Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ A Star to Steer By ❯ Chapter 4

Dedicated to the chibi, because she demanded it be so.

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“What? Still pretty?” Captain Stairs grasped Yohji's chin and examined his face. “Our Ran is a kind soul, is he not?”

Yohji looked to Ran for guidance, but the redhead stood silent before the wide windows at the aft of the cabin, limned in fire against the sunset. He wasn't even watching, his gaze was outside.

“I'm...grateful for his kindness, sir.” There was nothing to be gained by defying the man, after all.

“Heh,” the captain followed his eyes, “I'll just bet you are.” He lowered his voice. “Breathtaking, isn't he?”

“Umm...” Was Stairs jealous?

“If you say he's not, I'll know you for a liar.”

“He's...stunning.”

“That he is.” The captain let go of Yohji's face and turned to the table spread with papers and books. “Well, come on, Ran-lad, tell me what I've got.”

The redhead shot a look at Yohji, but tossed his shaggy hair out of his face and stepped to the table. “Private journal,” he said, setting one book aside. “French history,” starting another pile. “Bible. Bible.” That was a stack. “Worthies of England.” Another book, “Logbook.” The redhead paused, his hands caressing a small worn volume. “Le Morte Darthur,” he said, and set it on the French pile. Yohji didn't comment. Ran lingered over the next book, too, before setting it on the French pile. “Moliere.”

“Les Précieuses Ridicules,” Yohji enlarged. “It's very amusing, Ran, you should try it.”

Violet eyes shot a glare, then the redhead sorted out another Bible and several English books.

“A fine haul this time, eh, lad?” Stairs asked, sitting to pour himself wine. He draped his arm over the back of his chair and crossed his ankles. “What is that stack?”

“De corporis humani fabrica libri septem,” Ran read. The captain set a mug of wine at his elbow.

“Seven books on the fabric of the human body,” Yohji translated, sitting in front of his books. Not that he'd ever found them particularly enthralling. Except the pictures were pretty good. Ran caught his eye and jerked his head, scowling. He did that a lot. But this Yohji interpreted as “don't let the captain know you might be useful,” so he shut up. Ran sorted through the rest of the books on the table and started on the loose papers, making several piles. One he passed to Stairs. The foul bastard—Yohji was sitting downwind, apparently, and 'foul' was the right term—pulled a pair of spectacles on a ribbon from his pocket and peered at the first.

“Nay, lad, I can't read it. What is it?”

“That one,” Ran said softly, his eyes on his hands, “is a letter from Countess Elizabeth of Norshire to her son, Yohji Kudou. The next writer has a larger hand.”

“Hmm,” the captain muttered, glancing at Yohji, then went on through the pile. “Well done as usual, lad. You may choose.”

Ran's hand snatched Le Morte Darthur, stashed it in his shirt. “What shall I read, sir?”

“You may choose that as well.”

The redhead opened a book of English history and started reading, making even the arrest and torture of Guy Fawkes as dull as dirt with the flatness of his voice. Yohji stared at him and wondered what the hell was going on. He could see the redhead leaving, withdrawing as the life left a tree in winter, only a bleak shell until spring breathed new—the captain got up, moved to sit on a settee by the window. Ran's voice faltered, then went on.

“—did name one Hugh Owen, who was already known to—“

“Come over here, Ran,” the captain said, his voice answering some of Yohji's questions. He was even more confused, though, when Ran stood and went, sat on the very edge and end of the settee, and kept reading.

“—increasing the pressure, though no resistance did the miscreant show, he did seem proud of his actions—“

The captain hitched closer. This time Ran didn't falter, he read on. Yohji gulped and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do. Had the captain forgotten him? Did he want him to see this? Was this the beginning of—ew! Except if he got near Ran—

Forget that, right now he didn't want anywhere near Ran. Unless he was stabbing that bastard of a captain, and why was Ran tolerating it, he was more than capable of defending himself if he had left his sword by the door—the captain slid a hand down Ran's arm. The redhead didn't flinch, didn't react at all, the voice droned on. Stairs caressed his back. Ran read on, even when the hand slid over the wound there. Yohji fought his stomach down as dirty, stubby fingers slipped under Ran's hair, stroking his neck.

“Stop reading,” the captain ordered. Ran laid the book on his knees and his hands on the book and closed his eyes. Stairs grasped his chin, pulled him around for a kiss. Ran didn't resist. Yohji closed his eyes.

“Damn you to hellfire!” Yohji's eyes flew open as the captain bashed Ran to the floor. The redhead pulled himself to kneel at the captain's feet, ignoring the blood trickling from his mouth. Stairs hit him again, knocking him flat. Ran knelt again. Stairs pulled back his fist.

“Stop it!” Yohji blurted. “Leave him alone, you filthy bastard!”

Was it his imagination, or had Ran finally flinched?

“Filthy bastard, is it?” Stairs growled. “Come here, boy.”

Like hell. Yohji slouched lower in his chair exactly the way that drove his mother insane. The captain grinned.

“Ran. Bring that boy over here.”

Yohji expected at least a glance of apology, but found only an avoidance in the pale perfect face. Ran didn't look at him as he grabbed. He wasn't gentle, and he was strong, so Yohji went.

“Good lad,” the bastard captain said when Yohji stood before him, his hands held behind him. “Never have to remind you, do I, Ran?”

The hands on Yohji's wrists trembled, but their grip didn't loosen. Stairs leaned to pull Ran's knife from its sheath.

“He is a pretty one, isn't he?” he asked, scratching his cheek with the weapon. Yohji held his breath and wondered why the hell he was trying to figure out how to escape without hurting Ran, when the redhead was assisting—he gasped and cringed as the knife pressed to his throat. “Filthy bastard?” Stairs growled. “Filthy bastard? Does the jumped-up little lordling think he's one to be passing judgment?” The knife slid down his chest, might have known Ran would keep it razor-sharp...Yohji's shirt parted like butter while something pressed into his hair.

Ran. His hands were still shaking on Yohji's wrists, and now he was hiding his face in Yohji's hair. What the—

“Sail, ho!” came a shout from the door. “Cap'n Stairs, there be a sail!”

Ran and the captain vanished. Yohji sagged into the settee and tried to convince himself swimming was a bad idea. At least until he knew whose sail it was.

*****

Well? Still love me?