Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Ten Songs About Sex ❯ Track Two: Crazy Bitch ( Chapter 2 )

Ten Songs About Sex
Track Two: Crazy Bitch


Yohji was practically giddy. He was doing his best to play it cool, catching only sidelong glances at the redhead beside him. He’d done it; he’d gotten Aya out. Of course, it wasn’t the romantic out or even the dress in leather and rub up against each other out, but it still counted. It counted because there was Aya, his hair deep red under the street lamp as he cautiously eyed the building. His long, leather trench coat was synched tightly about his waist, but Yohji smiled at the thought of the carefully matched pieces beneath. Sure, it wasn’t a vinyl catsuit, but it wasn’t an orange sweater either.

Now that he had got Aya out, Yohji was determined to do the most devious thing ever: he was going to make the swordsman have fun. Whether or not that fun involved some friendly groping of his comrade was yet to be determined. He had to get Aya out of the coat, get him well on the way to wasted, and then, well, then he’d see about the groping.

Removing the cigarette from his mouth, he crushed it against the dark pavement and followed Omi inside, casting more than one look back to make sure Aya was still following.

~*~

Yohji stood to the side, holding the coat he had quickly shed once encountering the warmth of the building. He felt the glances and covert stares of passing girls, turning to cast a few flirting winks on the cutest ones that appeared over eighteen; Yohji liked to be looked at, and he knew his ass looked fantastic in the stonewashed jeans. Ken called them indecent, but with the right top (this time a tight, indigo tee with an English word scrawled in metallic blue across the chest) it was enticing. Casual, but hot. The stares confirmed this.

Soon, though, he was forced to pay attention to a developing situation that had not been in his plans; this, which might compromise his tentative intents for Aya, did not make him a happy camper.

Said Aya was just beside him, and the blonde felt they were thinking along the same wavelength.

Deciding unilaterally that karaoke could not be thoroughly enjoyed with only four people, Omi had decided to invite his friend, Kyoko. Yohji had a few doubts as to the nature of Omi’s relationship with the short, round-faced girl, and in all honesty, he hoped the kiddo was screwing her because it was not worth it otherwise. Kyoko was one of those happy girls, all the time, from the top of her brunette pigtails (tied in pink ribbons) to the bottom of her white tennis shoes (with matching pink laces). And she talked. A lot.

Yohji was himself a talker by nature, but, damn, he did know when to shut up.

Currently she was engaged in a pointless conversation about the validity of television censorship.

Yohji decided she probably wasn’t sleeping with the chibi; she was too much of a prude.

Having lost even Omi about five minutes in to her tirade, Kyoko had managed to corner another of the, as far as Yohji was concerned, unnecessary guests: Traci. This was Ken’s babe of the moment. They were definitely screwing. Surprisingly, she didn’t have big thighs or man shoulders. She was tall, but not really athletic looking, still pretty. Yohji gave her a six out of ten, points being awarded for her curling blonde hair and turquoise eyes (bleached and contacts, he was fairly sure), but he deducted points for her loud voice and tacky orange blouse.

Then there was Minako. Minako was…different.

Apparently she was Traci’s friend or something. He hadn’t really been listening during the introductions since Aya had been studying a poster and Yohji had felt obligated to study his ass in turn.

Minako seemed quiet, but she watched them all intently from underneath her heavy black bangs. Yohji quickly put her into the “eccentric” category, based on her jean jacket with its mix of political and anime pins and her ways of saying strange things that made sense only about half the time. Either she was crazy or there was an inside joke that the rest of them weren’t getting. Yohji couldn’t get beyond the personality to even consider that she might be pretty, but one might have noted her flawless, pale skin and slim figure, maybe even the depth in her dark eyes. But she smiled in a way that made you want to take a step back.

Yohji bet she would be a kinky bitch in about three more years.

Still, he was not appreciative of the company in the least, and he hesitantly looked around for the forth female that might even out their little group and suggest and even demand heterosexual pairings should the drinking commence in any serious way.

Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any more surprises with breasts. Not that he didn’t like breasts, but that wasn’t really the point.

Omi went to get them a room, to sing in, of course.

“Hey, Aya, aren’t you hot in that coat?”

“Hn.”

~*~

Aya surveyed the small space. It was a simple rectangular room, one exit, no windows to provide alternative escape routes. Ceilings were tiled, possibly one could punch them out in order to–

Yohji’s nudged his arm, “Relax.”

Aya took a breath and, with difficulty, looked at the room again. At one of the short ends was a long couch-like seat, black and smooth and running the length of the wall, curling around to fit in the corners and accommodate two tables with space in between. A few chairs were scattered throughout. On the other side was the small raised platform, carpeted with two steps leading up to the stage area that sat not quite two feet above the floor. Behind this was a screen, and in front the smaller prompter.

Omi was already dragging out microphone, and Aya decided the best course of action would be to claim the strategically most inconspicuous seat. So he sat in the darker corner, stiff against the plush seating, and tried to defend himself as Yohji tugged at his coat sleeve.

~tbc~

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