Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Shaking the Foundation ❯ Part I ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I have no ownership of the characters in the story that follows. I'm not making any money for this work of fanfiction. Male/male sexual interaction follows as part of the story. If you are not of the legal age to read adult material, then stop right here and read no further.

Pairing: Yohji x Aya/Ran
Warnings: Yaoi, Language, Bondage

It had been a really, really, really long night.

Yohji didn't want to think as his head hit the pillow, even though he knew that sleep wouldn't be coming for some time. He really needed to wind down after that mission. He needed solace from the torment his bloodied hands continually visited upon him.

He could hear the others padding around in various places. Ken's steps were sure. He was most definitely on his way to the shower, to get whatever bloody spatters free from various patches of skin they'd infested. Poor Ken, who was getting less and less stable after each and every mission.

Omi's little fingers were tacking away at his keyboard - typing up the mission report, most likely. That boy spent nearly one-third of his life on that computer. The other two were divided equally between the Koneko and assassin life. Not the type of living Yohji would wish on the boy. Omi's life should be filled with laughter and fun and girls (or boys, he added as a side note).

Then… there was Aya.

He could hear the mutterings across the hall, before they were obliterated by the sound of Ken's shower. Self-depreciation. Aya seemed to be full of that. He was never satisfied with his competence. A pity, really. He was one of the best in the group (along with Yohji, of course).

It was springtime. There should have been more laughter in the house. Yohji lamented it with a soft sigh. Spring meant change and, while his body was doing its chameleon bit, that was the fine line. His inner demons didn't change whatsoever…

His mahogany hair was starting to get the highlight streaks of blond through it. By June, his hair would be a glorious dark honey golden color. At that time, his skin would be a golden tan as well. It was all cosmetic, though - completely superficial.

Nothing else about Yohji would change.

The others were changing, though. Because of Aya. His attitudes. His anger. His hatred of Reiji Takatori. Aya Fujimiya was spinning out of control. He couldn't even keep himself from snapping at Omi in the mornings, when the boy would cheerfully greet them.

Poor kid.

Now, his greetings were kind of lax. As if he had no real reason for smiling at them. Yohji regretted the part he played in it, but the other two seemed unphased by the chain of events. The blond youth was starting to sleep later, too. Not a good sign at all.

Something had to be done.

The shower had cut off, but Aya's whispered words of self-flaggelation hadn't. That young man needed a clue. Something to dramatically change his outlook on things. He had no one to call his own, save for that comatose sister, and Yohji doubted *that* was helping bolster the youth's lagging sanity.

He turned things over in his head, trying to get a handle on them, figure out how to straighten out the mess the team was starting to become. While Yohji Kudou wasn't the most brilliant of thinkers, he could come up with a good idea once in a while. Sometimes, it took a little time, but he did get the job done when he set about to do it right.

He would have to shake the very foundation that Aya stood on. Rip away the multitude of barriers one intangible veneer at a time. But… "How to do that," Yohji mused to himself, "How do I break him down without destroying him?"

For once, it had been a *productive* day.

Yohji had spent the day at one of the local colleges, talking with an old friend about his problem. She was majoring in psychology, so she had a really good insight with what he should do. While the blond, lithe assassin would have to get over a few hang-ups, he'd force Aya to get over some of his own.

He could do that if it meant bringing harmony back to the team. Lately, they hadn't been worth a shit. Even Persia was beginning to notice. Not good. Not good at all.

Going through the living room, he passed by Ken while the latter was watching the latest soccer game. The youth's foot twitched every time the ball was shunted from man to man. Remnants from his days back on the J-League team. Yohji felt genuine sympathy for Ken. To have one of the two things he loved most ripped away from him without even so much as a warning…

That would be intolerable for Yohji. What if he suddenly lost Seven? Or was forced to drop his smoking habit? Or give up clubbing and cruising?

The last thought caught him. He *was* going to have to give up the last two things. It was fundamental for him if this strange plan involving Aya was going to work. In order for this crazy scheme to see a decent ending, he was going to have to be someone that wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

He went upstairs to his room and dropped the file folder on his bed before turning to the closet. One last night for himself. That asshole, deranged, slowly-dying-inside, unearthly beautiful jerk in the nearest room had better appreciate this. Yohji was giving up an essential part of himself for him. For Omi. For Ken.

Oh, well… The other two need never know.

Let Aya think it was all for him - Yohji simply didn't care at the moment as he shrugged out of his black turtleneck. It was one of the few tops he had that actually covered *all* his upper body. He didn't wear those often. He pulled a mesh top from his rack of clothes and dragged it over his head, hissing a bit as it glided over his sensitive nipples.

By the time he'd managed to get it righted just under the line of his ribcage, he was nearly panting for breath. God, but he loved that. That shirt could, without fail, put him in the right mood for clubbing. The lack of sleeves just meant that he would have to find something else to cover his arms. No problem.

One of his long fingered, graceful hands reached up, over his head where the shelves were and pulled down two long pieces of cloth. Upon initial examination, they looked to be a pair of spandex gloves with rings in one end. Yohji slipped the first one down his arm, fitting his middle finger into the circle and sliding it down, until it was snugly secure. He surveyed the effect.

God, if he'd been a narcissist, the blond assassin would be ready to take *himself* for a toss…

With a smile, Yohji drew the other one down in a similar manner. These were the kinds of clothes that made it all worthwhile. He loved showing off the body he'd worked so hard to develop over the last several years after Asuka died. His good looks made it so easy to get what he needed to help forget about the kind of life he'd led since then.

He just hoped that, when it came to Aya, those looks would help.

If things did go the way he was going to try to force them to, Yohji wondered what it would be like to have that kind of life. He'd been a single cruiser for so long, he'd never really put all *that* much thought into what a relationship would be like. In a sense, that was the direction he was going to push the redhead. He had to, for all their sakes.

He stripped out of his slacks and took a pair of leather jeans from the closet. These rode so low on his hips, one could almost see the beginnings of the patch of hair that surrounded his mostly limp organ. This outfit almost always got him laid. He needed that. One last time of choosing a nameless partner for mutual gratification.

His emerald eyes flicked to the file folder on the bed and, almost without realizing it, picked it up and thumbed it open. Inside were details about emotional repression, anger management, family death survival, obsession/fixation, and control issues. Also contained in the manila folder were his friend's own speculation concerning ways to break through the exterior of someone who'd built up an emotional armor with only a few definable cracks.

Yohji would have to apply stress to a few of those cracks… and he had to do it almost exactly right, or the whole of Aya would come crumbling down with very little hope of repair. Not what he wanted. Truth be told, he really didn't want to have to do this. The blond liked - no he loved his freedom.

If things went as planned, he'd have no freedom to do as he had been for the last couple of years.

He finally closed the folder and tucked it up, into a hidden place in his closet, under a box that held boots he didn't wear anymore. It would be safe enough there. No one would find it unless they were specifically looking for it. Yohji gave an almost imperceptible nod - the information was secure until he had more time to study it tomorrow.

With a rueful smile, the blond left his room and started out for the night.

The night had been a total bust. Yohji sat in his car, at a stoplight, and puffed on a cigarette. His mind whirled with images about what had happened. He'd been doing fine, dancing away quite happily, with a cute little number that was just turned legal and was out celebrating her birthday. The assassin was all for helping her *really* enjoy it until her boyfriend showed up, quite unexpectedly by the look on her face, and broke up the pleasant interlude.

Yohji had just been getting ready to proposition her, too.

Now, he was just driving - anywhere and every where - trying to take his mind off of the situation before going home and dropping into bed. He followed the streets on automatic, not even really registering where he was. His mind was lost in thoughts about how pleasant the night *could* have gone.

That was when he snapped out of his contemplations.

That hospital… From what Yohji remembered, that was the place that Omi said Aya's sister was. The blond chewed on his cigarette butt and turned, having made a decision to go in. He parked Seven and got out, pulling his jacket over the mesh shirt, covering against the chill air. He was going to see for himself just how bad she was…

He tossed his cigarette to the side before stepping in. Then, Yohji pasted on a dazzling smile for the nurse at the station, "Hi. I'm looking for Fujimiya?"

The woman started and blushed, her fingers flying over the keyboard, "You mean Aya Fujimiya? She's on the sixth floor… Are you a friend of hers?"

"Her brother's, actually," Yohji said truthfully, "I just wanted to come see her so that I had an idea of what kind of present to get her." He smiled at her again, watching her melt, knowing that he was somehow going to get in despite the fact that visiting hours were over.

"Room 623, but please don't stay long, okay? I don't want to get in trouble."

Yohji nodded, "Understood. Thanks." Then, he turned for the elevator and hit the button to bring it down to him. His mind worked in circles. 'What am I really doing here? Am I that curious that I want to know about his personal life?'

With a sigh, he realized that he did want to know. It would help him in the long run. The elevator chimed and he stepped in silently. What was he going to find when he finally saw this heard-about-but-unseen sister of Aya's? The ride up was completely silent. He could hear himself think and that didn't go over very well in his present state of mind.

Floor six - Yohji disembarked from the elevator and looked around. He followed the hall to his right, looking at names and room numbers. He stopped and stared at the plaque next to the room he was seeking.

'Room 623 - Aya Fujimiya.'

Without but one more moment's hesitation, he opened the door and went inside. The room was mostly dark, but there was enough light for him to make it to the single bed within easily. Yohji walked up, on whispering feet, and stood there looking down at the girl in it.

The young woman in that bed looked nothing like her supposed brother. Her face was serene, peaceful… Something he'd yet to see on the 'Aya' he knew. Yohji shook his head sadly. A lovely little girl like this shouldn't be lying in a hospital bed. She should be out, having dates, driving her older brother insane. That was how the world was *supposed* to work - right?

Yohji sat down and took her hand in his, noting how she and her brother both had long, graceful fingers. Artists' fingers. He reached over and brushed a few tendrils of hair out of her eyes, "Hey, kid… Just thought I'd come by and see you… Your brother wasn't exactly forthcoming with news about you, you know?"

He gazed at her, long and hard, before speaking again, "He's a mess right now, Aya. Guess he couldn't really handle what happened to you. It's tearing him apart." Yohji looked down at the hand he held, "I'm… I'm going to do what I can, but I don't know if it's gonna work. He's pretty stubborn, you know?"

The assassin shook his head, "I… I can't let him continue to drive himself nuts, you see. I care too much about the people around us. I think he does too, but something - some damn stubborn thing - won't let him show that. I've got to break through. I can't let it keep going like this."

"It wouldn't hurt for you to wake up, you know… Give him a reason to smile again. They're so rare… I think I've seen two in all the time I've known him." Yohji shook his head, "I'll bet if you woke up, he'd smile a little more… If he wasn't afraid of what you'd think about what we've all become, that is."

He looked at her face again, "He's running inside. Won't face the emotions that are constantly churning under that cold surface he shows. I don't even know if it's possible to get through…"

The girl on the bed said nothing, not surprisingly, but Yohji continued on, "He misses you, I'm pretty sure of that. Knowing him, he thinks what happened to you was his fault in some stupid roundabout way. Sometimes, I can't fathom him. I've got to learn more about him, though… If what I've got planned is going to work, I've got to get some kind of hold on him. Something that forces him to finally notice things around and within him."

Laying the hand back down next to her, Yohji gave a rueful smile, "Someday… Someday, you'll wake up and maybe things will be a little more right in a world gone completely wrong for him."

That said, Yohji stood back up, "I'd better go. It's late and I've got the morning shift. If you don't mind… I'd like to stop by again. I'd like to see for myself how you're doing since your pissy brother won't tell any of us."

His hand went to her hair again, smoothing it back from her forehead, "I'll bring you a present next time, okay?" Yohji turned then, away from the girl and the room, and went out the door. He followed his incoming trek back out, stopping in the early morning air to light a cigarette before he went to his car. Instead of getting inside immediately, Yohji leaned against the door and looked up at the night sky.

"God… You're such a fucking bastard to do this to them…"

A few days before a holiday, the flower shop was bustling with activity. All four young men tried to get as much done before their individual fanclubs showed up to disrupt their quiet harmony. Yohji was the most bored of them all. He was the lucky individual that got to tend the register today.

He sat, chin in hand, and found himself watching Aya as the redhead moved around the shop. Sweeping, attending to the watering of the flowers, pulling weeds in the long flatbeds. Yohji took it all in. He found himself thinking more and more about the little plan that he had starting to form in his head.

Aya Fujimiya would run and hide until someone forced him to finally face the emotions that ran in turmoil just under the cold surface. When the younger man went into the back of the shop, he decided to follow, claiming that he needed to get something when Omi turned a look on him. Yohji smiled as he saw his team mate leaning over a few flower pots, looking for who-knew-what.

He needed to build a foundation for his plan… May as well get started now.

Without warning, he pressed himself against the young man's bowed body, his longer arms bracing against the wall before them so that Aya couldn't right himself. The redhead had to brace against the same surface himself, or risk falling onto the floral arrangements, "What the-?

"Aya… What are you looking for?" Yohji's voice was low, husky, running over the young man like honey.

There was a soft growl, "None of your business." Aya didn't like being on the defensive for any reason and his blond aggressor was definitely putting him there.

The crimson haired assassin smelled like flowers and coconuts, Yohji guessing correctly that the latter was his shampoo. The green eyed man took a moment to breath in the scent, memorizing it, making it a part of him. He put his lips a little closer to Aya's ear, so that his breath would whisper across it when he spoke, "I could help you, you know, if you'd tell me what it was."

Aya stiffened, "I don't need your help." The voice and the breath on him were doing unspeakable things to his body. He turned his head so he could throw a sidelong glare at Yohji, "If I did, I would have asked."

"Bullshit," Yohji said lowly, "You could be bleeding to death back here, but you'd die before asking for help." He buried his smile, noting the uncertainty that was hidden in the violet depths of Aya's eyes. The redhead was off-balance and didn't like it one little bit.

Good.

Yohji let one hand run along Aya's arm, flowing down it slowly, until it got to his shoulder and then let it trail the length of the redhead's ribs, "You haven't been eating much lately, Aya. Are you okay?"

The question did as much to catch the young man off-guard as the forced position, "Why do you care, Yohji?"

"I *do* care, Aya," the blond whispered softly, getting a one-handed grip on the narrow waist, "You don't talk to us… How are we going to know if something's wrong if you don't let us help? Admitting weakness never hurt anyone."

Aya closed his eyes, whispering, "Maybe not you…" Then, he caught himself, "I'm fine, Yohji."

"I don't believe you, Aya." Yohji knew it was just a matter of time before the redhead got violently angry. He wanted to make his points before it came to that. "I think something's wrong - something so bad you won't tell any of us. Why don't you trust us, Aya? What have we done to you that you can't ask us for help?"

"Let me up, Yohji," came the low, lethal growl.

That was the turning point that caused Yohji to remove himself from his lofty position. The men righted themselves, Aya giving the blond a deadly glare before he grabbed some immature carnations off the shelves and went back out to the relative solace of the main shop. Yohji watched him go, feeling a little smug. He had gotten the ball rolling and started shaking the foundation the redhead was perching precariously on top of.

He was going to have to make it crumble a little more so that he could be there when Aya finally fell.

Getting a mission one full week in advance is a good thing.

At least, it was as far as Yohji was concerned. He knew where they were going to make the hit, so he could go and scout the nearby neighborhoods for a secluded place to enact his plan. It only took him about two days to find the perfect house. Abandoned, of course, with a high ceiling basement that was criss-crossed by several sturdy pipes. You could tug on them day and night and they would probably never give out.

Yohji grinned as he set about making the proper preparations. Covering all but one of the basement windows with tin foil, the assassin knew he would need that little bit of light when the time came. On a small table near where he was going to make this 'miracle' happen, he carefully placed some smelling salts. He didn't like the idea of drugging Aya, but if necessary…

A little sweeping and a quick spray to the floor and the place was ready. Yohji smiled and lit a cigarette, "Perfect."

He turned and left the place then, determined not to come back until it was time to finish this.

When he got back to the house where all the Weiss boys stayed, he was surprised to find that Aya was alone. The redhead was laying on his side on the couch, reading a book. Yohji buried his smile and went into the room, eyeing the younger man over the rims of his shades. When the other looked up at him, he gave an easy smile, "Hey."

Aya said nothing, still angry from the other day was Yohji's guess. His violet eyes narrowed a little and then snapped back down to the book angrily and he turned the page, nearly ripping it in the process. Upon more intense scrutiny, it was clear that his hands were trembling.

Leaning over the back of the couch, Yohji took one of those slender appendages in his, "Careful… You'll tear the book." He was met with a glare.

"Leave me alone."

Shaking his head, the blond let his thumb rasp over the backs of the pale knuckles, "No. Doing that isn't healthy for you, Aya."

Lips thinning to a line, Aya didn't drop the angry stare, "It's what I want."

Yohji leaned further over, threatening his team mate's personal space, "Want in one hand and piss in the other…" He took a good look at the redhead, noting the dark circles under those beautiful eyes, "You haven't been sleeping well."

It wasn't a question, but an observation, but it served to anger the younger assassin even more, "The fuck do you care?"

"I do," Yohji countered easily, "Isn't that enough?"

Aya's eyes widened and then narrowed to near slits, "I didn't ask you to." The book closed with a thud and he stiffened, ready to get up off the couch. There was a surprised noise when the blond's hand pushed him back down, "Let me up."

"No." Yohji's voice was hard, "You've been allowed to torture yourself long enough, Aya. I think you've had enough. I know I have."

"I don't give a damn what you think…"

Yohji said nothing more, choosing instead to press himself over the back of the couch and drive his mouth against the redhead's. Aya's opened in surprise and he took the initiative, slipping his tongue between lax lips to taste what was within. He gave a throaty purr at the sweetness he found in the depths - the flavor of the redhead's kiss was much like Omi's strawberry pocky.

The kiss was broken only moments later by a pissed off Aya, "Get off me!" He shoved at the blond, succeeding in throwing Yohji off balance and onto the floor in front of the couch.

Yohji chuckled even though his shoulder throbbed, "I never took you to have a sweet tooth, Aya."

Stepping over the prone form easily, the redhead left the room without another word. Yohji rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand, "Not long now, Aya… Then we'll see just what hides under that cold exterior."

Mishaela: Mish: Part II to come soon! This was originally released in the YaoiCon fanfic magazine. I was not allowed to post it anywhere until now. I hope you enjoyed it!!!