Title: Angel of the Snowdrift
Authoresses: NoChristmasJokesPlz and ANT-chan
Fandom: ORIGINAL
Rating/Genre: Romance/Drama/NC-17 (for SLASH/YAOI/BL/GAY, sex sex and more sex, language, a bit of angst, and threesome.)
Summary: 'Life hates me. It always has. ...I'm really going to die here.' Neither Sin nor Draca ever thought finding a boy in the snow and doing a good deed would lead to so much. A Shadows & Seraphim story. M/M/M

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Angel of the Snowdrift

Chapter 9: Downhill Fast
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"How about this one?" Kira was saying excitedly.

"Not that one!" Gwen hissed back, turning sharply to look at the stalls around them. Her fuzzy ears shot bolt upright. "Oooh! This one!" After they'd grown tired of dancing, Milo had found himself once again led through the streets by Kira and Gwen. They had split off from the others when Kyris wanted to stop at a jewelry stall, and the younger women wanted to introduce Milo to the games. They had strolled quickly past many of them, and Milo had only had a few seconds to glimpse over the heads of children at the kinds of contraptions and challenges set up. But, finally, they had settled on a little open stall halfway in. The low platform in the center of the stall was lined with rows of glass jars, and in each one was a bright, shimmering fish of every color in the rainbow.

His tail flickered wildly from side to side, his eyes flicking almost in counterpoint to the swishing of his tail. His ears were pricked forward as he watched the darting, flashing movements of the hunkering fish. His elated mood had not faded in the slightest, and he gave up on reining in his feline instincts before he even tried.

"We could win him a pet!" Kira enthused, grinning at the hypnotized nekojin.

"Or a snack," Gwen giggled.

Milo whirled around suddenly, blushing brightly and ears flattening. "I-I would never--"

"Oooh, yeah," Kira agreed with a snicker. "Poor little fishy'd barely last a day if our pretty kitty got peckish enough!"

"I... I would not!" Not... unless he was really starving.

That sentiment must have shown on his face, for Kira smirked at him. "Uh-huh. Suurrreee."

"I wouldn't!" he insisted again, with a bit more fervor. "They're too pretty for that..."

Gwen rubbed his arm, her tail swishing happily behind her. "Would you like one? All you have to do is win."

Milo beamed, looking down at the glittering fish with a wide-eyed, eager (admittedly somewhat hungry) gaze. "I like the pretty gold and purple one."

"That one?" Kira asked. "But he looks like he's barely alive! He's not even swimming like the other ones! He's just sitting there!" Indeed, the little fish Milo had his eye on was pretty, but its color was somewhat duller than the rest, and he was just sort of drifting about his little bowl listlessly.

"He's just sad here!" Milo protested. "I'll get him, take him home, and with a little love and affection he'll be the prettiest little fish and all the other little fish will be jealous."

"Y'have to win the fish first, kid," the man running the stall said, grabbing the bowl and placing it on the counter in front of Milo. "You gonna play or not?"

Milo jumped slightly. "Oh! Um, right. H-how do you play?"

Kira handed the vendor a few coins, and he handed Milo a little stick with a ring at the end, with a wide strip of paper attached to form a makeshift net. "Y'scoop the fish out with the net, bring 'im to the empty bowl at th'end of th'table." He pointed to the bowl in question. "If the net breaks and th'fish falls out, y'lose and y'have t'pay t'try again."

Milo looked at the flimsy little net and frowned. "O-oh... Um... That seems hard."

"It is," the vendor said rather dispassionately. "But if a little kid c'n figure it out, I'm sure you can. Y'seem a whit brighter than most toddlers."

Milo's frown deepened, unsure of what to make of that. But he clenched his fist in determination and locked eyes with the blankly staring little dullard fish. "I-I'll get you out of there, little guy," he said with as much confidence as he could muster.

Kira clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, kitten!" She directed her attention to the fish. "And we'll try an' make sure he doesn't eat you either. Hang in there, little underdog! Er... underfish?" She looked questioningly to Gwen, who shrugged.

Milo crouched down in front of the table, and poised his net over the bowl of his chosen fish. He dipped the net into the bowl, scooped up the fish (who, unlike most fish, didn't even attempt to struggle against the net), and hesitate above the bowl just a second too long. The fish's listlessness made it so that he was quite a bit pudgier than his more active comrades, and his weight combined with the water soaking the paper broke the net and sent him splashing back into his bowl with a sad little plish!

Milo looked stricken. "Oh, don't give up, Milo!" Gwen urged, hurriedly shelling out a few more coins to buy the nekojin another net. "Look at him! He's miserable without you! He needs you to fight for him!"

"Fight, Milo, fight!" Kira cackled.

It took Milo six tries, and he wanted to give up and save Kira and Gwen some of their money. But one look into those bleak, flat fishy eyes, and a few words of encouragement had him trying again every time. The apathetic vendor seemed to brighten considerably every time Milo failed.

At last, Milo crouched by the bowl, his thighs aching from being in the same position for so long and his hands trembling. He hovered hesitantly over the bowl that contained his little friend, who looked at him as if right on the edge of fishy suicide. Milo could not, would not fail him this time. His resolve strengthened, he dipped the paper net into the bowl, scooped up the unresisting little water dweller, and hurried to move him to the bowl at the end of the table. The paper began to split halfway there, and Milo had a moment of panic imagining the morose little creature flopping onto the tabletop to choke on air and die a slow, unpleasant, fishy little death. With a sudden jolt, he jerked his precious cargo over to the empty bowl. The net split, Milo's heart stuttered, and his eyes clenched shut in horror.

Splish!

Milo's eyes opened, one at a time, and he blinked in shock when he saw blank, bulgy little eyes staring at him. A puckered fishy mouth produced a stream of bubbles. Milo's jaw dropped.

"Look at that!" Kira exclaimed. "Ya did it, Kitten!"

The young man opened his mouth, but no words came out. He kept staring at the fish - his fish now. His heart swelled in his chest, feeling so full that it might burst. "I did it..." he murmured, scarcely believing it. But just saying it made the feeling in his chest bubble to the surface. "I did it! I did it!!"

"Yeah, yeah, great job kid." The vendor's grouse effectively killed his mood for a split second. But Kira was already swinging her arm around his shoulders, swaying triumphantly with him.

"Don't let this grouch get to you. You did it, Milo! You saved your little depressed fishy!"

"I did!"

"I think he's happy, look." The Kitsune stepped up beside them, gesturing to the bowl.

Said fish just continued to look up at them all with that same lethargic stare.

"...Nope," Kira chuckled. "He just looks depressed to me."

The vendor dipped an actual net, not a paper one, into the bowl, and scooped out the fish, depositing him into a tiny glass bowl with a sparse sprinkling of multicolored rocks drifting along the bottom. It was a good thing the little creature wasn't very active, otherwise he'd give himself a concussion in the too-small spherical bowl. As it was, he didn't seem capable of caring that his poofy violet and gold fins brushed the glass.

"I love him," Milo declared as the vendor handed him his prize. He hugged the water-filled bowl to his chest.

"What are you gonna name him?" Kira asked.

The slim boy looked his fish in his bulbous (somewhat off-kilter) eyes, his heart swelling with affection for this lackluster, cold-blooded little creature. "Meatball," he said decisively, focused on the pudgy, shimmery little tummy.

"I knew it," Kira said. "He's doomed."

Milo was about to protest again, his tail bristling indignantly. "There you are!" All three of them turned, just as Kyris pushed her way towards them, a new pair of gold earrings sparkling out from the cascade of her curly hair. Sin and Draca were on her heels, Draca once again holding Sin's hand (much to the man's embarrassment) and leaning into him more and more every time a child rushed past the Vampyre's knees. Milo was so happy about his newly saved friend that he didn't even fully feel the usual surge of wonderlustwantguilt. Kyris obscured his view of them as she came closer, her eyes locked on the orb in Milo's hands. "Whatcha got there?"

Milo bit his lip, fighting back a giddy, downright goofy grin. He held out the glass bowl, presenting the newly-christened Meatball to her. "I won him!"

Kyris blinked, and then brought a hand up to her mouth. It failed to smother the laugh that came bubbling from her throat. "Looks like you'll have a new house guest, Sin!" she called. The nekojin's smile faltered, and slowly drooped. Oh. He hadn't thought of that.

From his side, Gwen tittered softly. "Sin's never had a pet."

Indeed, the assassin looked quite startled. "A... pet...?"

Milo's heart started to beat faster, but this time in fear for his new friend. "It's... It's just a fish. I-I... I can take care of it. I can... I'll pay for... for anything..."

'Please don't make me get rid of him!'

Sin blinked down at the little fish in the bowl, his lips pulling into a frown at the dim, fluttering Color of the creature, and then back up to Milo. The brilliant sunshine yellow was fading back into the depressing blue and gray Colors that always seemed to be flitting over the boy's soul. Something in his chest twisted unpleasantly – that was happening more and more often where Milo was concerned, it seemed.

"He is... in poor health. We will have to take extra care with him."

Milo's heart soared. "Y-You'll let me keep him?!"

"He's not my--"

"Heeeyyyy... you never let me have a pet."

Sin's head snapped to the side, glaring exasperatedly at his lover. "You've never asked for a pet, you idiot."

"...Still! Would you have let me if I asked?!"

"Not when you're the most infuriating person I know."

"Baby..."

"So I get to keep him?" Milo prodded, before the argument could escalate. "I-I promise, I'll pay for everything, his food, a bigger bowl, everything! I promise!"

Sin's lips quirked the faintest bit, and he reached out to pat Milo's shoulder. "Of course."

Milo gave a delighted squeal. "Did you hear that, Meatball?" he said to his fish. "You can stay!"

The fish looked up at him dispassionately, but his puckered little mouth opened in closed in what Milo would gladly take as a show of happiness.

"Meatball?" Kyris and Sin echoed in unison. Draca, on the other hand, promptly burst into wild laughter.

"His fish is on his emergency snack list," Kira whispered dramatically.

The nekojin hugged the glass bowl close to his chest, the water inside swishing with enough force for Meatball to be twisted on his side. But instead of righting himself, the despondent fish merely bubbled lazily. "No, he's not! Stop staying that!"

"Oooohh you're so feisty and protective now!" the martial artist cooed. "It's so cute!"

Milo squawked. "Well, if I don't protect him, who will?"

"You're an inspiration to fishkind," Kira snickered.

"Saving the world one bloated carnival gold fish at a time!" Kyris crowed grandly. The two collapsed against each other laughing.

"I wouldn't eat him if I were you," Draca interjected, peering into the bowl. "He looks sick. Look at his eyes! They just don't want to play together, do they? One's lookin' at me and the other at you!"

"He's not sick!" Milo protested, holding the bowl up at eye level (and giving it a bit of a tap to right his listing fish). "He's just.... A little sad! He just needs some love and attention and some extra room and he'll be the happiest, prettiest fish there is!" He hugged the sphere to his chest and smiled adoringly down at Meatball.

Sin quirked a brow at their youngest member of the group, Watching the twisting and swirling of Color emanating from the boy. The dark, sorrowful Colors were finally starting to wane again. A bright, happy yellow Color was weaving around him, and glowing brighter and brighter with every passing second.

It was amazing what a simple fish seemed to do.

"He will need a good home, then," Sin murmured.

Milo's ears flicked towards him, a smile working its way onto his heart-shaped face. The nekojin turned back to the vendor, his smile growing at the very thought. "I-Is there a place where we can buy things for him?"

"Not my job, kid. You got your prize. Piss off."

"O-Oh... I..."

"I believe he asked you a legitimate question," Sin cut in, his gaze stony. It was hard to get irritated at the people of the Haven - his people; the people he'd come to care for. But sometimes...

The vendor opened his mouth to retort, but hardly a twitch of Sin's eyebrows and a downward quirk of the mouth turned his stony expression into a threatening one. His eerily glowing eyes blazed, as the vendor's complexion went from tan to ashen. Even Milo scooted out of the line of fire.

"He asked you a question," Sin said slowly and softly. His voice was perfectly level, almost monotone. "I believe it would be in your best interest to answer."

The vendor swallowed and pointed past Sin's shoulder. "Two streets over, there's a pet stall that sells supplies. Decent prices, good quality."

Sin's expression smoothed into its usual unaffected countenance. "Thank you very much, sir. Have a nice evening." He turned to Milo and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Come, Milo. We'll get your supplies."

Milo bit his lip (and tried desperately not to shiver at the feeling of Sin's broad, warm hand on his shoulder), and squirmed a little. "A-actually, I... Um... I r-really have to... Y-you know..."

Sin blinked down at him, and then abruptly cleared his throat. "Ah."

"There's a bathroom a street that way," Kyris answered, pointing at an alley between the festival stalls. "We'll watch... heheh... we'll watch Meatball for you."

"Yeah, don't worry about him, kitten." Draca held out his hands, motioning for Milo to hand the bowl over. "We'll take good care of him and meet you at the pet stall."

Gold eyes flicked between his friends and his new gold fish, before gingerly passing Meatball to the blond. A part of him wanted to ask someone to go with him. He didn't like crowds, and being alone among so many people made him so nervous.

'You're not a child,' he groused. 'You traveled by yourself for three years. You can go to the bathroom by yourself.' He swallowed hesitantly, and waved to them.

"Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes..."

The others waved to him as he padded into the crowd. Almost immediately upon losing sight of them, he felt the suffocating closeness of so many strange people pressing and pushing and pulling around him. He wrapped his arms around himself, ducked his head, and kept his ears pinned flat and his eyes lowered. His tail wound itself around his leg to avoid being stepped on or jostled. Ohhh, he hated this. He'd never really liked crowds – even when he'd been travelling alone, he had always been a bit (reasonably) paranoid; a little afraid to see an unwelcome, familiar face in the sea of bystanders. But he'd always been careful. He'd avoided wandering around at night if he could possibly manage it. And hide when he couldn't. He'd stayed clear or places that made his hackles rise.

And then he'd landed in the Haven in the dead of night, cold and alone, and his luck had run out. The problem with feeling out the predators in a place like the Haven was… that, in fact, most of them were predators. He hadn't sensed his attacker coming until it was too late.

Crowds were even less inviting ever since.

He squeaked as a group of children ran past him, all of them giggling and squealing happily. Milo paused as they swept by them. His heart was beating an almost painful staccato rhythm against his ribs and a fine sheen of sweat was starting to make his bangs stick to his forehead.

'Stop being so stupid!' he told himself firmly. Hopes, it was getting just as bad as his first year alone - when he would have to dart down an alley and have a panic attack or just shut down altogether. 'It's just a... it's just a fucking trip to the bathroom!' The oddly vehement thought steeled his resolve just a little more. 'You can do this, Milo. Don't be a baby.'

~*~*~*~

Well... he'd proved he wasn't a baby.

Milo stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyeing his slightly pallid face with disdain. It hadn't been easy, and waiting in the short line to get in had almost made his heart explode from anxiety, but he'd made it. He'd proved it to himself that he wasn't a complete coward. He finished washing his hands and splashed some water on his face for good measure.

"Now... to make it back," he whispered, thoroughly disheartened by the idea, to his reflection.

It wasn't nearly as difficult as getting there. He even felt brave enough to ask directions when he got lost a few blocks away. The merchant had simply sneered and spat at his feet, but the point was he hadn't wet himself trying. Perhaps he owed that to the bathroom break, but, again, that wasn't the point.

Now, he was somewhere with aisles of incense and imported plants and bolts of cloth. It was a colorful, powerfully perfumed, smoky area clustered with people speaking in a plethora of different accents, and even a different dialect, if he was hearing right. It was odd, and people were jostling him left and right, and the pungent odor of incense was making his head fuzzy. He tried to push his way through without actually pushing, but it was extremely difficult for someone of his size and build.

Suddenly, a hand caught his arm and he was being jerked from the crowd. The hand was cool and long-fingered, and in the hazy air he caught a flash of blond. Draca?

"I-I was almost there, Draca. You didn't have to come look--"

It wasn't Draca. It took him being dragged into a dark little side street for him to realize that the tall man gripping him by the upper arm was not his tall, grinning, playful housemate. This man was broader, his hair was a darker shade, and longer. His eyes were dark and cold, with too much white showing. His lips were curled into a hard sneer, and, suddenly, something cold was biting into his throat.

"Your money. Now, or I slit your pretty little throat."

Not again. And he was certain he couldn't be able to get away with just a broken arm this time.

Milo opened his mouth- to speak, to scream for help, to beg for mercy- but nothing came out. His heart began to pound wildly in his chest, so hard it hurt. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was being choked. Everything was too hot, too smothering. He was shaking so hard he felt like his very bones were trembling loose.

"Your money!" the man snapped, pressing the knife harder into Milo's tender throat. "Now!"

Oh gods, he was going to throw up. 'I'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtodieI'mgoingtoDIE.'

His attacker grew even more agitated, shaking him roughly and Milo thought he could feel the sting of the blade biting into his flesh. "You listenin' to me, you stupid bitch?! Hand over your money!" He was shoved up against the alley wall, further knocking what little breath he had from his lungs. Milo could no longer see, for tears were streaming down his face in burning paths.

'No... nononononono not again... not again...'

He didn't hear the man's voice getting more and more strained, his patience fraying dangerously. All Milo was aware of was the swirling storm of fear and pain and awful memories coursing through him. He felt faint and like he was drowning just standing there.

He was going to die. He just knew it.

There was a sudden, violent sound of creaking wood, that he barely caught over the blood rushing through his ears. And then something was flying past his head. His attacker reared back, a shocked cry leaving him. Milo was dumbstruck, just staring unseeing as the man turned, only to be grabbed by the collar and slammed against far wall.

"I think you'd better reconsider."

The familiar Omegan lilt jolted him from his frozen state, and the ink and leather and earth scent that made his heart seize in a completely different way. His vision was still blurry, but the vague dark shape of Sin's back was enough to make him cry all over again in relief.

Sin glanced quickly over his shoulder, his teeth clenching in anger at the Sight of the boy's swirling Colors of pure torment. There was so much pain and fear rocketing through Milo's soul that Sin almost hadn't recognized it at first. His fingers tightened in the assailant's shirt, lifting the now terrified man off the ground a few inches. Anger crackled through him, pure and molten in a way he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Y-You!" the pathetic little vermin sputtered. "Y-You're the... t-the Fallen One...! L-Let me go! Let me--"

The seraph grimaced. It had been a while since that particular (very true) rumor had surfaced. The scum had been talking to the Omegans, it seemed. "Shut up," he snarled. His fingers itched, wishing nothing but harm upon the man. A sniveling piece of shit like that didn't deserve to breathe the same air as over half the people in the Haven. But the Laws bound Sin just as they bound everyone else. And unlike Draca, he wasn't stupid enough to toe the line - especially not over some brazen welp that couldn't even stand up to someone his own size.

"Get off me!" The knife in the thief's hand - or what he had assumed to be a knife, at any rate - was suddenly thrust towards him. Desperation had set in. And in the split second Sin had to dodge, he was almost impressed by how seriously the welp had taken the rumors. But luck was on the other's side today. Sin tensed, long before the pain even hit, as the blade sliced through his sleeve, nicking his Glyph as it passed.

Milo had just raised a trembling hand to wipe his eyes as red sparks flashed before his eyes. Worry hit him as Sin's whole body seemed to jolt, a choked gurgle emitting from him. And then the smell reached his nose. The familiar, comforting scene was invaded by something sharp and... rotten.

Sin's grip slackened enough that the man slipped free and darted from the alley, leaving Sin to slump heavily against the wall. His breathing was ragged and pained. In spite of the pungent, sickly odor that assaulted Milo's powerful sense of smell, and the still-painful thudding of his heart, Milo stumbled over to his companion and almost collapsed against him.

"S-Sin?" he whimpered, his voice coming out choked as he tried not to inhale the rotten odor pouring from where Sin's fingers were clamped over his sluggishly bleeding arm. "Are you hurt?" he asked. He used all his strength (what was left of it, anyway) to help the seraph turn so that his back was against the wall and he could slide down. The nekojin knelt beside him, twitching and shaking with a mixture of nerves and adrenaline as he wondered if there was something, anything he could do to help his injured friend.

"Sin, i-if there's a-anything I can do, pl-please tell me," he whispered, squeezing his housemate's free hand.

Though pinched with pain, Sin had a decidedly defensive look on his face. Milo watched as he took a deep, shuddering breath, only to have it hitch in his throat about halfway through. Another gurgle left the assassin's throat, sounding sickly and wet. Sin abruptly leaned over and spat more foul-smelling blood onto the ground. Milo thought his heart had fallen into his dainty, slippered feet.

"S-Sin, you're--"

"It's fine." His deep voice was a mere rasp, and despite his soothing words, it didn't calm the torrent of panic in the nekojin in the slightest. "I need you... t'do something for me..." The slight slur definitely wasn't helping matters either. Sin had really gotten hurt because of him - how, Milo wasn't quite sure. But there was no denying the pure agony in the man's expression.

"I'm so sorry, Sin! I-It was all my f-fault. If I hadn't b-been so..."

"Milo."

Milo's ears went back at the firm call, still trying to force down another bout of panicked, hysterical, stupid tears. "Y-Yes?"

"I need y'to check th'Glyph." Sin's clenched his eyes shut, trying to regain his focus. He gestured, unseeing now since his Sight was fading, to his arm. "I need to you make sure it's not damaged," he continued in clipped, measured words.

"Th-the Glyph?" Milo asked weakly. "Wh-what's that?"

Sin turned his body slightly in a jerking motion, presenting Milo with his arm. He pulled his fingers away from the bleeding wound, and the poor boy trembled as a wave of nausea hit him at the sight and smell of foul blood.

"Na senit..." he whispered tremulously.

"Pull down the sleeve," Sin instructed stiffly. Hands shaking, Milo did as he was told, tugging down the embroidered silk sleeve of Sin's torn tunic, baring the bandages that he had always seen, but never asked about. The once-pristine bandages that wound around his biceps were torn and bloodstained, and the poison reek was stronger here than anywhere else, and it wasn't doing the feline Fayth's rolling stomach any favors. With a deep inhale that nearly made him retch, he steeled his nerves and gently peeled aside the torn bandages.

"I-it just looks nicked. Not too b-bad."

He almost hit himself at the stupidity of that statement. It may have looked like just a nick, but, obviously, it was hurting Sin a great deal. "I-I'm sorry," he sobbed, his body sagging forward until his forehead touched Sin's shoulder. "Th-this is all my fault..."

"Don't--" A wet cough shook Sin's chest, the sound hollow and painful to Milo's sensitive hearing. "Don't apologize," Sin wheezed. "It will stop in a few minutes." The reassurance did nothing to quiet the boy's sobs, however. Worry coiled like a tangled knot in his gut. "Milo? Are you hurt?" He wouldn't have been able to tell, even if his Sight had been working at the moment.

Milo tried to smother his sobs, but failed to find his voice. He shook his head instead, touching the tiny, already scabbing cut on his neck. It had barely even bled. He was so stupid. So, so stupid. He'd gotten Sin hurt because he panicked and froze up like the little weakling he was!

And now he was simply clinging to the man and shaking like an idiot, when he should be doing... doing something. He didn't quite know what, but anything was better than just sitting there like a moron!

Without a thought, he let his instincts take over and crawled into Sin's lap, curling up into a tight little ball and tucking his nose under the assassin's chin.

"Milo," Sin slurred, drawing back a bit from the unfamiliar contact. "Milo, what are you--"

The petite neko began to purr and gently knead his hands against Sin's chest, his claws gently pricking the fabric. He hoped it was a soothing motion. It was the least he could do after he'd gotten them into this horrible situation.

Sin tensed under him, and Milo was sure that he was about to be pushed away. He let out a fearful little whimper as Sin's arms rose, curling tighter against his chest. "M'sorry... m'sorry..." Was that all he could say? Gods, he was so pathetic.

But then those strong arms coiled loosely around him, almost cradling him. "It's alright," Sin whispered. "Were you scared?"

Milo nodded against Sin's neck, and a heavy sob shook his entire frame. It was the preamble to an absolute torrent of emotion that ripped from him almost without warning. He shook wildly, tears coursing down his face in rivulets, his nose turning red. His fingers dug into Sin's chest hard (claws, thankfully, retracted), and he curled into him almost as if he wanted to disappear into the man.

Why was he crying? He didn't quite know himself, and beyond the fog of lingering panic and guilt in his mind, he wondered if it was because he had just narrowly escaped what could have been his death, or that he had been terrified, if only briefly, of the very man who had rescued him. Could it have been both?

He cried harder, choking on his tears until he could hardly breathe past the ragged, aching rattle of his heaving sobs. Oh gods, he just couldn't stop.

And throughout it all, Sin held him, his arms wrapped securely around him as if to keep him from shattering. Milo knew he should be feeling awful - even more awful than he already was. He was sitting there bawling like a baby while his friend was hurt and Sin was the one comforting him. But all he could feel was so very warm and safe in the man's arms.

'You're a treacherous little slut.'

"It's alright, Milo." Through his tears, he could hear the assassin murmuring in his ear. "It's alright now."