Fuselage

×~× Chapter 30 ×~×

'Tell me if I'm crazy or not, but I've dreamed about you.'

"Back it up!" Hands waved as a truck beeped, trailer straightening out towards the airplane.

'Besides, I landed a few good blows.'

"Stop!" The idiot in a grey jumper looked at the alignment carefully.

'You just usually aren't so free with touch.'

Hans slapped on clothed thighs. "Alright, lower the ramp!" A scramble of people as two metal tracks unfolded.

Hit the tarmac with jarring force.

'You've never been broken. You're so strong.'

"Hey!" The grey jumpsuit waved at Katsuki, yelling. "Hey, how do we get the plane started? We gotta load it on the ramp? Hello?"

'You've brought us straight to Heaven!'

"-is fuckin' guy." Grey jumpsuit tsked at his coworkers before turning back to Katsuki. "Hey?!"

Katsuki shook his head. "Ramp?" He growled, storming over. "It doesn't fucking work you morons. You gunna push it onto the bed? The four of you?"

"W-well-" the worker stepped back, hesitant.

"Get a goddamned winch, you buncha mooks." Katsuki hissed. "I can't believe the incompetence." Fists bunched as he watched the man run off to the guy in a navy jumper.

Heads lifted, eyes moved to him. Gleefully he gave a middle finger salute.

The man in navy returned it as he strode over. "The fuck you mean we can't use the ramp?"

"It's a plane from World War Two, you dense fucker." Katsuki snarled. "Unless you plan on pushing it up the ramp - all 7,000 pounds of it - I suggest a heavy duty winch."

The man blanched. "But my supervisor never-"

"Of course they didn't." Katsuki spat, arms flexing as he crossed them. "They don't give a fuck. There..." with a huff he motioned to Mina by the tower. "She's got connections. Pink hair, fucked eyes. She'll get you everything you need."

"Okay. Awesome. Thank you!" He bowed, hesitated, bowed again. "Oh, before I forget here are the checks. Two-"

Katsuki snagged them. "Sure." He couldn't breathe.

Two checks. The last. The end.

Fuck. Katsuki blindly moved to the table. Trembling fingers pulling out his phone. Scrolled to Eijirou's name. Fuck.

It had been a week. A week since that day. A week since he'd kissed those lips, touched that skin. Seen those eyes. And fuck he hungered. His heart cried out, his body dragged. Fingers remembered the heat, his skin tasted touches not his own in the privacy of his home. Tactile and warm and too much and not enough all at once.

It was disgusting, it was euphoria... it was not enough. Phantom caresses and unfulfilling masturbation. Driving Katsuki mad, crazy. Every place in the village was a memory of Kirishima. Even worse, every place was a reminder of being used so thoroughly. No matter how Katsuki spun it he knew he was either a tool of rebellion or a pawn.

The Kistune and Oni.

The Dragon and Barbarian.

The Kirishima Clan.

Either way he was being used; nefariously or otherwise it left him dirty. Katsuki gasped at the pain that welled in his chest at the thought. The nausea, the sickness of it.