Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Jinsei no Bunkiten ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Flowers. Everywhere.

There were so many fucking flowers.

Ken decided then and there that he could die happy if he never saw another damn flower again. I mean, seriously, who needs this many flowers?

For whatever reason, the shop had gotten double the amount of orders as usual, and Ken was stuck filling them.

They don t even serve a useful purpose, he thought to himself bitterly, mangling another yellow rose into place with narrowed brown eyes. To make matters worse, Omi wasn't here to help arrange, meaning that today s bouquets weren't the chibi's usual graceful ensembles, but Ken's own unskilled creations that took him at least twice as long to wrestle into place. Even Yohji was gone somewhere, heaven alone knew, depriving poor Ken the solace of a fangirl-free afternoon. Whenever the lanky playboy was there, he distracted the schoolgirls by blatant flirting and tan, bare abs, affording the beleaguered soccer-player a much-needed and giggle-free workplace.

No, this cheerfully sunny Thursday was officially going on Ken's worst-f*cking-days-of-my-miserable-life list. He was boiling in jeans, black T-shirt and stupid, stupid apron, surrounded by mashed flowers and chittering school-girls, behind on ALL the orders, being glared at by a incredibly pissed-looking Fujimiya Aya, and worse yet, was looking at several hours of the same.

What's wrong with him today? Ken thought irritably. Probably wishing he could take his katana to that blonde that keeps touching his arm. Ken smirked to himself, thinking of his teammate's discomfort. Bastard deserves it for not helping me with these arrangements.

At a loss for what Aya thought he was doing working the register when he knew well and good that none of these brainless bints were going to actually going to lawfully purchase anything, Ken harrumphed and attempted to concentrate on work

A part of him still wished that they could be civil. Hell, if Aya had kept his mouth shut and his expressions less...pissy...Ken wouldn't mind having him around so much. The man was nothing if not eye candy. Ken himself was not gay, but could appreciate aesthetic beauty when it was presented to him. That is, if that beauty hadn't been marred by the worse attitude on the ENTIRE ISLAND of Japan.

Finishing his current arrangement, he grabbed the clipboard off the shelf behind him, blushing as his reach put him in dangerous proximity to the jutting chest of a particularly aggressive girl. She blew him a kiss from pursed red lips before he turned , face glowing with embarrassment. Honestly, the fan girls were getting progressively worse; Yohji had practically had to evacuate poor Omi out of the Koneko last week, fishing him out of a pile of grabby teenage hands upon hearing the boy shriek at being cornered and having his ass pinched. Ken smiled at the memory; Yohji seemed more angry at the fact that it wasn't him being molested than the fact that their youngest teammate was.

Not that Ken would have minded so much attention normally; it was just a little...much. He personally preferred someone with self-control. And certainly smarter than the usual mob that flocked to the shop after the schools let out. Collected, quieter. Dependable. And drop dead gorgeous wouldn't hurt either.

Ha, quiet. Self-control. No one like that around here, he laughed softly to himself.

Except Aya.

Ken chortled at the though. Yeah, except I also like people who act HUMAN every once in a while. Me and Aya. He couldn't hold back the laughter that came bubbling up at the thought of the two of them walking hand-in-hand down the street. With big bouquets of flowers in their free hands and sakura petals raining down. He laughed harder. We'd so murder each other. Hell, he d probably kill me with some pruning scissors if he knew what I was thinking right now. He wiped a tear of mirth from his eye, then started laughing all over again when he caught the renewed scowl directed towards him from the register.

=

AYA

=

Just what the hell does he find so amusing?

Aya scowled deeper. Probably getting tickled by one of these damn girls. Aya almost growled at the twinge that thought produced deep in his innards.

I want my sword.

He wouldn't kill the little twits. No, he only killed people if he was getting paid; the bands of whores that patrolled his shop lacked the IQ of pocky-sticks, much less dark beasts. These girls deserved to die in freak accidents; let them be electrocuted by their blow driers and overdose on diet pills and be strangled by their own halter tops. Surely none would survive to full adulthood anyway. They didn't deserve the honor of an execution from Weiss..

The other boy had no idea how delicious he looked; tight black t-shirt molded to every curve and muscle of his athletic torso, shaggy chocolate hair, damp with sweat and stuck in curls to the back of his neck. He was biting his lip lightly in concentration, placing the flowers just so in the arrangement. Of course, it still looked like shit, but Ken was obviously putting a lot of effort into it, nonetheless.

And he wondered why he was swarmed by palpitating hussies.

If only he wasn't such a little prick.

From his very induction into Weiss, Ken had made it clear what he thought of Aya. He had been rude, childish, short tempered and immature. Worse than the kid s damn cheerfulness and the manwhore's carousing combined.

He knew Ken expected him to help with the arrangements instead of sitting fruitlessly at the counter but...it made him nervous. Being so close to Ken. Made him feel strange. He...thoroughly disapproved of the reactions the other man evoked in him. Not unpleasant; more like...more unsettling than anything. Much safer to stay across the shop.

The afternoon passed at a torturous crawl, oppressive heat and obnoxious chatter punctuated intermittently by a nervous laugh as Ken brushed off yet another fan girl, muffled curses as the boy repeatedly stabbed himself with rose thorns, and the occasional sigh.

Eventually, evening set in, bringing with it the twin blessings of cooled air and a steadily emptying shop. Unfortunately, this particular evening brought with it the unexpected surprise of a mission. Manx showed up just before Aya had pulled down the grate over the shop front, red heels clicking on the still warm cement, plain manila folder in one lacquered hand and briefing tape in the other.

"Boys," she said, gracefully ducking under the metal grate, "I suggest you find your teammates. This one may prove to be interesting."

=

OMI

=

Things were supposed to be simple. Sure, he was not even legal yet and a world-class assassin. Sure, he had horrible scarring memories as the only tokens of a still-ongoing childhood. And yes, he was underdeveloped, had a girly voice and was regularly molested by obnoxious teenage girls at his crappy, crappy, crappy-times-ten job at a flower shop, but honestly&you d think things couldn't get any worse.

Well, there you d be wrong.

On top of all the other very convincing reasons he'd already collected to hate his life to little stinking pieces, there was this.

It seemed that Kritiker had deemed him capable of carrying out the workload of four, nay, five expert hackers, at least a full team of demolitions professionals, on top of attending high school full time. While getting damn good grades.

And being a florist.

Rotten bastards.

"Weiss, your mission is to infiltrate the headquarters of this underground organization," a brief picture of ten men, all in business suits, sitting around a table in a windowless room flashed on the television screen. Omi stared at it intently, sure he was going to get to know this group of men very well during the course of the next few weeks. Yohji yawned behind a hand, hair artfully mussed.

"We have determined they are involved in just about everything we have a law against; prostitution, weapons sales, drug development. Unfortunately, they are heavily protected by various political groups, including ties to the police force. Without you, there is nothing we can do to stop them. They are very good; they leave no evidence, no traces, and no witnesses," Manx concluded with a significant look at each of them in turn.

Ken s dark eye brows narrowed in anger at some of the images being flashed on the screen; beaten women huddled in the streets, a naked corpse bound with duct tape recently fished from the river, cinder-blocks clearly visible tied to the feet. Omi clenched his fist and even Yohji sat up straight, almost bristling with anger. Aya narrowed his lips, violet eyes seemingly about to burn holes in the offending electronic with their intensity.

"Well, who's in?" Manx asked, retrieving the tape.

"I'm in," Aya said quietly.

"Me too," Ken said quickly, half a second later.

Omi filed this away in the back of his highly ordered mind. Lately, those two had been even worse than usual, bickering like children. Since after Estet fell. Perhaps something had passed between the two. Whatever it had been, it had caused almost constant antagonizing on both their parts. But deep down Omi knew there was enough mutual respect and team-mentality to keep them from killing each other. Was reasonably certain, at least. Suspected there was enough. Hoped to God there was.

"I'll go," Omi said, his small fists still clenched on his lap. "Plus, you know none of you could pull this off without me." He was already dreading the weeks of information gathering ahead. The folder on the table looked dismally thin. Leave it to Kritiker to get just enough information to figure out who were supposed to kill then dump it off on us to figure out where, when and how. Or rather, on me.

"Of course I m in," Yohji stated vehemently. He pulled out a cigarette which he put to his lips with shaky hands, only to sigh and shove it in his pocket when he saw the look Omi was giving him.

Damn I'm good, he thought to himself smugly. It used to be he had to verbally chide Yohji to stop him from smoking in the Koneko. Now, he had it down to a look. Go me.

"Good. I suspect you'll need all your resources. These particular dark beasts won t be easy to bring down," Manx said, bowing and leaving out the back.

Omi coughed delicately to get everyone's attention.

"Okay, this isn't going to be easy, so everyone needs to listen up. According to this file, a suspected shuffle of key leaders will occur in just ten days. We need to strike before then, leaving us precious little time to take these bastards out. I need all of your full cooperation and concentration on this mission. No screw-ups allowed. Am I understood?" Omi paused for breath, looking around at his teammates. Silence pervaded the room.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"It's just..." Yohji s face twitched, "you look so damn cute when you get all bossy."

He broke out into rich laughter, ignoring the dangerous look creeping over Omi's face. Ken snorted, trying to hold back laughter and even Aya gave a sideways grin.

Omi stamped his red-sneakered foot. This displeased him greatly.

So they think I'm cute, huh? I'll show them cute.

He covered his utter pissed-offedness by smiling sweetly, widening his big blue eyes in a way that made old ladies coo.

"I'm happy your all so amused by me trying to keep you from dying. To start out with, I think I'll have Siberian and Abyssinian attempt to go undercover into one of the organization s branches. Maybe I'll even let you two pick which one, if I m feeling particularly magnanimous," he ignored Aya's growl and Ken's indignant squawk with practiced ease, continuing mercilessly.

"And Balinese, starting tomorrow night until the completion of the mission, you will be spending your evenings doing surveillance on suspected areas of activity for our targets, you know, old warehouses, docks, cold rooftops, stuff like that."

Yohji blanched but wisely held his silence. Ken, poor boy, was not blessed by such wisdom.

"What?! That's bullshit Omi! No way am I going undercover with him!" Ken spluttered, pointing a finger accusingly at Aya, who looked just as angry. If not more so.

Omi just continued smiling. He tilted his head inquisitively. "Why, Siberian, I had no idea you felt this way, both about your teammate and my...mission related advice. Perhaps I should contact Kritiker? They have several compatibility seminars you two can attend to begin to work towards functioning as a more cohesive unit. Undoubtedly, they would be beneficial for both of you." He looked at the pair, who had paled visibly. "No? well, then, I suggest we get to work."

He turned on his heels, practically bouncing out of the mission room. He still had a shit load of research to do. And homework. And he still had the shop bookkeeping to do. But he was remarkably cheered.

Oh, right.

"I almost forgot," he stopped at the doorway of the mission room. "I've decided that the branch you two would be most effective in getting to the leaders of the organization would be...prostitution. From what I understand, they were...equal opportunity employers."

His internal grin now matching the one gracing his face, Omi turned and left. Pleased.

=

Ken

=

I don t care how smart, cute or experienced the kid is, he WILL die, Ken thought angrily, stabbing down into the mass of eggs cooking in the pan in front of him.

Undercover.

Prostitution.

Aya.

Three little words, so much anger.

Grabbing the salt shaker, Ken violently whipped it over the pan until he saw he had added exactly the right amount. Leaving the eggs to cook to perfection, he turned to the pancakes. Wiping flour from his nose, he began to pour in nearly-perfect circles. He prided himself in his immense culinary ability.

Their first attempt at infiltrating the company would occur tonight. Hence the breakfast; Ken was probably skipping lunch...preparing...for the mission, and he wanted his last meal to be better the usual crap Omi forced Aya to cook. Just in case.

How can someone who looks that innocent harbor such...pure evil?!

The chibi was even worse than usual lately. It could, Ken admitted, have something to do with the steadily declining internal relations in Weiss, mainly between him and Aya, but that was no excuse! Putting them undercover together.

Perhaps Kritiker had needs for a three man team, because that was what they were likely to get. Someone was going to die. Or rather, he, with superior self-control and less of a past history of flipping out on missions and waving his katana around trying to kill whoever he could while screaming shi-neeee...he was going to be forced to kill Aya in self defense. Regrettable, true, but necessary, given the situation.

Turning back to the food, Ken smiled at the sprawl of pure cuisine mastery that met his eyes. Pancakes, toasts, eggs and sausage. Even fresh squeezed orange juice.

Ore-sama no bigi ni yoi naaaaa~~~

=

Aya

=

Oh please dear god no.

Not Ken. In the kitchen. Let it be a werewolf, or a pack of them, hell, let it be Schwartz, just let it be anything but-

Ken. In the kitchen.

God help them all.

Bracing himself, Aya opened the door slowly. Stepped in and surveyed the damage&which was even worse than he had feared. Flour, eggshells, orange peels, varied wrappers, dirty dishes and utensils&Aya fought the blind rage that threatened to overtake him. Breath, Fujimiya, must. Not. Kill.

Slowly, his eyes moved to the center of the catastrophe, where the cause, the root, stood, oblivious. Wearing jeans, no shirt, and an apron, carefully arranging what looked like...eggs? slime? Onto several plates.

He actually thinks he s going to FEED it to us?

Startled, Ken raised his chocolate head curiously. He put down the utensils, and wiped his batter-covered hands across the front of his apron, leaving streaks of white in their wake.

"Aya? It'll be ready in a couple more minutes, then you can call down Yohji and I think Omi s still working on the mission. Poor kid probably didn't get any sleep," Ken paused to smile happily, pleased at his tormentors suffering. "I think that-

Ken, Aya growled, cutting off the boy's inane chattering. Although he did allow himself to smile inside at the thought of their youngest teammate deprived of sleep, bent over the computer all night. Ha, serves the little bastard right. But back to the matter at hand. And floor, and from the look of it, counters and ceiling.

"You. Will. Clean. This. Up," Aya enunciated slowly, allowing the athlete ample time to comprehend.

"Well, yeah, but let me get it served first," Ken went back to rearranging the plates.

"No, just...get rid of it," Aya shuddered, staring at the mass of burnt, salt-crusted eggs, misshapen lumps of...pancake? And the orange sludge that filled four tall glasses.

"Why?" asked Ken, honestly and adorably clueless as to why he would want this abomination gone.

"Ken, I will say this slowly, so you understand. That-" he thrust his finger at the _pile_ on the table "is not food. I don't know what that is. But I know it needs to be disposed of. It is foul. If it were human, I would be happy to kill it. Seeing as it is not, you will get it out of this house before it mutates and absorbs us."

Ken's face was a study in shock. Then he slowly narrowed his eyes. "Aya, just because you can t appreciate good food does not mean you have to insult it."

Aya took a few steadying breaths. For gods sake, they couldn't even live together normally, how on earth were they going to pull off going undercover?

"Just for that, you won t get any," Ken declared with a tired sigh and a little shrug.

Heaven help them all.

=

SCHULDIG

=

Sometimes, Schuldig decided, his job wasn't all that bad.

Like tonight, for example. All he had to do was sit around, look intimidating and make sure nobody got killed. Sure, his current boss was a real prick, thought he could order Schwartz around like his personal thugs, but hey, it could be worse.

The building was brand new, all bright chrome and dark, somber colors. The glass was tinted, the carpet expensive. It looked like a state-of-the-art office building. In reality, he had been quick to deduce it s true nature; a fancified whore-house. The elaborate, elegant façade hid one of the most exclusive prostitute rings in the city. One the less...savory elements of the city often frequented; hence his presence here tonight.

He highly doubted his employer would be attacked while here. Therefore, he was acting as a mere accessory, sitting in one of the spacious reception areas, waiting. He had declined company, disdaining the services of whores. Plus, not many of these particular whores were very happy; Negative thoughts he inevitably read from a partner just ruined sex for him anyway.

It had been that way since Estet fell; something had happened to their powers after the ruined ceremony, or perhaps it had been the deaths of the elders. Like the rest of Schwartz, his powers had changed, magnified. They came more naturally now, requiring less focus and conscious thought.

Which was why he sensed them long before he even knew to look for them; two familiar minds, boiling with repressed emotion, fast approaching.

I ll be damned. Weiss. He d thought they'd gone down with the temple. What the hell are they doing here?

He did a quick sweep for the rest of them, but felt only those two. Digging deeper, he found it was Siberian and Abyssinian. And a cursory scan of their surface thoughts revealed they were both royally pissed.

Schuldig decided he simply couldn't miss this. He rose gracefully from the plush couch and headed to intercept the two, while staying carefully out of sight. It occurred to him suddenly that he didn't even need to be in sight of them; grinning slightly he set himself back down onto the couch, and reached out with his powers. He found one of their minds, Abyssinian's, and invisibly anchored himself in it. He would use...Aya's...eyes to see, rather than his own.

Slowly, the room came into focus. They were led into a side room and sat across from a severe looking man in a dark suit. Then Aya's eyes went to his partner and...

Wow.

Seems soccer boy cleans up not half bad, Schuldig thought, smile widening. Not half bad at all.

The tight shirt revealed the more than adequate musculature of an athlete, and a less than adequate view of perfect, tanned skin. Not controlling Abyssinian's gaze in any way, Schuldig was surprised to note that the man s eyes lingered over a few choice portions of Siberian's anatomy. Not that he was arguing with the extended viewing of that nicely leather-encased ass, but if his host kept this up, the boy would be sure to notice.

It seemed, however, the boy was oblivious. Digging deeper into Aya's mind, he found that he was just as oblivious; simply put, he was staring the boy down completely subconsciously. Amazing.

Determined to find the truth, he ran through the more hidden, underlying goings-on in the man's brain and was floored by what he found. Lust, animalistic in it s intensity. A desire to own, to dominate. And just as strong, fear.

Damn, Schuldig whistled softly in his own mind. The feelings were buried so deep, he wasn't even sure Abyssinian knew they were there. That s bound to piss you off. Having tumultuous internal desperate yearnings without knowing even of their existence...yeah, that would throw you just a little.

Intrigued, Schuldig shifted to the boy s mind. It was different; not simpler, exactly, but certainly more straightforward. Poor Abyssinian, this kid's totally clueless...but wait, there was more, buried just as it had been in the other man's brain, carefully concealed even from himself.

Wouldn't it be delicious if he wanted him just as badly back? Schuldig chuckled deviously.

He dipped into the thoughts there, carefully and delicately. Suddenly his eyes widened.

Well, I'll be damned, he said allowed, nearly startled into retreating to his own body. Siberian seemed to be holding back the same feelings as Abyssinian; lust, desire...holy shit. Except it was even more intense, buried even deeper in his psyche, if that was possible. And on top of those feelings were layers and layers of pride, temper and resistance.

With effort, he gathered himself and located Siberian s mind again. Using his eyes and ears, Schuldig heard the words passing between the two Weiss and the other man in the room.

Seems Weiss was going undercover. From Ken s brain, he gathered that they were aiming to bring down the whole organization that was behind this...fine institution. Among other, worse things in the city. Interesting. And they were doing this by going undercover? As...whores? He barely held in a chuckle.

It's actually pretty ingenious; they'll meet a lot of the upper echelon of crime this way.

But would they be accepted? This was an exclusive operation; people just couldn't walk in and ask for an application.

Suddenly, Siberian s gaze turned to his partner -

-Okay, they'll get in. This would be crazy not to hire that.

Abyssinian was nothing short of gorgeous. Lithe, pale body embraced by tight clothes Yet tasteful. He had nothing of the aura of cheap whore that was so common.

No, he was anything but common. No wonder the poor kid was all torn up between his desire to beat the hell out of him once and for all and be pinned under that incredible body and fucked till he couldn't even remember his own name.

And he doesn't even know it.

This was gonna be fun.

Technically, they weren't enemies anymore. Estet was gone, and Kritiker knew better than to throw away their agents by ordering them against Schwartz. They harbored no ill will towards Weiss: sure, they hadn't got immortality, but they had gotten the nice added bonus of ten times the power they had before the ritual had gone sour. It all evened out in the end. Crawford wouldn't care, hell, he d be happy Schuldig was keeping himself busy instead of pestering the other man. Certainly these petty little jobs meant nothing to them.

Schuldig decided to interfere. He waited, still watching through Ken's eyes, as an agreement was struck with the proprietors. He waited as they shook hands and the two prepared to leave. Waited till they were out of the building, preparing to head for home, circumspectly, of course, to avoid being followed. Hell, they could have gone back to the Koneko and Schuldig could have maintained the link with them.

He decided to strike up a conversation with Abyssinian first. Then he'd move on to soccer-boy. That would be where the real work would be required.

Once again engaging the mind of the violet-eyed man, Schuldig did a brief scan. On the surface, Aya was wishing that Ken would hurry the hell up so he could get the damn taxi, get home and take off this stupid outfit. A little under that, he was wishing he could work up the courage to offer Ken his coat; the other boy looked cold in the small top and it would help smooth things over between them. Deeper yet, Aya was desperately wishing the boy would give him some sign of approval that their plan had worked.

What a mess, Schuldig thought exasperatedly. The human mind is a seriously fucked up thing.

He had a sneaking suspicion that direct contact wasn't going to get him very far. So he decided to be more...subtle.

=

Aya

=

Christ, does he have to walk so goddamn slow? Aya wanted to say something to make the boy hurry up, but knew that it d be taken the wrong way. Plus, anything he said would piss Ken off even more; their conversations during the prep for this mission had not been...congenial. That is to say, there had been a lot of shouting; well, shouting from Ken. He had done a lot of glaring. And let slip a couple comments that hadn't seem to sit well with his partner. He probably should have kept the one about how complete the boy s transformation had been from slob to whore, but it had just slipped out. For some reason, Aya's usual self-control over his emotions just seemed to melt around the other man.

"Ken, take my coat. I don t need it, and you look like your cold." What the hell?! Aya's eyes went wide and round as he realized he had just spoken. Where did that come from?!

Seeing Ken stop and turn back to him, Aya quickly schooled his expression. Ken looked at him suspiciously, but reached out and took the proffered coat. It was Aya's favorite trench. Aya struggled to keep his expression blank as Ken pulled the coat on over his small shirt. It came farther down on the athlete than it did on him, falling just below the middle of Ken's toned calves, Aya noted distractedly. As if to complete the miracle, Ken appeared to struggle with himself for a moment before muttering, barely audible, "Thanks."

Aya forced himself to keep his astonishment in check and continued after the boy, steps echoing through the cooled night air. His mind, however, was in turmoil. What the hell just happened? The offer of his coat had just...come out, with no input through his brain or conscious thought. What was happening to him? And what was wrong with Ken? He had never seen the boy make a single word of courtesy to him, much less a thanks, however grudging. He had half expected the boy to start yelling again.

It must be the mission, too much stress. I just need to get home and get some sleep. They were due back to report for duty at their new...jobs the next night. They wouldn't have to actually be with any customers, but they would receive a brief tour and introduction. With any amount of luck, they would be done with this mission before they were trusted enough to be expected to, ahem, perform. Aya shuddered soundlessly. He would give his life for Kritiker, or rather for his teammates, but not that. There were lines he would not cross.

Tomorrow would be spent planning with Ken and Omi, and they would hear Yohji's surveillance report. Aya smiled to himself as he thought of the usually wild playboy out spending his nights on cold rooftops rather than drinking and dancing.

The man had gotten even worse after their run-in with Schwartz, out at all hours, missing shifts and even showing up drunk to a mission briefing. Manx had frowned slightly upon seeing the blonde enter the room, swaying, as he made a lewd comment about her skirt and where it should be, before half collapsing on the couch. Manx had waited a total of 2.3 seconds before dragging the man off to the next room, face dark. The three had exchanged amused looks, listening for yelling from the other room that would mean severe suffering for their irresponsible teammate. There had been none, but three minutes later Yohji had returned, face pale, and sat quietly and patiently through the entire briefing. He not only had never shown up drunk to a briefing again, the blatant flirting had stopped. Thankfully.

The man was entirely too free with his attentions; Aya had even caught him looking up Omi on several occasions, and once they had been stripping off blood-covered clothes after a particularly unpleasant mission when Aya had noticed Yohji staring with open lust at Ken as he had removed his T-shirt, smooth tan muscles flexing.

No one looks at Ken but me!

Aya almost tripped at the ferociously possessive thought that ripped through his brain. I did not just think that! He took a slow steadying breath. What the FUCK is going on?!

Ken looked back when he heard Aya stumble while cursing under his breath. He put a hand on the man's shoulder, steadying him, before looking into his violet eyes with concern. Startled, Aya jerked back violently from the warm touch.

"Jesus Christ, Aya. It's okay, calm down," Ken said softly, eyes narrowing as he watched the other man, "I was just worried they might have drugged our tea at that meeting or something, no need to bite my head off."

"Sorry," said Aya quickly. Before nearly squawking in surprise. It had happened again; Fujimiya Aya did not apologize.

Even Ken was looking startled now. "I-it s okay. No problem. Let s just get home," he replied cautiously, voice shaky. The poor boy looked like he was waiting for the end of the world; surely the probability of Abyssinian apologizing and the apocalypse were in the same ballpark.

Aya was in a similar state of shock. His mouth was saying things without him, his brain pushing thoughts at him that were definitely not his own. He did not look at Ken. He didn't even like the boy.

Is that why you could tell me just how many stitches there are on the back pocket of those pants?

NO! That was not true.

Oh really?

Really.

You re lying to yourself~~

Oh my god. I m going insane. I m arguing with myself.

And losing, I might add.

Just get home. Get some sleep. Stop thinking.

About what? Darling little Kenken with nothing on under your coat?

Shut up! No more thinking!

Thankfully, there was none.

=

KEN

=

Back in his room above the Koneko, Ken laid above his blankets, arms folded behind his head, only his loose pajama pants on. He eyed the coat hanging on the back of his door with open suspicion. He had tried to return when they got back, but Aya had practically fled to his room. Ken was left, gaping, on the landing between their separate apartments.

He had angrily slammed the door behind him, practically ripped the stupid undercover outfit off his body before donning his more comfortable pajamas. Now he was contemplating what to do with the article of clothing that had been carefully placed behind the door while his own clothes had been flung carelessly away.

With a slight tinge of guilt, he eyed the meticulously repaired tears he had made in the coat a few weeks previously. The bastard really had deserved it at the time. He couldn't remember why, but he was very sure of the fact that he had. Sighing, he mentally debated whether to return the coat tonight or wait for morning.

It was very late. And Aya hadn't looked as if he was looking for conversation or company once they had gotten back to the Koneko.

Then again, the man had been unusually human tonight. No death threats, no goddamn sarcastic comments about the way he looked, and he had even given Ken his coat. A-fucking-mazing. Steeling himself, Ken pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed the coat with the other hand. He forced himself to walk towards Aya's door, forbidding himself to be scared of the other man. He, Hidaka Ken, was afraid of no man. Taking a deep breath outside Aya's door, he raised his hand to knock, politely. He would keep this civil.

Suddenly, the door swung open, smacking Ken in the shoulder painfully.

"Ow, goddamit you fucker, be careful!" Ken yelped, stepping back quickly and dropping the jacket on the ground.

"You dropped my jacket," Aya growled after getting over his surprise at finding Ken standing outside his door. "And what the hell are you blocking my door for?"

Ken took a deep breath.

Civil. Controlled.

"I'll tell you what for, you bastard: I came here to give you back your stupid fucking coat, not get smacked by your goddamn door, and if you weren't such a dumb prick I could have giving it to you after the mission," he paused to take a breath. Then realized what he had said. Shit, Hidaka. Civil, huh?

He mentally slapped himself. Be nice, he was nice enough to give you the damn jacket, be nice enough to return it gracefully. Even if the door hurt like a bitch.

"I-I I mean," he ground his teeth with effort, staring to the ground. "Thanks for letting me borrow you jacket. You can have it back now." Stupid, stupid stupid. He s already got it in his goddamn hands, of course he can have it back! Argh!

Aya blinked slowly, apparently attempting to process this information. "Uh," he started eloquently. "No problem."

Ken sighed in relief, partially mollified. That hadn't been hard at all. Mostly.

"That was a good cover you pulled on the mission too," he added, gaining the courage to look up from the floor. "I can t believe we pulled it off. Good job."

Aya blinked some more. The silence stretched. Ken realized how stupid they both must look, him standing in his pajamas in the hall way outside Aya's apartment, the other man standing in the doorway, holding his trench coat confusedly, both of them stuttering like mad and looking as if they would like nothing but to be somewhere else. He smiled slightly, amused.

Aya saw his expression changed, and smiled back slowly. Then coughed.

"Uh, if you wanna come in and talk about the mission or something..." the redhead started awkwardly, but looking as if he were making a real effort.

Ken's smile faded. He looked past Aya's form into the neat apartment behind him. He didn't think he had even been into Aya's apartment. For some reason, that concept made his heart beat a little faster. His mind whirled, and he tried desperately to think of an escape route.

"Uh, n-no thanks," he began haltingly, still staring into the other man's violet eyes. He dragged his gaze away with effort, taking a few quick steps backwards. "I, uh, I gotta get to sleep. Sleep. I'm tired. Gotta sleep now, In the small corner of Ken's mind not buzzing with the strange, unidentifiable feeling blazing through his veins, he realized how abysmally stupid he sounded.

"Well then, good night," he said with a false yawn, still backtracking into his apartment. "See ya tomorrow then!"

"Uh, yeah. See ya tomorrow," Aya replied slowly, eyes narrowed in confusion as he watched the athlete practically scurry back to his room. He found that by the end of his sentence, he was talking to an empty hallway.

When Ken was safely behind his door, his head was so full of confusing thoughts and feelings he missed entirely the nagging little voice that was chiding him about forgetting something very important.

=

Yohji

=

He smiled smugly, taking another leisurely sip of coffee, propping up his bare foot on their kitchen table. Good thing the kid wasn't around. Now nothing could ruin his mood, despite it being far too early for him to be conscious.

Omi had to leave at an ungodly hour for cram school earlier this morning, giving him one important task - inform Aya and Kenken of their punishment for not reporting back to him after last night's mission. And after spending his night on a freezing dock watching for possible activity while bitterly regretting wearing a crop-top...he was ready to channel some anger.

Aya came down first, looking completely awake and ready for the day with fresh jeans and shirt, crimson hair still damp from his shower. The man was ALWAYS awake earlier than he was, but insisted on training for at least two hours after rising. Which only served to reaffirm his own conviction that the man was completely insane.

"Good morning, Aya~" he crooned, smile widening as he saw the man's eyes widen in alarm and quickly scan the kitchen.

"What the hell are you so happy about, Kudoh? It's before noon and you're not still sleeping it off," Aya growled. Cautiously, as he was still looking for signs of trouble.

"The chibi decided to wake me up before he left this morning." Yohji shuddered at the memory; Omi had banged on his door for a good five minutes, then picked his lock, then dragged his covers off attempting to get him out of bed. Then got an eyeful, seeing as he slept in the nude. Yohji had gotten a few precious seconds of silence after that, but it turned out to be because Omi was down the hall filling up a bucket with ice cold water. It had not been pretty. Good thing the kid was damn cute, or....Nope. No negative thoughts on this morning

Ah ha. Just in time Ken came through the door, dragging with him a bag of equipment and stuck-on wet grass that fell from his cleats to the tile. Every morning Ken just had to get in some jogging and soccer practice. God help him, but he was surrounded by lunatics.

"Kenken, just a minute," Yohji said just as Ken was about to head up the stairs for his own shower. "Important news from our Lord and Dictator Omittchi; he told me to tell you that, and I quote, 'because Aya and Ken chose to ignore the rules and requirements of a properly executed mission and submit a full oral report after the successful completed of said mission, tell the bakas they have to serve double shifts in the shop," Yohji smiled, "for a week," and winked, "together.' Of course after that, I told him he could submit something oral to me, and let's just say I got my first shower of the morning, my sheets are drying out AND my eardrums are gonna be aching for a week after that lecture, but..." It appeared neither of them were listening to him any more.

The pair of them sat in stunned silence. Until Ken quickly recovered.

"Oh. hell. no. I am not serving double shifts for a week with him," Ken spluttered.

"I was hoping you'd say that. He also instructed me to give you this," Yohji smirked while holding out a thin slip of light blue paper with Omi's neat writing on it.

Ken warily took it. After reading it, the poor boy looked like he was gonna start bawling like a baby.

Wordlessly, he handed the note to Aya.

Yohji had taken the liberty of reading the note after Omi had left. It simply stated:

Yes Ken, you will serve double shifts for a week with him. If you do not, there will be several consequences. First, you will both attend several training sessions on what it is to perform well in an assassin TEAM. Kritiker has several in mind. Also, while you were preparing your...outfits...for the mission yesterday, I took the liberty of taking several photographs of you. They WILL be distributed among the patrons of the shop if you do not comply.

Have fun!

-Bombay

And people wondered why he listened to the chibi. The kid was frightening.

Aya's face was even paler than usual after reading it. He slowly set it on the table between them, then turned to look at Ken.

"We will keep this civil. Just be reasonable. It's only a week."

"Aya," Ken growled, looking like he was about to start in on one of his infamous tantrums. Yohji took his coffee off the table in anticipation. But then Ken stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. "Okay. Fine. Just...help me with the arrangements. Don't stand around glaring so goddamn much. You're a florist, for chrissakes, you're not supposed to look like your dog just died."

Aya's eyes narrowed. "Fine. If you stop mangling the arrangements you do manage to finish and keep your hands and eyes off the customers."

"What?! We all have the stupid fangirls around us!" Ken protested, blushing.

Hmm. This is getting interesting, Yohji thought to himself.

"But you," Aya stated, finger poking Ken squarely in his muscular chest, "encourage it."

"Oh fuck you Aya! You know I don't!"

"Right," Aya replied, voice dripping with scorn.

"Hey, break it up you two. You sound like an old married couple."

Both of them stopped dead at Yohji's words, faces heating. They sent him nearly identical glares. Yohji just grinned wider.

"I suggest both of you hurry and get ready to work. It's gonna be a long day," Yohji said, rising from his chair and running one hand through tousled blonde hair. "I," he announced, smiling, "am going back to sleep."

=

Aya

=

Long day indeed. More like torture.

Thank god it was before three and the girls were still in school. On second thought, this fact left him in the shop alone with Ken. Who did not look too thrilled with this morning's accusations.

"Aya, when I said get off you ass and help me with the orders, I meant get off your ass and help me with the orders," he yelled from the back.

Just put together some arrangements. Nothing too tough. Only two more hours till three.

Seriously spooked that he was looking forward to the arrival of their customers, Aya headed towards Ken's voice with a sigh of defeat. The boy was in the back room, small fan set up in defiance of the oppressive heat blowing his chocolate hair wildly and face set in an angry scowl.

"Here's the order. If it's not too much to ask, could your highness please fill it?" he asked sarcastically.

Aya carefully smothered his anger. If it starts this soon, we won't last the week.

"Fine," he replied, calmly taking the proffered order slip. For the briefest moment, their fingers brushed. Focusing intently on the order, Aya quickly turned and began to gather materials for the arrangement. Unfortunately, this put him in even closer quarters with the source of his discomfort.

Angrily attempting to focus on his task and steadfastly ignoring the chills that traveled curiously up his spine when he came into contact with Ken's warm flesh, brushing up against a reaching arm or accidently sidling up beside the boy, Aya felt his scowl grow in intensity.

Why did the infuriating athlete provoke this kind of response in him?! He had not asked for this, and it was becoming so that the curious friction between them was causing seriously difficulty in their professional lives, both as florists and as assassins.

If he were anywhere else, if they were anyone else, he could avoid this. Unfortunately, simply cutting off all contact with the boy was impossible. They spent their days cramped together in a boiling flower shop and their nights pretending to be whores to kill criminals. Definitely not ordinary.

After the first awkward half hour or so, Aya found that they fell into a sort of easy efficiency, getting quite a bit done. He handled the traditional or more difficult orders, and Ken did everything else. For the most part there was silence between them, both of them too hot or too tired to start anything.

Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as Aya had feared and expected. It was almost...pleasant. Really, the kid wasn't that bad when he refrained from speaking. He actually resented the flood of school girls that rushed their doors, disrupting the comfortable routine they had fallen into.

Curious. That his attitude had transformed so much in such a short time. Hm.

Somehow they managed to get through the rest of the day. Then evening approached. He and Ken were scheduled to show up at ten for additional training.

For some reason, Aya found he wasn't dreading it as he thought he would have. Their was a strange sense of...expectancy. Perhaps he was just looking forward to the chance to be doing something other than playing with flowers of murdering.

No, it wasn't that. He would rather have just spent a quiet evening reading in his apartment than go out for anything, especially if it meant subjecting himself to dressing like that again. Dressing like that. Ken has to dress like that too.

Irrelevant.

Last time their cover had been flawless; after all, Weiss was nothing if not professional. Certainly the best Kritiker had. Omi was uncovering mountains of information, giving them leads and connections real law enforcement could never hope to develop. Yohji was using his detective skills to trail possible targets, learning their routine. And perhaps most successful of all was he and Ken's induction into the actual enterprise of the enemy. They made a good team, truth be told. Ken's fiery passion about everything often counterbalanced his own detached observations. A good combination. Kritiker would never split them up.

Of course not. Why was he even worrying about it? He wasn't.

Attempting to bring his mind back to focus and think through their evening tonight. They were to report for a few hours of training, meet their...coworkers and learn the rules. Nothing complicated. It would be easy.

Aya continued to assure himself as he dressed. A simple maroon shirt made of some clingy material, pilfered from Yohji's closet matched nicely with a pair of black pants. Simple, tasteful, yet infinitely more...advertising than he would have preferred.

He and Ken planned to walk to the flashy high-rise, sticking to their cover of being two acquaintances with minimal past experience modeling who were in bad need of cash. It had worked so far.

"Aya, dammit, stop primping and get out here! We're gonna be late!" Ken hollered from outside his door. With a glare at the closed door and a grab at his coat, Aya went out to join his younger teammate, already feeling the beginnings of a killer headache.

"Alright, I'm coming, stop yelling," he muttered as he stepped down the spiral staircase, absentmindedly checking at his backup: a knife stuck down the side of his leather boot It was the only place to carry in this damn outfit, and they had decided to hell with Kritiker's policy about secondary weapons - after the battle with Schwartz, they figured that they needed every chance they could get. Hopefully, they wouldn't be searched again tonight; going in "naked" so to speak during their attempt at getting hired had been positively nerve-wracking.

Suddenly, his thoughts stopped in mid-stride as he took in his partner. Long, leather encased legs, smooth muscles stretching deliciously under thin fabric...

Thankfully, blessedly, Aya had a lot of practice at hiding his reactions and emotions. His face was a study in blankness. He even managed to keep the fiery blush down to a delicate pink across his pale cheekbones. After a few seconds of collecting himself and reasserting reason he turned from the delicious sight quickly, almost frantically, leaving the other man with a slight frown of confusion at his partner's hasty exit.

=

Nagi

=

Shaking his dark head in mild amusement, Nagi took a seat across from Schuldig. For hours now, the telepath had been meddling in the affairs of those two Weiss. And relating the more interesting bits.

"Now Abysinnian is blushing like a little girl. He thinks Siberian doesn't notice," the flame-haired man chuckled. Nagi had to grin as he was relayed the images. The normally stoic redhead was positively scarlet, throttling the unfortunate daisy that was unfortunate enough to be clutched tightly between long pale fingers. He had just barely brushed Siberian's hand obtaining the flower. And now he was, well, blushing like a little girl.

This was too much. The fearless assassins they had faced down in furious battle time and time again were batting their eyelashes, obsessing about each other and, well, blushing. Nagi snorted at the irony of it all.

The door to their study opened and Crawford stormed in like a dark billowing cloud. The man had acquired a serious attitude problem since their powers had been magnified.

"Just what the hell do you two think you're doing?" he asked in his cold, no-nonsense voice. "The is actual work that needs to be done."

Schuldig just grinned more, turning leisurely to his leader. "Oh no, Brad, even you could appreciate this," he said, smiling.

Crawford's steel blue eyes narrowed at the blatant use of his first name.

"I highly doubt that whatever could cause such merriment in you would be of absolutely no interest to me," he said. Then he turned to stare at Nagi, sitting across from the telepath on the other black leather sofa. "And I'm surprised at you. Our employers want those files in 48 hours, Prodigy."

"Oh god Nagi, Aya just got an eyeful of Ken coming down the stairs. Poor guy almost suffered a massive nosebleed in the middle of their stupid little flower shop," Schuldig said, practically tearing with mirth.

Nagi let out a rich laugh at Abysinnian's expression. This was infinitely better than any television.

Crawford pursed his lips in aggravation. "I'm getting dire portents for your futures if you don't tell me what the hell is going on."

"Chill, Bradley, we're just being entertained by the two lovebirds of Weiss."

"You're spying on Weiss," he stated flatly. "And meddling, I can only naturally assume," he continued, ignoring the mock-indignant look that Schuldig through his way. "Your creating sexual tension between them?"

"Nope," Nagi said, cocking one eyebrow. "We're just observing. That's the interesting part - all their thoughts and actions are their own."

"You two are telling me that Abyssinian and Siberian have honest romantic interest in one another?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh yeah. That's putting it lightly," Schuldig chortled as Aya and Ken walked in silence, both at Ken's bewildered indignance and Aya's desperate attempts at denial of what was so painfully obvious to everyone but themselves.

"Well, hell, I'll go make some popcorn," Crawford said with a rare smirk, inwardly delighting at his teammates startled expressions. "And make some room on that couch. This sounds damn entertaining."

=

Ken

=

Geez, Aya was acting strange tonight. He had barely even looked at him, much less said anything to him. They walked in complete silence.

When they finally arrived at their destination, their employers were waiting for them. After a brief greeting and reintroduction, they were ushered into a lavishly decorated but relatively small room.

For the next hour or so, an older, matronly woman and younger man in a dark nondescript suit explained to them their requirements and duties. It was surprisingly simple.

Well, what the hell did you expect, rocket science?

Ken stole a glance over at Aya to see how he was fairing. The man's face was completely blank (big surprise) but in his deep violet eyes Ken could detect a faint trace of emotion; impatience. And impatient Aya was not a good thing to have on a covert mission like this one.

Sighing inwardly, Ken prayed that Aya was smart enough to shut up and play the part. He wasn't too worried; after all, he had worked with the man for a long time now, and he had yet to majorly screw anything up.

Slightly comforting.

God, are these people ever going to shut up?

Ken prayed it would be over soon, that they would be told who to fuck when and where and released from this monotonous hell-hole. He hoped Yohji was doing better on surveillance. Or Omi had uncovered something by scouting their computer systems.

Suddenly a sharp knock sounded across the heavy wooden door. The woman looked startled for a brief moment, then, with a nod to the man, walked gracefully over and poked her head out.

The man stared across the table at them. After a few more moments, the woman left. The man looked confused, and followed her out.

Okay, this was weird. Whatever it was, it probably had nothing to do with them.

"I wonder what the problem is," Ken said, neutrally, aware that the room could be monitored. In fact, it most likely was.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Aya replied quietly, something hard in his eyes.

Ken nodded to show his understanding. It would be best to stay put. Better to not spook and blow their cover over nothing. The targets could escape, the organization would be alarmed, and worse yet, it could put them in serious danger.

Nothing's going to happen to us, he reassured himself, catching Aya's gaze at the corner of his eye. He exchanged a long glance with his partner, communicating his concern silently. Nothing's going to happen to him.

Too freaked to even notice his mental slip, Ken tried to calm himself. But the voice in his head was screaming in warning; something wasn't right here, something's going on.

"Maybe we should go see what's up," he suggested, voice falsely light.

Nodding in silent agreement, Aya rose gracefully and went to the door. His eyes widened when the knob wouldn't turn.

"We're locked in," he stated calmly.

"That doesn't seem right," Ken mind was whirling, but he managed to keep his words calm.

Aya looked back over his shoulder at him .Ken stared back, startled to see those eyes rake over him, then Aya's face narrow with concern and almost...pain? Suddenly, his expression hardened. He seemed to come to a decision.

"All right, Siberian, abort mission. We're getting the hell out of here."

Ken swallowed, relieved to be allowed to take action, to move, to do something.

He surveyed the room rapidly, noting the window against the back wall. If they were on the east side of the building...they should be able to exit there and climb down to street level. He opened his mouth to bring this fact to Aya's attention, but was halted by the abrupt crash of his chair being ripped out from under him and thrown through the window to the street below.

He landed hard on his ass. "Owww....what the fuck was that for?!" he glared from the floor.

Aya just gave a slight smile back, amused at the sight of Ken rubbing his bum and frowning resentfully from the floor. "You won't be needing it anyway," he answered, throwing the table cloth over the broken glass, "Let's get the hell out of here."

"No kidding. Something's up," Ken slowly rose from the floor and went to join Aya at the opposite side of the room. "Bombay's not gonna like that we blew cover..."

Suddenly, the door was kicked open violently. Ken barely had time to react before Aya was standing in front of him protectively, knife fluidly drawn from his boot.

"FREEZE!"

Two armed men had entered the room, dressed in black suits. Security.

"Nobody move. We're onto you," the taller one said quietly, staring out of cool blue eyes. "Someone attempted to break into the mainframe using codes that could only have come from the inside."

Ken knew that drawing his weapon would be fatal. He glanced back at Aya. The man's hand was shaking where it held the gun, but his jaw was set firmly. Ken was startled to find that his eyes weren't on the attackers, but on himself. Purple eyes narrowed with worry.

He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. The next thing he knew, he was being roughly shoved out the window just like his damn chair had been.

A brief sensation of falling through blackness, then the impact. Feeling the air rush out of him all at once put an end to the indignant squawk he had emitted upon being thrown.

Two shots in quick succession sounded out before he even had time to pull himself off the metal grate of the fire escape. He jumped up, head whirling, as Aya landed neatly on two feet crouched down beside him.

"Shit Aya what the-" his questions were cut off as he was practically tossed, again, over the side of the fire escape, narrowly avoiding more shots that sent up frantic blue sparks into the alley below. They landed in a tumbled pile of limbs on street level.

Recovering first, Ken quickly dragged Aya into the darkness on the opposite side of the alley. He could hear faint shouting above, muffled cursing, and his own panted breaths. But the shooting had stopped.

"God, Aya, what the hell were you thinking!" he whispered furiously to the other man, who remained infuriatingly silent. He wasn't even looking at him. "You could have died, you fucking idiot!"

Aya stayed silent, crouched down against the brick across from him. "Fine, don't answer now, god knows you'll have enough of that to do when we get back," he said, adrenaline wearing off, and with it, his anger. The man had saved both their lives, after all.

"Let's just get the hell out of here," he mumbled, grabbing Aya's shoulder. He almost yelled when the man fell back into him, limply. Lifting his hand in detached horror, Ken could see the red streaked over his hand and arm, looking eerie in the pale shine of the street light. "Aya!" he whispered furiously, chest feeling too tight.

"Uhnnn" was the man's reply as he tried to bat Ken off of him. Ken knew he didn't have time to assess the wound, they needed to get the hell out of there. Already, the shouts were coming closer. In desperation, he reached down Aya's shirt for his wire.

"Bombay, Balinese, do you copy?" he whispered frantically into the small device.

"Siberian, we copy. What is your status?" Omi's voice, calm, answered.

"Abyssinian is injured and target is in pursuit. We need immediate backup," he tried to keep from screaming. "Get your asses out here now!"

"We're on our way," he replied, voice dead serious.

=

Omi

=

By the time they got there, both of them were completely covered with blood. They had to pry Ken off Aya before they could transport them safely back to the Koneko.

Ken almost had a conniption when he saw the extent of Aya's injuries. A bullet through the shoulder, a bullet through the arm. He really through a fit when he was informed by Kritiker, via Omi, that they couldn't take him to a hospital. They did send a doctor, however, who patched Aya up the best he could, left antibiotics and orders not to leave bed for three weeks.

Aya was unconscious through it all, most likely from the blood loss. Ken stayed right next to him, refusing even to change out of his red-streaked clothing or wash Aya's blood out of his hair. Omi had had to wait until he passed out from exhaustion to check him for injuries, finding a severely sprained ankle.

Between the worry and adrenalin, Ken-kun must not have even noticed the pain, he thought to himself.

After putting both of them to sleep, he went to the kitchen to make himself some hot tea and sort out his thoughts. Unsurprisingly, Yohji-kun was lounging across the kitchen table, idly toying with his watch.

"Ne, Omittchi, pretty intense tonight," he said. Omi could feel the man's eyes on his back.

Intense. Yeah. "Un. When we showed up, I thought..." he sighed. "I thought they were both dead."

"Nah," Yohji replied, voice falsely easy. "I could hear Kenken crying. I knew they were gonna be okay."

Omi let out a small smile as he filled the tea pot with tapwater. The man tried so hard to maintain his front. It was almost sad sometimes.

"It is troubling how upset Ken was. They've been injured on missions before, but I thought I was gonna have to give him one of my tranqs if we were ever going to get him off Aya-kun."

"Yeah..."Yohji's eyes got a distant look. "Although..." his voice trailed off, almost wistful.

Omi stayed silent, shuffling something on the counter to keep his hands busy. To keep from looking at Yohji.

"Although it's not surprising the kid was busted up about it," he continued. "I mean, it's just natural that we all formed some kinda bond. We've been together for a long time. Weiss is a team, now."

Omi turned around at the curious catch in his friend's voice. He was alarmed to find Yohji's expression almost...unsure. Not something he normal associated with the man's carefree, playboy attitude. He looked almost...vulnerable.

"Yohji-kun?" Omi asked softly, walking towards the table.

Yohji almost fell off his chair he sat up so fast. He darted up before Omi could protest, mumbling a good night and retreating out of the kitchen.

Omi was left in the oppressive silence of the empty kitchen, wondering.

=

Aya

=

Haze. Pain. Aya feebly attempted to grab at the wisps of lucidity floating around him, tried to crawl his way back up to reality. He felt something warm on his wrist, and a rush of strength flooded him. He opened his eyes, then abruptly shut them again when the bright light hit.

Groaning, he tried to raise his head, then choked off a gasp at the new agony the motion brought. The warmth on his wrist disappeared, and he forced his eyes open in silent protest.

"Ken?" he croaked out, appalled at the sound of his own voice. A shaggy brown head was bent over him, and as the face slowly came into focus, Aya felt his head clearing. Memories surged back to him.

"Ken, shit, you're okay. Thank god," he murmured before he could catch himself. He tried to hide his discomfiture with a cough, then groaned anew at the pain that brought.

"Aya? Aya, thank god you're awake. You've been out for three days, tossing and turning. Nightmares, I think. They musta been pretty bad," he paused for a quick breath. "You got shot. Twice. Right shoulder and arm. They were tipped off by someone hacking the system. Only it wasn't Omi. He doesn't know who it was, but he's trying to find out. He thinks with the info he got, he and Yohji can finish the mission. He says you're gonna be allright."

Even through the clouds of pain drifting across his consciousness, Aya noticed that the athlete was babbling. It was a habit Ken had when he was nervous. He did it before he coached his kids in a big game, or before a particularly risky mission. But never this bad.

"Ken....calm down for fuck's sake," Aya said, a small smile, most likely drug induced, gracing his lips. "Are you okay? Did you make it out?"

Ken's face tightened for a second. "Yeah, yeah Aya, I made it out fine, you crazy bastard. What the hell were you thinking?" Ken shook his head, sighing. "Thanks to you. Thanks to you all I got was a damned sprained ankle. I've been stuck on my ass the whole time."

"Next to my bed, apparently."

Aya raised his eyebrows at the boy's response. Was that a...blush...sure enough, the boy's tan cheeks were lit by a faint rose blush. What the hell?

"Yeah, well, I feel kinda bad. I just stood around while you saved my life. And got shot," His face grew serious, almost pained. "I couldn't even get you home on my own, Aya. If Omi and Yohji hadn't have come..." he paused, swallowing. "I was totally fucking useless."

He sighed. "Christ, but you're an asshole, Ken. Just try and use your head for once," Aya said tiredly. "It's not your fault. The mission went bad. And we're both fine. Now I'm going back to sleep," his eyes drooped, probably from whatever drugs and painkillers Omi had him on. "We'll talk when I wake up...about everything..." his voice faded as he felt himself let go of consciousness and sink back into that cool darkness again. Now that he knew Ken was okay, he thought he'd have far fewer nightmares.

=

Ken

=

It's alright. He's okay, Ken thought to himself in wonder. If fucked up completely and he just blew it off like nothing.

We'll talk when I wake up...about everything.

What did that mean? Ken groaned in frustration and pain. His ankle throbbed mercilessly, but he couldn't very well complain when his partner was shot twice.

Since the mission, he had gone over the scenario hundreds of times, tortured himself with what he could have done different. But the fact remained that he was almost unharmed, Aya was alive and they had both gotten out of there.

Just what the hell had he been thinking, jumping in front like that. He was almost...protective. Ken felt his anger rise at that; he could take care of himself, he didn't need to be protected, especially by Fujimiya Aya.

Except that he had been. And that was the thing. What his mind kept whirling around, keep catching on.

He looked down at the sleeping man in front of him. He looked so very different, without his emotionless facade, without the glare, or the sneering eyes. He looked...younger. Innocent.

Ken snorted at that. How could any of them be innocent? They were different, apart from the innocents. All of them.

All they had was each other, really.

Sighing, Ken leaned back, allowing his eyes to close. He drifted in and out of fitful sleep. When he woke, there was a tray of sandwiches and more pills, along with instructions in Omi's neat kanji. He smiled, thanked everything holy for his chibi teammate and reached for the tray.

He froze when he found cold violet eyes on him. Aya had sat up in bed and was staring at him from across the room.

"Aya..." he said, feeling his thoughts slip away at the feeling of those eyes on him. "We have sandwiches."

The man smiled slowly. "I know. Omi said we slept for five hours."

Mentally berating himself for suddenly being so awkward, Ken answered. "Oh."

Ken grabbed two of the sandwiches and limped across the room, handing on to Aya. He turned around to resume his previous position sitting on the comfortable chair by Aya's bookshelf, but was halted by a warm, scraped hand on his wrist.

"Sit down. We need to talk, and I don't want to do it from across the room."

Ken took several deep breaths. Looked at Aya's eyes again and took several more. He sat down slowly on the very edge of Aya's bed, not looking the man in the eyes.

Suddenly, inexplicably, he was angry. He was being led on and pushed around, shielded and confused by this man.

"You know what Aya, we do need to talk. About why you're a complete asshole one second and a nice guy the next. About why I haven't just killed you or switched teams. About why whenever I'm around you everything inside me gets all fucked up and swirled around and the only thing I can be in pissed at how fucked up I feel. And about you jumped between me and the wrong end of a gun."

Oh shit. Now came crunch time.

Looking into Aya's wide eyes, he felt regret for his tirade. The man looked wistful, sad.

"You deserve answers, I guess," he said quietly. So quiet, Ken almost had to strain to hear them. "First, I don't know how to act around you. You're SUCH a little shit sometimes, but I can't ever get really, honest to god mad at you. As to why you haven't switched teams...Maybe you can tell me that. The only thing I can tell you about how you feel is...I feel the same damn way. And it sucks, believe me."

Ken felt a curious sensation in his chest; like ice melting, or flowers blooming, or some other such bullshit.

"As to why I saved you...I didn't want you to die. More than I didn't want myself to die. And that's the simple answer."

=

Aya

=

He'd known it. Ken was pissed at him, hated him. But somehow, now that Aya had admitted to himself that he not only liked the boy, but somehow, over the years of friction and pettiness, of working and killing and living together, he had perhaps even grown to love him...well, everything seemed a whole hell of a lot simpler.

Somehow, he just didn't care anymore.

Ken was looking down, not even decent enough to look him in the eyes. Yet Aya couldn't bring himself to get angry, not now.

The boy was saying something, almost whispering it to his mattress. Aya leaned closer to hear.

"You had no right to do that. No right," he said softly. Then he looked up, straight into Aya's eyes. "Do you know what it would have done to me if you had died back there? If I had to live every day knowing not only that you were gone, but that it was because of me, because of something I did or was stupid enough not to do," he was whispering urgently now, expression imploring Aya to understand. "I couldn't have lived like that."

Aya's heart stopped, then resumed with a resounding thud that echoed throughout his entire being. Ken's words kindled something inside, something he had kept smothered for so long, he had forgotten what it felt like.

Hope.

Pure, simple hope. Hope for what, he didn't know, but it felt damn good.

"Ken, what are you saying?"

Those chocolate eyes would be the end of him, he thought absently. And he wasn't sure he would mind. Because the expression he read in them, of possibilities and salvation...

"I'm saying I don't want to be without you. Beyond that..." he paused, familiar rueful smile lighting up his features, "I guess we'll see where it goes."

He was dreaming. If it was, then this was the first dream he'd had since his parents had died that hadn't been filled with blood pain and death. Not a bad start.

He had to know it was real, know he wasn't going to wake up in his nearly empty apartment, living a life no one should, much less someone alone. He had to know.

Ken jumped when Aya's hand reached out and slowly, oh so slowly, traced the contour of his cheek, from eyebrow to chin. He stayed shock-still, silent for a few brief moments, then, with an air of determination and finality, laid his own hand over it, leaning into the caress, shallow as it was.

Eventually, cruel reality intruded on the impossible perfection of that moment. They could overhear the traffic outside the shop, hear Yohji teasing Omi downstairs, hear Omi barking out orders in return. Ken gave a sad smile and gently pulled Aya's hand off his cheek, clasping it gently still.

"If we don't eat soon, the Chibi's gonna refocus his rage on us instead of Yohji, injuries or not."

"All right," Aya replied, still with an entirely un-Fujimiya-Aya-like grin on his face that could only be described as, well, content.

~~~~

Tsuzuku...I think.