Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Moving On ❯ Chapter 1

Moving On

by scribblemoose and Gwendolyn Flight

"Hurry up, Yohji. We don't have all day."

Yohji bit back an obvious response. He hated computer searches. Not for the first time, he wished Omi was with them. Omi could extract information from any kind of machine in seconds; sometimes it occurred to Yohji that the boy had some direct link with the things. A chip in his brain, maybe, or...

"Yohji, hurry!" Aya whispered urgently.

Yes, all in all, it would be much better if Omi were here instead of him. That way Yohji could have spent the evening in much more pleasurable pursuits than trying to perform an impossible task within an impossible time limit, with a cranky Aya harassing him every inch of the way.

"Damnit. It wants a password."

"Eggplant," said Aya.

"What?"

"Eggplant. The password's eggplant."

"Oh. Right." Yohji swiftly tapped in the letters. "Hey! It worked!"

"Did you actually read the mission pack?" muttered Aya.

"Yes!" said Yohji indignantly. "Of course I fucking did. That wasn't in it."

Aya's silence stood testament to his disbelief.

"I'm in. Now what?"

"Download the data files and anything that looks like correspondence. Quickly. We've only got five more minutes."

"Alright, alright. Here we go... downloading...."

Yohji watched the bar move excruciatingly slowly across the screen: his heart rate racing as fast as Aya's temper declined.

"Got it!" He clicked rapidly to close down the computer, shoved the disc in his pocket. "We're clear. Let's go."

They moved swiftly and without incident as far as the lift. Before it had even occurred to Yohji to stop him, Aya had pressed the call button.

Yohji froze, stunned for a moment.

Aya had cocked up?

"No! There was a code!" he said, but too late. A piercing alarm sounded, began to wail in rhythmic pulses as the efficiency lights washed red.

"Shit!" Aya looked horrified. He never made mistakes. Never

"The stairs," said Yohji.

They flew down the stairs, the painful shriek of the alarm assaulting Yohji's ears. Aya had recovered his composure, determined mask firmly reset. Yohji couldn't help smiling to himself: he found it gratifying, that the man was at last showing some signs of human weakness after all.

They got down four levels out of seven without interruption, fought their way past three security guards on the third floor landing and out onto the fire escape. Aya led them through a maze of alleys and backstreets, until they finally emerged close to Shibuya station.

Yohji collapsed, panting, against the wall.

"Aya. Wait. Let me get my. Breath."

Aya darted him an irritated look down the alley, and reluctantly conceded.

"You shouldn't smoke so much," he conceded.

Yohji knew better than to argue that point. Not least because Aya was managing to control his breathing perfectly well. Of course, Aya controlled everything perfectly well.

Well, almost everything, he thought, with a smirk.

"So what happened, Aya? Didn't you read the mission briefing?"

Aya turned a cold stare on him. "It wasn't in the mission briefing," he said.

"Yes, it was. Lift descent, code 3172."

"You're making it up." Aya scowled, eyes flicking to Yohji for a brief second before returning to scan the alley.

"I'm not! I-"

"Shit!"

"Company?" They were already moving.

"At least four. We'll lose them in the crowd. This way."

It was late, and the streets were thronging with clubbers, a perfect mixture of tourists, students and young shop and office workers. They blended into the crowd: a simple matter, to unbuckle coats and strip off gloves, to pick up the rhythm of the throng and disappear.

Not well enough, though.

"They're too fucking persistent," he muttered to Aya. "And there's police with them."

"You just stole a billion yen's worth of data, Yohji. You might expect them to be a little upset."

"Hey! What d'you mean, I just stole? You were there too, as I recall."

He might have been mistaken, but Yohji was fairly sure he saw a twitch of a smile on Aya's face.

"Only because you're too careless to remember a password."

"Ah, but, Aya. I wasn't the one who set off the alarm, now, was I?"

Yohji was carefully looking the other way, following the progress of their pursuers in a shop window, but he could still feel Aya's glare on him.

"Time to go clubbing then, if I remember the mission plan. What do you fancy, Aya? Techno? Garage? Rock?"

"Something close," said Aya. "Anything, except... damn. No!"

He grabbed Yohji's arm, before he had a chance to plunge into the nearest club.

"What? Why?" Yohji protested, although he obediently followed Aya further down the street.

"Student night," hissed Aya. "Aya-chan."

"Oh. I see." Yohji quickly consulted his mental map of Tokyo's nightlife. "I know just the place," he said, and dragged Aya down a couple of side streets and through a glass door to join a short queue just inside.

"Yohji, this is-"

"One place Aya-chan and her little friends aren't likely to turn up," said Yohji.

"But-"

"I know, it's not in the mission plan. I wasn't sure it was still open. Haven't been here for a while."

"I have."

"Really?" Of course, Yohji scolded himself. This is a gay club. Aya is gay. I shouldn't be surprised.

"With Ken, two weeks ago."

Now that was a surprise.

"For work, Yohji," said Aya, reading Yohji's face perfectly. "Don't get any ideas."

"I wasn't, I, but. Oh. Sorry."

"Are you sure you're comfortable here?"

"Oh, yeah. Shit, yeah, of course. Come on, Aya, it's not the first time we've been in a gay club together." Yohji kept his voice low, aware that the couple in front of them were listening with interest.

"You do remember that Emma works here?" hissed Aya.

"Emma?"

"The American student that kept hanging around the flower shop?"

"Oh," said Yohji, sheepishly. "That Emma."

"And?"

"It's okay," said Yohji. "She doesn't work Fridays."

The club was full without being crowded; bar on the ground floor with a basement below for dancing, and a cloakroom for the easy storage of mission clothing. Yohji found it hard not to stare as Aya shrugged out of his heavy coat: it was always something of a revelation seeing Aya in anything other than shop clothes or mission clothes, and he was wearing a sheer black top through which Yohji could glimpse shifting muscle and smooth flesh. Tantalising. He tasted the word on his tongue, rolled it about and smiled on a sudden curling heat.

Aya steered Yohji skilfully past the bar and straight downstairs. It wasn't unheard of for bar staff to switch shifts, after all, and the last thing they needed was one of Yohji's ardent admirers causing a scene.

He watched Yohji slink though the crowd to capture the prime spot on the dance floor: the perfect distance from the speakers for the music to sound its best, yet far enough from the doors that they wouldn't be easy to spot. Yohji slipped easily into the rhythm and within moments he was dancing as if he'd been there all night.

This was Yohji in his natural habitat. Sexy, confident and with an edge of danger. Pumped up by mission adrenaline and the driving beat of the music. His low-slung jeans and red silk vest shimmered in the fractal light, the colored gels glittering his dark blonde hair where the strands flung loose arcs with his writhing; it couldn't be called dancing, not really. He was a flame flickering through smoke, green eyes opening to spear Aya in place.

"Come on, Aya. Dance with me."

Sin incarnate: smiling at him, sulky and self-satisfied, cigarette dangling from grinning lips, sweat starting on the strong slope of his shoulders. Aya guiltily let the thought inspire him as he caught the beat and started to move, slipping into a fantasy where Yohji wasn't wasting his life chasing women he didn't really want, where they were here out of choice, not necessity. Convincing himself it was for the sake of the mission, Aya caught Yohji's eye, and smiled. Yohji smiled back, a little surprised, maybe, but then Aya knew he'd been less than friendly tonight. Worried about Aya-chan and the new boyfriend he hadn't yet met. Hating himself for the blunder over the lift...

He let himself be distracted by the sway of Yohji's hips, the heat in his eyes. The sheer, unquestionable masculinity of him. Aya could feel his heart racing, his breath coming short.

It's Yohji. He reminded himself. Yohji's straight, not interested, and your friend. And team-mate.

A tall, dark haired man moved in and said something to Yohji that Aya couldn't hear. Yohji just smiled, and shook his head, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, nodded in Aya's direction. It was only when the man backed off, looking apologetic and a little scared, that Aya realised he was glaring at him. Possessive. Jealous. Damnit.

Yohji leaned in close, lips brushing his ear.

"Better make it look convincing. Don't want any distractions."

Aya nodded. He draped one arm over Yohji's shoulder and matched his movements more closely. It was easy, they knew each other so well; their lives had depended more than once on their ability to predict each others' moves.

He draped the other arm over the other shoulder, their bodies almost touching, close enough that he could feel Yohji's body heat, sense the play of his muscles. Yohji took the cigarette from his mouth, and rested his hands on Aya's hips.

Aya felt a kind of panic rising in him. He wanted Yohji so much. He ached with wanting him. This wasn't right. It was like lying.

He caught a flash of uniform out of the corner of his eye.

He tapped Yohji's shoulder once, indicated the stairway with the merest nod of his head. Yohji darted a look, and pulled Aya closer to him, an oddly protective gesture, although probably meant as camouflage. They moved further into the crush of the crowd, still writhing in time to the music.

Aya could feel Yohji's agitation, the tension rising in his body, and assumed it was due to the threat of discovery, until the press of people around them forced them even closer together, hip to hip, chest to chest, for an instant. Aya looked up at Yohji, eyes wide in surprise, trying to control the heat that had just flared inside him. Yohji was hard. Yohji was looking at him with an unmistakable question in his eyes. Yohji...

Before he could reason himself out of it, Aya tugged Yohji's head close and kissed him. It could be for the mission, he lied to himself. It could be a cover. If Yohji protested, it could all be pretend.

But he didn't protest at all. Aya pressed his mouth against Yohji's, lips slightly parted, expecting harsh resistance, and Yohji melted into him, his tongue darting out to push into Aya's mouth, the low hum of a moan rumbling deep in his throat. His hands threaded through Aya's hair and clutched at his skull, hungry and passionate.

And once it started, they couldn't stop. Aya's mind was alive with old plans and new possibilities: the quickest route to the exit if they had to run; whether to fight the police or let themselves get arrested and leave it to Kritiker to sort out the mess; just how far Yohji would be willing to go with this. Would he back off as soon as the danger had passed? Would he grin in that smug way he had and leave Aya gasping for breath and looking like a fool? Or was there a chance, a tiny chance, that he wanted something more?

When Yohji made as if to end the kiss, Aya wouldn't let him. He crossed his arms behind Yohji's neck, kissed him harder, wound their tongues together and let the heat rise through his body. Yohji made no objection; in fact he writhed against him, leaving him in no doubt as to the effect Aya was having on him.

When they finally stopped kissing, it was Yohji who curled his arms around Aya's waist to stop him moving away.

Aya's eyes flickered open, and met Yohji's briefly before quickly scanning the room. His heart was thudding in his chest; it was all he could do to speak.

"We lost them," he said.

"Good," said Yohji, absently, his hand snaking up Aya's back. He looked a little uncertain, confused, but he was making no sign of wanting to move away.

"Let's go," said Aya.

* * * * * * *

They collapsed through the back door of the Koneko in a frenzy of kissing, not stopping to lock the door behind them, or even to turn on the light. Yohji slid out of his coat, still caught in a kiss, eyes closed, and felt Aya's hands strong at the back of his neck, the small of his back, and he fought Aya clear of his coat as well, abandoning both in a heap on the floor. Aya gripped Yohji's hips and shoved him backwards until he hit the double-basin sink; the counter's hard Formica edge dug painfully into his back but he didn't much care. He held Aya's head in place, anxious that the kissing shouldn't stop, it felt so good, so hard and wet and hungry. He slipped his hands under Aya's shirt, fingertips kneading the strong muscles of his back and sliding over the wing-smooth shoulderblades. Aya's tongue was in his mouth, Aya's tongue was in his mouth, and oh, damn, but it felt good.

Aya was fumbling with the fastenings of Yohji's jeans; he broke off their kiss to swear as he struggled, then wrenched open the buttons and plunged his hand inside.

"Wait, not safe," Yohji mumbled, his eyelids fluttering shut as Aya's hand wrapped around his aching cock. "Ken, Omi... kitchen...."

"Don't give a fuck," said Aya, hands already stroking with a strong, knowing rhythm.

Yohji groaned. There was no way he could resist this. He feverishly rubbed the bulge of Aya's cock through his pants. Who cared if they got caught, it would be worth it. So long as Aya didn't undergo a change of heart, so long as they could do this, even if it was just this once, he had to seize the chance while it was there, and to hell with the consequences. Besides. The thought that they could get caught any second...

Yohji bit his lower lip, his breath coming hard and fast, and impatiently tugged at Aya's zip. He'd been with another man once or twice before, though mostly out of convenience, but this was different. He wanted Aya, really wanted him, and oh, but his cock was so hard and smooth and eager, springing free of his clothing to leap into Yohji's waiting palm. He tugged Aya closer and kissed him, stroked his own cock with the head of Aya's, wet and twitching.

Aya's tongue was in his mouth again; Yohji sucked it, licked it, grazed his teeth over the tip, swapped spit and grunts as they thrust desperately into each others' fists. Nothing gentle here, no reassurances or seduction, just sex, just pleasure, deep and primal.

"Close," Aya panted. "Stop. Together. Wait. "

There was no need. Yohji's balls felt full to bursting, and even if they'd both stopped, he probably still would have come. He looked down between them, their hands and cocks just visible by the streetlight that trickled through the window. Again, he stroked Aya's cock against his, pressing the heads together this time, and Aya came with a grunt, squirting hot semen all over Yohji's cock and hand and belly and balls, stream after stream of it. He stopped stroking Yohji, but his fist contracted with each spasm and that was enough to send Yohji over the edge too, his head dropping to Aya's shoulder as he watched himself spurt and dribble over Aya's hand.

He was still gasping for air as Aya raised a hand to his mouth and tasted Yohji's come. His cock jerked painfully, still trying to ejaculate even now there was nothing left.

"Here." Aya seemed indecently composed. He was offering Yohji a fistful of tissues to clean himself up with. Smiling. Looking pretty pleased with himself, in fact. Maybe even smug.

"Thanks." They moved apart, and Yohji did his best to deal with the mess. He'd got the worst of it, by the looks of it. Or the best. The air smelt of sex, and he shivered, suddenly cold now his body was settling back to normal. He almost reached out to take Aya in his arms, wanting to nuzzle into the soft skin of his neck, press their bodies together, warm and safe. But he couldn't do it, somehow, it didn't seem right, and it was just sex, after all.

He tucked his cock carefully back into his pants, and zipped up, crumpling the sticky tissues into a ball in one hand. He realised Aya was watching him, head on one side, his expression unreadable. As if he were waiting for something.

"Thanks," he said again. "That was..." he fumbled for words, couldn't find any. "Great," he said, eventually, though it really did no justice whatsoever to his feelings. He grinned unhappily, hopelessly out of his depth, and willed Aya to either say something or leave before he made a complete ass of himself. If he hadn't already.

"Yeah," said Aya.

Yohji waited a few seconds, willing Aya to say something more, but he didn't. "I'll be off to bed then," Yohji said eventually, a cold, empty feeling starting to spread through him. Like he'd just got off with a stranger in an alley somewhere, fast and brutal, impersonal.

"Or-"

Aya's phone rang; as always it was out of his pocket and by his ear in seconds.

"Aya-chan?"

Yohji leaned back against the sink, trying to come to terms with a few basic facts. They'd been on a mission. They'd got carried away in the night-club. They'd got horny beyond belief, and Aya had come on to him. They'd jerked each other off in the kitchen of the Koneko, where they could have been discovered at any moment... and fuck, but it had felt good..."

He was suddenly aware of Aya picking up his coat and heading for the door, a blur of speed.

"Is everything okay?" For a second he caught Aya's panic.

"She has a flat battery. Fucking useless boyfriend. Going to pick her up and take her home."

"Aya-chan?"

"Who else?"

Yohji rescued his own coat from the floor, brushed a little dust off the back. "Mind if I tag along?"

Aya didn't answer, already out of the door and running for the car.

Yohji followed him anyway.

* * * * * * *

Aya was driving too fast, but Yohji wasn't about to stop him. Partly because he would have done exactly the same himself, and partly because, if he was honest with himself, it was damn sexy. Something about the skill and aggression with which Aya handled his Porsche brought back the feelings from the mission and the club, and... later.

"So who is he?" he asked, once Aya seemed to have calmed down enough to listen.

"Who?"

"Aya-chan's boyfriend."

"I don't know. He's dead, whoever he is."

"What did he do?"

"Stranded her, by the sounds of it. Left her all alone with a flat battery in her car. Abandoned her."

"Can I help you kill him?"

Aya grunted. "It's not as if she should even have boyfriends. She's only twenty years old."

Yohji tried to suppress a laugh. "Yeah, Aya, and when did you have your first boyfriend?"

"That's irrelevant."

"Because she's a girl? Don't let her hear you say that."

"No, because..." Aya let his breath out in an exasperated sigh. "Because she's my sister. Besides, my father wouldn't have approved."

"Oh. No, I suppose not."

They were silent for a few moments, just the purr of the engine as they sped down the highway. Yohji fingered his cigarette packet longingly, deep in his pocket.

"Did you, though?" he said, eventually.

"Did I what?"

"Have boyfriends. Before Weiss."

Aya's eyes darted quickly to his, then back to the road. "Yes, I suppose."

"Serious?" Yohji's voice was deliberately casual; he watched the lampposts flickering past. It was starting to rain.

"Not really."

"Did you tell your father?"

"Yes. Not long before he died."

"And he was okay about you being..."

"Gay? No, not really. We had a lot of fights about it."

"So when he died, you hadn't resolved, I mean, you didn't..."

"You mean, did he die thinking his only son was a useless fag who hated him?"

Yohji turned to Aya, ready to start hurting on his behalf. "Did he?"

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of Aya's mouth. "No. He'd come to terms with it by then. Night before the explosion, we were up 'til three in the morning playing Go. I beat him over and over again. That's the only thing he was mad at me for when he died, as far as I know."

Yohji felt himself relax, oddly relieved. "So if he was okay about that, surely he'd have been alright about Aya-chan. She's not living at home anymore, Aya. She needs-"

"She's only twenty," said Aya, stubbornly. "And I know what my own sister needs, thank you very much."

Yohji bit his tongue, and went back to staring out of the window.

"I was with Asuka by the time I was twenty," he said, after a while. Casually.

Aya didn't say anything.

"Red lights ahead, Aya."

Aya braked sharply, coming to a stop just in time at the back of a short queue of traffic. "Thanks," he muttered, gruffly.

Yohji watched his hands on the steering wheel, long index fingers tapping impatiently on the leather.

"Is he at the university too, then, this boyfriend of hers?"

"Yes."

"Older?"

"Graduate student."

"That's good. Should be more... mature, right?"

"You think?" Aya looked thunder at him, and Yohji finally gave up. He resigned himself to watching the rain, and trying very hard not to think about what had happened earlier, or how incredibly sexy Aya's eyes were when he flashed anger like this.

They found Aya-chan four blocks further along, leaning against her car. Yohji wasn't certain, but he thought he might have seen her hastily stamping out a cigarette as they approached. He'd have to talk to her about that.

He pulled his own pack out of his pocket as he climbed out of the Porsche, and lit up quickly, keeping his distance as Aya strode over to his sister. Yohji sucked smoke deep into his lungs, and watched as Aya satisfied himself that Aya-chan had come to no harm, and argued briefly about whether he should try to start her car (her preference) or just take her home in his (his preference).

Aya won, of course, but Yohji had watched these arguments develop over the past couple of years, and he couldn't help but notice that Aya-chan was getting better at them. Sometime, probably soon, she was really going to be all grown up, and Aya would be in for a huge shock.

She grinned at Yohji as Aya herded her into the back of the car, either oblivious to Aya's rage, or electing to ignore it.

"I take it you won't be seeing him again," said Aya, eyes darting to meet Aya-chan's in the rear view mirror.

"Of course I will," said Aya-chan, with a long-suffering sigh. "Why on earth wouldn't I?"

Aya started the car, waited for a gap in the traffic to move out into. It had started to rain, and Yohji listened to the click-click of the indicator, as the atmosphere in the car got thicker with simmering Fujimiya rage by the second.

"He abandoned you," Aya growled.

"No he didn't."

"You had to call me because your car didn't run. He wasn't with you. He abandoned you."

"See, that's where you're plain wrong. You always jump to conclusions."

Aya put his foot down and charged out into a barely big enough gap in the traffic. "What d'you mean?"

"He didn't abandon me. I made him go home."

"What?"

"He wanted to take me home in his car, because he knew I'd had trouble with my battery. I wouldn't let him. He has an exam tomorrow but I was having a good time and didn't want to go back, so I told him to go on ahead. He refused at first, but I told him not to be so possessive. We had a row. I stormed off. End of story."

Yohji let out a low whistle.

"He should have followed you," said Aya, stubbornly.

"Oh Aya! For fuck's sake!"

"Aya! Watch your language!"

Aya-chan slumped back in her seat and glared out of the window; Aya made a savage gear-change and glared at the car in front.

Yohji kept quiet and longed for a cigarette.

"Anyway," said Aya-chan, quietly, after a long pause. "I can't go back to the dorm tonight."

"Why?" asked Aya. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I just missed curfew, is all."

"You did what?"

"There was an extension to midnight, but I got carried away... it's no big deal. If they missed me I can say I was visiting you and forgot to say. No problem."

Yohji stared resolutely out of the window, not sure whether to laugh or make some kind of soothing comment before things got completely out of hand.

"He's a bad influence," said Aya. "I forbid you to see him again."

"What? Shin has nothing to do with this. In fact... well, never mind. Oh come on, Aya, it's only one night. Are you telling me you never got a little carried away and took a risk?"

Yohji found himself glancing at Aya, and they exchanged a guilty look. Yohji had almost forgotten their furtive encounter in the kitchen earlier, caught up as he was in this little Fujimiya drama. The memory rushed back as a surge of guilty, dangerous lust that had his cock twitching in his pants and his stomach somersaulting at the heat in Aya's eyes.

"That's not the point," said Aya, still looking at Yohji, not sounding quite so convinced as before.

"Whatever. Can I stay with you?"

"Of course," said Aya, quietly, but with an edge of steel. "It's still your home."

"Thanks."

"You remember Sena's staying with us at the moment?"

"Oh. Yeah. I said the kid could have my room, didn't I. Damn. I forgot."

"You can have my room," said Aya.

"Thanks," she said again. Then they fell silent, each glaring out into the night. Brooding.

Yohji sighed. Things had been going so well earlier. He'd thought, for a moment... He glanced over at Aya, but this time got nothing back. Aya stared resolutely in front of him, his mouth set in a grim line.

They drew up in front of the Koneko; Aya-chan already had her hand on the door handle, keen to escape.

"We'll talk tomorrow," said Aya. "Then I'll take you back. I'll ring the garage and get them to collect the car. And I still don't think you should be seeing Shin. There's something about him I don't like."

Yohji felt suddenly sorry for Shin. Things never ended well for people Aya took a dislike to, and from what he could see the only crime the guy had committed had been to be attracted to a Fujimiya. At worst he could be thought of as a little too brave for his own good. Then again, Yohji had learned to trust Aya's instincts. Mostly.

Aya-chan muttered something under her breath, and got out of the car.

* * * * * * *

The kitchen was just as they'd left it, tidy in a way that could only mean it was Omi's turn to clean; orange light from the streetlamps shafted through the window above the sink, throwing the shadows into sharp relief and bathing the far wall in a murky light. Yohji's breath caught on a flash of memory, his back against the sink, Aya's hands warm on his skin. He swallowed, tearing himself from the almost living sensation as Aya-chan hitched her bag over her shoulder and stomped up the stairs. Aya shrugged out of his coat and flung it over the back of a chair before he followed, all rigid shoulders and tightly-drawn brows.

Yohji lit a cigarette, and leaned back against the sink, pulling comforting smoke deep into his lungs. He was half-waiting for an explosion of argument from upstairs, but it didn't come. He heard Aya's low rumbling voice as he presumably settled Aya-chan into his room, retrieved a few of his things. Then there was a pause; the toilet flushed and Aya's quiet, measured steps came back down the stairs. He was carrying a pillow, a blanket draped over one shoulder, eyes still frozen with the effort of control. Yohji bit his lip, stepped forward.

"Good night, Yohji," he said flatly, already on his way down to the next flight of stairs. Down to the lumpy sofa in the mission room.

"Wait." Yohji took a deep breath, hardly able to believe he dared suggest what he was about to suggest. But wanting it much, much too badly not to.

Aya turned his head, raised one eyebrow.

"You can stay in my room," said Yohji. "With me," he added.

"With you?" Aya said, turning to face him over the pillow cradled in the circle of his arms.

Yohji nodded, smiling a little at the image. "If you want."

"Are you sure?"

Yohji shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could, considering his pulse was racing and his cigarette trembled between his fingers.

"Thanks," said Aya, with a brief smile that could have meant anything.

"Right," said Yohji. "Well, I was just going up, so..."

"Okay," said Aya.

Yohji stubbed out his cigarette in the sink, chucking the butt in the bin on his way to the stairs, painfully aware of Aya's slow footsteps behind him. Aware that he wanted Aya, and had no idea, really, what to do about it. Wondering, still, what had happened down there in the kitchen, what it meant, what he should do next.

They reached the door of Yohji's room, and he kicked the door open, went in and flung his keys on the dresser.

Yohji paused by the bed, glancing first to the wrinkled, clean smelling sheets and then to the stone-still man clinging to his doorway, something in him seeking out the eyes smouldering through ragged crimson bangs as though for reassurance.

"Aya?"

Aya dropped the pillow and blanket to the floor, stalked towards Yohji and grasped him by the shoulders, as if he expected him to run. Kissed him. Briefly at first, a brush of lips more like a memory, like a warning. When Yohji failed to make any move to escape, he kissed him again, thumbs rubbing across the line of his jaw.

Yohji groaned helplessly, and sank into Aya's arms.

* * * * * * *

Aya tried to tell himself he shouldn't be doing this, for a whole host of reasons. This wasn't just anyone. This was Yohji. They had no choice but to work together, and that could prove difficult if they were lovers. This was Yohji, the womaniser, who would probably wake up in the morning full of regret, and spend the next sixth months binge fucking as many women as possible to convince himself he was still straight. This was Yohji, they were in his room; Aya-chan was next door, Sena across the hall and Aya wanted this so much he had no idea if he could trust himself to keep quiet.

This was Yohji, who he'd wanted for years, and never thought he'd get.

This was Yohji, the nearest thing to a best friend he allowed himself to have, the man he trusted with his life on a daily basis.

This was Yohji, who'd come over his hand and looked so beautiful it made Aya ache inside.

If ever there was a risk worth taking, Aya thought as they staggered gracelessly towards the bed, Kudoh Yohji was it.

"Are... you... sure?" He stammered out, words broken by their fall to the mattress.

"Uh," Yohji replied, hands running over the soft fabric covering Aya's arms, his breath hot on Aya's neck. "Oh, fuck, yeah."

Yohji was breathing hard, his eyes shining with lust. There wasn't a shred of doubt there. Just wanting, deep and hungry. Aya caught Yohji's lower lip between his teeth and nipped, darted out his tongue to taste cigarettes and beer. He slid his fingers into long, dark blond hair and moved his mouth slowly with Yohji's, tongues tangling, lips brushing soft then hard then soft, the rhythm of their kiss matching the flex of Aya's hips as Yohji's fingers tormented his painfully stiff cock through the tight, constricting fabric of his pants. Aya dipped his hand to mirror his actions, popping the top button of Yohji's jeans and easing his fingers inside. The tip of Yohji's cock was wet, so hard it had pushed its way free of foreskin to reach up to his touch. Aya thought he'd like to watch it do that sometime; to slowly tease and caress Yohji while his cock grew in front of his eyes, pulsing and twitching to life.

Aya reluctantly withdrew his fingers, anxious to make this last. He smoothed his hand up Yohji's bare arm, kissing him again, swiping his tongue over slightly swollen lips and sharp teeth. He ducked his head and licked a line clear up Yohji's throat, from collarbone to chin; Yohji threw his head back on a gasp, his face a picture of hedonistic bliss. He closed his eyes and did it again, tasting salt and sweat and a hint of spice, the faintest hint of stubble rasping on his tongue.

Yohji cupped his face in his hands and kissed him, then turned his attention to Aya's top, slowly unzipping it, trailing kisses and tasting the newly-exposed skin of Aya's chest. He licked his way back up, lingering over faint, silvery scars and the ripple of flesh and sinew, a teasing swipe of his tongue over one hard nipple as Aya shrugged the shirt over his shoulders, struggling for a moment with the sleeves.

He pushed Yohji onto his back, nipping his jaw and teasing the ridges of his ear.

"Oh," said Yohji, his hands settling on Aya's naked back. "Oh, damn, that's..."

"Good?" whispered Aya.

"You wouldn't believe," murmured Yohji, groaning softly as Aya tugged on his earlobe with careful teeth. He sucked it, teased the little stud that lay there.

"I might," he whispered, and Yohji investigated straight away, nuzzling the soft skin underneath and a little behind his ear, flicking out his tongue to nudge the tiny hoop he wore where Aya-chan's earring used to hang. Aya groaned, and found Yohji's hip with his groin, rubbed his aching cock along the bone.

"Aya..." Yohji's voice sounded choked, strained.

"Hmm?" Aya couldn't take his mouth from Yohji's skin; it felt so good to kiss and lick him, the swell of pleasure numbing his lips and making his tongue tingle.

"Oh, Hell, when you do that I can't think straight..."

"Do you want to think straight?" Aya found the pulse point on Yohji's neck, and started to suck.

"No... yes... damnit, I... oh, fuck, Aya..."

Aya kept sucking, grazing the tender flesh with his teeth as Yohji melted under him.

"Aya, I want you so much, I... oh, shit, fuck, that's so... oh..."

Aya raised his head and checked the mark he'd left on Yohji's neck, a solid pink bruise that would bloom purple by morning. He smiled a little smile of pure satisfaction.

"Aya, I..."

Finally it registered that something might be wrong; Aya recognised the uncertainty in Yohji's voice and looked up sharply. Surely he hadn't changed his mind? Not now?

Aya's heart sank. That would be just too cruel. But then again, what had he done to deserve...

"What's the matter?" Aya asked, with some trepidation.

"I don't think I can get your pants undone. The zip's stuck."

He'd been so absorbed he hadn't even noticed Yohji fumbling with his fly.

Aya couldn't help but laugh, as much from relief as anything else.

"I thought you were supposed to be good at this," he said, deftly releasing the zip himself, shucking his pants down over his hips. Yohji took over then, pulling them down his thighs and calves.

"I am," he said, indignantly, tugging off Aya's socks at the same time. "It could happen to anyone." He kissed his way back up Aya's legs, trailing his fingers over lean muscle, tickling him devilishly behind the knees.

"You have done this before, I presume," Aya gasped, lurching upward and grabbing onto Yohji's shoulders for balance as broad hands steadied on his hip.

"Once or twice." Yohji looked up at him, his head poised bare inches over Aya's stiff and aching sex. "But not... not like this."

Aya stroked Yohji's arm; somehow he couldn't stop touching the man. "What do you mean?"

"It's not been... I guess with men, I... well, it was just, you know, quick, and this... God, Aya, I want you so damn much, and you..."

Aya was about to answer him, to reassure, but Yohji didn't wait for a response. His head bent over Aya's groin and suddenly there was a broad, wet tongue licking at his cock, soft lips teasing the head, clever fingers teasing his balls. Aya gasped, head rolling back, arching helplessly into Yohji's touch. Suddenly it was taking all his concentration not to spill in the warm cavern of Yohji's mouth.

He ran his hands down Yohji's sides and tugged at the hem of his shirt.

"You're still dressed," he gasped, desperate to distract him.

Yohji looked up at him with eyes that seemed huge, gazing innocently at him even as Yohji sucked on the end of Aya's cock, teasing the tiny slit to lap up his precome.

Slowly, reluctantly, Yohji let it drop from his mouth and knelt back on his heels. He crossed his arms in front of himself, caught his shirt and pulled it over his head, lean muscles shifting across his chest. Aya shifted, stroking his own cock lightly, absentmindedly as he watched the coil of sleek flesh and graceful limbs; Yohji should have been a hunting cat, a dancer . . . Aya swallowed.

Yohji undid his jeans in slow motion, deliberately teasing. Watching Aya all the time, with a languid, smug grin on his face. He scooted back off the bed to step out of them, more graceful than anyone should be, kicked off his socks and crawled back to Aya on all fours, stiff cock swinging heavily between his legs. Aya reached out to touch it, cupped cock and balls in his hand and licked and kissed at whatever parts of Yohji's body he came across: chest and ribs and the soft, ticklish spot at Yohji's waist. He pulled Yohji on top of him and kissed him, tongue plunging deep, deep into Yohji's willing mouth, exploring every last, moist part of him, rolling them over, rubbing his sex against Yohji's, then Yohji rolled them again; fingers tangled in hair, lips moving softly together, tongues twisting and writhing in time with their bodies.

Yohji pulled back, far enough that Aya could focus properly on his face and register his smile.

"Can we fuck?" he asked, stroking back Aya's hair to reveal new portions of skin to kiss. "I want to fuck, Aya."

"I'll fuck you," said Aya.

Yohji looked up, a little startled, hips stilling against Aya's thigh. "Oh."

"What, you think you can't take it, Kudoh?" Aya said, face as straight as he could keep it.

"Why, can't you?" Yohji retorted, with a trace of unease in his voice.

"Of course," said Aya, writhing once, deliberately, against Yohji's cock. "But I asked first."

"I'm not sure," Yohji confessed, breathily, pressing into the touch.

"Never been fucked?"

"Yes, I have," said Yohji. "It hurt like hell."

"It doesn't have to hurt," Aya reassured, holding green eyes with his own. "Not much, anyway."

Yohji swallowed.

"Give me ten minutes to persuade you. Then if you don't want it, you can fuck me first." Aya didn't especially care, either way. But something about Yohji's reaction felt like a challenge.

Yohji didn't answer straight away, twisting one of Aya's eartails around his finger. Aya almost hesitated, almost withdrew the challenge. But Yohji still pressed hot against his thigh, and said "Ten minutes?" as though questioning his own resolve, and Aya relaxed.

"Yes."

"And if I don't-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm not going to force you, Kudoh," he growled fondly, bucking against Yohji's erection as a pointed reminder.

"Hm. Alright then." Yohji grinned wickedly at him. "Do your worst."

Something about that grin irritated all hell out of Aya. And turned him on so hard it was all he could do to keep from humping Yohji's leg.

"Have you got anything we can use as lubricant?" he asked, anxious to get the practicalities seen to before he lost his mind completely.

Yohji twisted around and reached under the bed; felt around for a moment or two, and finally retrieved a scruffy, fluffy but fat tube. "Lube," he announced. "And you'd better warm it up first."

Aya snorted, nipped savagely at Yohji's shoulder, and rolled him swiftly onto his back, straddling him. There was fear in those huge, doe-like eyes. Just a touch. Enough for Aya to muster all the restraint he had left, and spend the first two or three minutes of his allotted ten simply kissing Yohji, until his eyes were heavy-lidded, and his breath was coming short, and he was writhing under Aya, trying to find some way to satisfy his aching sex. It twitched at Aya, tempting him to stroke and pet it, to make it come again, sticky wet all over his hand, like before...

Aya took a deep breath, and shuffled back to kneel between Yohji's legs, parting them gently, stroking the smooth, sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He kissed Yohji's right knee, rubbed his cheek against it like a cat, and encouraged him to spread his legs a little wider.

He looked shamelessly at the secrets Yohji was offering him; his cock and heavy balls, the subtle curve of his buttocks pressing into the mattress. He lifted Yohji's balls carefully, stroked his thumb along the smooth skin underneath, smiling to himself as Yohji groaned.

This was going to be easy.

He followed the trail again with his forefinger, and this time brushed, far too gently, over the tiny pink pucker of Yohji's asshole. Yohji flinched; whether from pleasure or fear Aya couldn't quite be sure. So he did it again. And again. This time, Yohji moaned, and arched his back. Pleasure, then.

Aya settled himself on all fours, and kissed his way along Yohji's thigh. Yohji looked down at him, probably expecting Aya to suck on his pretty cock; to nuzzle the silken shaft and lap at the head.

He didn't.

He tickled Yohji's balls, noticing how sensitive they were, eager to be touched and licked. Aya obliged for a moment or two, then gently lifted them out of the way again, and ducked his head underneath.

He darted out his wet, pointed tongue, and licked Yohji's asshole.

Yohji cried out, and arched off the bed, his fingers clutching in Aya's hair.

"Fuck, damn, Aya, oh..."

Aya pressed him firmly back down onto the mattress, and tilted Yohji's hips up so he could get easier access. Then he started to lick in earnest, wetting the tiny hole and teasing the soft, delicate skin with the tip of his tongue. Made his tongue stiff and rigid, and stabbed it at Yohji's ass until it started to slip just inside. Used his thumbs to open the tiny hole up a little more, so he could lick and taste and fuck Yohji with his tongue, until Yohji was writhing and groaning Aya's name over and over. Still licking, Aya worked the tip of one finger in, swirling around and stretching, certain that Yohji wouldn't protest, even as he opened up to Aya like a flower, his body rocking into Aya's hungry mouth.

Aya fumbled one-handed for the lube, squeezed out a line without looking, and pressed his finger in again, deeper this time, spreading the gel about and feeling for the spot that would make Yohji beg for him. He was in no doubt when he found it; Yohji sobbed loudly and a shiver ran through his whole body, from the tip of his curling toes to the top of his head, thrashing from side to side on the pillow. Aya rubbed it firmly, watched Yohji's cock twitch and leak, a puddle of precome forming on his belly.

Aya finger-fucked Yohji slowly, two fingers now, twisting and rubbing, licking his balls, taking them one at a time into his mouth and very gently sucking.

"Aya... oh, fuck, Aya..."

"What do you want, Yohji?" Aya pulled back to ask, rubbing his cheek against Yohji's cock and grinning at his almost wordless reaction.

"Oh God..."

"Tell me, Yohji," he insisted, fingers making Yohji writhe.

"I want you, damnit. I want you inside me."

"Ask me nicely."

Yohji glared at him, but he couldn't refuse. "Please, Aya. I want more. I want you inside me. Fuck me, Aya."

Aya grinned in triumph, and hitched Yohji's legs over his shoulders.

He took a few moments more to slick his own erection, and work yet more lube into Yohji's ass. Finally satisfied that he was as ready as he would ever be, Aya carefully positioned the head of his cock against Yohji's asshole, and pushed. Yohji sucked in breath, and bit his lower lip, but he didn't protest.

Aya's cock slipped partway inside, and met resistance. He stopped.

"It's okay," he said, reassuring himself as much as Yohji. "It'll be better in a minute."

Yohji nodded, still gnawing at his lip. Expecting pain. Bracing himself for it.

Aya reached down, and stroked his hair. "Look at me."

Yohji's eyes flickered open; he smiled at the gesture, turned his head to kiss Aya's palm.

Then his body relaxed, and let Aya in. Aya forced himself to take it slow, inch at a time, watching Yohji's face. He winced, at first, but only briefly. By the time Aya was embedded completely inside him, his fists were no longer clenched at his sides, his face was soft and relaxed, radiating pleasure.

He waited as long as he could for Yohji to get used to him, but in reality he knew he couldn't wait long enough. The urge to thrust was too strong, the need to possess this beautiful man too great. To take what he'd wanted for a long, long time. Possibly since the day they'd met; certainly ever since he'd got Aya-chan back and there had been room in his life to contemplate such things.

"Oh God," Yohji whimpered.

"Are you alright?" Aya pulled back, just a fraction, watching his face.

"Fuck, yeah. Good. Damn good. Big."

"Likewise," he gasped.

Yohji grunted, and wriggled on Aya's cock. Aya froze, eyes squeezing instantly shut on the urge to come. Yohji laughed breathlessly, wriggled again.

"What's the matter, Aya?" he taunted smugly. "Too good for you?"

Aya took a steadying breath. "This might be quick," he said, wrapping his fingers around Yohji's erection.

Yohji gasped as Aya squeezed. "That's fine," he said. "We can do it again, right?"

Aya found himself grinning. "All night, if you can take it, Kudoh."

Yohji grinned back. His legs slid of Aya's shoulders to wrap around his back, pulling him closer. "I can take all you've got, Aya."

Aya pulled back slowly, as carefully as he could. But plunging back in to the silky heat of Yohji's body, the feel of Yohji's cock leaping in his hand...

Yohji tugged his head down and kissed him; he make a low, whimpering noise in the back of his throat, and Aya realised he was trembling.

"Yohji?" he whispered. "Are you alright?"

Yohji didn't answer him directly; he clamped his mouth over Aya's, silencing him, squeezed with his legs, sucking Aya deeper inside him. Clenching around him, tighter, hotter than ever.

"Oh, Yohji..." Aya breathed into Yohji's kiss, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling; not just the physical pleasure that was rapidly possessing him, driving him to flex and thrust and come, but a warmth, an odd kind of tenderness for this man who could irritate him beyond belief one minute, and inspire admiration and fierce loyalty the next.

Aya watched Yohji's face as he started to move inside him, slowly at first, out just a little then back in to the hilt; holding Yohji's gaze as he lengthened his strokes. Feeling the loss of that perfect, slick heat every time he withdrew, making him drive back inside him, over and over and over. Yohji cried out with every thrust, his voice rising each time in pitch and volume, and Aya found himself somehow managing to hold himself back, to pause halfway and tease the noise out of him. He buried himself inside, and stroked Yohji's rigid length, thumbing the head softly and squeezing the root hard, built him to fever pitch, to almost-there, to oh-God-don't-stop, before he started thrusting again. Hard, and fast, still lost in Yohji's eyes, and then his hand was wet and Yohji's body clamped down hard around him, and he from deep in his belly, and the world faded to a single point of white, bright and intense, and he could barely breathe, emptying himself endlessly into the man he loved, over and over, deeper and deeper, harder and harder.

He felt fingers in his hair, lips on his neck. Sweat was cooling on his shoulders, giving him a sudden shiver. His throat felt raw.

Yohji's cock was still mostly hard, dripping come into his palm. Aya kept his eyes on Yohji's as he raised his hand to his mouth, and licked. Sucked it into his mouth, like oysters. Thick and warm, and salty.

Yohji watched him as he rolled his semen around on his tongue, savoured it, swallowed it. Eyes big and round, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Aya. Oh. Oh, Aya."

"Kiss me."

Yohji didn't hesitate. He tugged Aya down, so hard his arms buckled, and plunged his tongue into his mouth. Devoured him. Consumed him.

Aya rested his forehead on Yohji's, arms framing his head, and tried to breathe.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Oh yeah. A bit sore," said Yohji, with a wry grin.

"Worth it?"

"You could say that. Besides, I'll get my own back next time." A flicker of doubt flashed across Yohji's face. "That is, if..."

"Yes," said Aya, a little too quickly. "Sure. It's only fair, after all."

The smile crept back onto Yohji's face. Relieved.

Aya yawned. Couldn't help it; his body was warm and sated, and all he wanted to do was gather Yohji in his arms and go to sleep. He wondered if Yohji would stand for that.

Only one way to find out.

"You sleepy?" he asked.

Yohji nodded. "Let's get under the covers. Unless you want to shower first?"

"Later." Aya yawned again. "Just rest a bit first."

Yohji grunted agreement. Aya dragged himself off Yohji's warm body, and found a box of tissues by the bed, cleaned them both up a bit before sliding gratefully under the covers.

Yohji lay on his side, leaving a gap between them. A little detached, like he had been down in the kitchen earlier. Uneasy.

Aya hesitated. Maybe Yohji had only wanted a fuck after all. Maybe he was falling into regret already. Maybe...

No. Not after that. Aya quite simply wouldn't let him.

He pulled Yohji close; met no resistance as he tucked Yohji's head under his chin and kissed his hair. Yohji simply melted into him, fitting into his side like a jigsaw puzzle. One lanky arm over his chest. Possessive. Comforting. Right.

Aya was drifting to sleep when he suddenly remembered Aya-chan. She'd need to be taken to classes in the morning. It was late, and he felt so content and warm, he wasn't sure he'd wake.

"Yohji? Set your alarm for the morning. Seven."

"Seven? Shit, Aya, that's so early," Yohji whined, making no attempt to move.

""I have to take Aya-chan to college."

"She can take the train. Please, Aya? Or she could ring Shin and get him to take her." Yohji nuzzled Aya's neck. "So comfy."

"Don't be stupid, Kudoh." Aya leaned over him, ignoring his protests, and reached for the alarm clock.

"Early," grumbled Yohji.

"I can't leave her at the mercy of that... Shin person."

"He's her boyfriend. He's at her mercy, I'd say."

"He's older than her. And... taller. I don't trust him." Aya set the alarm clock on the nightstand on his side of the bed, and snuggled down again, tugging Yohji back into place. "He's shifty."

"Shifty? Aya, don't you think you're being a bit-"

"She's my sister, Kudoh."

Yohji kissed his neck, instantly softening the tensing muscles, making him drowsy again.

He let himself be comforted, and drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * *

Yohji woke to find Aya stretching over his belly, which appeared promising at first. Until he realised that the tension and agitation radiating from his lover was rooted in anger, not desire.

"What's up, Aya?"

"Fucking alarm didn't go off! It's eight already. Come on, Yohji, move your arse."

Yohji decided not to mention that his alarm clock hadn't worked for more than a year. He'd got used to being woken up by his team-mates when they finally gave up waiting for him to take his shift, so it had never seemed to matter.

He'd hoped for a longer lie-in this morning, too. And definitely not getting out of bed 'til midday.

Yohji yawned, and contemplated the pale, lean form spread out in front of him. Beautiful. Desirable. Tempting. And his.

Probably. Yohji wasn't completely sure, still, what was going to happen, now the cold light of day had dawned. But he knew what he wanted to happen, which was a big step forward.

He reached across Aya's waist, stroked the soft curve of his ass. But Aya was already wriggling off him.

"Got to get my sister to school," he grunted, rolling off the bed and gathering his clothes.

Yohji sighed. "Alright then. Want me to come with you?"

"Do what you like," snarled Aya, and stalked out of the room.

Yohji had just about pulled his jeans on when he heard the door to Aya's room slamming. He met Aya on the landing; the other man looked like thunder.

"She's gone," he snapped, before Yohji had even had a chance to ask.

"But that's a good thing," said Yohji. "We can go back to bed."

Aya stormed off to the shower without a word.

Yohji took a deep breath. Maybe not his, after all. Then again, he hadn't stayed friends with Aya all this time by taking offence every time he went off in a temper.

Yohji went back to his room for a wash and to fetch his cigarettes, then padded down to the kitchen in search of coffee.

He could hear Omi's voice as he started down the stairs: good news, because that meant there would be fresh coffee. Bad news, because he could hear Sena's voice too, and it sounded as if Omi was bawling the kid out.

Yohji paused, and listened.

"I'm sorry, Omi. Please don't tell anyone. Please?"

"I can't just let it go." Omi's rarely-heard authoritative voice. Or, at least, it used to be rarely heard. Since he'd been put in charge of Sena's training, it was the cheerful, high-school Omi that was becoming a rarity.

"But I didn't mean to mess things up. The machine broke down and I got confused with the order of the papers, and those must have-"

"That's irrelevant," said Omi, harshly. "What if it had been a full mission, Sena? You could have got Aya and Yohji in serious trouble. As it was they could have... well, anything could have happened."

"But it didn't, did it? I mean, we know the alarm went off, but they left you the data at the drop off point, so-"

"That's not the point! We know they got the data, and made it back here eventually, but, Sena, we have no idea at what cost. We don't know what they had to do to escape! They could be hurt, or-"

Superbly well fucked, thought Yohji, smiling to himself as he lit a cigarette.

"I know," said Sena, quietly. "I'm sorry, Omi. I promise, I won't do it again."

"Next time, check everything. Everything. Even if you have to count the pages of a briefing twenty times, if you have to go over every detail fifty times, if it takes an hour or a day. The wrong information can get people killed, Sena. Do you understand?"

Yohji heard the faint murmur of Sena's final apology, and a smile spread across his face as the meaning of this little conversation sank in.

A moment later he clattered down the stairs, grinned broadly at Sena and headed for the coffee. "Morning," he said cheerfully. "Everything alright?"

"Good morning Yohji," beamed Omi, as if nothing had happened at all. He and Sena exchanged the briefest of looks.

It seemed that Omi had decided to keep the kid's mistake a secret. That was fine. No need to publicly humiliate him. "Hope we didn't wake you last night," he said, lighting a cig as Omi poured coffee for him.

"No," said Sena. But something about the way his eyes couldn't quite meet Yohji's, flickering away to stare intently at the table in front of him, told Yohji that maybe he'd heard more than he was letting on.

He supposed he and Aya had been a little loud, now he came to think of it.

"You look happy, Yohji," said Omi, handing over his coffee with a far-too-innocent look.

"Do I?" said Yohji, with a wink.

The low rumble of Aya's voice preceded him down the stairs. "Do you have to smoke in the kitchen, Kudoh?"

"Depends. Do you have to be so pissy first thing in the morning?" A trade of insults so frequent it had become ritual. Except that somehow it stung a little harder this morning, partly because Aya was really not in the best of moods, and partly because, Yohji realised, something had changed between them. They shared a fragile secret, which could just as easily turn out to be a beginning or a messy ending. Yohji found he was looking for clues as to which it would be in the nuance of Aya's speech, the set of his shoulders, the cast of his cool, violet eyes. He found nothing.

"You missed Aya-chan," Omi told Aya.

"Where did she go? Did she get the train?" Aya's anger simmering, barely contained.

"No," said Omi. "One of her friends picked her up about an hour ago."

Aya's eyes narrowed. "Keiko?"

"I don't know," said Omi.

"She was crying," said Sena.

"It wasn't Shin," said Omi. "I'd have recognised his car, and-"

Aya was already on his way to the door.

Yohji downed his coffee in one gulp, and ran after him.

* * * * * * *

"You shouldn't jump to conclusions," said Yohji. At least he'd persuaded Aya to let him drive this time, on the grounds that it left Aya free to try and reach Aya-chan on the phone.

"Oh, really? When was the last time you saw Aya-chan cry, Yohji?"

"The kid could have got it wrong."

"It's that bastard. I know it is."

"Shin?"

"Whatever his name is."

"Look, Aya, if you think there's something wrong, there's things we could do. I could run checks, find out if he's ever been in trouble, or-"

"I already have," said Aya, his voice soft, almost guilty.

"What?"

"I checked him out when she first started seeing him."

"And?" Yohji waited for the revelation that would prove, yet again, that if any of them got involved with anyone out there in the world outside of Weiss that it was bound to end badly.

"He's never been in trouble, or been associated with anyone who ever has. He graduated a year early. He once saved a boy from drowning in the harbour. He comes from a good, ordinary family, he's exceptionally intelligent and is training to be a doctor."

"So what's the problem, Aya?"

Aya stared out of the window. "It doesn't matter how smart or kind or law-abiding he is," he said. "He can still hurt her."

Yohji considered that for a moment. True, of course. "You can't stop her making mistakes. What would you have her do, become a nun?"

He regretted that idea almost straight away. From the look he gave him, Aya probably thought that a lifetime of cloistered celibacy was exactly what Aya-chan needed.

"It's her life," said Yohji.

He wondered why Aya hadn't told him it was none of his business yet. Shut down into brooding silence and shut him out.

He turned into the main university car park, and manoeuvred the seven into a narrow space. "Now what?" he said, turning off the ignition and running fingers through his wind-tangled hair.

"You can do what you like." Aya was already getting out of the car. "I'm going to find her."

"You don't know where she is," Yohji pointed out reasonably, locking the car and jogging after Aya as he strode off in the direction of the main block.

"She should be in class," said Aya. "I'll wait for her to come out."

"Oh. How do you know-"

"I know her timetable," Aya hissed irritably. "You can wait here."

Yohji went along, all the same.

As it happened, they didn't have to wait. The class was already spilling out of the building by the time they arrived. Aya and his sister spotted each other straight away; Aya-chan said something to the girl with her, -- Yohji thought she might be Aya's friend Keiko -- and headed over to them.

"I was worried," said Aya, surprisingly gently, considering how angry he'd been a moment ago. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," said Aya-chan. "I didn't want to wake you this morning, after-" She looked from one to the other of them, and gave Yohji a disturbingly knowing wink. "Well, I thought you'd be tired." She was teasing, but there was sadness just under the surface, her usually bright, cheerful blue eyes flat and melancholy.

"I would have driven you," Aya persisted, refusing to rise to the bait. Probably unwilling to accept that Aya-chan might have guessed what they'd been up to the night before.

"It's okay. Keiko came and fetched me."

"Omi said you were upset," said Aya.

"Oh."

"What happened? If anyone's hurt you-" Aya's fingers curled to fists, eyes smouldering, ready for any mission she might set him.

"No, Aya, no. There's no need..." Her voice tailed off as her attention was distracted by something behind them. "Oh," she said, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "Shin."

Yohji followed her gaze to see a young man walking towards them: tall, thin, with thick red hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He didn't look like Aya, exactly; no-one could ever look quite like Aya. But there was something about the way he moved, the seriousness in his eyes, the calm self assurance with which he approached, that was certainly very familiar.

"Fujimiya-san." He bowed formally. Respectfully.

Good plan, thought Yohji.

"Shin," Aya growled.

Shin looked steadily at Aya-chan for a moment before he spoke. "I called you," he said. "You weren't at home. I saw your car near the club on my way here this morning, and I was worried about you. I didn't mean to get so angry."

"I know, I..." Aya-chan bit her lip, her eyes swimming with tears. "Can you leave us for a minute?" she said to Aya, barely able to control her voice.

"Sure," said Yohji, a firm hand on Aya's shoulder. "We'll be just over there. Come on, Aya."

Aya glared at him, and for a moment looked about to resist. But he didn't. He almost waited until they were out of earshot before he turned on Yohji and growled at him. "Kudoh, what the-"

"Shh. Watch. Look."

Yohji nodded to Aya-chan and Shin as they stood in the dappled light under the cherry tree.

"Yohji, I swear I'll-"

Aya's voice tailed off as he watched Shin pull Aya-chan to him. He held her as if she were made of glass, careful and gentle, and whispered something in her ear, tenderly kissed her hair. She slid her arms around his waist and held him tight.

"Call me a romantic," said Yohji, "but I think that's rather beautiful."

"He's just trying to-"

"No," said Yohji. "Trust me, Aya. I know love when I see it. He may live to regret it, but Shin loves your sister. Face it. And you know if you could have picked someone yourself, you couldn't have done better."

Yohji watched Aya's face, his eyes fixed on Shin and Aya-chan. Uncertainty. Jealousy, maybe. Fading denial.

"That boy's in for a rough enough ride, falling for a Fujimiya," said Yohji. "Leave him alone, huh?"

"You really think so?"

Yohji smiled. "I should know," he said, softly.

Aya looked at him, surprised, a question in his eyes.

"Can we go now?" Yohji asked, suddenly uncomfortable, turning back to the car park. "I'm hungry. You owe me breakfast."

"What? Why?" Aya hesitated, reluctant to leave, although the anger had gone now.

Yohji just kept walking, and soon heard the crunch of Aya's footsteps behind him. "Because if it hadn't been for Aya-chan, you would have brought me breakfast in bed this morning," he said.

Aya snorted. "You're delusional, Kudoh."

"I'm hurt," said Yohji. "Do you treat all your boyfriends this way?"

Aya stopped.

"What?"

Yohji turned, held steady violet eyes with his own. "Or was I just a one-night stand?" he asked, slowly. Deceptively lightly. "Because that's okay, too. So long as I know. After all I wouldn't want to pester you if I was just a quick fuck, or-" He stopped himself, knowing he'd already said far too much. Revealed too much. And probably asked for too much.

"Oh," said Aya.

Yohji waited for a full, interminable minute, while Aya just looked at him. Brain working. But silent.

"And?" he said, eventually. "That was a question, Aya, in case you missed it."

"I know," said Aya. "I'm sorry, Yohji, I haven't been fair."

Yohji's heart sank. Just a fuck after all. And he'd been so damn sure last night, too.

"I've been so worried about Aya-chan, and last night, fucking up the mission like that... I'm sorry, Yohji."

"Sorry about the mission, or sorry it was just a one-off? Because, you know, I'm okay with it. If that's all it was..."

"I am sorry about the mission. I promise, it won't happen again," said Aya, solemnly.

"That's okay," said Yohji, generously. "It could happen to anyone."

"Not to me. And I mean it. I'll never let you down like that again."

"It's nothing. I understand."

"I've wondered sometimes," said Aya, his voice a little softer, but just as serious. "About us. About what might happen if... If anything happened."

"Me too," said Yohji, cautiously.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like that. It wasn't supposed to happen at all, but especially not like that. There were things I was supposed to say first, to get things right between us."

Hurt twisted savagely in Yohji's gut. He didn't need this. Of all people, he'd thought Aya would be direct and to the point, quick to brush it off as an abhoration and move on. Apparently he was wrong. "It's fine, Aya, really. You don't have to..."

"I want more," said Aya.

Yohji stood absolutely still, hardly able to believe his ears.

"More?"

"I fucked up, I should have said something last night, or this morning, but I didn't know what you wanted, and I was worried about Aya, and the mission, and..."

Yohji yanked Aya towards him, and covered his mouth with his own, kissing through a moment of surprised resistance before Aya relaxed and started to kiss him back. Mouth soft and pliant, arms sliding around his waist. Yohji was dimly aware of a wolf-whistle somewhere in the background, but he was all too happy to ignore it. He was a killer and a thief, and occasionally a liar. If anyone wanted to make something of him kissing the man he loved in public, he really didn't give a fuck.

Besides. It was worth it.

He pulled back to speak, even as Aya's hand slipped underneath the hem of his t-shirt and rested cool and firm against the small of his back.

"Back to the flowershop," Yohji panted. "I want to finish what we should have started this morning."

"Fine by me," said Aya, brushing warm lips over the stubble of Yohji's jaw and chin.

"And this time," said Yohji, twisting long strands of crimson hair in his fingers, "I get to top."

Aya's lips crooked into a smile. "We'll see," he whispered, ducking from beneath Yohji's arm and turning to walk toward the car.

"Wait, what do you mean, we'll see?" Yohji protested, starting forward. Aya glanced over his shoulder, just the corner of his smile visible, very cat with canary, and Yohji paused. "Aya?"

"We'll see," Aya repeated, and continued on beneath a tree. Yohji watched him for a moment, a slow smile building, remembering his challenge to Aya and the sudden wash of heat in violet eyes.

"Oh, we'll see alright," he murmured, smiling to himself, and ran to catch up with his lover.

* * * * * * *

With many thanks to Arnheim for beta reading above and beyond the call of duty.