Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Operation pet Ayan ❯ Operation pet Ayan ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Operation: Pet AYAN

Author: Lilla.

Category: Omake/AU

Warnings: R

Pairings: Make an educated guess!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Weiss/Schwarz boys! Can I borrow them? Please?!!!!

I am just playing with them, OK? I won't ruin them… much. Come on it's just for a `good' laugh…

Author's Note: OK, time for some additional warnings.

Beware there be shonen-ai. Shonen ai as in guy is love with other guys. Also language may be used which is not wholesome/English. So if you are too young or don't like same sex relationships, don't read!

 

For Mac Lynn!

 

Many thanks to Nekojita for the beta reading!

 

Operation: Pet AYAN.

 

 

The first sign heralding the End of the World came on a sunny Sunday morning of an otherwise unremarkable summer day.

 

At precisely 6:30 am, Kudoh Yohji woke up without any external assistance. OK, with only minimal external assistance (we are only talking of the End of the World, not impossible miracles on a universal scale, after all).

 

At the 55th ring of his main alarm, after 44 rings of his secondary alarm, 33 of his tertiary, 22 of an alarm he had purloined from Omi's room (the boy could sleep through an air raid and had multiple waking-up aids), eleven of an alarm which had been bought recently, and as Ken's stolen alarm gave its first 101dB first ring, Yohji opened his eyes and turned each alarm off with calculated flicks of his wire.

 

The entire neighbourhood gave a sigh of appreciation for the newfound calm and the police department stopped getting calls to come and kill the psycho organising an alarm clock concert.

 

Even more incredible, with no further manual or elemental assistance, Yohji got out of bed. This may not seem extraordinary; it has to be stressed that only eight buckets of cold water or a fire set in his bedding were capable of getting Balinese out of bed on a Sunday, as verified experimentally by the Weiss boys over three years. The coupled efforts of all of Yohji's team-mates in conjunction with Omi's boyfriend's telekinesis had also been known to occasionally work. Unfortunately, none of the above mentioned methods could be applied on this particular Sunday as all above mentioned people were out to watch a soccer match on a giant screen.

 

This contradiction of all physical laws having been achieved, an apple decided to fall towards the sky in California ensuring that a Physics student, who had been about to fail his gravitation exam due to a tiny error sign, got top marks. But this, of course, is another story…

 

Having gotten up at such an ungodly hour, Yohji compounded this terrible sin by getting showered and dressed in less than 45 minutes (a world record) without looking once in the mirror.

 

The mirror, shocked by such profound lack of consideration, briefly considered the possibility of relocating to the Bahamas. Only to come to the conclusion that he would never find someone else who would love, cherish and compliment `it' as much as Yohji did; so it stayed put.

 

After such an incredible exploit, the like of which would be traversing Paris in a taxi without giving a tip to the driver, Yohji walked downstairs and not only went past the kitchen without getting his daily dose of caffeine but continued on to the shop.

 

Had the plants and flowers been gifted with mouths or vocal chords, the shop would have undoubtedly echoed with a very surprised gasp, as it was a faint rustling was heard. Totally oblivious, Yohji made his way into the hothouse and closed the door behind himself softly.

 

A yell worthy of Tarzan was then heard up to a distance of a couple of km. The residents of the surrounding district were rudely awakened for the second time that morning. But since the sound tapered away quickly, they promptly went back to sleep. In a zoo not far away from the shop, a few stampedes were started as the head chimpanzee lobbied to organise a revolt to go to help his `brother'.

 

A few seconds afterwards, a vividly cursing Yohji came out of the hothouse holding cautiously a bunch of red roses with an extra long stem and very pointy thorns.

 

Having a much too high level of blood in his caffeine system, the poor man had grabbed the roses without taking the due precautions. Much as the Weiss boy who liked them best, the roses punished the unwary who dared to touch them.

 

Our hero then made his way back to the kitchen, where he proceeded to artistically arrange the flowers in a crystal vase bought to specification on Aya's ideal vase, which had been extorted during a common shift. The rose arranged with only minimal blood loss, Yohji set them on the table and went to the fridge. Said implement looked askance at the stranger who had never, in his three years of permanence in the house, ever needed to open the door himself. One simpleton of a soccer fanatic was only too easy to trick into doing all the cooking, fetching and carrying for Yohji, after all.

 

The fact that Yohji was a gourmet chef had never once been enough to motivate him to cook for his companions before. So, conscious that cooking something now would result in the end of his tranquil home tasks-free life, Yohji hesitated. Steeling himself to face the upcoming hardship, our courageous blond opened the fridge door. He got out the ingredients for chicken curry that he had tricked Omi into buying.

 

A couple of hours later, as the sun seriously considered turning around to go set in the east to commemorate Yohji's first voluntary work day in ages, the blond set the cooked chicken on six plates. One plate with a thin red stripe was garnished with an intricate spice mix.

 

Then Yohji, with a somewhat maniac glimmer in his eyes, made his way down to the garage, where he proceeded to carry upstairs a package of six heavy Evian bottles. Only one person drank that shit in the house and that was one horribly anal retentive redheaded menace. The bottles, completely unaware of the honour Yohji did them by carrying them upstairs himself, were utterly unmoved by the chain-smoker's grunts and pants during their trip to their doom.

 

When the bottles were finally set down on the kitchen floor, a seriously out of shape and decaffeinated blond briefly considered the possibility of dying where he stood. But one moral imperative, the success of his self-imposed mission, kept him amongst the living.

 

After a good half hour of puffing, Yohji, equipped with a large metal needle and a bottle of the best Russian vodka he could find, was in front of the sink with a water bottle in his hand.

 

A few minutes, one pricked finger and one subsequent Tarzan yell afterwards, found the intrepid and dedicated-to-the-mission hero braving the interior of Omi's geeky room; the bottle, now enveloped in a towel, still in his hand.

 

In the meantime, in a zoo not so far away, the chimpanzee got the directive committee of the zoo animals to agree to the `locate and extract' mission. Escape from the zoo was quickly organised with the help of the air (aviary) division.

 

Half an hour later, fingers now also marked by the improper usage of a soldering iron, our hero exited Omi's lair, clearing his somewhat sore throat. Yohji briefly considered that maybe he should stop shouting; it would be a crime to ruin a voice such as his, even is it was for a good cause.

 

After setting the table and adding the rose centrepiece, a very fatigued Yohji finally sat down to wait. It didn't take long for his ears to recognise the sound of Ken's bike skidding to a stop well past the garage entrance.

 

Indeed, a couple of minutes afterwards a cheery and excited Ken entered the kitchen while embracing his orange haired psychotic lover, the both of them singing the German anthem at full blast. Given the vocal aptitude of both men, Yohji considered the possibility of perforating his ear drums before he heard the dulcet tones of his beloved Ayan who, even more importantly, stopped the irritating duo from continuing their concert.

 

They were promptly joined by the Siamese ensemble consisting of Omi and his beloved Nagi. While everybody looked uncertainly to the set table, wondering about the possibility of soccer induced mass hallucination and an oblivious Ken kept up a totally unintelligible recounting of the third place final, Yohji went to the counter to get the food.

 

Adroitly helped by incipient exhaustion, our hero managed to keep the ribbing his team-mates gave him for FINALLY cooking to a minimum. After a couple spoonfuls of the rich, succulent chicken, the blond seriously considered the possibility of relocating to the North Pole for the next few centuries as Omi and Aya both skewered him with a gaze promising pain, and lots of it, for his deceitful hiding of his culinary talents once the guests went back home.

 

While Ken kept up his recounting, totally ignoring Schuldig's attempt at preventing him from making a chicken curry mess of his shirt, Yohji used his time to make conversation with Aya by describing a book he had lately read and which was very nice indeed. Terribly boring actually, but Aya's favourite book was a masterpiece to be suffered through for future reference.

 

Hearing his sister's favourite book praised to the sky, Aya, who didn't like it all that much himself, still unbent enough to stop frowning and to let Yohji serve him some of his favourite water, which had somehow been brought up from the garage where the redhead had left it the evening before.

 

Pleasantly surprised by such thoughtfulness, Aya reconsidered the possibility of forgiving the blond chain-smoker for hiding his culinary skills and leaving them to suffer through Ken's poisoning attempts twice a week, then decided that it was too little too late.

 

So while mentally sharpening his katana, the swordsman kept drinking the fresh and somewhat more textured than usual water with an ear to Yohji's blathering about Narnia.

 

In the meantime, a still overexcited Ken had licked his plate clean and gone in search of more FOOD. Having found Aya's plate still somewhat full, the soccer fanatic had decided that it was the only friendly thing to do, really, to try and help the poor dear finish his portion of the chicken.

 

Having helped himself to the somewhat spicier chicken on Aya's dish, Ken felt the need for a cool fresh drink. His Gatorade being finished and Schuldig's beer having been lifted out of his reach by the German as soon as the impulse to grab it was registered, Ken was left with no other recourse than drinking Aya's water. It tasted better than usual, which made Ken conclude that a nation which had a team in the World Cup Final actually had to produce good water to commemorate the event.

 

Yohji, having gotten up to get the present for Aya's birthday, was completely oblivious to these happenings. A couple of glasses later and Ken was feeling much better. Yohji came back with a wrapped jewellery box and handed it to a somewhat mollified Aya who surprised everybody by smiling, thanking Yohji for the gift and declaring he wanted to be called Ayan by his dearest, dearest friends.

 

Ayan tore into the package and after seeing the beautiful ankh cross Yohji had gifted him with, sniffed and started to cry that Yotan was way too kind and sweet and huggable. Yohji was all too happy and ready to indulge Ayan's request.

 

Then Armageddon happened. Ken's thinking processor, which had last seen action sometime in his first grade, when the soccer fanatic had learned to write, was promptly switched on. It sputtered, fizzed, gave off a couple of sparks and in its two microseconds of calculating time before burning out, processed the data at hand. `Yohji is trying to get in AYAN's pants!' exclaimed Ken loudly just as the temperature inside his head reached critical value, due to all that effort, and all cerebral activity was promptly frozen. Once the system reboot was finally completed, the processed data was unfortunately no longer available, and as Ken's processor after being thus abused went promptly on strike, the poor boy remained as clueless as ever.

This was not an altogether bad thing since those few seconds of activity had been enough to cause World War III and IV in the one go.

 

A very drunk but still mobile Ayan had quite a lot to say about such a pronouncement, and while Yohji and Omi were still in shock at hearing such a pronouncement from the man they had privately and separately dubbed jellyfish-brain, the redhead threw himself at the older blonde.

 

While the Schwartz boys decided that caution was the better part of valour and retreated to their lair carrying the, to all purposes, brain-dead Ken with them, Ayan's yelling followed them down the stairs.

 

The exclamation, `You can't have my pants, you perverted thief, they would never fit you. You are too tall… and… and BIG,' made both remaining blonds think that they might be slipping down a rabbit hole into a parallel dimension. The fact that the redhead then proceeded to demonstrate his point with a grab at crotch level did nothing to dispel such a notion from Omi's mind.

 

Yohji's mind, in the meantime, had taken a vacation leaving the field free for pain receptors to duke it out with the perverted pineal gland, whose reaction, before the hordes of the pain receptors bludgeoned it into submission, was something along the lines of, `cool, we are finally getting somewhere.'

 

Unfortunately, Yohji's vocal chords decided that, before their death due to the mangling of what to all practical extent was the blond's mind, they should have their last Tarzan trill.

 

As the blond fell down in a few centimetre square huddle on the floor, the sound of a stampede was heard. A few seconds afterwards, a commando unit composed of a chimpanzee, a zebra, several cormorants, a lion and two penguins had secured the apartment.

 

Ayan had also fallen down, in an alcohol induced faint, so only poor Omi was left to defend the white hunters of darkness. However, before the animals could realise that the call hadn't come from the chimpanzee's beloved brother and punish the simulator, a second ominous stampeding noise was heard.

 

Shortly thereafter, a few hundreds of citizens armed with pitchforks, vacuum cleaners, food processors and other assorted house appliances, headed by a voodoo doll carrying, white haired psycho with an eye-patch, had also stormed the shop and gained entrance to the apartment.

 

A few hundred decibel shout of `Thou shalt NOT wake up people repeatedly on a Sunday morning!!!' was uttered by the assembled citizens of Tokyo. The animal task force reasonably perturbed by the noise decided on a strategic retreat. The lynch mob luckily decided to follow after them considering them likely disturbers of the quiet, mostly because those yells which had resounded during the whole of the morning had nothing human in them.

 

Then the two squads stampeded one after the other through the main wall, causing the apartment building to partially collapse. Luckily, Omi, who was in their exit path, was whisked off to safety by his adroit and gifted partner.

 

In the meantime, Yohji had finally managed to talk his abdominal muscles into relaxing partially and had therefore succeeded in bringing one hand up to quietly and quickly pet a dead drunk Ayan on the head. With the words, `mission accomplished' on his lips, the blond chain-smoker finally fell deservedly asleep.

 

Aya smiled.

 

 

Author Note: I may have read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy a couple hundreds time too many. Also THIS was supposed to be SHORT!!! It was also supposed to be funny instead it is pretty much stupid… oh well this is the best I can do; let me blame the toothache for this!