Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Blooded Petals ❯ Modesty is Overrated ( Chapter 4 )

Blooded Petals

By Eternitys End

Normal disclaimers apply: I do not, nor do I claim to, hold any ownership over Weiss Kreuz or any of its parts. More's the pity.

Dedicated to Mother to cheer you up. Four delectable ducks and more!

A/N (1): Reviews are much appreciated, whether here or directly to me at EternitysEnd @ eternitysend. cjb. net. I also encourage anyone to check out my website at http:// eternitysend. cjb. net. (Minus the spacing of course) Any and all submissions are welcome!

A/N (2): I don't remember that I mentioned what day of the week it was anywhere in the story. Currently, it is the third evening in the story, and I'm making it a Thursday. Please tell me if I'm contradicting myself.

Chapter Four: Modesty is Overrated

It was widely known that Youji Kudou had talented hands. Playfully, he'd been accused of having fast hands, busy hands, magic fingers, and a hypnotizing touch. Personally, he acknowledged one classification that fit him to a T. Youji Kudou had gypsy hands. And not only because of the magic he could weave with them. No, that was a combination of experience, talent, and knowledge of pressure points. He had hands that were always in motion. Busy hands, gypsy hands.

Twirling, twisting, twining, looping, cutting, pulling, ripping and altogether fidgeting, he had hyperactive hands. While the rest of him stayed perfectly still, his hands were exploring, touching, manipulating. Playing with his hair, touching someone, smoking, and wielding a wire all gave his hands something to do. Out of sheer boredom he'd once taken up needlepoint. The fine stitching had been surprisingly satisfying, soothing. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

No, he got enough shit around here without handing his teammates ammunition. Not that he really minded what they said. They were usually kidding, even if there was a ring of truth to what they said. Yes, it was bad enough that he, Youji Kudou, womanizer and playboy extraordinaire dressed provocatively, had a flamboyant 'touchy-feely' attitude, and a foolish amount of vanity. No one needed to know about his secret stash of colored floss, or the fact that he could weave friendship bracelets faster than the average ten year old girl. They'd never know.

And there wasn't anything wrong with it. It wasn't like what they said bothered him. "It really isn't surprising." He'd overheard Ken and Omi. "I mean, if you get rid of the girls, and just think about how he acts, it's pretty obvious." They'd nodded thoughtfully, speculating. "And he's probably tired of being the one in charge with a relationship. His history with women would discourage anyone. I think he really needs the chance to be taken care of. Aya's good for him."

What did they mean 'his history with women was discouraging'? Who were they to talk? And Aya didn't even take care of him (not that he wanted to be taken care of…). If anything, he took care of Aya. He paid for things and started things. Just because Aya was on top didn't automatically make Youji the woman in the relationship. And they hadn't even proven that part yet. It was just sort of assumed. And it wasn't that big a deal. Did they see him making this big of a fuss over their relationship? No. But it's so different when the man in question was a proclaimed lover of women. There wasn't even that much of a relationship to speculate on. Not when being courted by Aya the Prudent!

And that was mean, not to mention off topic. What was he supposed to be doing anyway? He was all ready for their mission, and none of the others had even finished dressing! Well, Akai had, he supposed. But he didn't count, not since he was such a creep. He'd been floating around all day with this goofy smile on his face, like he looked forward to the mission. Sick bastard. His instincts were right. And there he went off topic again.

What was taking the others so long anyway? The clothes he'd lent them weren't that hard to put on. Well, maybe the shirt he'd lent Omi was. And no doubt Ken was distracted by it. All those tiny buckles, pulling together that tight black leather for a perfect fit on anyone. Maybe he should have insisted they dress in separate rooms. It wouldn't suit to be late for a mission. Especially one in such ideal locale. A club! Wasn't it great! Too bad it had to be for work though. And the targets were a pity. He always hated killing other assassins. It made him feel like a hypocrite. Not that they wouldn't do the same to him. And he really hated when the targets were women. But dark beasts were dark beasts. And what they were doing really was wrong…

Where the hell were they? He'd just go knock on Omi's door. Just to get them back on track. Ken would probably take back everything he'd ever said about his clothes. Just this afternoon, out of the goodness of his heart, he'd opened his wardrobe to them. And he'd selected appropriate attire for each of his teammates, after all, who knew club-wear better than him? But Ken just had to open his big mouth, ignorant of good taste and appropriate costume. And what do you think came out?

"Oh my God, Youji, you whore!"

He sure had a way with words. And he didn't really mean anything by it, he was sure. But still, it had kind of hurt his feelings. Sure, Omi's elbow had promptly connected with his lover's ribs, and Aya had taken a threatening step forward. It had taken away a bit of the sting, knowing Aya was championing him. But it was kind of mean. And it hurt. Just a little bit. Surely Ken would take it back once he saw how appropriate everything was.

At least Aya stood up for him. He was usually the first to condemn him. But he hadn't, this time. He really wasn't all that much of a prude. Being prudent could be a good thing. He took things slow, carefully. He was just a romantic. Kind of a nice change for Youji. It wasn't all about sex. It wasn't about sex at all! Not yet, the stupid prude. But everything pointed to a long, lasting relationship. One with a partner strong enough not to die and leave him all alone…

Youji dropped the pen he'd been spinning. The instrument had been moving so fast, it flew across the room and hit the far door. The one Akai was behind. Insolent twerp had his own clothes to wear. Well good! He didn't want to lend the brat anything. He'd ruin them for sure. And jeez, he was off topic. What had he been doing? Oh yes.

Lunging to his feet, Youji strolled down the hall, stopping to knock at Omi's door, well, now it would really be considered Omi and Ken's door. He was greeted with a muffled curse, the sound of something hitting the floor, laughter, then a mad scramble to unlock the door. Veeeeeery entertaining.

"Youji-hi!" Omi flushed, peaking through the cracked door. "Ken and I were just trying to do up all these darned buckles. He blocked the door with his slim torso, gesturing at the twenty-four tiny buckles that marched up the front of the sleeveless shirt. "Really! There are so many. And they're so tiny. Not like the ones on the pants and those cuffs you gave me. They were near impossible. So stiff…" He babbled and stuttered over words, with the telling sound of Ken dressing on the otherside of the door.

"The cuffs are on the floor." Youji pointed behind the boy at the bit of floor he could see. Lying in a heap were the thick leather cuffs, their well-oiled silver buckles lying open, leading him to believe Omi wasn't telling the whole truth. "They really are tough to get out of." Youji continued, Omi nodding along with pink cheeks. Especially if you link them together. Then they're impossible. You're stuck there until someone releases you." Omi nodded understandingly for a moment before realizing what he'd given away. The door promptly slammed in his face.

A moment later it opened again. "Were you, by any chance, here for a reason?" Omi murmured, contrite.

"Just trying to get you back on track."

"Right." And it slammed again.

The third time the door opened, Youji could barely conceal his amusement. This time, Ken stood in the doorway, clad in a pair of his own jeans, tight and red, that he claimed to have outgrown, and a fishnet top, bite marks clearly showing through the gaps around his collar.

He bowed solemnly. "I take back everything I ever said." He mumbled. The door closed a final time.

The green had looked perfectly innocent just hanging there. It had long sleeves, and a high collar, made of a solid mint green silk. No holes, no ties, no buckles. Nice, simple, innocent. Well, that's what he'd thought it would be.

For all intents and purposes, it should be modest. But the sleek sleeves cupped his arms, their cuffs oddly pointed, with strings that looped around his middle fingers like soft rings. And the high collar flared around his cheekbones, the cut and color emphasizing their delicate nature. And worst of all, the torso clung and skimmed. It was meant to cling to Youji's willowy frame. On him, every muscle was emphasized. He looked more provocative with the shirt on than without.

No wonder Youji had not condemned his "modest" choice. And the pants were…well…the pants just were. Crushed velvet pants were tacky, weren't they? Especially if they clung so low and so tight that he couldn't wear anything under them. And the knowledge that Youji couldn't wear anything under them either didn't help much. This entire mission was skewed. He wouldn't attract that much attention in his normal clothes would he? And he had to cover his hair with the ridiculous bucket hat. All their efforts were for naught if they failed to blend into the crowds and look natural. They had to lure the target out. But still, it matched the pants. Where did Youji find these things?

At least he was fully clothed.

Aya walked out into the hall to find his boyfriend eye level with Ken's red clad ass. The fact that Youji was wielding a bare razor blade with a maniacal grin and Ken was whimpering, clutching Omi's hands in a white-knuckle grip didn't register at first. Thankfully, he managed to get control of himself quick enough. Lunging at a bare blade was not something he would normally do.

Watching them, the situation was actually humorous, to a degree. Youji was fraying the jeans strategically, already having removed the waistband to show toned lower back.

"You are not coming around front with that thing." Ken hissed vehemently.

Omi grinned, not minding his boyfriend's painful grip. "Mou! But Ken-kun, you're ass is just as important to me!" He made an attempt to pout but failed miserably. Youji chortled happily, cutting away happily. Suddenly, the crushed velvet didn't seem so bad.

"Shouldn't we be moving out soon?" Aya suggested, Youji wheeled around to look at him. The huge grin promptly dropped from his face. Aya shifted uncomfortably. Didn't he approve? Youji tried valiantly not to drool. He lunged at the man, pinning him to the far wall in a tight embrace around the hips.

Rubbing his cheek back and forth across the velvet, he complimented himself. "I am so great!" He cooed to himself. "I have such taste!" He looked up to meet Aya's eyes. The blood rushed to his head, and his face flamed as well. It took all his strength to pry Youji loose, and the blonde had the gall to laugh at him.

Ken and Omi snickered at them as well, torn between cooing at how cute it was and roaring at the look on Aya's face. "You look very good." Youji reassured him in a husky voice and stood up. "Ken looks skanky and Omi looks kinky. You just look elegant." He leaned forward just enough to brush his nose over Aya's cheek.

Aya was left wondering what to say. Did protocol apply here? Where a compliment is exchanged for a compliment? Because Youji did look good. He looked comfortable in the tight leopard print pants, and they would flare nicely over the shiny brown boots he had brought downstairs earlier. The shoes sported a chunky heel, but on Youji they looked anything but feminine. And the bronze, shimmery crop top somehow drew your eyes to the tattoo on his left shoulder, the wings of which he'd outlined in some form of glitter. Yet despite all the clinging and glitter, he looked perfectly at ease, as if he were born that way.

But by the time Aya had taken in the entire view, and thought of a decent response, the moment was lost and Omi was moving down the hall to retrieve Akai.

Akai stared at the unfamiliar ceiling of his unfamiliar room, lying atop of the unfamiliar covers of an unfamiliar bed. He didn't let it bother him. Unfamiliarity was easy to ignore, because everything in his life was unfamiliar. He never was on the same assignment for long.

He'd been in special opps. for longest, and he'd almost made himself comfortable there. But they'd discharged him, just when he was getting the hang of things. Sending him to Gran to hide their mistakes. They didn't want responsibility for having changed him. Especially since he was so young. He never should have been there in the first place. Everything led back to his bastard father. But the bastard was gone now. Just like he was. Tucked away somewhere, with no influence in his own life.

With a deep sigh, he distracted himself, running over the mission specs for tonight. The targets were two women, assassins for hire who took out anyone for a price. So different from the Weiss agents, who hid behind the guises of morality and justice. He almost admired them. But, it wasn't his place to make an opinion, and to be honest, he looked forward to the deaths tonight. The women went by the names Tyranny and Dictate, strong willed, greedy, and forceful. And they were going to die tonight. Just the thought of it made him half-hard. And a tiny part of him hated that. He'd accused the others of perversion, while he was so much worse.

The tinny voice of his conscience told him he was wrong, and wrong to be doing this, and that it was never to late to turn back. But logic intervened. He could never go back. He was his father's son. His memory flitted back to the last time he'd seen the bastard. It was at his trial. Before he was locked away for good.

The lawyer had told him to deny the charges. Akai was sixteen when he watched the man who sired him be tried for murder. And that's what the bastard had done. Denial, denial, denial. He could have gotten off Scot- free. They didn't have enough evidence, and his father had a hefty influence in the community. Colonel Nobaria wasn't a saint, but surely he wouldn't murder his own wife.

Akai knew the truth. But he sure as hell wasn't going to step forward and say it. The man was a bastard, yes, but he wasn't stupid enough to force away the only living relative he had left. No one else would take in an introverted teenager with a personality that changed faster than Dr. Jekyl to Mr. Hyde. And he would not be another child lost to the system. He'd stay with his father, even if he had killed his mother.

But the bastard didn't stick to the plan. He'd stood up in court that day, impatient and loudly proclaimed, "Let's just cut to the chase here, sir." He'd bowed to the judge, the jury, and the lawyers. "I killed my wife. It was not premeditated, but I also did not do it in the heat of the moment. Why did I do it?" He'd shrugged his wide shoulders. "Frankly, I got off on it. She really made no difference in my life."

The courtroom had burst into chaos; his father had been dragged off to spend his life in jail. And Akai was left standing there, mouth agape, to be bombarded with reporters, do-gooders, and just plain busybodies. That was the moment he realized he had changed.

And he wasn't even left to the system. No, his father, generous man that he was, used what was left of his influence to enroll him in special opps. He'd be made a man yet, it would do him good. And it had, damn the bastard for being right. It had done him good, for a time. But he kept changing. And the undefined change revealed itself in his character. And they'd sold him to Gran because of it. The temper. The bloodlust.

"Why'd I do it?" The words left his mouth, bringing him back to the present. He sat up, staring at the unfamiliar room around him. "Because I got off on it." From that moment on. He was his father's son.

"Akai-san! Its time to leave." Omi knocked politely on Akai's door before skidding down the steps. "Neon Gloss, that's the club the targets frequent, opens at eight. Its seven forty-five right now, and it's a half hour drive. The targets generally arrive after nine, so that should give us time to check things out." He called over his shoulder, pulling on his boots.

Standing when Akai reached the bottom, he commented, "You're shorter than you appear, aren't you?" Omi looked faintly grateful that someone was shorter than he was. "Your boots help." He noted as Akai pulled them on with a scowl. "There's nothing wrong with being short." He reassured, realizing he might have insulted the younger boy. "And you might grow." Akai whipped upright to glare. "Sorry." He mumbled, ill at ease, before racing for the safety of the kitchen.

"We'll be taking two cars and a bike." Aya shepherded the group from the kitchen. "Should the targets be alerted to our presence, we'll want to be able to cover more ground." He wordlessly directed Akai to go with Youji, then indicated Omi should come with him. "The Porsche and Seven are more appropriate for the mission." He said by way of excuse to Akai. "Your Hummer attracts attention in a place like this. When there, we'll spread out to cover the entire club. Don't draw attention to yourself, we know what we're looking for.

"When you find it, alert the others subtly, and if possible, get the targets outside. Everyone knows the layout and their positions." It wasn't a question. "And default positions." Aya's give-me-no-shit speech was met with impatient nods. "Wait until someone else is within range before taking out a target. They are trained professionals, and given the chance, they will use it."

Youji applauded sarcastically and the groups headed towards their transportation. Youji half listened as Omi commented about making contact with the target being unusual and Aya made the appropriate response. He slid into the driver's seat of the Super Seven, openly staring at Akai. He was under direct orders from fearless leader to "BEHAVE!" He couldn't guarantee results.

"Like the vest." Youji attempted honestly enough. He really shouldn't have worried about the kid. He had half-decent taste. The entire outfit was black vinyl, giving off a shine identical to his hair. The pants were simple, with a thick silver ringed belt cutting them high, ending just above his belly button. He wore the vest well, with no shirt, the open zipper tab was the only adornment, matching the belt.

He'd been polite. He was behaving himself. He received a short nod in acknowledgement. He shouldn't have bothered. The entire rest of the trip passed in silence.

Akai sat in the passenger seat, silently complaining about the wind in his face, the obnoxious rumble of the engine, and his current company. He hated convertibles for a reason. A bug found itself darting off his cheek.

And the company was the worst part. Balinese, Youji, was so obnoxious. Everything he said and did was condescending. He was a child to him. And an army stiff. And completely unwelcome in his eyes. Well, he felt the same way about him. Not that he was an army stiff or anything, but that he was childish and a playboy and a gay one at that. Uneasily, he glanced at the blonde, who seemed fully intent on his driving, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He wouldn't try anything on him, would he? He hadn't so far…but he did compliment his vest, which meant he'd been staring at his chest, and suddenly he was very uncomfortable, and not because he didn't like convertibles. He really wished he were allowed to ride with Omi. Even if he'd commented on his height. Omi, he was confident, he could handle. He didn't have that same confidence around Youji. He was demeaning, and overly dramatic, and tall and skinny. All black marks in his book.

With a force of will, he thought about something else, feeling the heady rush of adrenaline that came before a job and didn't stop until hours later. But adrenaline was a natural aphrodisiac, and the last thing he wanted was the blonde beside him getting any ideas. And so the ride passed in awkward silence, both wishing each other out of the car.

"Hi!" Omi greeted his boyfriend in line for admission, acting as if they'd met up completely by accident. Ken rolled his eyes at the boy, tugging him into an all encompassing embrace, as if trying to make him invisible.

"People are looking at you." Ken accused the blonde, tucking his nose in his hair. "Women and other guys." He looked up to meet even the most innocently curious gaze with a possessive glare.

"They're just looking." Omi admonished him, "They are allowed." He chuckled lightly at the face Ken made.

"They are not!" He acted as if the idea was unheard of, making another sweep of curious faces.

"Relax!" Omi coaxed, pushing away and gestured at the approaching pair. "Look, even Youji's looking." This time Aya joined the scowl.

Youji ambeled along, his smile falling as he approached the group. "Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?"

Inside the club, the quintet spread as was planned. Time passed and Youji found himself conveniently near the bar, trying to persuade the buff, bald bartender to give him a free drink. Aya had tucked himself into a dark corner by the tables, able to watch the occupants without being seen, and Akai made a circuit of back hallways and less occupied areas. Omi and Ken had met up after their sweep of the upper deck, snuggling at the railing, Omi had a view of the entire club below, while Ken had a view of the upper level.

"This looks promising." Youji could suddenly broke in on the com-link.

"What are you talking about?" Ken hissed back.

"It means that he's found the target, you idiot!" Omi whispered, looking down on the crowd below and pretending to watch the dance floor nearest the bar. Ken turned to watch as well.

"What the hell is he doing? Does he realize how dangerous that is?" Aya growled, watching as Youji's shifting disconnected his microphone.

"I think he doesn't want any of us to hear him at work." Omi snickered before sobering, watching Youji slide up and in-between the two women in question. Long seconds of tense silence passed as they watched their teammate flirt shamelessly.

"This is too easy. They're on to him." Aya interjected, Youji had a hand on each of the target's backs, directing them toward the door.

"Either that, or he really is as good as he always says he is." Ken added, sounding none too happy at learning it wasn't all bravado.

Youji brushed a hand through his hair, connecting the circuit long enough that they could hear. "I did come with a few friends, I'm sure they'd be happy to meet you." And Aya to hiss, "You are so dead," before it disconnected.

"Move to your positions." He ordered sullenly. "I don't want him dead before I get the chance to kill him."

Youji shifted awkwardly, well aware that he was in a dark alley outnumbered by the enemy. "Is there a reason we're just standing here?" Caly asked him. "I thought we were going to find your friends." He knew he should be a bit anxious given the situation, but so far their targets, who gave the names of Caly and Kira, really seemed completely unaware. He'd been around enough women to know when they were on to him.

"This is where they said we'd meet at ten." He vented his frustration with half-truths. "I don't know what's keeping them." He was in position, with one arm around Kira's shoulders, the other tucked at the small of her back. One jerk and she was gone. What the hell was keeping them? He was pretty sure he could take them both out without doing much damage to himself, but he'd be bitched out by Aya for not waiting, and there was the chance that Caly was packing. She'd probably be able to get a shot in the time it took to suffocate. He really hated probability.

So he was stuck here, making small talk with the enemy and feeling like more and more of a hypocrite as every second passed. "You were going to leave at ten?" Caly felt the need to be logical. She was in a snit because he had his arm around Kira and not her. This was so not what he needed.

"Would I be bragging if I said we were confident that was enough time to get what we wanted?" He recovered after a moment. He could only hope it was quick enough. Kira cocked her head at him. He was in trouble. Shit.

But before he had the chance to judge if it was a false alarm, there was a short bark of laugher. Youji instinctively skirted to the side. A half-second later, something brushed by his arm, sinking with a wet sound into Kira stomach. He impulsively turned from the sight.

Cursing, and half-stunned, Youji leapt for the other woman, but she already had a gun. Her eyes, wide and glassy, flashed at him as she sunk a single shot in his arm. A second later, Akai's smaller curved blade melted into her lower back, wrapped around her spine.

Turning away from the spray of blood and ignoring the stench of the freshly dead, Youji sank to his knees. One target was down, the other was going fast. And he could only wonder, what the hell had just happened.

Youji regained consciousness in his own bed, two pale bandages wrapped around his right bicep. He hadn't even been aware he'd passed out, but then, he supposed, maybe that was normal. Examining his body, he was grateful to note he didn't feel all that bad. The uppermost bandage squeezed a little to tight, and the area it covered was suspiciously numb in areas, but the lower one must have been nothing more than a scrape. It stung slightly, and burned when he moved, but all in all, there was no long term damage. He quickly reviewed the evening in his mind, cursing himself for not acting sooner, and Akai for taking out the target he'd already claimed. Assuming the upper bandage was the bullet wound, what the hell was the lower?

He swung his legs out of bed, noting he was stripped to his boxers. Outside it was the half light of very early morning, but he had no real way of telling the time, given the mess of kitty clock in his trash basket. Sitting up quickly, he had nothing more than the slightest case of vertigo. With a grim grin and only half a wince, he stood, ready to address the most important issue around. Standing, he padded down the hall to bang on Aya's door.

"Youji," Aya's door swung open almost immediately, introducing him to tired purple eyes. "It's early, you're up." He pointed out the obvious, not quite awake. "What the hell are you doing up? You should have called for me!" Now he was awake.

"Is the Seven okay?"

"You woke me up because you want to know about your car?" Aya wrinkled his nose, incredulous. "I had Omi drive it home. Its perfectly safe." He reassured once he saw that Youji was serious.

"Can I see…"

"No, you can't see and make sure, it's four a.m. for God's sake. Go back to bed. Akai's covering your shift tomorrow so you won't have to get up." Youji sized him up, debating whether to trust his word.

"Okay." Youji finally nodded, but instead of going back to his bed like he was asked, wrapped his good arm around Aya and stumbled back into the room. Falling onto the bed, he snuggled into the redhead's bare chest, sighing in contentment.

"You do realize I'm upset with your behavior tonight." Aya mumbled into the top of his head, resigned to be a pillow.

"Oh, I know." Youji stretched like a cat, planting a tiny kiss against his pale torso. "I look forward to my punishment."

A/N (3): Please tell me if this chapter it too long to read comfortably, I'm thinking I should cut it in half.

A/N(4): Thank you to all who read and reviewed:

-tmelange: Thanks

-Misura: I hope you like this just as much. ^-^

-Mother of Cayne: I'm so sorry for the delay Mum! I had this chapter sitting here for days, but final revisions took forever!

-Brennend: A little insight into Akai. Not much, but it's a start! ^_^