Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ The Sous-Chef ❯ Chapter 8

A/N: Not much Farf in this chapter, but he's there. He'll have more of a presence soon. I think I rushed a little in this chapter just to bring him in, so if I did, sorry…

 

 

Chapter 8

 

“I'm going to go order some take-out,” Mamoru said as they left Aya's room. “Is there anything you want in particular?”

 

“No,” Aya said quietly, eyes on the floor.

 

“Alright.” Mamoru seemed to sense that Aya was in no mood to be forthcoming on any subject, and he headed off down the hallway.

 

Aya took a few steps toward the door of the bedroom he and Ken had shared, telling himself it wasn't the time to get maudlin; after all, Ken had brought this on himself. Somewhat. Damn it, it was impossible to say how much of it was really Ken's fault. Some of it was, certainly, but there was nowhere anyone could draw a line between culpability and madness. Even so -

 

Aya shook his head. He was stalling, and he didn't have much time. He forced his feet forward, and slipped into the bedroom.

 

Nagi sat in a chair, reading. He gave Aya a nod and the ghost of a smile before returning to his book. He seemed oblivious, but Aya knew how well-trained he was - better trained than any Kritiker agent, you could say that much for Esszet, and for Crawford as well - and he knew that Nagi had complete control of the situation. It was just as well. Aya didn't want to be in control of anything anymore.

 

Ken was staring up at the ceiling, tears running ceaselessly down into his hair. He didn't seem to know Aya was in the room. Aya sat down on the side of the bed, and Ken glanced at him. They stared at each other for a moment, and Ken stretched a hand out to him. He scooted forward and took it, holding it in his lap. Aya knew he should be saying something, but his mind wouldn't supply his mouth with words.

 

“I'm never going to see you again, am I,” Ken whispered.

 

“I don't know,” Aya answered.

 

“They're not going to let me see you.” Aya wasn't sure who he meant by `they.' The tears seemed to be coming faster now, but it was hard to tell.

 

“I don't know, Ken.”

 

“How could I… how can I be without you?” Ken's voice was barely audible. His eyes entreated, as if Aya truly knew the answer to this question.

 

“Easily. Don't wish for me, don't dream of me, don't think of me,” Aya responded, half-joking.

 

Ken's smile was weak and fleeting. “I failed you.”

 

“No,” Aya said, kissing Ken's hand, “no.”

 

“I did. I know it, it's okay for you to say so.”

 

Aya was silent.

 

“Did you ever love me, Aya?” Ken asked, focusing his red-rimmed eyes on Aya's.

 

Aya felt the miasma of emotion that had assailed him early that morning creeping around the edges of his awareness again. Not wanting to bring on that kind of a breakdown again, at first he opted to remain silent. But he decided that he wanted to give Ken something, and he thought it was the truth.

 

“It's okay, Aya, you don't - “ Ken started, tearing his eyes away.

 

“Yes,” Aya said, and felt warmth spilling down his own cheeks. Shit, he hadn't cried so much since Takatori had destroyed his family. He held Ken's hand to his lips and tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat. Please don't ask me to say it, he silently begged.

 

Ken looked at him again, staring first in astonishment, then suspicion. Aya's eyes closed and his chest hitched. He felt Ken take his hand gently from Aya's and cup his cheek. When Aya opened his eyes and blinked tears away, Ken was smiling almost cheerfully. He looked as guileless as he had before killing Kase, before he had come to understand the true meaning of betrayal. Aya heard his own voice in the stillness between them. “I love you.”

 

Ken looked very happy and almost peaceful, and Aya was glad he'd managed to say the words somehow. “That's all I've wanted, Aya. The only thing almost since the moment I met you,” Ken murmured shakily, beaming.

 

Aya had exhausted his repertoire for this conversation, so he just squeezed Ken's hand and tried not to look too ridiculous as he grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and blew his nose. Crying certainly generated a lot of snot.

 

“Will you stay with me until they come?” Ken asked.

 

Making sure his face was relatively clean, Aya leaned forward and kissed Ken once on the forehead and once on the lips. “Of course I will.” His voice was watery but still strong; he was glad. He kissed Ken again, chaste but lingering, and then carefully crawled on to the bed next to him. He got as close to Ken as he could, sidling up to him gingerly, not wanting to aggravate the injuries Schuldig had given him. He hadn't been angry when Schuldig had told him about them, still wasn't, but he wished they were gone for the moment.

 

“Aya, I want to look at you,” Ken said, so Aya propped himself on an elbow and hovered over Ken, stroking his fingers idly through the shaggy black hair. Ken's face was still happy, but the tears started falling again. “I'm sorry, Aya, I'm so sor - “

 

Aya covered Ken's mouth with his own, kissing longer and less chastely than before. “I know.” His hand was absently caressing the place where Ken's thigh met groin. He slid it over to cup the growing bulge in Ken's jeans, feeling selfish because he could see Ken bruising even around the bandages wrapping his torso, but he couldn't help himself, didn't want to help himself. He wanted to be able to make love to Ken while knowing he loved him, for once.

 

Ken groaned, encouraging. “Do we have time for this?”

 

“There'll have to be,” Aya growled, divesting himself of his shirt and peeling off his jeans. He noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Nagi had stopped pretending to read and was watching him hungrily. He didn't care. “They're hardly going to drag you out from under me.”

 

“I wouldn't count on that,” Ken said, but he was smirking and undoing his jeans. Aya pulled off pants, underwear and socks so Ken was in nothing but bandages. He balanced on elbows and knees over Ken, cupping his face. His hair spilled over his shoulders to trail over Ken's torso.

 

“I wish I could lay on you,” Aya said.

 

“You can hurt me,” Ken whispered, stroking Aya's hair. “It's alright.”

 

Aya shook his head. “Don't want to.” He spread his knees farther apart, reaching between them and taking both of their cocks in one hand, relishing the slick, burning press of Ken's against his own. “I'd rather do this,” he said, pumping tight and slow.

 

Ken groaned and fisted his hands in Aya's hair.

 

Aya couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. He was on autopilot but acutely aware of each sensation; kissing, caressing, stroking, groaning, breathing.

 

He didn't know if he had gotten the oil from the nightstand, or if Nagi had from where he sat and watched, but he was glad to find it in his hand. He lifted one of Ken's legs, and Ken obliged him by hooking it over Aya's shoulder. Aya took the head of Ken's cock in his mouth, tasting himself in the fluid on his tongue, as he pressed two oily fingers into Ken's scorching tightness.

 

Ken moaned loudly, and Aya heard Nagi's soft gasping across the room. He sucked hard, lowering his head slowly as he curled his fingers inside Ken's ass. Ken yelled and tried to thrust into Aya's throat, but Aya held him down, keeping the blowjob teasing and shallow, driving Ken to distraction. “Aya…please…” Ken panted.

 

Aya hummed interrogatively, causing Ken's eyes to roll back in his head. Aya turned his face slightly, tonguing the slit of Ken's cock and pressing his bottom lip hard against the skin on the underside of the head. He could see Nagi, who fisted his own cock lightly, glassy eyes riveted to Aya. Lightly fingering Ken's prostate, he pulled his mouth off Ken with a loud wet slurp and gave Nagi a slow, sultry wink. It amused him very much to see the muscles in Nagi's neck tighten and his hand jerk away from his cock in an effort to keep from exploding.

 

Feeling very slutty but not minding, Aya focused on Ken once again. He removed his fingers and was about to pour some more oil on his hand when Ken grabbed it from him. Ken poured it on his own hand, and Aya moved forward, allowing Ken to slick up his cock for him. Ken held much tighter and stroked much harder than necessary, and it felt so amazing that Aya didn't even notice himself leaning on one arm and thrusting into Ken's hand. When he heard himself moaning and whispering gibberish, he came around a little and made himself stop. Ken was staring at him, wide-eyed and fascinated, almost worshipful. Aya smiled and kissed him, hauled Ken's leg back over his shoulder where it belonged, and slid his well-oiled cock easily into the man underneath him.

 

It was difficult to be aware of anything specific after that. Ken canted his hips perfectly so that they both got the most out of every stroke; all Aya had to do was remember to keep his body weight off Ken's torso. He tried to keep his eyes open but couldn't. With his eyes closed he felt like he and Ken were swimming, undulating together in a hot, endless ocean, like dolphins or…

 

The image of the snake returned to him, only this time he and Ken were both snakes, devouring each other like the ouroboros, endlessly...

 

He heard his voice chanting Ken's name over and over, felt Ken's body tighten around him impossibly as he gasped and shrieked and came all over the hand that had been stroking him, which was Aya's, and then Aya's own orgasm took him, freezing and burning every nerve, and Aya thought, This is for love, just once, for love…

 

Aya's awareness returned gradually, with Ken whispering to him and kissing him. He opened his eyes, looking into Ken's face which was inches from his own. He bridged the gap between their mouths, kissing him gently again and again, and wondered why they were both crying.

 

“Aya.”

 

Startled, Aya looked up, tossing his hair over his shoulders so he could see around him.

 

“Sorry to intrude.” Nagi was standing by the side of the bed, looking as composed as ever. “Kritiker is here. I'll let you get ready.”

 

He left the room before Aya realized what that meant.

 

*****

 

Nagi, Schuldig, Yohji, Aya and Mamoru stood around the gurney Ken was strapped to, as the orderlies opened the back of the van.

 

“Is it necessary to restrain him like that? I mean, he's injured…” Yohji said uncertainly.

 

“It's a precaution we take with all of our violent inmates,” said Dr. Tokiwara, who had apparently been one of Ken's doctors before. “I can't say I'm happy to see you again, Mr. Hidaka.”

 

Ken didn't seem to be paying attention to anyone except Aya, so Aya took the liberty of glaring at the doctor. “I'm certain the feeling is mutual.”

 

The doctor seemed about to reply, when Schuldig cut in hastily. “Why don't you make sure everything's ready in the van, Dr. Mokitara?” he said, half-guiding, half-shoving the good doctor toward the vehicle.

 

“It's Toki - “

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

Nagi had backed a respectful distance away, leaving the four Weiß with some privacy. There was silence for a while.

 

Mamoru spoke first. “Well, no good-byes from me. I'll be checking in on you a couple of times a week, and I'll be in the van with you.”

 

Ken managed to tear his eyes from Aya long enough to smile at him.

 

Yohji scratched the back of his head, shuffling uncomfortably. “I can't help but feel somewhat responsible for this happening right now…”

 

Ken looked at him. “It's not your fault, Yohji. I'm just sorry it happened right when you got here. I would have… I'd have liked to talk to you more. But I don't know if I would have been able to, since I was kind of fixated on the idea that you…”

 

Yohji squeezed one of Ken's strapped hands. “Yeah. I was doomed, huh?” he teased weakly. “Hey, I'm sorry I... I mean, it must have sounded like I thought I was some hot shit, swooping in after five years MIA and just…”

 

“Don't worry about it, Yohji. Just… you guys take care of Aya, okay?”

 

Aya felt a spark of indignation, but not enough to bother responding to that.

 

“Definitely,” Yohji said, squeezing Ken's hand again and letting go.

 

“We're looking out for him, don't worry, Ken,” Mamoru assured.

 

Ken smiled at them, and looked back up at Aya. “Good-bye, Aya. I love you, don't forget it.”

 

Aya couldn't say anything, just leaned down and kissed him.

 

Mamoru signaled to Nagi, who folded up the gurney and floated it into the van.

 

“You all are coming to Tokyo tomorrow?” Mamoru asked.

 

“That's the plan,” said Schuldig, coming to stand next to Yohji. “Can you stand being away from Nagi for one day?”

 

Mamoru snorted. “Some of his assignments are weeks long. We're not that co-dependent.”

 

“Yeah, but do most of his assignments entail his being in the company of three of the most irresistible men on the planet?” Yohji boasted, leering.

 

“Ch'. You're the only one Nagi hasn't already had, Yohji.” Mamoru smirked.

 

Yohji's eyes went wide as saucers. He turned to Schuldig. “Excuse me!? Did I hear him right?”

 

As they went into a telepathic discussion, Mamoru came over to Aya and took his hands. “Are you alright, Aya?”

 

“Yes,” Aya said automatically.

 

Mamoru sighed. “I know you aren't. Just… let us all take care of you for a while, okay, Aya? Don't worry about Ken, he's getting special treatment this time. I'm overseeing him personally. He won't want for anything, except…” he trailed off.

 

“Me? Freedom? An undamaged brain?” Aya said, a little hotly.

 

Mamoru lowered his head. “Just worry about yourself, okay, Aya? Let me worry about him.”

 

Aya was silent.

 

Mamoru hugged him. “I love you, you know,” he whispered in Aya's ear.

 

Aya said nothing, but hugged him back.

 

Soon, everything was loaded in the van, Mamoru had kissed Nagi goodbye and the van was out of sight. Aya stood apart from the others, staring after it.

 

It suddenly occurred to him that, once again, the person who meant the most to him had left him. Not voluntarily, but it didn't matter, he was still gone.

 

That is what will always happen, he thought. That is what you always make happen. If you had fought Ken from the beginning, he wouldn't have…

 

If you hadn't smothered Aya-chan, then…

 

If you had…

 

If you…

 

It's your fault. It's always your fault and always will be. You drive them away. It's your fault.

 

Aya heard sobbing in the distance and wondered who it was.

 

Your fault… your fault… your

 

::STOP IT.:: Schuldig's voice boomed through his head like the tolling of a bell.

 

Aya's awareness snapped into place, though he wasn't sure when he'd lost it to begin with. He was shaking, sobbing, on his hands and knees, and there was a puddle of vomit in front of him. Yohji was holding his hair out of his face and Schuldig was steadying him. He retched again, feeling so much pain inside that he felt he would break into pieces. He wished he would break. He wished -

 

::Don't go there, feurig. I'm going to calm you down again, okay? I'll take some of the pain away for you.::

 

Aya couldn't nod, but he thought okay, okay, please please please

 

He felt the turmoil, the shame, the guilt and pain draining away. In its place was nothing, the nothingness he'd been living in for the past year, and he was grateful for it.

 

He wasn't quite sure when they had all gone inside, but the next thing he knew, Nagi was floating a cup of green tea into his hands. Schuldig and Yohji sat on either side of him, talking. Aya saw that Nagi had also put his armchair back, and repaired the window. Aya was idly wondering how Nagi fused the glass back together when he caught some of what Schuldig was saying.

 

“I can't take all his pain away, Yohji. He needs it, or he'll never heal from this.”

 

“Damn it,” Yohji replied, “I know that, I just don't want him to have to experience a reaction that extreme again.”

 

“I can't prevent that for certain without making significant changes to his psyche, which would most likely fuck him up worse. He does it to himself. Not voluntarily, not consciously, but it's the way his mind works. Look, just let me handle this aspect of his recovery, okay? I know what I'm doing.”

 

“What am I supposed to do then?” Yohji hollered indignantly.

 

“Be his friend,” Schuldig responded, his tone very serious.

 

“Well I'm glad that's all settled,” Aya said.

 

“Hey! You're here!” Yohji cried, hugging him. “I was really worried about you, Ayan.”

 

“Now they can't talk about you behind your back in front of you,” Nagi said, his soft tone inflected with more humor than usual for him.

 

“Shut up, brat,” Schuldig mock-growled. “You did it too, he just wasn't aware of it.”

 

Aya sighed. He felt completely exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep. “What's happening now?” he asked.

 

“Well,” Yohji began, hugging him tighter, “we're going to drive up to Tokyo tomorrow. Schu's going to try to get in touch with Crawford tonight to see where Farfarello is, and then - “

 

“Farfarello?” Aya asked, confused.

 

“Oh, that's right, we hadn't told you. Schuldig wants the three of us to go visit Farfarello. Apparently he's sane these days. Is that okay with you, Aya?” Yohji sounded a little anxious.

 

Aya shrugged. “I don't care one way or the other,” he said.

 

Yohji looked at Schuldig, who threw his hands in the air and shrugged. “Okay, so however long it takes Schu to get his info will determine how long we stay at Mamoru and Nagi's place in Tokyo. Unless you want to hang out there for a while, Aya?”

 

“I don't,” Aya said simply. “I want to get out of Japan.”

 

“Let's hope Farf's not in Japan,” muttered Schuldig.

 

“We'll leave as soon as possible, okay, Aya?” Yohji asked, smiling down at him.

 

“Okay.” He pushed Yohji gently away, and stood up. “I'm going to bed.”

 

“Um, alright, night Aya!” Yohji called, then turned to Schuldig and said in a voice he probably thought Aya couldn't hear, “Monitor him, okay?”

 

“Of course,” Schuldig replied, equally as soft.

 

Aya sighed. It was going to be tough with those two hovering about. Maybe he'd snap and kill them one day. He smiled at the thought.

 

******

 

“Are you sure this is the place?” Yohji asked, as he followed Schuldig and Aya into a small but swanky restaurant called Thibodeaux. “It looks a little… I don't know, upscale.”

 

“This is it,” Schu said, confidently breezing past the hostess and seating himself at a table with an excellent view of the botanical gardens next door.

 

Yohji and Aya sat at the table with him. Yohji looked over at the gardens. “Wow, I've never seen some of those flowers before! We should go take a stroll over there tomorrow. Think so, Aya?”

 

Aya shrugged. Yohji and Schuldig got distracted as the waitress brought over a wine list that looked like a copy of War and Peace. Aya reflected as she began to recite the day's specials as if she'd never known anything so fascinating as crawfish étoufée, veal sausage cassoulet, swordfish in ginger-cayenne vinaigrette…

 

They had been in Tokyo for five days, because although Schuldig had managed to get in touch with Crawford when they were still in Kyoto, he hadn't known where Farfarello was. It had taken Crawford all five days to find out that he worked in a restaurant in New Orleans.

 

The five days in Tokyo had been hell for Aya, although the other four seemed to enjoy themselves. Schuldig actually had Nagi laughing like a loon on several occasions, and not just from the tickling that had resulted in Schuldig being slammed into a wall. Yohji kept saying that they should paint Schuldig blue first…Aya had no idea what that was about but it made Schuldig laugh hysterically. Then Mamoru would get home and there would be food and wine and pillowfights, which Nagi always won…though they tried to drag him into their fun, Aya didn't have the heart for any of it. He spent as much time as possible alone in the guestroom, but Schuldig would only allow that for so long before he would pick the lock and make Aya come out and sit with them. At least Schuldig never made him do anything else. He was the most patient with Aya, as well…

 

“Aya!” Yohji was nudging him. “Want a drink?”

 

Aya looked up at the waitress, who beamed down at him expectantly. “I… do you have tea?”

 

“Hot tea or iced tea?”

 

“Hot, please.”

 

“Ooookay! I'll be right back!” She flounced off through the crowd that was now rapidly gathering as afternoon darkened to evening.

 

“What does Farfarello do here?” Yohji was asking.

 

“I can't begin to imagine,” Schuldig replied. “Dishwasher? I seriously doubt he's a waiter or a busboy,” he added, looking pointedly around at all the young, attractive, bland waitrons. “They'd keep him in the back, I think. He's probably dishwashing to pay for school or something. Maybe he's bartending here…”

 

“Oh, yeah, you mentioned school…”

 

Aya didn't follow the conversation much after that. Soon they were munching on bread and the house salad. Aya wasn't very interested in the food, but all that changed when he tasted the bread. “Oh,” he said, surprised.

 

“No kidding,” Yohji breathed, his eyes wide. “This is incredible!”

 

“The salad is just as good,” Schuldig added. “I've never had a bundle of leaves that was so…sublime.”

 

After that, they were all occupied with eating. Aya felt completely full by the time their entrées arrived, but the aroma of his swordfish was so tempting… He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so interested in food.

 

“Damn, no wonder Americans are fat,” Yohji exclaimed. “These portions are enormous!”

 

“Welcome to the land of the free, home of the pigs,” Schu said, tasting his quail over grits. “Mein gott,” he said, shaking his head. “That's it. I have to talk to the chef.” A waitress who was walking by suddenly stopped at their table. “Sweetheart, could you ask the head chef to come out here please? Oh, and if there's a Farfarello here, get him too.”

 

The waitress frowned. “I don't know of anyone named Farfello.”

 

Schuldig rolled his eyes. “Okay, how about a guy who's really pale, has scars on his face and an eyepatch, ring any bells?”

 

The waitress was nodding. “Right, John Farlane.”

 

“Yeah, get him.”

 

“Right away, sir.”

 

She bustled off to the kitchen, and Schuldig sat back in his chair and said, “God, I love telepathy.”

 

Yohji laughed, and started to say something when they were distracted by sudden applause.

 

Startled, Aya looked around, and saw Farfarello in stained cook's whites, bowing and waving at people. As he began to make his way over to their table, he stopped to shake hands or exchange a word with a patron. Some of the women he even allowed to kiss his cheek. Even more surprising, the women he didn't get around to looked positively envious. Aya turned to Schuldig, to see what he thought of all this, and wasn't surprised to see that Schu looked flabbergasted. Aya looked at Yohji, who shrugged and spread his hands.

 

Farfarello finally made it over to their table. He stood across from Schuldig, in front of the one empty seat, and stared at his former teammate. Finally he kicked the chair away from the table and sat down heavily. “What the hell are ye doing here, o guilty one?” His Irish accent seemed far more pronounced in English than it had in Japanese, Aya thought. “And toting kitties along with ye?”

 

Schuldig continued staring. “Is your hair… long?”

 

Aya looked over again, noticing that his gleaming white hair was indeed long, tied up in a bun that was hairnetted.

 

“Brilliant as ever. Worth waiting five years to hear that.”

 

“So I guess you're not a dishwasher,” Yohji piped in, “unless there's some American custom about applauding dishwashers that I'm not familiar with.” At the look Farfarello turned on him, he quailed and cried, “Schuldig's the one who said it, not me!”

 

Farf shook his head. “I didn't go to school at the oldest cooking academy in Paris to become a dishwasher.”

 

“Really? Paris? You're a chef?”

 

Farfarello sighed. “I'm not A chef, I'm THE chef. The head chef. Problem, Schuldig?”

 

“No, I…” Schuldig looked dazed. “It's just…wow, people's perception of you is a lot different here.”

 

“Yeah, here everything I do is considered quirky and eccentric, and no one really gives a shit as long as the food is good.” Farf stood up. “As much as I'd love to sit and chat, I do have a kitchen to run. I'm sure ye'll be back, so try to come closer to closing next time, okay? Have fun with yer - “ Farfarello's gaze fell on Aya, and Aya felt himself squirming under that piercing eagle-eyed scrutiny. “What's wrong with ye, red kitty? Ye look like you're sitting in the middle of a desert. Not a nice desert, either.”

 

Aya was silent, but didn't look away.

 

Farfarello shook his head, as if to clear it, and waved to Schuldig. “Catch ye later. Take care of yer cats.”

 

As he strode back to the kitchen, Aya heard Yohji stating indignantly, “We're not your cats! Jeez, I never would have thought he was so arrogant…”

 

“He's different, but not as different as I would have thought he'd be.” Schuldig looked happy. “He seems to have found a niche. I think it's great.”

 

Aya drifted and tuned out the rest of the conversation. He poked at his food, for once wishing for a larger stomach capacity. It probably wouldn't be as good reheated.

 

He couldn't get the image of Farfarello's burning yellow eye out of his mind. In his imagination it loomed large above the desert, like the Eye of Sauron, seeing all and searing everything in its path.