Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ What No One Knows... ❯ 20 Questions ( Chapter 1 )

~Chapter 1~

The following day, Aya awoke to find himself sprawled on his stomach across his still-made bed in the same clothes he had worn the night before. He found it incredibly odd -that is until a nasty headache hit him when he tried to stand.

Remind me why I agreed to drink with them, he mentally chided. It always leads to trouble. Ever so slowly, he levered himself upright and stumbled to his door, intent on soothing his aching body with a hot, relaxing shower.

Yohji rolled onto his stomach, curling a pillow around his head as the knock sounded at his door again. He was in *no* mood to get up at the moment. The world could be ending outside his window, and he'd still rather turn over and go back to sleep.

"Yohji-kun," a soft, boyish voice called to him. The blond mumbled an incoherent string of noises in reply. "Yohji-kun, you're supposed to open the shop with Aya-kun this morning."

The playboy glanced at his clock: 9:27. The Koneko didn't open until eleven. "I still have time," he finally replied.

By this time, Omi had walked into his room and was attempting to bodily haul his teammate out of bed. "Maa, Yohji-kun," he teased, "Don't you remember the dare?"

"Dare?" the blond echoed.

"Hai. You and Aya-kun accepted Ken-kun's dare last night," the boy quipped, eerily cheerful.

The aforementioned redhead had been passing by the door on his way to the bathroom when he had heard his name spoken. "I did *what*?" he retorted, his tone demanding an explanation.

Omi grinned sheepishly at Aya's outburst and furthered, "Ken-kun dared you two to act like each other for a week, and you both accepted."

For an extended moment, Yohji and Aya simply stared at each other. Surprisingly, it was the swordsman who first spoke up. "In that case," he stated, "I'm going back to bed." Then, he promptly turned on his heel and sauntered back to his room, peeling off his clothes as he went.

All Omi and Yohji could do was stare. Was it actually *possible* for the redhead to move with such liquid sensuality? After seeing such an uncharacteristic expression, they couldn't imagine what they were in store for the rest of the week.

Standing up and sighing, the playboy grumbled, "I'll be in the shower," before walking off as well.

Although he wasn't used to it, Aya decided he rather liked being able to sleep in. He had taken a healthy dose of aspirin before crawling back into bed, so he felt a good deal better when he next awoke - at 10:52.

Trying to force himself to think like his lanky, blond teammate, he came to the conclusion that he should take his time dressing in order to make a fashionably late entrance. As he stepped into the shower, he wondered what he should wear…

Roughly twenty minutes later, he finally had his ensemble together - with a little help from Yohji's closet. He descended the staircase to the shop clad in a pair of tight, black, low-rise pants and an equally tight, powder blue tank top. It wasn't necessarily short, but when he lifted his arms just so, it bared a sliver of his milky white stomach. His sunglasses, which he had found stuffed away in his dresser, were perched atop his tousled, red hair, and a freshly lit cigarette hung loosely from his lips. It wasn't often that he smoked, but he was sure all that would change now - at least for this week.

Momentarily forgetting himself, Yohji gaped as his newly transformed co-worker waltzed into the store, tilting slim hips as he posed lazily against the doorframe in a way that was distinctly reminiscent of the playboy. He, Aya noticed, was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt with white trim, and plain, loose, black jeans. He knew the shirt must've been his, because it fit too loosely to be anything the blond owned. Besides, the color didn't particularly flatter his skin tone.

When he realized what he was doing, Yohji scowled and turned away, returning to the unfinished arrangement of irises in front of him. Remember Kudou, he mentally chastised, you're *Aya* this week. You're not allowed to say anything unless it's "Shi-ne."

Smirking, the redhead picked the black apron off the peg on the wall, tying it around his waist as he leaned against the counter where his teammate was working. Playfully, he teased, "Ne, what's wrong, Yo-ta~n? Cat got your tongue this morning? Maybe I could…help you with that."

The blond could feel his pulse accelerate at Aya's uncharacteristically racy suggestion. All sorts of remarks were flying through his head, but he knew he couldn't possibly say any of them. So, in as much of a warning tone as he could manage, he simply retorted, "Fujimiya…"

Taking a pronounced drag of his cigarette, the swordsman stated, "I know, I know. No smoking in the shop. Fine, I'll take it outside. Wanna join me?" He continued looking back long enough to see Yohji's head shoot up. For a moment, it looked as if he were about to give in.

"No," he coldly stated, averting his eyes once again. When he was sure the redhead was outside, he looked back up to see him slouch down in the chair in front of the shop, propping his feet up on a table of potted plants. I could get used to *this* Aya, he mused. I didn't think he had a playful bone in his body - nor an actual smirk…

~*~

Omi and Ken were almost overly anxious to see the outcome of the dare as their shifts at the Koneko began. They already knew something was different when the heard Aya's echoing laughter from the back room.

Wait, Ken thought, *Aya's* laughter? It can't be. That guy wouldn't laugh if you *paid* him. Warily, he poked his head into the shop, spotting the redhead talking and laughing with a group of young girls - while Yohji sulked and pouted from behind a large bouquet of tulips. This is *too* weird.

Omi tried hard not to laugh at his co-workers' obvious role reversal, but seeing Aya actually being *social* was just too unusual. Wanting to see whether *both* sides were fulfilling the dare, he strolled over to his blond teammate, questioning, "Don't you think Aya-kun's more attractive when he's social?"

Scowling at the cheerful redhead, Yohji grumbled, "What's so attractive about not working? If he's not selling anything, then what good does it do?"

The young boy smiled and quipped, "You're doing a good job," before walking off to help another customer.

Good job, huh? The playboy mused. This is possibly the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Girls were crowding around him again, asking what was wrong, if he was all right, and if there was anything they could do for him. Frowning in a way that he was certain was unbecoming, he forced himself to shout, "If you're not going to buy anything, then leave!"

Across the shop, the swordsman smirked. It appeared he knew his `Aya-isms' quite well indeed. Deciding to have some fun with the situation, he broke away from his female following, weaving his way over to where the blond was seated. Leaning closer and draping one arm over Yohji's shoulder, Aya playfully whispered, "Maa, don't be like that, Yo-tan. The girls just want to be close to you - much in the way I am right now. But be careful not to go after the ones under eighteen; you're too old for that."

Knowing he didn't have the option to argue, Yohji simply leveled a glare at the creamy white arm attached to his shoulder and angrily growled, "Fujimiya…"

Standing abruptly, the redhead ignored the warning and walked into the back room, stating, "I'm going out back for a smoke." He knew that the blond was having a hard time remembering to portray him. It was obvious from the way his eyes openly showed emotions other than anger or displeasure, though he had to admit he wasn't making it easy either. Yohji would never flirt with him as blatantly as *he* was, but he figured the playboy was less likely to gut him than he himself would have been - and he was right. It seemed that Yohji was a bit unnerved by it. Perhaps if he kept it up, he could actually make him snap…

Though Aya was having a good time in the Koneko, it was still a relief to be away from all the giggling schoolgirls. How could the blond put up with them for hours on end, day after day? Luckily, their shifts ended shortly. Now, however, he was content to stand in the backyard of the shop, enjoying the cool evening air and smoking his cigarette.

Maybe this is how he can tolerate those girls, Aya pondered. All he has to do is announce a cigarette break, and he gets peace and quiet for as long as he's out here. I wonder if *I* should take up smoking…

As these thoughts swirled around in his head, he heard the door open next to him, and Omi's honey-colored head peeped out. "Aa, so it really *was* a cigarette break," he announced, closing the door behind him. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't do it often," the redhead replied, staring down at the smoldering half-cigarette he still held.

Reaching over, Omi took the stick from him, bringing it to his lips and taking a drag. Aya stared with wide eyes at the sight of young, innocent Omi actually *smoking* - *his* cigarette, no less. "I don't do it very often either," he quipped. "I guess living with Yohji-kun so long has rubbed off on me."

"I think he rubs off on all of us. How else would I be so good at pulling off this stupid dare?" he remarked with a laugh.

"Hai, hai," the young boy commented. "You *are* pretty good at this. I think even Yohji-kun himself is amazed." He flicked the cigarette butt to the ground, extinguishing it with his sneaker. "Come on, your shift's over. Go upstairs and have a good night."

Grinning, Aya ruffled Omi's hair and responded, "I will. Oyasumi, Omittchi." He walked back inside, hanging up his work apron before ascending the stairs to his room. Yohji, he noticed, had already left the shop. Maybe he could still have some fun with him tonight. First, though, he needed a shower.

Throwing things around his room at random, the redhead searched for something new to wear. It took a considerable amount of digging, since he had long ago buried the part of his past where he actually went out at night. At long last, he had it. He was certain Yohji would be willing to accompany him in *this* outfit - even if it was only to figure out why he was wearing it.

Posing in front of the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet door, he admired his choice of clothing. A pair of muted silver jeans hugged his hips, molding *just so* to his backside, but not clinging too tightly to his legs. His top was high collared, black, and sleeveless, its appeal stemming from the open zipper cutting diagonally down from the collar. Yes, this would definitely be good enough. Tossing his shades on his dresser, he left the room.

Breathing deeply, the swordsman braced himself and knocked tentatively on the blond's door. "Just a minute," echoed from the inside, and a short while later, the door swung open, verdant eyes regarding his visitor with guarded suspicion. "Aya…" he began, at a loss of what to say. "Are we still supposed to be doing that stupid dare?" he questioned.

"I don't know," the redhead replied, noticing the playboy had chosen some more fitting clothes - tight khaki pants and a violet, button-down shirt that was currently hanging open. "Wanna go for a drive?" he asked.

For a moment, Yohji simply stared at him, not sure whether or not this was a valid offer. But when he reminded himself that this was *Aya*, he decided it had to be. Being friendly wasn't something the redhead did - ever. "Sure," he responded, "Let me grab my boots."

The swordsman followed him inside, stating, "Let's take your Seven; you drive. We can go anywhere. It doesn't matter."

"All right," the blond answered, grabbing a coat and his keys. "Time to hit the road."

Acting like a completely different person had given Yohji a lot to think about, and if he could think together with Aya - his partner in this mess - maybe he could get some answers. Playing the part of the redhead wasn't necessarily hard, but refraining from his own habits was tricky. Aya didn't smoke, didn't flirt, didn't talk, joke, laugh, smile, wear flashy clothing or go out on dates. And all those things, unfortunately, fit Yohji to a tee.

He had to admit, though, that seeing the swordsman portray him was eerily alluring. Aya looked *good* in flashy clothing, he looked good when he smiled, when he laughed, walked, flirted. Hell, the man even looked good when he *smoked*. There was a very noticeable difference in everything the redhead did. It was as if he moved with a kind of lazy sensuality that before had only been grace. Well, if the blond was somehow responsible for this change, he wouldn't hesitate to congratulate himself on a job well done.

As they hopped into Seven, Aya wondered where they'd end up. He didn't particularly feel like being around people, so he hoped Yohji wouldn't take him to a club. And he trusted the playboy knew him well enough to sense that. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and mixed emotions. If he could forget for a moment that his sister had been kidnapped, he could actually justify why being completely open and uninhibited felt so strangely enjoyable. He wanted to ask Yohji if that was what being him was really like.

Seven sped down the lamp lit highway, whipping any words spoken away before they could even be heard, so the couple in the car was silent as they traveled. Aya shivered in the crisp night air, wishing he had had the foresight to bring a coat, but too stubborn to admit it.

Two handfuls of minutes later, they pulled up to a small diner, relatively empty from the looks of it. The men made their way inside, selecting a small booth near the front window, but far enough away from the staff's prying ears.

"Sorry, but I'm starving," the blond piped up. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Aya replied. "I'm hungry, too."

They waited until the waitress had taken their orders before saying anything. "So," Yohji finally chimed, "You seemed to be enjoying Ken ken's silly little game today. Is it really that fun to pretend you're me?"

"I was wondering that myself," came the redhead's quiet response. "Today…Today was unlike any day I can remember having in years. Maybe it was the novelty of the situation, but acting like you, being so…expressive, reminds me of how I used to be, or maybe what I *would have* become if not for Weiß."

Strangely, all the playboy could do at such an admission was grin and question, "Really? You *actually* used to act like that?"

Aya absently stirred his hot tea as he answered with eyes downcast, "Not *exactly*, but there was a time when I was a…'normal' person who laughed and joked and went out with friends. It just seems like it was so long ago."

The waitress arrived with their food before the blond could respond. When she was gone again, he furthered, "So, when all that shit happened with your family and Weiß, you sort of `became' this person that you are now? The person I was today?"

"You could say that," the swordsman replied at length. "How did that work out for you?" he teased with a smirk.

"I spent a lot of time biting my tongue," Yohji laughed. "But you were doing some things I don't."

"Was I?"

The playboy nodded as he chewed. "Yep. I don't recall ever flirting with you in the shop," he retorted.

"That's because *I* would never stand for it," Aya explained. "I did it to you because I knew *you* would…and I just wanted to give you a hard time."

"Is that so?" the blond jokingly asked. There was a pause before he continued. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Aya, but social interaction becomes you. The person you were today, the way you were acting, it was…attractive."

The redhead had no response to that, but he could feel his face take on a color that undoubtedly clashed with his hair. Normally, the playboy's words wouldn't affect him so much, but today, nothing was as it should be.

They finished the rest of their meal, making idle chatter and commenting on each other's accuracy in performing the dare. Yohji glanced at his watch. "It's almost eleven," he stated. "You wanna go?"

"I don't," Aya softly spoke, "want to go back yet. Can we just drive or something?"

The blond tossed some money on the table and slid out of the booth. "Yeah, sure. Come on."

It was a twenty-minute drive to Yohji's favorite section of the seashore. Normally, he reserved this kind of place for taking dates, but tonight, it provided the perfect backdrop for a heart-to-heart with his suddenly garrulous teammate. The playboy had a thing about getting his good clothes covered with clingy beach sand - unless it was for a very good cause - so the two simply stretched out on the hood of Seven.

The metal was warm under Aya's back, a pleasant contrast to the salty, cool sea air. He didn't know what to say. There was a question he had had burning in his mind for close to two-and-a-half years, an answer he desperately needed, and a confession he had to make, but he could never jump into a topic so heavy.

Yohji picked up his slack. "Before you were in Weiß, did you actually *date*?" he wondered aloud.

Well, he was getting closer. "I did," the redhead replied, "but not a lot. It wasn't all that important to me at the time."

"Hey, wanna play twenty questions?" the blond suddenly quipped.

"Why?"

"Because I hardly know you," Yohji argued. "This is the first time in two years you've actually taken any interest in talking to me, and I wanna get to know you better. I'll even answer the questions too, if you want."

Silence. "…All right." Aya could faintly see the playboy grinning, and he wondered what he had just gotten himself into.

"First question," he chimed. "When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

The swordsman had to think for a minute. Finally, he answered, "I wanted to be a race car driver, because I always loved fast cars. You?"

"I wanted to be the ice cream man," Yohji stated with a smirk. "I thought it was the best job in the world. Okay, number two. On the same note, what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Green tea."

"Mine would have to be cappuccino chocolate chip - you know, fancy stuff." The blond leaned back, lying propped up against Seven's windshield. "Number three," he quipped. "If you could go anywhere at all, where would you go?"

"Probably…" Aya answered, thinking hard on his response, "Switzerland. I don't know, it just seems…nice; peaceful."

"I'd go to London, I think. Sounds like a pretty hopping town." The playboy took a while to come up with another question. "Number four," he blurted. "What were your hobbies before Weiß?"

"I used to paint and read a lot. Sometimes, I'd get bold and try my hand at writing, but I was never very good," the redhead explained.

"Well, I did pretty much what I do now, only I used to study a lot of martial arts. Guess it came in handy, huh?" At this point, Aya too, chose to lean back against the windshield, staring up into the vast, night sky.

"Number…five. What's your favorite game?"

"Scrabble. I like thinking games."

"And I like naked Twister," Yohji teased with a wink.

Smiling, Aya retorted, "You would."

"Okay, six. Cats or dogs?"

"Cats."

"Cats, too, I suppose. It's fitting, really. Seven," the playboy announced. "Boxers or briefs?" he questioned with a sly smirk.

"It varies," the redhead replied. "Right now, it's boxer-briefs."

"Yeah, same here," agreed the blond. "Only, right now, it's nothin' at all. These pants are too tight for that," he explained. "Anyway, we were on number eight. When was your first crush?"

"I was eight, and it was Mika Takamura. We used to hold hands on the playground."

"Aww, how sweet," Yohji teased. "Mine was when I was about seven - Keiko Oroda. She used to throw sand at me. Man, it was love." He and Aya both laughed at the thought. "Number nine. Speaking of crushes, do you really like that girl, Sakura?"

"She's a nice girl, but she resembles my sister too much for me to like her romantically," the swordsman remarked. "Besides, she's too young. What about you and Manx?"

"Well, she's attractive all right, but I'd never even *think* of going after her. She's not really my type," the blond answered. He procured a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, taking one and offering one to Aya, who accepted it. Handing him a lighter, he added, "Number…ten. Did you, or *do* you ever want to get married?"

"I suppose that at one point I did, but I don't think I would now."

"I *never* wanted to. Always seemed like too much of a hassle. While we're at it, what about kids?" the playboy inquired.

"Same."

"Yep, same here. Well, moving right along to number twelve, why did you join Weiß?"

"I joined so I could avenge Aya, and so I could pay her hospital bills."

"I joined for pretty much the same reason, but for Asuka. Thirteen. Okay, so I know your name's not really Aya. What is it?"

"Ran."

"I'm kind of exempted from that one, since you know my real name. Fourteen. What do you like best about your looks?"

The swordsman was never good with these kinds of questions. After a lot of thought, his answer was, "I guess I like my eyes the best."

"I like my stomach," was Yohji's response. "But I'm sure you could've guessed that," he added with a wink. "Fifteen. What do you like the *least* about your looks? I hate my feet. I just do; they're…ugly."

Smiling at the blond's reply, Aya stated, "I don't like my legs. And that's why you'll never catch me in shorts."

"Sixteen. Have any piercings or tattoos?"

"I don't have any tattoos, but obviously, my left ear is pierced, and so is…my navel."

The playboy perked up. "Ooh, can I see?" he practically pleaded. Sighing, Aya lifted his shirt just enough so his friend (he supposed they were friends now) could see the small, silver loop attached to his belly. "Nice," Yohji remarked. "Let's see…you've seen my tattoo, and my left ear and right nipple are pierced. That one hurt like a bitch, though, so I never got the other one done. And at one point, I had my eyebrow pierced, but that didn't go over too well with my boss at the time, so I had to take it out. Question seventeen. How old were you when you had your first *real* kiss?"

"Fifteen."

"I was twelve. All right, number eighteen - and you *have* to answer this. I'm not going to ask you *who*, but would you ever fuck one of your *current* teammates? I won't go around telling everyone - promise."

The redhead thought long and hard on this. Was there a specific answer the playboy wanted to hear? When he thought about the actual question, though, the answer was fairly simple. "Yes."

Yohji showed no reaction to that, merely shrugging and replying, "Yeah, I probably would too. Number nineteen - and I *am* going to be a bit nastier for this one. If you had to - absolutely *had* to - like if it was a matter of life or death, who in Schwarz would you fuck?"

Aya's normal response would've been `They're all bastards', but since he *had* to choose, he decided to base his answer solely on appearance. "Well, if I had *no* choice," he stated, "then probably Schuldich."

"Yeah, I guess I'd have to go with Schuldich too," the blond confessed. "Why don't you pick the last question? I think I'm all out of ideas…for now."

Well, since it *was* question time, he might as well ask… "When and how did you lose your virginity?"

Needless to say, *that* was definitely on the bottom of the list of questions he expected the redhead to ask. "My virginity?" Yohji echoed. "Let's see…I was sixteen and it was at this kinda loose club that used to be around here somewhere. They didn't care whether you were underage or anything, so I was pretty drunk on top of that. I remember seeing this really cute boy - yes, *boy* - and we danced together for a while. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was screwing the kid in the bathroom. I didn't even know his name. So what's *your* story?"

"I was fifteen," Aya began, "and my parents had just gone away on vacation, so my friends dragged me off to this little dance place where they insisted I'd have a great time. I spent the majority of the night sitting on one of the couches watching my friends dance and have fun. We were about to leave when this person approached me, wanting to dance. So, I told my friends to go, and this person pulled me out onto the dance floor with them. Underneath the lighting, I couldn't tell if it was a guy or a girl because they had long hair. Anyway, we were really hitting it off, and before the night was over, I ended up losing my virginity to this boy in the bathroom."

Yohji's eyes went impossibly wide. "Chikushou, Aya!" he exclaimed, "That was *you*? Why the hell didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Because," the swordsman explained, "I wasn't exactly in the best of moods when I woke up in your bed after getting the shit beaten out of me by Ken. And I didn't want to make things worse by making my introduction, `Hi, my name's Aya. Remember me? I'm the boy you fucked in the bathroom the night you lost your virginity.' Besides, I had to make sure it was you."

The blond subsided with an, "Oh…I guess that *does* make sense. But still, I'm glad I finally know who it was. That was a pretty crazy night, huh?"

"Aa, it was," Aya agreed.

For an almost uncomfortable stretch of time, no one said anything, both too busy processing this new information. The redhead shivered again, and Yohji offered him his coat. Aya took it without a word, and the silence resumed once more.

"Do you regret it?" the blond hesitantly spoke up.

"Regret what?"

The playboy chose his words carefully. "That night…and what happened in the bathroom."

Aya didn't have to think about the answer, stating, "No, I don't. From what I can remember of the night - *that* part at least - it was…pretty good, I think. Do *you* regret it?"

"Well," Yohji started, "the only thing I ever regretted was not knowing who that boy was. But now, I know it was *you*, so it all worked out, I guess." He smiled wistfully, as if suddenly watching time replay itself before his eyes.

After a pause, the swordsman shyly inquired, "Is it true…when you said you thought I was…really cute?" Maybe the answer didn't matter anymore. After all, it was five years ago, and so very much had happened since. Maybe age hadn't been kind to him, or maybe Yohji had moved past that curious adolescent stage of his life. Whatever the reason, Aya knew that there was just something about the lanky blond that almost begged for a second taste.

"Honestly," the playboy responded, "yeah, I thought so. You *are* attractive, Aya - even now. Hell, even Omi told me so. I know you've got a lot of shit to deal with right now, but one day, this'll all be over and you can smile and laugh and joke again, and *that* Aya, the one you were today, *that* is the one that suits you best."

"Yohji…" was the only word that the redhead could seem to form at the moment. He vaguely wondered if the blond would've told him all this earlier, had he only been more social.

Every thought he had after that seemed ridiculous - even in his own mind. What if Yohji's hitting on me? What if he wants it to happen again? Would I let him? What if I asked him? Would he turn me away? Would he laugh? Would he be angry? What if he said yes? Would I say okay? Would I turn him down? Would he let me? Could I live with myself if I don't find out?

"I wanna show you something," the playboy quipped, getting off Seven's hood. "Stay right there." He fumbled around behind the driver's seat, in the miniscule space where a backseat should've been. Minutes later, he emerged with…a Polaroid camera. "Sit up," he ordered. "I want you to act like Aya…you know, like you usually do."

Curious, the swordsman sat up, questioning, "Why?"

"Just do it," Yohji instructed. "I'm trying to do something for you. Come on, it's not like I'm asking you to kick kittens or anything."

Complying, Aya crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the camera with an angry scowl.

"Good. Hold that," the blond called. Snapping the button, he grabbed the photograph the camera spit out, setting it down on the car. "Okay, now lie down again," he commanded. "No…on your side. Like that. Rest your arm…Yeah, that one on your left…Rest it on the curve of…No, not your hip…your waist…there. Now take your other arm and put it under your head. No…not like that…the other way…Yeah, over the windshield. Move your head back a little…don't tilt it…No, the whole thing. Okay, then move that arm forward a little instead…the one you're resting on. Okay. Bring your top leg up…a little more…Perfect. Oh, wait, now your hair is in your eyes. All right, fine, fine. I'll move it *for* you - just *don't* *move*."

Yohji knew he shouldn't have moved. It was a bad idea and he knew it before he even started. Later on, he would say he needed to prove something, to make him *understand*, but that wasn't it. Something…was off tonight. Aya should never have looked like that. But Yohji was a man of impulse, and experience had already taught him the consequences…

He approached Seven, leaning over to position soft, red hair away from questioning violet eyes. He lay down until they were eye to eye, resting one eartail over the smooth skin of an arm, letting the other dance over a pale, faintly pinkened cheek.

His fingers never should have lingered, their eyes never met, but the peculiarity of the night pulled at them in odd ways. And before either of them could stop it, their lips too, were pulled together, no more than a faint brush, a taste of what could or possibly *would* come.

Aya knew better than this. He knew that nothing started with this playboy had any hope of being more than a passing fling. He should've learned his lesson the last time, yet *he* was no longer the one controlling his movements. And his body only knew that this was *Yohji*. This was the taste and touch of the one that first gave him pleasure. *This* was the touch it wanted back.

Yohji felt the sudden change of the kiss from something curious and shy to knowing and sure. So he felt it too, he mused, pressing his advantage just the slightest bit. Five long years, but it's finally back. He had searched for this boy since that first night, craving the one taste that was distinctly *his*. He would never admit it to the redhead, but all he had ever wanted was the boy whose body fit his like no other. And now, his body was making it well known that it had found him.

Reluctantly, the playboy drew back, whispering, "Don't move an inch," before he was up, grabbing the camera and clicking before anything could spoil the image. Aya may have been attractive, but *this* Aya, the one with flushed cheeks and panting breaths and wet, kiss-swollen lips, lying sprawled over the hood of Seven, *this* Aya was fucking gorgeous.

The camera found its way back into the car, but the two pictures were given to the swordsman. "Take these," Yohji instructed. "I want you to study them and find out what makes one more appealing than the other. When you think you've figured it out, let me know. Then you'll understand what I mean."

Aya looked briefly at the photos, then tucked them away in his jeans' pocket. He glanced up into Yohji's eyes, unsure what to say. What did he want from this man? Would he find out if he let this moment continue? Rather than speak, he lifted one hand, brushing rogue strands of blond from the angular face and pressing his palm against the playboy's warm cheek.

Yohji covered the hand with his own, questioning, "You felt it too?" He grasped the hand by the fingers, kissing each knuckle almost reverently as he awaited a response.

"If you mean the feeling that I had been unknowingly waiting for this moment since that first night five years ago, then yes, I felt it," the redhead softly replied.

Yohji smiled. "Good, because I didn't want to be the only one."

"So then…what now?" the swordsman queried.

"Well, we can do one of two things," the blond explained. "We could either just go with it now and see where we end up, or we could forget it ever happened and see if it has us running back to each other tomorrow night. It's your choice."

Aya shook his head. "No," he breathed. "Don't make me choose. For once…for tonight, *you* decide."

The playboy grinned, gently brushing his thumb over reddened lips. "Aya no baka," he chided, "You know I'll only follow my heart" His last sentence came out as no more than a whisper as he closed the distance between them, finalizing the answer to the redhead's question. What their situation would be come morning wasn't even a concern.

Aya's hand came up between them, blindly clutching Yohji's shirt and pulling their bodies closer together until the blond was nearly on top of him. Seeing this as his advantage, Yohji allowed his hand to wander, teasing the sliver of soft, exposed skin above the redhead's pant line.

Encouraging the caress, the swordsman arched his back slightly, allowing the material of his shirt to slide further up his chest and give the blond better access. He parted his lips, tongue darting out to tease the playboy's and rediscover mouths long forgotten. Aya could feel Yohji's hand tracing a path up his chest under his shirt, gliding over smooth flesh and taut muscle until it finally paused to toy with a nipple.

The redhead moaned softly into the blond's mouth as a finger trailed over the sensitive nub, pressing and rubbing unmercifully. The hands that had clutched Yohji's shirt had fallen and were now preoccupied solely with the buttons, itching with need to see and feel the skin underneath that he knew was sun kissed and lithe.

Yohji's kisses had slid from the swordsman's lips to his jaw and neck, and he was murmuring softly, but Aya could barely make himself focus enough to understand it. He was too lost in the scent and sight of his friend and the gentle, yet desperate touch of this man who had been his first lover. His shirt was pushed up around his armpits, the blond's skilled tongue laving and biting at his nipples, making him writhe and arch against the lanky body over him.

Aya's nails dug into Yohji's shoulders at the touch of their hardened lengths rubbing against each other through the all too thick cloth of their jeans. The redhead's fingers were working almost frantically at the button of his lover's pants, wanting some measure of relief and wanting it now. This was neither the time nor the place to savor their coupling, and both assassins were content with that.

While Aya was working on unfastening Yohji's pants, the blond was making short work of his, wanting to free just the necessities for the act. If there happened to be a next time, they could take it slow then. But the redhead had finally succeeded in stripping him enough to do what they both craved so badly, and all other thoughts melted into liquid static.

He hoisted Aya's legs over his shoulders and was suddenly struck with a problem. "Aya, I don't…have anything."

"You didn't have any the last time, either," the swordsman remarked, "but we managed. It's not a problem as long as you use…something else…" The redhead trailed off, averting his eyes and blushing faintly.

The blond stared at him blankly, "Use what?"

"As long as you use a fucking condom, Yohji," Aya blurted. After earning a strange look, he continued, "Look, I'm sure you've been with plenty of other people - women, men, whatever. And I know I've been with my share of guys, so…I just want to be safe is all."

Without warning, the blond kissed him, whispering, "I understand," as he leaned over the windshield, retrieving the necessary object from his glove compartment and returning to his lover. "You know, this still won't make it any less painful." The redhead sat up, taking the square from his hands and giving him a sly smile. "Okay, work your magic, Aya."

Curious, Yohji watched as the swordsman slipped the rubber on him, and then proceeded to bend down and take his cock into his mouth. The playboy couldn't suppress his cry at the unexpected action. Of course, he knew the redhead was only doing it for his own benefit, making him slick enough to dull the pain, but that didn't mean he wanted him to stop. Oh, did Aya have a talent for this!

At long last, the swordsman pulled away, allowing Yohji to reposition him so that his legs were once again resting on the blond's shoulders. Aya nodded minutely, and the playboy aligned himself, pushing forward slowly, so as not to cause his lover more discomfort than he knew he already would. At the initial entry, Aya grasped the arms holding onto his hips, wincing slightly, but showing no other obvious reaction. Yohji leaned down to give him a distracting kiss as he pushed further within his deliciously tight lover.

Long, lean arms wrapped around the blond's back, pulling him closer and trying to adjust to the feeling of Yohji inside him. Despite what he had said earlier, it had been quite a while since he had last been with someone. The playboy glanced down at him in a silent question, and Aya answered with his eyes. Yes, move. For the love of God, Yohji, *move*.

Mindful of his lover's reactions, Yohji quickened his thrusts, gripping the slim hips once again and directing his movements. The redhead was lifting his hips, twisting and arching *just so* in order to get Yohji to hit the one spot that never failed to make his entire body tingle with a million feelings at once. After several near misses, he finally hit it, stabbing with accuracy nearly every thrust thereafter. Soon, the redhead was panting and writhing, crying out desperate for release, grasping any bit of the blond's flesh he could reach and pulling him down for a series of breathless kisses.

Yohji himself was no more in control than his lover. The tightness of Aya's body, he realized, gripped him just as perfectly as it had the last time. There was just something about him that was…intoxicating…sexually irresistible, even. With only a few more deep thrusts, he reached his apex, Aya following shortly behind as he spilled himself over his stomach.

After a few moments rest, pressing his forehead to the redhead's shoulder, the blond extricated himself from his lover, searching for something with which to clean themselves. Breathlessly, they lounged on the hood of Seven, not speaking, merely enjoying the after-sex languor and a welcome rush of nicotine. The ride home was as silent as the one there, and it wasn't until they were already upstairs that they finally found the words to speak again.

Naturally, Yohji was the first to open his mouth. "I hate myself for asking this, but…have you really only slept with guys?"

Aya should've been expecting it, given the blond's constant curiosity. It didn't bother him in the least to answer; he just hoped Yohji wouldn't regard him differently because of it. "To put it one way, I'd say that about…ninety percent of all the sex I've had has been with another man." The playboy seemed nearly incredulous, but before he could reply, the redhead smirked and furthered, "I go out more often than you think, Yohji."

All the blond could do in response was shrug. "Well then, what now?" he asked. Would they go back to separate rooms and pretend like nothing happened come morning? Would they retire to a single room and have another go at it before bed? Or would they say goodnight now and leave it up to fate to decide whether they'd end up in the same situation tomorrow?

"Well, this wasn't exactly a date," the swordsman explained. "I had a good time - really. I just…think it would be best if we didn't make it a sleepover tonight. If you're interested, though, stop by tomorrow - should you happen to get lonely." He stepped forward, taking hold of Yohji's belt loops and tugging him forward for a goodnight kiss. There was nothing passionate or rough about it, just the gentle, soft caress of lips to lips.

The blond was the first to pull away, grinning faintly. "Oyasumi, Aya. Dream sweet." At that, he turned and walked off to his room.

"You too," the redhead added, unsure whether or not he had been heard. As he entered his own bedroom he thought about everything that had happened that night. How could an innocent drive lead to steamy sex on the hood of a car? He wondered. Regardless, I really do hope he comes back tomorrow.