Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Distractions ❯ Distractions ( Chapter 1 )

“Where's Yohji?”

 

Ken looks up from his soccer magazine, pushing absently at the lock of brown hair that immediately flops into his eyes. “He went to see if Aya wanted to spar for a while. He must have agreed because Yohji hasn't come back”

 

“Oh, good. I was going to go soak in the hot spring and I just wanted to check no-one else was using it.” Omi pauses for a moment. Ken is buried in his reading matter again, face obscured. With an effort, Omi keeps his voice casual. “Do you want to come with me Kenken?”

 

Ken makes a small, indistinct noise but doesn't look up. “No thanks Omittchi, I'm a bit hungry, going to get a sandwich in a minute.”

 

Omi sighs. Food and soccer. Is that all Ken can think about? Ignoring the heat that immediately rises in his face, Omi stomps over to grab a robe, before heading out the cabin's back door. He angrily kicks at the loose snow along the path, thinking darkly about suppressed hormones and how they might even be stunting his growth. He is so deep in his fugue that he is almost on top of Aya and Yohji before his assassin reflexes kick in, stilling him instantly.

 

Fortunately, Omi's teammates are somewhat preoccupied. Suddenly that noise Ken made takes on new meaning. No wonder the baka hid his face - he was trying not to laugh. Omi curses his own stupidity. He should have noticed how many robes were missing from the pegs by the back door. The score is now 4 to 2 in Ken's favour.

 

Both Yohji and Aya have their backs to the pathway. Yohji is sitting against the side of the pool with Aya leaning against him, head thrown back on Yohji's shoulder. Aya's hair, darkened by the water to a deep, blood red, is fanned across Yohji's glistening skin. Yohji's mouth is fastened low down on Aya's neck, right at the angle where his shoulder starts, and a low noise of pure pleasure rumbles deep in Yohji's chest. One of Yohji's arms is across Aya's body, holding him firmly. The other is hidden by the water but the ripples oscillating from Yohji's shoulder movements leave little to the imagination.

 

Aya has his eyes closed and his mouth partially open. From this angle, Omi can see an unfamiliar expression on his face - sensual, abandoned. And surely Aya has never sounded breathy like that before, not even when fighting several assailants at once. Omi realises his own mouth is hanging open and quickly shuts it, swallowing the drool that had threatened to spill from the corner of his lips. He has to get out of here, fast, before Aya sees him and removes all his intestines. Omi takes a careful step backwards, unwilling to drag his eyes away.

 

Yohji breaks his seal on Aya's throat to growl huskily, “want you.”

 

Omi moves as quickly as he can to take shelter behind a tree, just managing it before Aya opens his eyes to answer in an even deeper voice - “So have me, Yotan.”

 

They shift around until Aya is straddling Yohji, supporting himself with a hand on each of Yohji's shoulders. Omi isn't certain what Yohji is doing under the water now, but whatever it is has Aya leaning in to crush their mouths together on a moan. The kiss lasts for several minutes, the little voice in Omi's head telling him this is the perfect time to make good his escape easily overwhelmed by the tingle from lower down his body. Finally Yohji pulls his head free to ask in a strangled voice, “ready?”.

 

“Just do it Kudoh,” Aya grunts, in a tone that none of Weiss would dream of disobeying.

 

Yohji hisses in a noisy breath, a shudder running through his lanky frame as he reaches for Aya's waist and lifts him up. Now Aya is fumbling under the water, face creased in concentration for a moment until his lips curve just slightly. A smile, Omi realises with a start. Aya is smiling. Then Yohji is pulling Aya back down into the water, slowly, as if fighting resistance. Omi feels his face burning again but he still can't look away. Aya stares intently at Yohji for a long moment, before suddenly gasping and throwing his head back. The long pale arch of Aya's neck is marred by some spectacular bruises.

 

No wonder Aya is always wearing high collars. The thought of Aya clothed finally breaks the spell and Omi shakily pushes himself away from the tree. He can't risk returning to the path - Aya might spot him. He'll have to circle around to the front of the cabin. Then kill Ken.

 

This is getting beyond a joke. Walking in on Aya and Yohji ravishing each other all the time has Omi thinking of nothing but sex. Maybe it isn't really their fault. Omi's school friends are no different. He is seventeen. Sometimes even doing flower arrangements has him thinking of sex.

 

That doesn't mean Ken is going to suffer any less. Neither of them wants to be the one responsible for outing Aya's relationship, if that's what it is. It's clear that Yohji doesn't mind who knows. He hasn't been to a club in weeks and walks around with a very self satisfied look on his face. He made no effort to hide his own love bites - even though it was obvious that he hadn't left the house to acquire them. Aya must have been plenty pissed at that, because it was almost a week before passionate cries emanated from Yohji's room again, and Yohji's neck has remained unmarked ever since. The only thing making Yohji's smugness bearable, is the fact that Aya seems hell bent on hiding whatever is happening between them and doesn't care how much Yohji endures as a result.

 

The stalemate has had some interesting consequences. Yohji persists in `accidentally' touching Aya at every opportunity. Brushing against him in the koneko. Picking bits of `food' from his face. Aya has developed a near lethal clumsiness with pointed elbows and sharp objects around Yohji - it's a wonder Yohji still has all his fingers intact. And then there is the public sex. The garage, the greenhouse, the kitchen, the mission room. Omi doesn't know how Yohji is managing to persuade Aya but it seems no space will remain unchristened.

 

Omi is fairly sure Yohji saw him that first time he walked in on them. He'd arrived back from school to find a harried Ken swamped by squealing fan-girls and thought nothing of it when Ken pleaded for him to see what was keeping Aya in the greenhouse. Yohji had opened his mouth to yell and only Aya indignantly yanking him back into the kiss saved Omi from certain death.

 

Yohji wants to get caught. Omi is determined not to oblige him. Unfortunately, so is Ken and he has reserves of deviousness that Omi never suspected. Omi hates to lose.

 

Disgruntled and shivering, Omi scrambles up between the tress to reach the clearing at the side of the cabin. Snow slips heavily from the branches he grabs hold of, some of it hitting him to slide icy fingers along his neck, speeding his breath into ever larger frosty clouds in front of his face. He wishes he had his coat and gloves. Or that the spring was deserted so he could slide in and luxuriate in its unseasonable warmth. Or even that he'd stayed by the fire with his infuriating, oblivious baka of a teammate.

 

A face full of snow jolts Omi out of the fantasy that was beginning to form. Scraping his eyes clear, he scrambles up from his sprawl to see what he tripped over. The lacquer sheath of Aya's katana tangles his feet again and Omi frees it, looking around for the blade. The snow here bears many footprints - regular and deep. Aya must have performed his katas here.

 

How does Yohji do it? Omi really must try and get some pointers from him - if it's worth the lascivious looks and innuendo that will be the price. Omi would have bet on dismemberment for Yohji; interrupting Aya during his sacred practice with the aim of fooling around. That Aya actually abandoned his katana in the snow… Maybe Omi should suggest to Kritiker that they all be called in for psychological evaluation.

 

Metal glints through a light covering of snow and Omi seizes the hilt of the weapon, wincing at the icy feel against his bare skin. The blade is covered with tiny icicles, looking for all the world as if someone poured a frozen slushy drink over it. Maybe he should just leave it here. No need to have Aya wondering what Omi was doing outside. Distracted, he finds his tongue darting out to lick at the frost, wondering if it tastes as sweet as it looks. Omi stiffens immediately. Biting cold burns through him and he can't pull free when he jerks back instinctively. Stuck. His tongue is stuck. A low, desperate sound rises from the back of Omi's throat before conscious thought hits. Aya's going to kill him.

 

Frantic tugging brings only sharp, protesting pain from the muscles at the back of his tongue and an accompanying sting of tears. Omi stops for a moment and tries to think, hindered by his quaking limbs. He has to stop struggling or he'll slip over in the snow and slice his face to ribbons on the sharp blade. Cautiously Omi uses the robe still slung over his shoulder to wrap around his numb hands, one at a time, regripping the hilt of the katana carefully. That ought to help with the incipient frostbite. Now all he has to do is warm the metal up so he can free himself.

 

The spring is obviously out. He has to get back to the cabin and the fire. Without stumbling over feet that feel like unresponsive blocks of ice, while walking along a path that he can barely see due to the damn sword right in front of his face. Omi shuts his eyes. Feels himself flow into mission mode. He can do this. Bombay can do this.

 

Inch by painstaking inch, Omi edges each foot along the ground in turn, feeling for obstacles before transferring his weight. He is breathing hard, trying to ignore the shaking of his hands and the excruciating wrenches on his poor tongue that result. The pathway to the front door seems impossibly long and he finds himself praying that he beats Aya back. Not even huge, tear-filled Chibi eyes are likely to save him if he gets caught like this.

 

Exhaustion and relief fill Omi as he finally reaches the stairs at the front of the cabin, forcing himself to move extra slowly so as not to fall at the final hurdle. Trembling, he peeks in awkwardly through the window, thankful that only Ken is visible inside. The jock wastes no time in jumping up in response to Omi kicking at the door, all wide-eyed bewilderment when he sees Omi's predicament.

 

“What on earth are you doing?”

 

Omi glares as best he can. What does it look like? Well, actually, even Omi isn't sure of the answer to that.

 

“Uck, eye ongues sthuck,” Omi manages.

 

“Here, let me help you with that.” Ken apologises profusely when his sudden yank on the katana's hilt results in nothing but an anguished howl from Omi.

 

“It's really stuck, hey Chibi.”

 

Omi's enraged stare screams, `you think?'

 

The sound of the back door opening has both Omi and Ken jumping. Ken quickly shoves Omi out of sight, hissing, “that better not be Aya.”

 

“Hellooo,” Yohji calls cheerfully, “whatcha doing over there Ken? Have we got a visitor?”

 

“No, just a… wrong number,” Ken stammers, yelping when Omi kicks his shin angrily.

 

Undeterred, Yohji appears behind Ken, eyebrows lifting as he does a double-take.

 

“Hell Chibi, if I'd known you were that hard-up, I'd have kissed you myself,” he smirks finally.

 

“It's not funny Yohji,” Ken snaps, mollifying Omi just a little. “Omi's tongue is really frozen solid and it's hurting him. We have to do something before Aya comes back.”

 

Yohji sobers a little at that thought. “Let's get him upstairs. Aya went to get his katana and he's going to be out for blood when he can't find it.”

 

Omi wants to protest that he needs the warmth of the fire but his muffled attempts at speech are ignored as Ken and Yohji hustle him upstairs and into the first bedroom - Ken's. Closing the door, Yohji immediately reaches for the katana, backing off with his palms raised when Omi clenches his free hand into a fist.

 

“That won't work Yohji, I tried it already, Ken explains.

 

“Orm i' u' oo iiots, Omi growls.

 

“What?” Ken and Yohji chorus in unison.

 

Omi closes his eyes, shivering despondently. The bedrooms are freezing, he's never going to get his tongue back at this rate.

 

“Omi you're cold!” Ken observes sharply.

 

Omi sighs. It is obviously not Ken's huge intellect that he moons after.

 

Yohji puts a hand on Omi's shoulder. “You're supposed to take your loved one for a tumble in the hay, not the snow Omittchi, you're sopping wet.” The concern in his voice mitigates the teasing words.

 

“That's it!” Ken crows, “we just have to heat the katana up and Omi will be able to unstick himself.” Gratitude flows through Omi and he instantly feels ashamed of his harsh thoughts.

 

“How do we do that Kenken?” Yohji asks thoughtfully.

 

“Umm.” Ken's face falls.

 

“Don't worry Omi,” Yohji smiles, “Ken, get your bugnucks.”

 

Ken looks confused but rummages in his kit bag as Yohji hurries from the room, soon returning, wearing his mission gloves.

 

“I'll warm up next to the hilt, you hold on higher up,” Yohji instructs, carefully flattening a hand on either side of the blade, mindful of the wicked edge. Ken's bugnucks are bulkier but he manages to do as Yohji asked.

 

“Try now Omi, see if that's any better,” Yohji says after a couple of minutes. Omi hesitantly tugs - still stuck but with a suggestion of more give. He holds up his free hand to make an equivocal gesture in the air.

 

“Getting somewhere?” Ken asks.

 

“Uh huh, Omi confirms.

 

He can't help but keep trying, impatient now that freedom is in sight, ignoring the knowledge that several layers of skin seem to be peeling off with each straining movement. The tip of his tongue jerks loose suddenly and Omi immediately staggers over to the mirror to inspect the damage. Nowhere near as bad as it feels from the look of it, though he doubts he'll be eating anything hot for a day or two.

 

“Ewww,” Ken exclaims, examining the katana, “you left bits behind.”

 

Yohji shoots Ken an amused look for his unaccustomed squeamishness, before all three of them freeze at the sound of Aya calling out from downstairs.

 

Omi can't suppress his panicked `eeep', and Ken visibly pales.

 

“Do something,” Ken begs Yohji. Omi adds his own pleading gaze.

 

“Like what?” Yohji objects, sighing as Omi widens his eyes further, fluttering his lashes a little for good measure. “Ok, ok, no need to break out the big guns Omi,” Yohji capitulates. “I'll keep him occupied but he's going to be pissed at me for making him forget his precious katana. You owe me big time Omi. No morning shifts for a month.”

 

Omi would refuse vigorously but he can't get his tongue to obey his brain. Aya calls again, sounding a lot closer to the stairs this time. Yohji grins evilly, sure he has won this argument.

 

“No morning shifts for Aya either,” Yohji winks, heading for the door, “and get that blade clean and back in Aya's room in a hurry Kenken, or else all of us will be sleeping on the porch, if we're lucky.”

 

Ken curses softly and hurries away to do just that as Omi collapses in a heap on the bed, suddenly aware of the chill that has seeped right through to his bones. He has to get warmed up and out of these wet clothes. If only his fingers would cooperate. His floundering attempts have made little headway when Ken returns, panting as if he has just run a marathon.

 

“Omi, you're going to get sick for sure, Ken fusses, finding dry towels and swooping on Omi to pull off his sweater and pants before drying his hair roughly.

 

“Get under the covers, Ken orders as Omi's teeth chatter wildly.

 

Omi tries to comply, his limbs sluggish. Ken tsks anxiously, manhandling Omi surprisingly gently to tuck him into bed, frowning when the shivering doesn't stop straight away.

 

“Any better?”

 

A little, Omi thinks; after all, this isn't Omi's bed, but he shakes his head and innocently mumbles, “cold”.

 

Ken frowns some more before lifting the covers up and sliding in next to Omi. “Here, this'll warm you up faster.” His voice contains only friendly solicitude but Omi is sure he can turn that to his advantage. He shamelessly snuggles as close as possible to Ken's wonderful body heat. Maybe Omi can find it in his heart to forgive Ken's prank from earlier after all.