Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Now You Know ❯ Finders Keepers ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I tried to trade my last box of strawberry Pocky for ownership of Weiss. It didn’t work…something about me being irresponsible and twitchy. But, there’s good news, I did get to borrow the boys in exchange for a lemon pie.

Author’s Note: I find the whole idea of this chapter hilarious, and I can only hope that my strange sense of humor extends to a few of you out there.

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Now You Know
Chapter One: Finders Keepers

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“Don’t smoke in my car.”

Yohji let his fingers fall from his lips, carrying away the promising nicotine fix. He replaced it into the pack and, still being glared at, stowed the pack inside his pocket. If Yohji was giving a ride to a man who had just killed two people, he would damn sure let the guy smoke. Of course, the current driver had managed three, including the target.

They had been on stakeout most of the night, the scrawny businessman and his body guards not having the decency to return until well after four-thirty. The sky had been turning blue-gray, then, and Yohji had been fidgety; even Aya was too tense, almost nervous. Yohji remembered looking over at his pale face half-hidden in the shadows, staring at the eastern sky through the high, broken windows and looking for the world like a vampire concerned over daybreak.

Yohji glanced over now, out of boredom, really. There wasn’t else to look at as they sped down the desolate road. Aya had shed his coat into the trunk, demanding Yohji’s for good measure: it was too bloody to go inside the Porsche. Even with these measures, Yohji wasn’t too comfortable with the morning sun lighting the smeared blood on Aya’s arm, left by an absent brush with his glove before he removed it. There was a little more on his jaw, missed by the hasty wipe down of his face. It was dark and dry, looking like an injury on the pallid skin. How the hell could Aya stay so pale? Maybe he really was a vampire.

“What?” the object of his perusal growled, having endured the stare longer than Yohji expected.

The blonde shrugged. He was bored.

That was nothing new. Yohji bored easily. It made him buy new clothes constantly, go out with different women every week, and never sit in one place for very long. It also made him a damn good detective at one time, as boredom and a natural curiosity added up to an excellent observer, albeit one who needed to smoke a cigarette every thirty minutes just to give his hands something to do.

He really wanted a cigarette, preferably within the next two minutes.

“Aya, can we stop?”

“Why?”

“I wanna smoke.”

Aya scoffed, obviously not won over by the argument.

“It’s two hours back to the house, and I gotta pee, too,” he added as an afterthought, pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead and trying to look honest. He debated pressing his hand between his legs for effect, but decided it might be overkill.

“Liar.”

“Come on. I spent the night crouched on a fucking rafter, give me a break!”

“There’s nowhere to stop here.”

Oh. Yohji cursed the road and its being in the middle of nowhere, deciding to renew his attack the he saw an exit sign. If Aya drove slow enough for him to see it that is. Damn but the man was a hellacious driver; it wasn’t that he was dangerous, per se, but if Yohji had a dime for every time he thought he was going to die in that car, he could buy one damn big bottle of booze.

He decided booze would be a good thing to have right then.

Slouching in the seat, Yohji let his long legs sprawl ungracefully in front of him. He dropped his shades back over his eyes and debated what he could do with himself until they got somewhere near civilization. Looking over at the console he found it anally clean, not even spare change in the cup holders. As he reached for the radio, Aya glared at him. He dropped his hand.

The scenery careened by at a sick speed.

Idly, Yohji reached out and flicked the dash open. Ignoring the new glare, he prowled through the contents. Aya seemed unwilling to argue; shifting gears, he focused on the road and left Yohji to his inane entertainment.

There wasn’t much: a manual for the Porsche (tucked neatly in its leather case), a false ID and vehicle registration, a small bottle of acetaminophen, and a few CDs. Yohji pulled out the last of these, curious as to Aya’s musical tastes. It seemed the redhead had a penchant for rock music, maybe with a slightly gothic tinge to it, surprising but fitting when he considered it. The last two CDs were copied, one being labeled “classical” and the other simply “Aya.”

Putting the others back, he lifted the “Aya” CD and popped it into the CD player.

That earned him a glare, but, then again, what didn’t?

The player clicked as the disc slid into place, and a few numbers blinked on the digital display. Yohji noted that it was a six-disk changer. About to comment, he was distracted by the song that blasted through the speakers. Damn Aya had awesome speakers.

She's my cherry pie
Cool drink of water such a sweet surprise

Aya was quick to reach and turn the volume down, but he let it play.

Taste so good make a grown man cry
Sweet cherry pie, yeah

Yohji’s brain was attempting to translate the song; it wasn’t too difficult, but if he thought too long on the meaning of one line he was likely to miss the next.

Well, swingin' on the front porch, swingin' on the lawn
Swingin' where we want 'cause there ain't nobody home
Swingin' to the left and swingin' to the right
I think about baseball, swing all night, yeah

A smile quirked up the corner of his lips as Yohji decided he could appreciate the band, even if they did speak English. Vaguely, he wondered if Aya got it.

Huh, swingin' in the livin' room, swingin' in the kitchen
Most folks don't 'cause they're too busy bitchin'
Swingin' in there 'cause she wanted me to feed her
So I mixed up the batter and she licked the beater

He laughed out loud.

“That’s good,” he hinted, trying to see if Aya would question him. He received another appraising stare, but when Aya decided Yohji wasn’t making fun of him, he just dipped his head, just slightly, in reluctant agreement.

Still bobbing his head in time with the beat, Yohji let his attention drift again. Though the music appeased him momentarily, he now needed something else to involve himself with until Aya got annoyed enough to release him for a cigarette break.

Having exhausted the dash, he began to search the pocket of the door. All he came up with was an empty, crumpled package long void of smokes; it was his own brand. He didn’t turn to look, but Yohji would have bet money that he was being glared at, and that the intensity of the glare tripled when he leaned down to shove the package back into its hiding place.

About to use this incident to launch into a rousing game of piss-Aya-off, Yohji was distracted by something under the seat. In hopes of finding some other bit of trash, perhaps something to flick at the driver, he stretched against his safety belt and leaned further to reach under the seat. His fingers brushed it. Stretching once more, and giving Aya what he was sure was a nice view of his leather-clad behind, he snagged it.

Oh.

Yohji recognized the particular give of the square, foil package before he drug it out into the light.

His lips curled into a smiled and he fought to suppress a chuckle.

This was gonna be fucking great.

Aya had a condom wrapper in his car. And it was open. And it was empty.

The swordsman didn’t let anyone near his precious Porsche, and even Yohji wouldn’t have dared to get anywhere near naked anywhere near its perfect leather interior. That meant it was Aya.

He couldn’t help it; he straightened up laughing, wrapper lifted between two fingers.

“Ayan,” he started, getting it out between a laugh.

Violet eyes flicked over to him, widened, and made a quick grab for wrapper. Yohji was quicker, jerking it away. Aya snarled at him and grabbed again, keeping one hand on the wheel as he leaned half over Yohji to reach for the item that Yohji’s long arms kept away by extending it over the dash.

“Kudou,” he threatened, low and angry, eyes flicking back to the road just long enough to keep them on it.

“Aya’s gettin’ some!” he cried, wagging the wrapper in evidence, then shielding it with his own body as Aya reached again, the car swerving towards the edge of the road only to recover at the last second.

“Who was she? That short chick from the coffee shop? The blonde who always orders the freesia, the one with the huge,” he filled in the blank by cupping an imaginary set of breasts with his hands, jiggling them for good measure.

Aya growled.

“Please tell me you’re not doing the nasty with one of the fan girls!”

“Fuck you.” Another grab and another evasion.

“Nope. I’d remember if it was me.” He could see Aya’s teeth as the younger man’s lip drew back in anger. Yohji thought he might get bitten, which, of course, led him to think about other people getting bitten.

“Did you go down on her? Was it all kinky and shit? I bet you’re all into bondage…did you bite her?”

“Kudou!”

“Was she good, Ayan? More importantly, were you?”

The car swerved wildly. Yohji made an impulsive grab for the handle above the door, and suddenly found himself divested of his prize. As the vehicle straightened, Aya yanked it from his hand and tossed it furiously out the window. His breath was heavy with anger, the only sound above the wind rushing by the car.

Until Yohji spoke.

“Uh, Aya…did she come?”

Yohji’s head connected soundly with the window and for a second he thought Aya had hit him. Instead, he realized, the Porsche had been whipped into a hard right turn just in time to make an exit. The tires squealed as Aya brought them into a parking spot in front of a questionable looking gas station.

Aya slammed his door, hard, as he got out and stomped away.

“Bastard,” Yohji complained, rubbing the side of his head as he too climbed from the car.

An older man watched from the dirty windows as the lanky blonde leaned against the Porsche and smoked, laughing quietly the entire time.

~tbc~


Author’s Note: Well, well? *looks anxiously at readers*