Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Let's get it on ❯ Aya opens up ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: If I had any legal claims to Weiss Kruez (which is owned by Kyoko Tsuchiya and Project Weiss) I'd like to think I could come up with a more lucrative outlet than this.

 

 

Let's get it on

Chapter 1

 

Aya was acting strange.

 

A redundancy, obviously, but it wasn't like Yoji really had much to go on. He could look at Ken or Omi and identify a wide spectrum of moods and emotional states -- happy, sad, millions of gradations in between. He could look at Aya and determine, basically, fuck-all.

 

Maddening.

 

Fascinating.

 

But tonight, for some reason, on this mission that wasn't really any different from any of the other missions, there Aya was, waiting for him with a freaked-out expression.

 

Yoji had been late getting to the check point. He'd run into a couple of unexpected minions on the way who'd required first eluding and then killing, which had slowed him down a bit. And there was Aya, with that look on his face.

 

It wasn't the expression itself, of course. He'd looked worried, and then, catching sight of Yoji, hugely relieved. One might expect such a reaction under the circumstances -- but not from Aya, who was closed off and repressed and stoic in the extreme. Two expressions served for the vast majority of Aya's interactions: a blank look that made it clear he was unaware of your existence at the moment; or kind of pissed, which covered most things from answering a polite question about whether there was any coffee left to killing evil mad scientists and child torturers. They'd all come to realize that Aya wasn't always pissed when he looked pissed, but nobody was able to reliably determine which occasion was which, so dealing with him was a total crap shoot.

 

“Are you all right?” Aya asked softly. There had even been some inflection coloring his usual near-monotone.

 

“Umm... yeah. I'm fine. Ran into a couple of emergency back-up goons, but, you know, the flies have been swatted.”

 

Aya looked at him assessingly, then nodded. “You look winded. Should we wait a few minutes before we head out?”

 

OK, now that was fucking peculiar. Aya was kind of a fascist about his mission plans, and he had a wicked sense of survival of the fittest. He wouldn't actually leave anyone alone and possibly wounded out in the middle of nowhere just because they were late -- he probably fantasized about it, but he wouldn't do it. At least, he hadn't yet. But that didn't mean he was necessarily interested in accommodating anybody's smoking-related lung-capacity issues.

 

Yoji realized he was staring, with his mouth open. He closed it and nodded. “Yeah, I'd appreciate that. Thanks.”

 

Aya nodded and sat down on the ground. He pulled out his cell phone and called in with the information that the mission was complete and Yoji wasn't dead after all. Then he just stared off into space, his jaw resting on his hand.

 

Yoji watched him a lot longer than it took to just catch his breath. He loved watching Aya -- did it whenever he got the opportunity and thought it wouldn't get him killed. And Aya seemed awfully agreeable tonight... perhaps it was time to attempt conversation. After all, what would a man be if he didn't try?

 

“Do you ever think about hell, Aya?”

 

Aya looked startled, then quickly regained control of his face and looked the other way. Well, that wasn't an answer, but he wasn't broadcasting “Die you stupid son of a bitch” vibes either, so good enough.

 

“You know, my mind wanders when I'm just sitting there, waiting to kill somebody. Are these guys going to hell? Am I? Because, well, I am killing the bad guys, so I'm not as bad as they are, right? But I'm still a killer, so... So maybe Purgatory? Or is it Limbo?”

 

The sound of Aya's voice surprised Yoji -- he'd kind of expected the redhead to just let him natter on until he ran out of steam. “Limbo is different from Purgatory. And the Pope got rid of Limbo. It doesn't exist anymore.”

 

“What happened to the souls in Limbo, then?”

 

There was a brief pause while Aya presumably thought about it. “That's why God invented Starbucks with WiFi.” Aya looked over at Yoji, face unreadable, and continued. “He moved all the souls from Limbo and put them in coffee franchises. They sit there from open to close generating spam, drinking overly harsh coffee and asking you day after day if you want to increase the size of your dick.”

 

“Umm...”

 

“No.”

 

“Huh? No what?”

 

“No, I don't believe in hell.”

 

“Uh... No. Me neither, really. I was just... you know... thinking about... Is that the kind of stuff you think to yourself all the time when you're not talking to us?”

 

Long pause. “Maybe.” Aya rose abruptly and started walking to the car. The “Shut up and leave me alone” light was lit.

 

Yoji followed him in silence, and the ride home was unmarred by banter. Aya parked, got out of the car and walked into the house without even looking in Yoji's direction.

 

Alone in the dark garage, Yoji leaned against Aya's Porsche and lit a cigarette, thinking about his enigmatic teammate. Aya rarely spoke, and never about himself. Yoji knew more about most of his customers at the flower shop than he knew about Aya, despite a certain amount of obsessive scrutiny. Shit, they didn't even know his real name.

 

Yoji couldn't help himself -- he was beginning to romanticize the situation. Here was this beautiful, brooding, deadly stranger in their midst, this alluring man... who was about as miserable and fucked up as it was possible for one person to be.

 

Something truly horrible had happened to Aya -- that wasn't really even a guess, given where he'd ended up -- and it was about all he could do to contain the anger and pain between kills. Yoji theorized that Aya didn't worry about having a name because he didn't really think of himself as human. The person who'd had a name had been killed by whatever had destroyed Aya's life and made him part of Weiss.

 

Well, everyone reacts differently to emotional devastation. Some people pick up the pieces and move on -- or so he had read. And some people don't bother even trying to pick up the pieces and instead just storm out into the night, determined to make the world pay. Yoji crushed out the butt of his cigarette under his boot, chuckling at himself for waxing poetic. That was always a bad sign.

 

He had a thing for dark, brooding bad boys. Major angst was just a big turn on.

 

Shaking his head, he walked into the house, squinted against the bright light of the kitchen. Ken was still up and sitting at the table; he looked over at Yoji and put down his cup of tea.

 

“Hey, man, you all right? We were worried about you.”

 

Good old Ken. He really was a nice guy, for a vicious killer.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just ran into a couple more idiots whose night wasn't going to be complete until I strangled them. Inconvenient, but whatcha gonna do?” Yoji got a beer from the refrigerator, lit another cigarette and sat down. The ashtray was on Ken's side of the table, and he slid it over without even being asked.

 

“So,” Yoji said. “How come you didn't wait for me? Don't you love me any more?”

 

“It'll never be over between us, blue eyes,” Ken said. “Oops.” Yoji rolled his eyes, which were undeniably green, and Ken smiled. “You know, Aya just announced that he was staying -- sorry, man, but it wasn't even a choice. Let's see, come home and take a nice shower, or get into an argument with Aya for the opportunity to wait around in the cold, dank woods for your sorry ass... You can imagine what a quandary that was for me.” Then he narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at Yoji closely, wondering why he'd even ask about it. “Why, did he rip you a new one for something on the way home?”

 

“No, he didn't say a word. I was just... I don't know, actually. He just seemed a little... odd.” Yoji shrugged.

 

Ken nodded. “He went straight upstairs, and I thought he had kind of a weird look on his face. I don't think he's feeling well.”

 

“He said that?”

 

“Sure. After our emotionally wrenching but cathartic conversation about his fear of commitment.” Ken paused to take another drink of tea. “Then monkeys flew out of my butt.”

 

Yoji snorted. He put down the beer can and stubbed out his cigarette. “Fucking smartass,” he said, getting up. “I've had it -- I'm going to bed too. See you in the morning.”

 

Heading up the stairs, Yoji shook his head and thought that any of his dreams tonight had anything to do with either winged simians or Ken's ass, he was going to kick it for him tomorrow.

 

Yoji stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Turing on the light, he jumped and choked back a little scream when he saw Aya, who was leaning against the sink and staring blankly into the mirror. Roused somewhat by the noise, Aya slowly turned around to look at Yoji.

 

Deep breaths, Kudoh, deep breaths. “Aya, what the *fuck* are you doing?”

 

Aya stared at him uncomprehendingly. Lost.

 

“Aya.” Yoji walked over to him, started to put his hand on his shoulder, thought better of it. Whatever tender thoughts he'd been entertaining, Aya was crazy, and violent, and it was probably best to proceed cautiously. “Aya, you scared the shit out of me. You were standing in the dark, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror. What the fuck is that all about?”

 

Aya was now staring sort of at Yoji's chin, but really at something in another dimension. He looked like he might be broken.

 

Slowly, carefully, Yoji moved beside him and put his arm around his shoulders. Somehow, Aya was much smaller than he'd always seemed -- must be his battle aura, Yoji mused. Maybe this was the first time he'd turned it off.

 

“Hey, Aya.” He said it softly, almost a whisper. “What's going on?”

 

“I...” Aya's voice was so deep, so quiet. He paused, apparently unsure of how to proceed with a sentence that started with “I.” “Have you ever heard that legend, that if you stare into a mirror in the dark, you'll see a demon?”

 

Yoji nodded.

 

“It's true.” He smiled slightly, mirthlessly. “Same as when the light's on.”

 

“Aya...”

 

“There've been... on missions, people have called me a demon. And, you know, seemed to mean it. It's not much of a leap, really -- the hair, the eyes... the blood... the sword...” He closed his eyes. “But it happened before, too. My parents always told me those people were just superstitious fools.” The eyes opened again, now staring at the floor. “Sometimes I wonder if they just recognized the signs.” He looked up at Yoji, gave him that sad little smile again. “That's something I think about sometimes when I'm waiting around to kill somebody.”

 

Yoji pulled Aya against his chest and held him. “You're sounding a little nuts, you know?” He said it gently. “This is what happens when you don't talk to people. You lose track of things. You get fixated on stuff and you don't have anybody to tell you it's bullshit.”

 

Aya didn't answer, but he didn't move away. If it were anybody else, Yoji wouldn't hesitate to describe this as clinging. It wouldn't pay to get smug with Aya, though, even if he did seem small and fragile for once. So Yoji didn't say anything else, just stood there holding him.

 

Finally, he leaned Aya against the sink and took one step back, still holding his shoulders. “Listen, Aya, I want you to come into my room and talk, OK?”

 

Aya nodded vaguely.

 

“Good. Now, if you could just... well, you know, I came in here for a reason...” He waited for Aya to remember where he was, but nothing happened. “Aya, I need to pee.”

 

Aya looked at him with those far-away eyes and nodded slightly, shifting his attention back to the weather report from outer space, moving away from the sink and out of the bathroom not at all.

 

Pondering the dilemma for a couple of seconds, Yoji decided it was really only a minor social nicety after all. He shrugged, went over to the toilet and did his business.

 

He leaned around Aya to wash his hands, then took his arm and tugged a little. “All right, let's move.” He walked them to his bedroom, pulling his teammate behind him like a small child.

 

Yoji guided him into the room and sat him down on the bed with no trouble. He leaned the redhead back against the pillows and settled next to him, turned to look at him, Aya, who was so fucking beautiful and, for once, not resisting anything, not at all.

 

Aya looked at him with an expression Yoji had never seen. His mouth was open, his breathing heavy and a little ragged; his lips were lush and pouty and full of potential. As Yoji watched, mesmerized, the glazed purple eyes drifted shut, and long, sooty lashes rested softly against satiny white skin. Aya's head fell back into the pillows, exposing his throat. His chest heaved.

 

Yoji's meditation was broken by the urgent twitching of his cock, accompanied by the reflexive tremor of his fingers, desperate to know what the skin would feel like beneath them. He rearranged himself so he was sitting over Aya, facing him. He wasn't quite close enough to rub himself against... but, oh God, *almost*. Yoji's breath hitched as he reached over to brush the hair from Aya's face, stroking that beautiful, flushed skin ... which was burning hot to his touch.

 

Son of a bitch, he really *was* sick.

 

Well, that kind of sucked. He'd finally gotten somewhere with Aya, and it was only because the bastard was delirious with fever.

 

And, upon closer inspection, asleep.

 

Sadly, these realizations didn't immediately deflate Yoji's... hopes.

 

Cursing quietly to himself, Yoji moved to the end of the bed, staring at the door. He was actually a little tempted to use this opportunity to further study the subtleties of Aya's appearance... But that would just be kind of creepy. Under the circumstances, and all. In fact, he really needed to get himself away from the source of the problem. Which was a bit of a dilemma, since he couldn't exactly go back downstairs just at the moment -- “Hi, Ken, I'm back, and look at the size of this hard-on!”

 

Maybe he'd just sneak back down the hall and have a nice wash up before... figuring out where he was going to sleep. No, no, that was the wrong direction. Definitely best to achieve detumescence before thinking about the possibility of lying next to Aya on his bed and sleeping next to him all night, maybe accidentally rolling over in his sleep and...

 

Yoji stood up determinedly and got himself back to the bathroom. He'd kind of wanted to take a shower anyway. Pondering whether it was going to be a cold or a hot one, he pulled his tight, mesh t-shirt over his head and stripped off his now-painfully tight leather pants, gasping softly when his erection sprang free. Hot it is, Yoji thought, adjusting the water temperature.

 

He avoided thinking directly about the Aya situation, letting his subconscious turn it over and examine it from every angle while he practiced shampoo meditation, keeping his conscious mind blank as he lathered, rinsed, applied a liberal handful of his ludicrously expensive conditioner, which he ordered a case at a time over the Internet because it kept his hair from frizzing under even the most difficult circumstances, no matter the humidity or number of assailants.

 

He leaned against the corner of the stall to let it sit for three to seven minutes and only then allowed himself to consider the redhead in his bed. It had been difficult to fantasize properly about Aya up until now because Yoji just hadn't had enough to go on. He liked to get at least a gloss of realism going in his fantasies, but until tonight, he hadn't seen anything close to sex from Aya.

 

Yoji's hand slowly drifted over the muscles of his abdomen, down to his cock, which was straining eagerly. He pictured Aya's gently parted lips, pictured his dick sliding between them. Aya would give good head, Yoji was sure of it. He had no idea if Aya had ever given head before, or even received it, or considered either possibility. But Aya was good at anything he tried to do, and all that iron self-control promised exciting things as far as being able to control his gag reflex. Yoji imagined Aya taking him down the back of his throat, that deep voice moaning against his eager, sensitized flesh... He came hard and rested his head against the tiled wall, catching his breath.

 

Oh, that was so much better.

 

Now Yoji remembered how tired he was, and he finished his shower, dried off and got dressed quickly. He'd just go to bed and leave Aya alone -- the bed was roomy enough to give him all the space he could need, surely. Yoji didn't like it, but he knew a dead end when he saw one. They'd talk about it in the morning.

 

Or maybe not. When Yoji got back to his room, Aya was gone.