for the prompt 'nive, but with canon!nine; villain nine, absolute tirefire and not a happy one.' also accidentally combined it with 'hand in unlovable hand,' Whoops
three sentences, he said. it'll be quick, he said
[cws: blood, angst, character death, suicide, Bad Vibes. when i say it's not a happy one i mean it; tread lightly.]
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"Nobody's coming," hisses Nine through his teeth. There's blood running down his face, and even the strobing emergency lights can't hide the mad light in his eyes. "You know that, right?"
There's a knife in Five's shoulder. Nine hadn't cared that it glowed red when he picked it up, hadn't cared that it clamped his grip down around it, hadn't cared when the spent guns floating around him had dropped all at once. It was sharp and Five was there and that was enough, apparently. Now it's in his shoulder and his skin won't change, and fuck he'd never known something could hurt this much.
"Nobody's--" Nine grits his teeth and slams him against the wall again. He's bigger and stronger and he's got him pinned; Five can taste copper down his lips from the headbutt that had taken him off balance. "--fucking coming because they don't care. They came for me and they know better now, right?" He leans on the knife. The strangled noise Five keeps down must show on his face instead, because Nine laughs, breath hot and damp with blood. "Right."
"I know," says Five, voice tight. His words bubble through his lips. "Wasn't planning on it."
(He never has.)
Nine coughs in his face; Five tastes more copper and it's not his own this time. The guy doesn't have long, he realizes in a moment of clarity. Something internal, and the others aren't going to heal it. They're not coming.
It's for the best.
"The ship's," he swallows to clear his mouth, "the ship's going down. You know that?"
"Yeah."
"And you're not gonna try to stop it, are you," he says. "Not if I'm here."
He doesn't answer, and Five doesn't need him to. If the Anubis follows course and rams into the mountain the war's half won already. He's pretty sure there's only one thing Nine gives a shit about now, and who knows what he'll do with his last moments if he can't have it.
Alright, he thinks. "Alright."
Nine's dark eyes are darting around his face, like he's trying to memorize something. The splatter, he realizes. The constellation of his own lifeblood across Five's skin.
He's surprised that whatever he feels at that isn't disgust. Or at least, disgust doesn't describe it. Something hot and thick and dark; something bottomless and yawning, boiling where it's not cold; something weirdly warm where it's neither of those things, weirdly calm.
He doesn't know if it has a name. He won't have the time to find out.
Nine's grip is starting to weaken. Not enough to shove him off, though, not with the Dreynen knife connecting his hand to Five's shoulder. Five's not sure he would try it anyway, at this point. The thought is oddly peaceful.
"I guess," he says, spits to one side and Nine doesn't stop him, "if I'm going down, at least it's you who's going down with me."
Nine's laughter is a seesawing, ragged gasp. He sounds tired, now. "If I had to pick an asshole--"
He breaks off into another bout of coughing. Five waits for him to finish before replying. "Well. You picked."
The sound of the wind shrieking past the hull is changing, and Five knows what that means. They both do. When Nine finally meets his gaze his face is ashen, and his jaw is tight, but there's relief there clear as day.
"So did I," murmurs Five, and doesn't close his eyes.
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