Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Undone ❯ Chapter 1
After a mission, Yoji helps Aya. Undress.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 07.15.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.6K | Visits: 1.3K | Status: Completed
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"Undone"
By Viridian5
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Unmoving, his eyes nearly closed, Aya leaned against the wall near the door to his apartment, letting it hold him up, his head and shoulder resting against it. The patches of blood on his face had turned to a rust color as the blood dried and began to flake away in places, giving me a sudden thought of him as a badly maintained robot. Disturbing thought, and I tried to unthink it but that never worked.
On tonight's mission we'd run into many more people than our intelligence had suggested would be there, and Aya and Ken had taken the brunt of them, leaving both of them very, very bloody. The mayhem had made Ken high and manic on adrenaline but appeared to have wiped Aya out.
"Aya," I said.
His eyelids fluttered in a vibration of dark lashes. Other than that, he still didn't move. "Hn."
"Are you gonna stay out here all night?" When he didn't answer, I said, "Give me your keys."
I pulled them out of his gloved hands. He'd had his keys out but not the ambition to unlock and open the door. I did it for him and pushed him inside. Maybe using the momentum of my push, he shambled toward his bed. I imagined all of that bloody leather and the protruding buckles hitting Aya's bedspread with him. I imagined sleeping in that. I couldn't let that happen to a buddy. Not quite coordinated, he slapped at me as I grabbed his arm and swung him into the embrace of a chair, successfully seating him.
Ken would wonder why I bothered. Ken, who was exactly what he appeared to be, figured that the same applied to Aya. It amused him that I put Aya to (my) bed that first time, but he probably thought that once I realized that all the prettiness came with taciturn sullenness the attraction would fade.
Thing is, you can't set a pretty mystery in front of this private investigator and not hook me.
Omi could probably dig up information on our No-family-name Aya with his computer skills, but he wanted Aya to tell us, of his own will. Besides, Omi didn't use his skills even to recover his own lost past. No matter, I decided to abide by that, trying to pick the information out of our reticent newest member the old-fashioned way.
That was more fun anyway.
Ken might be what he seemed like, but Aya often had at least two somewhat contradictory things going on at once, like: I'm angry/I'm afraid. I don't care what you think/I'm behaving like this because you'll want to dump me anyway, so I might as well. Get away from me/Help me. I don't need you/You'll get hurt if you care about me so don't.
Like an overlay of the person he thought he should be over the person he actually was.
Ken would tell me that I was seeing things that weren't there.
I reached for the belt of Aya's coat. Still kind of lost, he swatted at my hands as if they were insects. "Yoji, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice sounding soft and blurred, each word drifting and floating like a helium balloon. Maybe this was why he didn't talk to us after missions. He'd partially opened his eyes, and they looked nearly black in the low lighting and the dilation of his pupils.
Being me, I answered, "What do you think I'm doing?"
Nearly asleep, confused, he looked very young and adorable. "I think you're trying to undress me." The words came out fast and at varying rhythms.
"Then I'm doing what it looks like I'm doing."
He jerked, and I pressed closer. "You're tired, and I don't think you want to sleep in that bloody coat and with your katana on. I'm trying to help you here. I watch your back all the time." It translated to "trust me," while Aya didn't trust people.
But he didn't push me away, just leaned forward with a sigh to let me prop him up as I undid his belt and started to unfasten his coat. Victory. Damn, the blood made it difficult to undo the buckles.
"You're all bloody," I said.
"It's not mine."
I took it all slowly, firmly, but gently. People said you had to be careful with formerly domesticated animals that had gone feral from neglect.
The side of Aya's face rested against mine, heated, and he smelled like blood, sweat, leather, gunpowder, and iron. Gunpowder? Had he been running into gunfire again? We had to cure him of that.
I pushed his coat open. Damn, it felt heavy. I put my hands on his shoulders and sat him back a little, no matter how unhappy it made me to lose the feel of his face and hair against my skin. Wonder of wonders, he sat upright on his own, though he slouched.
"Yoji...." With his head tilted down, his long, red, red bangs hid his eyes and shadowed his face.
"It's okay."
I pushed his coat down his shoulders, and the ends of the sleeves hit the floor with a thumping sound. Heavy, with all that leather, metal, and "light" body armor. It left him with bare arms. The coat sleeves were wide enough that they'd slid down past his gloves. He looked thinner without the coat but muscular at the same time. Just not bulky.
"You want to take your katana off?" I asked, knowing better than to reach for it without permission.
He breathed in, then took off his sheathed katana and set it on the floor, almost tipping down with it. My steadying hand kept him from taking a spill, and his body seemed pliant, happy to receive direction. If I'd taken my gloves off, it would have been bare skin to bare skin.
He made a sound of angry discontent but didn't say anything that snapped my head off for daring to touch him. I liked a tired Aya too much. He was so much more agreeable and so much more the person he was, as opposed to the asshole he tried to be.
I was hard, and he was warm and sleepy and agreeable. And vulnerable, so I wouldn't do anything.
That blood on his face shouldn't be there. "I'll be right back." Between my unsteady walk to the bathroom and the way I missed the top of the sink completely when I tried to set my gloves down on it, I started to think that maybe I wasn't that much more awake than Aya was.
When I returned with a warm washcloth, I saw that he'd found the strength and ambition to attempt to take his boots off. He'd unfastened them at least. Now he was slumped over bent in half at the waist. Flexible. When I made a sound of amusement, he turned his head to give me a tepid version of his usual glare.
I pulled his boots off for him, then used the washcloth to wipe the blood off his face and neck in strong, steady swipes, sometimes catching some of his hair. He had blood in his hair too, but no way I could clean that without getting much more personal than even a tired Aya would allow me to.
I wouldn't be able to be this close to his face if his eyes had been open, watching me, but I didn't mind him looking at me from under his lashes. The warmth of the water I used brought a blush to his pale skin.
We couldn't quite get his gloves off, so we gave up and trudged over to his bed. Aya sort of fell onto it and rolled to the other side. I sat on the edge, pondering. Or drifting.
I woke up lying on his bed and quickly sat up. As he came back, awake, glaring, shower-damp and wearing a towel around his waist, I smirked and asked, "Had a good night's sleep?"
"Get out of my room." His deep voice sounded cold and flat. Awake, he had his asshole overlay working.
"No thanks? You're so mean." I stretched, then stood. I still had my uniform and boots on, so I ached from sleeping in them.
"Just go."
"Going."
But as I left, I watched him and read his reaction, and it went like this: Get away from me/Why did you do this?/Thank you.
"You're welcome," I answered as I closed the door.
***********************THE END**********************
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