Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Our Kitten ❯ Finding Out ( Chapter 11 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Miko No Hoshi 
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 11.27.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 295 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 11.27.2011 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 295 | Status: Work In Progress
Our Kitten
Chapter Eleven: Finding Out
Carefully, Yohji folded down the corner of the crisp, glossy page.
Then, for a long time, he sat and stared at the entry. Blindly grabbing his cigarettes from the nightstand, he lit one, placed it between his lips, and stared at the page some more.
He’d read the whole book, and there was only one flower name that presented a remote possibility.
Meli. Melian. Melianthus.
It was the latin name, an obscure fact that would undoubtedly appeal to Aya’s elite sensibilities, and a reference that someone, namely Yohji, was not likely to stumble upon.
But he had—stumbling meaning, of course, intensive investigation that Aya ought to have known the blonde would conduct—and Yohji couldn’t be more happy. Fucking thrilled was closer.
But he had to be careful, because he might be wrong. The evidence was on his side: his own suggestion for the name to reference the two of them, Aya’s hesitation and refusal to tell him what it meant, the younger man’s reaction to their kiss, his drunken rambling on flowers and that scared response to leaning he had said something. Aya had done it on impulse, and he was scared shitless that Yohji would find out.
Now he knew. Maybe. His gut told him it was true, but he took a moment to consider that perhaps his dick had overwhelmed the normally attentive sense of intuition. He didn’t think so; it just happened that both were rather excited by the possibilities that had suddenly opened up.
Thinking back through the past weeks, Yohji became more and more sure he was on the right track.
Momentarily considering something else Aya had said, he flipped quickly to look up geraniums. The meaning of gentility and esteem threw him momentarily, and he chewed on the filter of his smoke for second before a subcategory enlightened him. He had thought Aya’s mention of ‘fish’ referred to a pet, but no so. Aya wasn’t that simple. The fish was a type of geranium, and it fit nicely into the plot Yohji was hashing out: disappointed expectation.
Now, if he could only get Aya to act on the expectation. The only way to do that, Yohji thought, was to get the man to realize that his feelings were returned. But, Aya had picked Meli for a reason, and it wouldn’t be easy, because the redhead was beyond reticent about that kind of thing. After all, he had picked the honey flower for a reason.
~*~
Yohji was not a patient person. He was a man of instant gratification and would do just about anything to achieve that. So, like with so many of his well-laid plans, Yohji found himself jumping in headfirst and hoping his safety net held.
“Aya!”
Standing at the register, Yohji suppressed a smile. Though deliberately provoking a rather temperamental man shouldn’t be funny, it, for some inexplicable reason, really was. It could be that for once he actually had the upper hand. The logical part of his brain whispered that this idea was dangerously delusional, but he chose to ignore that.
“Aya!” he yelled again.
“Stop yelling,” Ken complained as he walked over. “He’s in the back room; go get him.”
Ignoring that sage advice, Yohji simply yelled the redhead’s name for a third time. Ken just shook his head.
“What?!” Aya snapped, coming out of the storage room with a glare and a pot full of sick daisies. His green apron was dusted down the front with potting soil, hinting that he had been trying to revive the plant with new dirt.
“I can’t find the flower index.”
“Hn,” Aya answered, turning away to set down his burden. To anyone else, it would have read as complete disinterest, but Yohji was not so easily fooled.
“Did you move it, Ken?” he questioned.
“Huh? No. I don’t do those kinds of arrangements,” the brunette defended with an anxious glance towards Aya. No doubt he was thinking that their leader was going to flip a lid if his list was missing and wanted to mark his name off the list of suspects ASAP.
Studiously hovering over his daisies, Aya didn’t comment.
“Did you move it, Aya?”
“What do you need it for?” the redhead asked, turning back to face him. Ah, question for question, a technique Aya often used to deflect scrutiny. But now Yohji was prepared.
“Mika-san called. She wants a special order and I need it.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Nah. I owe her for…well, I owe her.”
A raised eyebrow.
“Look, it’s special,” Yohji said with pretended reluctance. “She’s had a crush on this guy forever, and she’s finally gonna tell him.”
“With flowers?” Aya sounded dubious.
Again, Yohji was prepared. He hadn’t spent all of three hours planning this for nothing.
“He’s an art student. They use that flower language stuff in a lot of paintings. He’ll know.”
“They don’t,” Aya replied, suddenly engaged in the conversation. For the first time, Yohji felt like he had the man’s full attention. Funny how odd subjects could interest him. “Not anymore. Pre-Raphaelites, maybe, but modern art doesn’t.”
Okay, that was beyond him. Yohji decided to wing it.
“That’s what he studies. Old stuff. So, you know, it’s kind of perfect.”
There was a pause, then a slight nod.
“What does she want to say?”
“That she loves him,” Yohji replied. “Kind of a confession. But she wants something different, not just roses. She doesn’t want it to be that obvious. So I need the index, unless you want to help me.”
Aya, it seemed, did not want to help him. There was no eager leap at his offer.
“C’mon. Either help me pick the flowers or help me look for the book,” he bargained.
“I need to clean the cooler.”
“Ken’ll do it.”
“He will?” Ken returned.
“He will,” Yohji assured, “Unless he wants to talk about those daisies.”
Ken did not want to talk about the daisies.
~*~
Yohji smoothed down his hair. He could feel it frizzing in the humidity of the greenhouse. Damn, he hated that.
He had followed Aya out there after insisting that none of the shop flowers would do. No, roses were definitely out, yes, even the pretty Primrose that Aya thought was suitable. The Aster was too pink. The pink zinnia, also too pink. The red Camellia was too sexy, and the red Chrysanthemum too predictable.
So, having exhausted the cooler, they had come out to the greenhouse. Yohji didn’t visit it often, ever, really. It wasn’t so much a personal choice as a direct threat that kept him away. The greenhouse was Aya’s territory; he spent hours there, fussing over an array of plants that surprised the blonde. He wouldn’t know what to do with half of them.
Thankfully, Aya seemed, temporarily at least, willing to be his guide. Somehow the redhead had found himself engaged in the pretend project Yohji had invented. If this thing didn’t turn out, he might have to get one of his friends to come pick up the bouquet.
“Mistletoe’s out of season,” Aya mumbled, mostly to himself, as he walked along the length of one of the long tables. It was heavily laden with green, growing things. Yohji followed, careful not to touch anything.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking a plant at random. It was big and had heart-shaped leaves.
“No,” Aya said simply. “Here. It’s gloxinia. Love at first sight.”
No, Yohji shook his head. Aya put the plant down and continued on as the blonde explained.
“She wants something…dramatic. You know, it’s a big secret and all.”
“Acacia,” Aya replied, turning to face him, “secret love.”
“Uh, yeah, that’d work. Anything else mean that?”
There it was, the first telltale sign of nervousness; purple eyes fled from his and Aya began to pick at the leaf of a nearby plant.
“No,” he said.
“Really?” Yohji pressed, taking a step towards him. He watched Aya chew on his bottom lip. “What about returned love, you know, like, if she wanted to put that in?”
“Returned…” Aya trailed off, studying him now, his face a strange mix of confusion and wariness.
“Yeah,” Yohji said, just as quietly. Another step brought him directly into Aya’s personal space, and , seeing as how he was in too deep to brush it off at this point, he went for it. He lifted a hand and brushed back Aya’s hair. It was a simple gesture, but nothing like it had ever passed between them.
Yohji saw it, the very moment Aya really knew what was going on. It was marked by a widening of eyes and a sharp intake of breath.
“I thought,” the blonde spoke softly, fingers lingering around Aya’s face, fingertips just brushing the soft skin of one cheek. “Maybe some Jonquil for that.”
Aya continued to stare at him, the wide-eyed expression seemingly frozen on his face.
“And, maybe for the secret,” he smiled, “honey flower. Do you like that, Aya?”
He waited, fingers hovering over Aya’s cheek as Yohji watched, fascinated, as pale skin flushed pink.
“I…I…”
“Aya!” Ken suddenly yelled from the door, causing the swordsman to jump and pull away from Yohji’s touch.
“Shit,” Yohji swore, turning to glare at Ken.
The brunette stood in the doorway, clearly too intimidated to come any further. In his hand, held by the scruff of her neck, was Meli.
“Here,” Ken said gruffly, “I think this is yours.”
Glare instantly in place, Aya pushed past Yohji. Stalking over to Ken Aya quickly divested him of the kitten, cradling her against his apron as he demanded to know what the hell the other was doing to her.
“I didn’t do anything!” Ken protested, “Omi came to the shop and I went upstairs and found that sleeping on my new jersy! And she pooped on my floor!”
Well, how damn romantic this was turning out to be. Yohji sighed, propping himself against the wooden table and despairing of reclaiming the moment. He watched the scene in front of him. Clearly Ken expected an apology, but, as was painfully obvious to a disgruntled Yohji, the man was barking up the wrong tree.
“Don’t touch her,” Aya snapped at him.
“She was in my freaking room!”
“Hn.”
“Keep her in your room Aya or I’ll—”
“What?” Aya cut him off, taking a step closer. Yohji was glad he was holding the kitten, because otherwise Ken would be in serious danger of being punched.
“I…I…damnit, Aya, it’s my room!”
“Don’t. Touch. Her.”
The tone was chilling, and, after a tense moment, Ken caved. Yohji didn’t blame him.
“Okay. Geeze. Alright, I won’t,” he convinced, backing up against the doorframe. “Sorry.”
“Hn,” Aya replied. He drew Meli a bit closer, then, with a glance in Yohji’s direction, left.
Yohji did not feel confident. There was a lot in the look, but mostly it was trepidation. Of all the feelings he had hoped to inspire in Aya, that was not one of them. Hell, maybe he should have gone with plan B, showing up naked with a honey flower between his teeth.
Yeah, definitely should have gone for plan B.
~tbc~
Notes: Aw, Yohji needs more encouragement, or at least a new plan. Review to help him out!
^.^
Converting /tmp/phpMLCzKO to /dev/stdout
Chapter Eleven: Finding Out
Carefully, Yohji folded down the corner of the crisp, glossy page.
Then, for a long time, he sat and stared at the entry. Blindly grabbing his cigarettes from the nightstand, he lit one, placed it between his lips, and stared at the page some more.
He’d read the whole book, and there was only one flower name that presented a remote possibility.
Meli. Melian. Melianthus.
It was the latin name, an obscure fact that would undoubtedly appeal to Aya’s elite sensibilities, and a reference that someone, namely Yohji, was not likely to stumble upon.
But he had—stumbling meaning, of course, intensive investigation that Aya ought to have known the blonde would conduct—and Yohji couldn’t be more happy. Fucking thrilled was closer.
But he had to be careful, because he might be wrong. The evidence was on his side: his own suggestion for the name to reference the two of them, Aya’s hesitation and refusal to tell him what it meant, the younger man’s reaction to their kiss, his drunken rambling on flowers and that scared response to leaning he had said something. Aya had done it on impulse, and he was scared shitless that Yohji would find out.
Now he knew. Maybe. His gut told him it was true, but he took a moment to consider that perhaps his dick had overwhelmed the normally attentive sense of intuition. He didn’t think so; it just happened that both were rather excited by the possibilities that had suddenly opened up.
Thinking back through the past weeks, Yohji became more and more sure he was on the right track.
Momentarily considering something else Aya had said, he flipped quickly to look up geraniums. The meaning of gentility and esteem threw him momentarily, and he chewed on the filter of his smoke for second before a subcategory enlightened him. He had thought Aya’s mention of ‘fish’ referred to a pet, but no so. Aya wasn’t that simple. The fish was a type of geranium, and it fit nicely into the plot Yohji was hashing out: disappointed expectation.
Now, if he could only get Aya to act on the expectation. The only way to do that, Yohji thought, was to get the man to realize that his feelings were returned. But, Aya had picked Meli for a reason, and it wouldn’t be easy, because the redhead was beyond reticent about that kind of thing. After all, he had picked the honey flower for a reason.
~*~
Yohji was not a patient person. He was a man of instant gratification and would do just about anything to achieve that. So, like with so many of his well-laid plans, Yohji found himself jumping in headfirst and hoping his safety net held.
“Aya!”
Standing at the register, Yohji suppressed a smile. Though deliberately provoking a rather temperamental man shouldn’t be funny, it, for some inexplicable reason, really was. It could be that for once he actually had the upper hand. The logical part of his brain whispered that this idea was dangerously delusional, but he chose to ignore that.
“Aya!” he yelled again.
“Stop yelling,” Ken complained as he walked over. “He’s in the back room; go get him.”
Ignoring that sage advice, Yohji simply yelled the redhead’s name for a third time. Ken just shook his head.
“What?!” Aya snapped, coming out of the storage room with a glare and a pot full of sick daisies. His green apron was dusted down the front with potting soil, hinting that he had been trying to revive the plant with new dirt.
“I can’t find the flower index.”
“Hn,” Aya answered, turning away to set down his burden. To anyone else, it would have read as complete disinterest, but Yohji was not so easily fooled.
“Did you move it, Ken?” he questioned.
“Huh? No. I don’t do those kinds of arrangements,” the brunette defended with an anxious glance towards Aya. No doubt he was thinking that their leader was going to flip a lid if his list was missing and wanted to mark his name off the list of suspects ASAP.
Studiously hovering over his daisies, Aya didn’t comment.
“Did you move it, Aya?”
“What do you need it for?” the redhead asked, turning back to face him. Ah, question for question, a technique Aya often used to deflect scrutiny. But now Yohji was prepared.
“Mika-san called. She wants a special order and I need it.”
“I’ll do it.”
“Nah. I owe her for…well, I owe her.”
A raised eyebrow.
“Look, it’s special,” Yohji said with pretended reluctance. “She’s had a crush on this guy forever, and she’s finally gonna tell him.”
“With flowers?” Aya sounded dubious.
Again, Yohji was prepared. He hadn’t spent all of three hours planning this for nothing.
“He’s an art student. They use that flower language stuff in a lot of paintings. He’ll know.”
“They don’t,” Aya replied, suddenly engaged in the conversation. For the first time, Yohji felt like he had the man’s full attention. Funny how odd subjects could interest him. “Not anymore. Pre-Raphaelites, maybe, but modern art doesn’t.”
Okay, that was beyond him. Yohji decided to wing it.
“That’s what he studies. Old stuff. So, you know, it’s kind of perfect.”
There was a pause, then a slight nod.
“What does she want to say?”
“That she loves him,” Yohji replied. “Kind of a confession. But she wants something different, not just roses. She doesn’t want it to be that obvious. So I need the index, unless you want to help me.”
Aya, it seemed, did not want to help him. There was no eager leap at his offer.
“C’mon. Either help me pick the flowers or help me look for the book,” he bargained.
“I need to clean the cooler.”
“Ken’ll do it.”
“He will?” Ken returned.
“He will,” Yohji assured, “Unless he wants to talk about those daisies.”
Ken did not want to talk about the daisies.
~*~
Yohji smoothed down his hair. He could feel it frizzing in the humidity of the greenhouse. Damn, he hated that.
He had followed Aya out there after insisting that none of the shop flowers would do. No, roses were definitely out, yes, even the pretty Primrose that Aya thought was suitable. The Aster was too pink. The pink zinnia, also too pink. The red Camellia was too sexy, and the red Chrysanthemum too predictable.
So, having exhausted the cooler, they had come out to the greenhouse. Yohji didn’t visit it often, ever, really. It wasn’t so much a personal choice as a direct threat that kept him away. The greenhouse was Aya’s territory; he spent hours there, fussing over an array of plants that surprised the blonde. He wouldn’t know what to do with half of them.
Thankfully, Aya seemed, temporarily at least, willing to be his guide. Somehow the redhead had found himself engaged in the pretend project Yohji had invented. If this thing didn’t turn out, he might have to get one of his friends to come pick up the bouquet.
“Mistletoe’s out of season,” Aya mumbled, mostly to himself, as he walked along the length of one of the long tables. It was heavily laden with green, growing things. Yohji followed, careful not to touch anything.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking a plant at random. It was big and had heart-shaped leaves.
“No,” Aya said simply. “Here. It’s gloxinia. Love at first sight.”
No, Yohji shook his head. Aya put the plant down and continued on as the blonde explained.
“She wants something…dramatic. You know, it’s a big secret and all.”
“Acacia,” Aya replied, turning to face him, “secret love.”
“Uh, yeah, that’d work. Anything else mean that?”
There it was, the first telltale sign of nervousness; purple eyes fled from his and Aya began to pick at the leaf of a nearby plant.
“No,” he said.
“Really?” Yohji pressed, taking a step towards him. He watched Aya chew on his bottom lip. “What about returned love, you know, like, if she wanted to put that in?”
“Returned…” Aya trailed off, studying him now, his face a strange mix of confusion and wariness.
“Yeah,” Yohji said, just as quietly. Another step brought him directly into Aya’s personal space, and , seeing as how he was in too deep to brush it off at this point, he went for it. He lifted a hand and brushed back Aya’s hair. It was a simple gesture, but nothing like it had ever passed between them.
Yohji saw it, the very moment Aya really knew what was going on. It was marked by a widening of eyes and a sharp intake of breath.
“I thought,” the blonde spoke softly, fingers lingering around Aya’s face, fingertips just brushing the soft skin of one cheek. “Maybe some Jonquil for that.”
Aya continued to stare at him, the wide-eyed expression seemingly frozen on his face.
“And, maybe for the secret,” he smiled, “honey flower. Do you like that, Aya?”
He waited, fingers hovering over Aya’s cheek as Yohji watched, fascinated, as pale skin flushed pink.
“I…I…”
“Aya!” Ken suddenly yelled from the door, causing the swordsman to jump and pull away from Yohji’s touch.
“Shit,” Yohji swore, turning to glare at Ken.
The brunette stood in the doorway, clearly too intimidated to come any further. In his hand, held by the scruff of her neck, was Meli.
“Here,” Ken said gruffly, “I think this is yours.”
Glare instantly in place, Aya pushed past Yohji. Stalking over to Ken Aya quickly divested him of the kitten, cradling her against his apron as he demanded to know what the hell the other was doing to her.
“I didn’t do anything!” Ken protested, “Omi came to the shop and I went upstairs and found that sleeping on my new jersy! And she pooped on my floor!”
Well, how damn romantic this was turning out to be. Yohji sighed, propping himself against the wooden table and despairing of reclaiming the moment. He watched the scene in front of him. Clearly Ken expected an apology, but, as was painfully obvious to a disgruntled Yohji, the man was barking up the wrong tree.
“Don’t touch her,” Aya snapped at him.
“She was in my freaking room!”
“Hn.”
“Keep her in your room Aya or I’ll—”
“What?” Aya cut him off, taking a step closer. Yohji was glad he was holding the kitten, because otherwise Ken would be in serious danger of being punched.
“I…I…damnit, Aya, it’s my room!”
“Don’t. Touch. Her.”
The tone was chilling, and, after a tense moment, Ken caved. Yohji didn’t blame him.
“Okay. Geeze. Alright, I won’t,” he convinced, backing up against the doorframe. “Sorry.”
“Hn,” Aya replied. He drew Meli a bit closer, then, with a glance in Yohji’s direction, left.
Yohji did not feel confident. There was a lot in the look, but mostly it was trepidation. Of all the feelings he had hoped to inspire in Aya, that was not one of them. Hell, maybe he should have gone with plan B, showing up naked with a honey flower between his teeth.
Yeah, definitely should have gone for plan B.
~tbc~
Notes: Aw, Yohji needs more encouragement, or at least a new plan. Review to help him out!
^.^
Converting /tmp/phpMLCzKO to /dev/stdout