Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos
They thought Genesis would be the easier one to capture. Angeal almost felt sorry for them.
As mercenaries, they made plenty of enemies, even if they were just the tools used by an employer. People needed somewhere to direct their anger, and it was much easier to direct it at them rather than some faceless, mysterious figure.
Still, sometimes Angeal forgot that grief could make others stupid.
When he got the ransom note—and he didn’t know yet if Genesis would be flattered or insulted about being referred to as ‘the pretty one’—he knew he would need to cover Genesis’s dinner. He’d be home later than expected, and a warm meal would be needed after the added work he would have to deal with today. He also went about starting a bath for him. Simply soaking and relaxing did wonders for the foul temper he would not doubt be coming home with. While being constantly underestimated did have its advantages, it also grated against Genesis’s pride.
Predictably, he came home late, his entrance to their apartment heralded by the door slamming against the wall when it opened.
“They thought rope could hold me, Angeal.” He stomped over to him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, already peeling off his coat. “Rope.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, taking his guns and sword and setting them down on Genesis’s desk nearby. He would worry about putting them away once Genesis was safely in his bath. “Your dinner is on the table when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, darling,” he called, walking down the hall and leaving a trail of bloodstained clothes on his way to the bathroom. “Now please join me.”
Angeal smiled fondly, his grin widening when Genesis turned back to grin at him and gesture for him to follow. He shook his head in a show of exasperation they both knew was completely fake and took off his shirt.