, and didn't meet his gaze. Beside him Ichijouji was tangled in the blanket, his sprawled limbs somehow graceful even in sleep. That irritated him, somehow. No one was perfect, but Ichijouji sure seemed to make a grandiose effort.

~Why'd I have to get chained to something like you?~ he thought viciously and made a face.

"Motomiya Daisuke, I asked you a question!"

He jumped at Koushiro's voice. "Dammit, Kou-stop it! I'll be fine, so just do your job and get these damn things off!"

The next thing he knew, something had kicked him at the waist, pushing him off with startling ease. The blankets caught his feet, impeding his balance, and he went tumbling to the floor with a half-shrieked curse.

Daisuke looked up to see the scowling dirty face of Ichijouji, seeing the startled amusement fly over Koushiro's face-and oddly felt like crying even more. Instead, he spat out a particularly nasty word and kicked at the couch, furious.

"Stop being so loud," Ichijouji replied. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"You fuckin' asshole-" Daisuke hissed. "I'm gonna kill you, you stuck-up little shit-"

Ichijouji pushed himself off of the armrest, tugging at the handcuffs stretched out between them, and made a slightly disgusted face. "Yes, I'm sure," he said absently. He fixed a gaze on Koushiro, expression clearing from irritated-sleep to curiosity in seconds. "What time is it?"

"Approximately 5:23, and it's Tuesday, if you want to know."

"Thank you," Ichijouji murmured in surprising politeness, his hands twitching away at his still-grimy clothes and smoothing wrinkles. "What kind of progress have you made?"

Beside him, nursing a bruised shin, Daisuke shot both of them a dark look and set his face into neutral. Anger and resentment burned in his chest, mixing eagerly with the feeble sensation of helplessness, of grief. He shoved it down. Getting angry wouldn't help. He couldn't avoid a growl, though, when Ichijouji moved enough to peer at the screen in front of Koushiro.

"I've managed to discern the frequency," Koushiro was saying. "and I'm working on analyzing how it ties into the wiring, and what type of hardware is encased within the cuffs. To be honest, I've never had the chance to work on something this hi-tech. It's proving to be really interesting."

Daisuke had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. ~It's not fair,~ a small voice whined. ~It's not fair.~ He risked a glance, and felt his insides twist. Ichijouji actually looked interested, and Koushiro-

Koushiro hadn't smiled like that in years…

The younger redhead turned his face away, carefully, and drew in a half-breath. ~…he smiled for Jun…for Jun and only Jun, because she liked to hear him laugh-~ Far away, he heard a noise and realized Ichijouji had asked something about metallic substances. Then Koushiro's response. He didn't notice. He was facing the couch, Ichijouji's right arm forgotten between them. After a moment he kicked off the blanket. Then paused, staring at it, at the couch and his dirty jeans. He couldn't breathe, everything was wrong and all he felt was dirty-

"-and if you took a reading off of this?" Ichijouji was saying.

"Interesting idea-let's see what it does," Koushiro replied.

"…shut up," Daisuke heard himself whisper. "Shut up. Stop saying it like that…" he heard a part of himself gasp for breath, felt his hands come up to tug at his hair, squeezed his eyes shut against himself. "…just shut up," he whispered fiercely. He didn't know who he was talking to.

"Daisuke?" Koushiro looked at him, really looked-and pushed the laptop away with a "Shit, Daisuke-" and yanked the boy around by his shoulders. "You stupid, lying brat-" and his voice was full of anger, full of a sound that resembled caring.

Daisuke got a brief whirling glimpse of the room, of Ichijouji's expressionless face and flickering eyes, of a dark and bitter pain deep inside Koushiro's face before thin arms crushed him close.

"Kou?" he gasped into the cotton shirt, fingers spasming tight over the arms. "Kou, it's not fair…"

~-~-~

The punk was shaking, possibly crying, and for the first time in his life Ken felt absolutely and horridly confused. He had woken up to the annoying yells of his unwanted companion, had felt a thrill of exhilaration when he had shoved him off the couch-

For the last few minutes he had felt normal.

Seeing the ashen and mumbling Daisuke was confusing. Seeing him clutch at his head as if to ward off pain was mildly frightening. Wasn't he happy to be safe? Wasn't he happy to be where he had friends?

"What's going on?" he ventured in a tiny voice. Hearing the unstable catch in the voice that had never shown such a weakness was downright chilling. This punk had dragged him over a day and a half, quite possibly throughout the entire city-and now he was crying in someone's arms.

Koushiro met his gaze briefly, questions flashing through the dark eyes. "Did something happen before you got away? Something…" a pause while the older male searched for the words. "Something along the lines of abuse?"

Ken gnawed at a lip. "I-I don't know. When they brought us out for the camera they blindfolded me.

I didn't see anything…"

"Did you hear anything?" Koushiro insisted. One hand pressed briefly against the mop of red-brown hair.

"I don't know…I think they hit him a few times…" Ken was terribly confused. "Why…what's wrong with him?"

"Nothing," Koushiro whispered after a long moment. "Just shock catching up with him. He'll be okay."

Ken sniffed delicately and made a small face. "It's not like I care," he uttered. "I just don't want him slowing us down." The boy shifted, uneasy. He sounded unsure even to himself, but Koushiro was nodding, eyes pulled away.

"Don't worry, he'll be back to his frustrating self in a little while," the redhead was saying. "You might as well get some sleep."

"As wonderful as that sounds, I don't think I can," Ken replied. "But I'll try."

~-~-~

They had to have the police stationed outside of the door to keep the press away. Three days of almost constant exposure, of questions and the half-pitying looks that they didn't bother to hide.

Osamu felt himself twist a smile that didn't reach his eyes and shut the door behind him. The Investigator was seated on the couch consoling his parents. The police were outside the door. He had been asked the same questions in so many countless ways in the last few days that he felt like screaming now.

His brother was missing. Possibly dead-and the investigation force had centered itself in his home.

"They should be out looking for him," he whispered to the darkness in his room. The lights were off, and only the hum of his computer answered his statement. "They should be doing something…"

He dragged himself over to his chair, sitting down with careful movements that didn't reflect his fragmented thoughts, and leaned until his head smacked into his palms. He hadn't left the apartment in two days-he couldn't. he couldn't bear to see the looks on their faces, the pity, the subtle 'glad it's not me,' and the like. Couldn't bear to walk outside of his room and not see his brother.

~I shouldn't have taken Dad's offer at the office…I shouldn't have been so good…if I had only…~ he yanked off his glasses and dropped them to the desk. ~If only I had been here…~ He fought the burn of tears for what seemed like endless hours, lost in his darkened room.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Go away!" he called.

"Ichijouji-san?" a voice deeper than his father's called out. "May I come in?"

Osamu grabbed his glasses, feeling his irritation sky-rocket, and spun in his chair. The knob rattled. "Sure, Oikawa. Why not?"

The door opened, spilling light into an elongated patch upon his carpet, backlighting a large stooped man. The man smiled warmly, his face its usual pasty color, and eyed him. "How are you feeling?" the man said.

"Peachy," Osamu drawled. "What is it?"

Oikawa didn't seem to mind his rudeness. "I came to see if you're doing alright. It's a tough time. I wanted to offer my condolences-"

"Look, Oikawa, my brother's not dead yet, so stop acting smarmy. Is this about the business deal?" the young man snapped. "-I had nothing to do with it, okay?"

A flash of annoyance went through the black eyes, almost indiscernible in the shadows of his face. "No. That position went to the most qualified individual," Oikawa replied coolly. "I'm sure you'll do a fine job for someone so young."

"Oh, get out," Osamu whispered. "I don't want to be rude, but this isn't the time, okay?"

"Very well," the stooped man inclined his head. "If there's anything I can do to help, Ichijouji-san…"

"Thanks," Osamu twisted in his chair until he couldn't see the door anymore, and pulled off his glasses again. Watching the reflection in the mirror, he saw Oikawa close the door behind him, cutting off the light and dropping the room back into darkness. The taller spiky-haired boy fought a shiver, and told himself he was being foolish.

~He's only Dad's partner-mine, now that Dad's retiring soon. God…~ something wavered in his mind, something about Oikawa that he couldn't place-

But then his eyes dropped to a picture of him and Ken, and it was gone.

~Ken…oh god, where are you?!~

~-~-~

"Oiy, Daisuke. Look at me," Koushiro asked quietly. It had been about fifteen minutes, and from what he could tell, Ichijouji had fallen back to sleep. His arm was stretched out somewhat painfully, but he was breathing regularly and lightly.

The shaking shoulders shrugged a bit, and Daisuke inhaled, swallowing. A hand rose to swipe at his face, but there were no tears. "What?"

"Did they hurt you?"

Daisuke shuddered. "No," he said after a moment. "They almost did, but I kicked him and hit him over the head with a garbage can…That's how we got away-they only had one guy walkin us back, and he started to…to do stuff, so I-I hit him-"

Koushiro clenched his jaw and leaned his forehead against Daisuke. "Listen," he growled. "If they come after you, I won't let them hurt you, okay?"

The redhead pulled away, nodded. He managed a shaky half-smile. "Yeah, like you could kick anyone's ass…"

"Then I'll get Tai to do it," the older male returned with a smirk.

Daisuke laughed inspite of himself. "Yeah, I bet." He scratched at the cuff around his wrist, flexing, and glanced up through dark lashes. "…thanks, Kou. For that."

"I should've done that sooner," the other remarked dryly. "Instead of making it worse."

"Speaking of worse," Daisuke hesitated as he twisted his head to look at the sleeping rich kid. "I bet he's gonna give me all sorts of shit for that little display."

"Hey-without him I won't be able to get these off, so don't go killing any witnesses." Koushiro pushed his hand through his hair. "God, I swear, you are more fussy than Yamato on a date."

"Hey, I resent that," Daisuke shot back. "Ugh. Little fuckin brat-I'm still gonna kick his ass for shoving me off the couch." He rubbed at his knees, then stretched as much as possible. Then he sighed, and shook his head. "You better cover your ears," he said to Koushiro.

"What? Why-what are you going to do?"

Daisuke leaned over to catch the shoulder of the other boy, and dragged him off the couch. "Hey, rich boy! Wake up!" he said, as Ken made a muffled yell and tumbled onto the floor. Daisuke tilted his head as he looked down, smiling wickedly.

"Wh-what?" the boy mumbled, pushing himself up. "Hey-you pulled me off! What the hell was that for!?"

"Because I could," Daisuke snapped, grinning. "Get up."

"No," Ichijouji muttered. "No, I will not, you heathen imbecile."

"Dai-" Koushiro began, amused and concerned. "Maybe you should-"

Neither boy spared him a glance; they were too involved with deciding who had the better evil glare. Koushiro sighed, muttering something under his breath, and groped for his laptop. He pulled it close, and said over his shoulder, "Whatever, just don't involve me in your little spat."

Ichijouji scooted towards the couch. "I intend to get some well-deserved rest. God knows I need it for putting up with you-"

Daisuke yanked him back by the arm and stood. "Hey, I gotta piss," he yelled. "So get your ass off the floor!!"

"So go piss," Ichijouji yelled back. "I'm not stopping you, you freak!"

"Trust me," Daisuke ground out. "You are."

~-~-~

Taichi gathered them all into the kitchen before six. "Takeru's gonna get back soon-then we're gonna go have a talk with Dai. I mean it when I don't want anyone pissing him off, okay?"

"You said that already," Iori commented. He was seated on the countertop, his customary black clothing loose. He picked fastidiously at a loose thread, and raised a brow. "Get to the point, I'm tired of waiting."

"We all are," Yamato shoved at his shoulder lightly, a disapproving glance narrowed his way. "But rushing into this will make it worse. We need to know all the facts."

"Yeah," Taichi nodded from his corner. "Hikari's already home, so it's gonna be between us-" he looked up at a small sound, and smiled faintly when a slight blond figure slipped through the door. "Takeru-how'd it go?"

"They say it's a go, no spillage from them, and no one's reported any weirdos after Dai," the young man grinned cockily. "Other than that-did I miss anything?"

"No," Iori shrugged. "We just got back from patrol," he motioned to Miyako. "And like you said, nothing's going on. It's quiet."

"Wow, quiet-that's something new," Yamato muttered. Iori kicked his ankle and rolled his eyes. "Anyways, is everyone here now?"

"Dude," Miyako piped up. "We're all in the kitchen, and you want roll-call? You militant jerkwad," she laughed and flashed him the finger. "Here's my call!"

Takeru snickered. "Maybe that should be our new signal, Yama."

"Oh shut up you two," Taichi cuffed the back of Takeru's head with a gentle fist. "We've got more important-"

Someone shouted suddenly "Hey, I gotta piss so get your ass off the floor!!"

"Looks like Dai's awake," Yamato shook his head. "And I was just beginning to enjoy the silence…"

~-~-~

Blinking in surprise, Taichi paused at the entrance to the living room and stared. The others crowded in curiously, and he felt like laughing absurdly. Daisuke yelled something, yanking at the arm of the missing boy, and started to drag him to his feet.

"I will not!" Ichijouji was saying. "I had enough of that back in that damn room, and I will not-"

"Now who's the idiot?" Daisuke muttered back. "In case you went blind, richboy, we're still cuffed. See these?" he shook their linked wrists. "They make it a bit hard to go by myself when I'm attached to you!!"

"Just go," Koushiro snapped over his shoulder. "I'm sick of hearing you fight. Get up and go, because I doubt that Ichijouji has an empty bladder."

"Hah!" Daisuke jeered. "Let's go, rich boy, you heard the man."

Grumbling, his face set and furious, Ichijouji rose to his feet. "Fine," he hissed.

Takeru snickered from somewhere behind him, and Taichi fought a self-same grin. He coughed lightly, amusement radiating off the small group of five and grinned lightly at Daisuke when the head swiveled towards him.

"Fuckin' a," Daisuke muttered and shot them all a glare. "Don't even start…" Ichijouji snorted something under his breath, something that Daisuke must have heard. The redhead turned and made a face.

"Come on," Ichijouji sneered. "Bathroom, remember? God forbid you piss your pants in front of your friends…"

Daisuke made a strangled sound, and stalked from the room, dragging the boy-who smiled slightly-after him. No one spoke-it was too easy to still hear the snapped comments and yelling from here.

"Well, that was funny," Takeru grinned. "He hasn't gotten that riled up since I put jello in his sheets."

"Hah hah," Yamato said from somewhere behind his younger brother, and shoved him forward. "Remember who did laundry that day? Thanks for telling me, you fuzzy monkey-ass."

Koushiro's hands flew over the keyboard, and without looking, the young man replied, "Well, come and sit down. They'll probably wash up-I need to fill you in a few things anyways."

There was a muted, and somewhat shrill "-you will wash your hands!" from the direction of the bathroom.

Takeru started to laugh helplessly, and the others weren't far behind. "Oh god, poor Daisuke…"

~~ notes ~~ well…so far so good! Next chapter, more Daisuke angst (god, who can get enough of that?!) and some odd pairings…and excitement! Yeah!