Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Warmth ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Notes: Written for a 'blanket scenario' challenge I issued on my RanxKen LiveJournal community. ^^ Enjoy.

In the car we were looking for ourselves
But found each other
In the car we groped for excuses
Not to be alone anymore
In the car we were waiting for our lives
To start their endings
In the car
We were never making love
--- Barenaked Ladies, "In The Car"

Part One
In The Car

"It's freezing."

"I'm aware."

"I mean it's really freezing."

Aya closed his eyes and counted very slowly to ten beneath his breath. He was already more than enough irritated to combine it with the constant complaints of his loud companion. His car had broken down in the middle of no where. His cell phone was out of range and thus had no service, making it impossible to call anyone for help. But more importantly than those factors, he was trapped in the middle of no where, in the snow, a broken down car on his hands, and he was alone with Ken. Of all the people in the world, he was broken down in hillbilly no where with Hidaka Ken.

He sighed and brought a hand up to rub his temple. His patience could only last for so long. Normally he would be able to tolerate being alone with Ken. But under normal circumstances, he had not spent the entire day with the other man. Under normal circumstances, they would pass each other occasionally in the flower shop, and then be forced to work together only when Persia gave them an assignment and they were paired together. But no, this mission was different from the others in that it had taken them miles from Tokyo, into the freezing snow, in the middle of no where.

"Hey, Aya."

"What?"

"Did I mention it's freezing?"

"Ten times."

"Oh yeah? Well, it's freezing."

Count to ten again, he heard a voice in his head say. Count to ten and just breathe.

Just knock his daylights out, said another voice. He was more inclined to listen to the latter.

He leaned his arms against the hood of the car, propped up to reveal its engine. A frown creased his face. Nothing seemed to be wrong. That was probably the problem. Nothing at all seemed to be wrong, so that meant, naturally, that everything was wrong. Maybe it was the battery. Or it could just be that it was a piece of crap Porsche. He had never wanted a Porsche. It had been from Persia, and he still thought it was some sort of joke he and Manx had been playing on him.

Ken was suddenly beside him, looking over his shoulder. Aya unconsciously took a step away from him. Ken either did not notice or did not care.

"Your battery is dead," he said.

Aya spared him a glance. "How do you know?"

"Because your battery is freaking dead." He sighed, turning around to sit on the front of the car. "And we can't get Youji and Omi. We're stuck."

"Thanks for stating the obvious."

"Anytime," Ken shot back. He folded his arms. "If we're stuck together, you could at least make the effort to be nice. Just one evening in your entire life is all I ask."

"Let me think." Aya paused. "No."

"Jackass."

Aya ignored him. With a barely contained sigh, he lowered the hood of the car back over its innards. So, trapped in the middle of no where with no phone and no working car. He wondered how long it would be until Youji and Omi even realized they were not coming back. Probably not until the next morning, knowing them. Wonderful. He was skipping for joy on the inside, truly.

"It's going to get colder," Ken said. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing uselessly at his shoulders for warmth. The thin jacket he wore could only do so much to ward the cold away. "When it gets darker," he continued. "It'll be cold."

"The car is dead," Aya said. "So the heater is too."

"Yeah, I know. We're gonna be popsicles."

Probably, Aya thought. They only had the clothes they wore, Ken in his jeans, t-shirt and jacket, he in his trench coat. He wore a turtleneck beneath it, but the material was thin. He could already feel the cold seeping in. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket in a vain attempt to warm them, he glanced around. They had passed no houses driving back, no businesses, nothing. There was not even a light glimmering somewhere in the distance. They were, indeed, in the middle of no where.

"I have a blanket in the trunk," he said suddenly.

He went around the back of the car and inserted his keys into the lock of the trunk. The blanket was old, most likely covered in dust. He didn't remember when he had stashed it back there. Someone had once told him it was best to be prepared for any situation. Not knowing quite what that meant, he had shoved the blanket and a first aid kit in the trunk of his car, and then forgotten completely about them. It figured.

"One blanket between the two of us." Ken stared blandly down at the old, disheveled heap. "Great."

"Beggars can't be choosers."

"Thanks, Dad."

Aya pulled the blanket out of the confines of the trunk and shoved it at Ken. "You take it."

Ken stared at him blankly, gripping the fabric between his gloved fingers. "What about you?"

"I have my jacket." Aya opened the driver's side door and slid in. "You can have the backseat."

He heard Ken muttering something under his breath, and imagining it to be something that was hardly flattering, ignored him. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned back against the seat and lowered his head. He was tired. It had been a long day at the flower shop filled with dozens upon dozens of school girls, Youji shamelessly flirting with all of them, and Omi squeaking when one would get too close to him. Then there had been a mission briefing and away they had gone. The target was dead. One less worry on his mind. And so he fully intended to sleep, broken down car or no broken down car. Cold or no cold. He would still sleep.

But apparently the gods above did not want him to. He listened as Ken twisted around in the backseat, clothing rustling against the blanket and the leather seats. He listened as he made small sounds of frustration when he could not find a comfortable enough position. He listened and had a strong urge to throttle the younger man.

"Ken."

"Don't say it," Ken growled. "Your backseat sucks."

"Deal with it."

"Always glad to have your comfort."

Ignoring and counting to ten never seemed to work with Ken. Somehow the other man always managed to break through when he attempted to ignore him, and when he tried to count to ten, Ken had done something to irritate him before he was even finished. Nothing ever worked. Ken would always be able to get a rise out of him. And these days, he wasn't sure if it bothered him as much as he pretended it did.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay up there?" Ken interrupted his thoughts once again.

"Yes. Just go to sleep."

"Okay, okay..."

He waited and listened. Ken did not make another sound. Aya closed his eyes. Maybe he would be able to get some sleep after all.

That was, of course, if the cold did not kill him. He had thought it was nothing. The snow continued to fall outside of the car and the temperature continued to drop as night descended, but it should have been at least warmer in the car, he in his two layers of clothing. But it crept in and froze places he did not think could be cold. His nose and ears were beginning to feel numb.

He exhaled and was not surprised to see his breath come out chilled in the air.

He tightened his arms around his chest. Harsher conditions he had endured. Intense cold, intense heat, it was nothing. Or so he tried to convince himself it was nothing. It was just snow, after all. Snow had never killed anyone.

Below zero temperatures, yes, but not snow.

"Aya?"

He cracked open a single eye. "What?"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Go to sleep."

Ken made an irritated sound below his breath. Aya heard the rustle of movement, and before he could snap for Ken to not move and to just sleep, a hand had snaked out of the darkness toward him. Fingers brushed along his cheek, an almost careless touch.

"Jesus, Aya, you're freezing."

He pushed the hand away. "It's all right."

"It's not. Come sit in the back. We'll share the blanket."

"There's no room," Aya intoned quietly.

Ken snorted. "There's plenty of room. Get your ass back here before I drag you back here."

His smile was barely contained as he opened up the driver's side door and stepped out into the frigid air. He smiled because he knew that Ken was not joking. If he did not come on his own, Ken would have dragged him back, kicking and screaming all the way if he had to. It was a battle he would not win. Rather than do it the hard way, he came willingly on his own, walking around the car and opening up the back door. Ken moved over to allow him room to get in.

Ken unfolded the blanket from around him and held it up, giving Aya a place to slide in under its warmth. The backseat was small and held only both of them if they pressed together. The blanket was smaller and forced them to sit even closer, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, heads nearly touching. But it was warm. The heat from Ken's own body was absorbed into the blanket, and beneath it, Aya could feel his limbs and digits warming.

"I guess it's not the most comfortable position to sleep in," Ken said, keeping his tone light-hearted. He shifted and felt his leg hook over Aya's. He did not bother to move it. "But it's better than freezing to death," he added.

"Yeah."

"Still cold?"

"Better."

Aya felt a hand groping beneath the folds of the blanket. A hand touched his own. The fingers were warm, unlike his own.

"Nope. Still cold." Ken grinned. "Here." He felt something being pressed into his hands and took a moment to realize that it was Ken's gloves. He fumbled with them beneath the blanket before finding their opening and slipping his fingers in. They were warm still.

"Do you think Youji and Omi will be able to find us?"

Aya glanced at him. He could barely see him, even through the corner of his eye, not with their heads bent so close together. He could see a lock of brown veiling identically brown eyes and nothing else.

"Probably," he answered. They would be able to find them. Though their phones were out of service, Youji and Omi would be able to put two and two together and find them. As much as Aya liked to claim that Youji was an idiot, he was more intelligent than he gave him credit for. And he had never doubted Omi.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Are you going to sleep or not?"

"It's not even past eight!"

"Well, I'm tired now."

Ken sighed. "Come on, Aya, when are we gonna get to spend quality time together like this again?" He grinned, an infuriatingly amused grin that had Aya wanting to punch him and smile back all at the same time. He chose instead to look away from him, gaze falling to stare out the window. The snow continued to fall, now in heavy sheets. He could see nothing but white.

"Quality time?" he asked.

"Whatever you want to call it."

Aya shook his head. "It's not quality time."

"So time with me isn't quality?"

"It's just time with you," Aya said slowly, puzzling over his own words. "It's just... time." He shrugged, helplessly. "I always spend time with you."

"We don't talk."

"We talk."

"Not naturally."

Aya paused. "No," he agreed.

He was right that they talked. They did. They spoke of missions. They spoke when working in the flower shop. But they rarely ever spoke naturally, as friends would. Sometimes they were able to talk about anything but what was solid in their lives, what was always there, and to have something resembling a natural conversation. But he had always felt awkward in those moments. As though they shouldn't. As though talking as friends, more than mere companions, was passing over some unseen line that they had put down.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Ken shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing, really."

Aya leaned his head back against the seat. "Soccer?"

"Yeah, soccer." Ken laughed softly. "You hate soccer."

"You always break things when you mess around with that ball of yours. You would hate it too if you were me."

Ken laughed again, a more amused sound this time, less soft and mirthless. "Okay. Point. What do you like then?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you do for fun?"

Aya was silent a moment. Fun had ceased to be a priority in his life. Now, when he had free time on his hands, he would use it to take walks through the city, or to lock himself in his room to read a book. But it was only small things that he used to fill up the void between missions and working in the flower shop, nothing more. There was nothing he took true joy in.

"I used to surf," he said quietly.

He felt Ken shift beside him, angling his body toward him.

"You? You surf?"

"And I played paintball."

"Paintball?" Ken sounded absolutely shocked. Aya favored him with a bland stare.

"Is it that amazing?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, you of all people... I can't picture you on a surf board or nailing somebody in the ass with a paintball gun."

"You always have had a way with words."

"Eloquence is my middle name."

"It is."

Ken grinned. Aya glanced at him, not reflecting the smile, but gazing at him with silent regard. Ken had always had a cheerful smile. The same as he had an absolutely scathing scowl and his expressions of intense frustration or irritation. He had often seen the latter expression. No one infuriated Ken more than he did, and no one infuriated him more than Ken did. They were constantly pushing each other, seeing how far the other would go until something snapped, and their unspoken rivalry lead to violence.

Ken took each step he did one stride longer, always made his arrangements one flower better, always took it a step further to be the better one. No, not better, Aya realized. To be equal. That was what he wanted. And to be equal to him, he had to take it to that further step. Otherwise he would always be tagging along behind, never able to catch up.

"You said used to. What do you to now?"

"Nothing," Aya answered quietly.

"What do you do locked up in your room all day? It's gotta be something."

"I read."

"That's it?"

"Usually."

Ken sighed, exasperated. "I've got to get you out doing stuff."

Aya said nothing. He was not sure whether or not he should be worried that Ken seemed to have suddenly made it his solemn duty to put some fun into his life. He supposed he should have been, probably. Ken was more than likely to force him to play soccer or come with him to his coaching lessons with the kids. Or he would make him watch corny movies. Whatever it was that Ken deemed fun he would be subjected to. But he wasn't worried. He was too surprised to be worried. Why would Ken even want to share that with him?

"Like what?" he asked finally.

"Lots of things," Ken said. "Ever played laser tag?"

"... no."

"Then we'll play laser tag. And uh... I don't know, do stuff. Or do you have a problem with that?"

"With what, stuff?"

Ken smiled slightly. "Yeah."

"No," Aya said. "Not really."

"Good."

Sure, Aya thought. Good. Maybe.

Ken shifted beside him. He felt a light pressure against his chest and shoulder. Ken was practically laying on top of him in his vain attempt to get comfortable in the cramped backseat. But he didn't yell. He didn't snap for him to stay still and deal with the restricting space. He simply let him.

A head fell to rest against his shoulder. It was a careless touch. Ken did not realize the implications it held. And Aya certainly did not mean to make it more than it was.

"You can teach me to surf," Ken murmured. For someone who claimed to not be tired, his voice betrayed him.

"You want to surf?"

"Yeah, sure. If I can drag you around to do things, you should be able to drag me around too. We'll go surfing."

"And play paintball?"

"Only if you let me hit you a couple of times so I can feel good about myself."

Aya smiled faintly. "I'll let you win."

"Just pretend to be really surprised that you lost."

"Of course."

Ken yawned, long and loud. His eyes flicked to him, briefly. He was not surprised that he was tired. The day had been long for Ken as well. But unlike him, Ken had the added weight of being the one that had delivered the killing blow to their target.

He was able to smile in his cheerful way, talk in his careless ways as he always did, but Aya knew that it was his mask. It was the farce he wore to hide what was the truth, what he did feel after their missions, when he had killed someone. It was his coping mechanism.

He closed away from the world, and Ken faced it with his masks, pretending that he was not breaking inside.

"Are you warmer?"

Aya looked down at him, unconsciously turning his head toward him. His nose and mouth brushed against dark strands of brown. He breathed in, smelling the faint scent of some nameless odor.

"... aa," he murmured softly. "I'm warm."

There were always worse things in the world than being alone with Ken.