Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Discord in the House of Assassins ❯ A Little More Than Kin and Less Than Kind ( Chapter 6 )

“Would you hold still? Is that too much to ask? Fuck it, if I didn't know better I'd say you're a bloody masochist.”

 

“What gave you the idea that you know anything better?”

 

Annoyed, Yohji pulled on the thread with a tad too much pressure, and when he saw Aya wince he felt a smidgen of satisfaction, and a lot of guilt. They were back at the house, without alerting the younger Assassins enough to get them out of their respective beds and inside Yohji's room. The older man was cleaning up the myriad of wounds Berserker and Mastermind inflicted on the younger man. Not that Aya made it any less difficult for Yohji, who was silently wishing that he should have brought Aya home out cold, which is one of the best states of treating Aya of mission injuries. The other best state being delirious with fever, or near in coma. Well, being an Assassin requires one to think on one's feet and do with what one has, but that doesn't stop Yohji from wishing he had better and that his shin didn't hurt so much. Aya was trying to move about again, and Yohji let go of the needle, exasperated and placed his hands on his hips like his mother used to do when admonishing a younger Yohji caught with the last of the forbidden cookies right before meals.

 

“You do that again, and I swear…”

 

“What?”

 

“I swear I'm gonna get the V-man back and let's see how you handle that.”

 

Aya promptly shut up and sat like the good little statue he was expected to be. The V-man's way of cleaning up blood leaves a lot to be desired and Aya could always forego flowery endearments the V-man was prone to using when dealing with him, but as if that's any justification for being happy with Yohji instead. Okay, it does justify it. A bit. He glared as hard as he can at Yohji, who for his part continued sewing the leg wound (the one that forced Aya to limp undignified and ruin his katana's scabbard) while controlling all facial muscles to not betray his annoyance at being glared at when what he was clearly doing is being a good teammate. At least the redhead was quieter now without muttering and griping about how Yohji always sticks his nose in places he shouldn't (at one point, Yohji was tempted to poke his nose, or for seriousness' sake his finger instead, into an open gash repeatedly). The moment the last wound was stitched, the last swab disposed and the last blood wiped, Yohji threw the stuff he was working with indiscriminately into their first aid kit that resembled a plumber's tool box in size, arranged his bed cover, and left Aya to his own devices. Aya didn't leave right away for the comfort* of his sanctuary, although he kept reminding Yohji a while ago about how much he'd rather be in his room, oh no, he just stood by the door and watch Yohji busy himself. When the inevitable happened and Yohji found he no longer had anything to do to keep him busy and give him an excuse to overlook Aya's overstay, he turned to shoot Aya a disapproving look.

 

“What? Get with you and scram. I need to rest, unlike Aya “Terminator” Fujimiya.”

 

Unperturbed by Yohji's scathing and most cheesy comment, Aya just stared on. He leaned against Yohji's door, body language practically screaming out “I'm not going anywhere!” A second later he asked the million dollar question.

 

“Why did you go after me?”

 

Yohji scowled. He didn't know why, just that he had to. He kind of looked like a pirate who suddenly woke up to the very unpleasant surprise of having all his rum disposed off in a great big bonfire to alert the navy**. Well, Aya asked the question often enough Yohji decided he might as well say something to shut the idiot up already.

 

“I had to.”

 

“No. That's not it.”

 

“Don't get me wrong, I do want you to get knocked off from that white high horse you rode in on.”

 

“So, why help me? Wasn't that the right time to shove me from the horse?”

 

“It was a trap. You were planned to lose from the start. Admit it, that was two of them Schwarz bastards, we can't even handle them one-on-one.”

 

Aya's eyes steeled, and Yohji sighed.

 

“So you pitied me?”

 

“Damn it, if you want to think of it that way, fine. Why insist on a dialogue if you're just going to put words in my mouth? You're so fucking stubborn.”

 

Aya snorted derisively. Thinking of how much sleep he'll probably miss from trying to converse with an Aya~n that's completely adamant on having a one-way conversation, Yohji thought he might as well multi-task. He strode over to his closet, took an undershirt and loose cotton pajamas, and proceeded to strip before an Aya who quickly averted his eyes.

 

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

 

“Multi-tasking. We're both guys aren't we?”

”Yes, but…”

 

“And haven't we stitched each other up countless times?”

 

“I know that but…”

 

“And I assume we both know what a schlong looks like?”

 

“Of course, still…”

 

“Nothing to worry then. Nothing you haven't seen before. You were saying?”

 

Rolling his eyes and giving up, and thinking how Yohji walked in on him earlier, although he didn't remove his underwear, and by God is that… ahem. That is a very substantial thing Yohji has… clearing his throat more to clear his own mind, Aya offered a prayer of gratitude to some higher being when Yohji finally pulled on the pajamas and flopped down on his bed.

 

“What were we talking about?”

 

“Your di… I mean your decision to go after me… earlier.”

 

“Ah. That.”

 

Silence. Which meant Yohji was putting all his energy into thinking, and Aya was silently berating himself for dwelling on the size… sizable things he can't help but dwell upon. He was thankfully taken from his annoying thoughts by the sound of Yohji's voice.

 

“I guess,” Yohji drawled as he smiled lazily, “it's because I'm just a damn fool with too much heart. But at least I can admit that to you and to myself, than try to hide it by walling myself up.”

 

It was clearly a pointed statement, precisely directed at Aya, who promptly gazed down on the floor with an unperturbed face. The weight and magnitude of Yohji's statement, however, was broken by Yohji himself when he decided to add as an afterthought,

 

“Mind you, it ain't love.”

 

Aya scowled and glared at Yohji.

 

“Idiot.”

 

“Just covering the basics.”

 

“How dare you even think I could actually be falling in love with you to merit a warning like that?”

 

“That wasn't what I meant, but hey, if you want to think of it that way…” Yohji shrugged. He yawned and made an act of stretching and looking really tired, laid down, and turned to his side with his back to Aya. “If you want to watch me sleep, I don't mind either. But if you are, can you turn off the lights for me? Thanks. G'night Aya~n.”

 

His face a furious red, Aya stormed out of Yohji's room, but one could never tell if it was out of anger, or of a very embarrassing blush.

 

 

*this is a lie though. Aya's bedroom is if it was a live animal, would be a skinny little scavenging thing, hostile and inhospitable, with the barest scraps of fur, otherwise furless akin to a Chihuahua. Even Aya thinks it's not comforting.

 

**yes, I'm referring to a really irate Capt. Jack Sparrow in POTC. Or, so that I don't have to infringe any more copyrights, just think of a sleep-deprived student before a black hearted computer who just consigned to the technological black hole a 50-paged, double spaced, 1”1 margin, 12 font size TNR mother of all thesis that is due in about an hour.