[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter 4

When he got to the kitchen, Yohji found Ran scraping his plate into the bin.

"Have you eaten?" Yohji crossed to the fridge, casting a glance at Ran as he passed.

"Aya-chan cooked noodles," said Ran, as though that were explanation enough. He deposited his plate and cutlery in the sink, and set the tap running.

"But you didn't actually eat anything, I suppose?" Yohji nagged, gently.

Ran shrugged, folding his arms around thin ribs, eyes fixed on flowing water. Yohji shook his head, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. "Well, you can't drink on an empty stomach," he said absently, to fill the silence, ripping the tab off and proceeding to do exactly that.

"No." Ran washed up slowly, methodically, as if trying very hard not to break anything.

Yohji sat at the table, watching him. Waiting for the right moment, and knowing it wouldn't come. "Come and sit down. We need to talk," he said eventually. "Now."

Ran braced himself over the sink, elbows locked straight, his back to Yohji. He shut off the tap, and water gurgled down the drain, then there was silence, interrupted only by the faint knocking of the pipes.

"Ran, please."

"I know what you're going to say." The hollow echo of Ran's deep monotone suggested that perhaps he did.

"Sit down. Please."

"I don't know why you waited so long." Ran didn't move. "You could have told me right away. Why now?"

"Ran, I'm not going to talk to your fucking back. Sit. Down." Yohji kicked out the chair opposite him, scraping the legs with a squeal on the wooden floor.

Ran flinched slightly at the sound; his shoulders hunched defensively, and he hissed and stilled as his wounds pulled. Yohji bit his lip, wanting to shake Ran until he saw what he was doing to himself, but Ran finally turned from the sink. His porcelain face was impassive, and he dried his hands and put the towel carefully back on its rail, before he sat down across the table from Yohji.

"I'm listening," he said, hands folded on the table before him.

Yohji studied Ran's eyes carefully. Somewhere, under that screen of apathy that was part depression and part Ran's usual cold mask, was rejection and pain. He could see it, just. He couldn't bear it.

"It's not that I don't care about you..." Yohji started.

He found himself cringing inwardly at his own words. God, how many women had he said that to? This was the part where they usually called him a bastard and started throwing things. Or started crying. Although, it didn't usually happen at the beginning. It was usually later, after they'd had fun, and it got to the point where they'd started to ask if they could come and stay at his place for a change, wanted to know how he'd become a florist, where his parents lived… Ran already knew all those things, knew more about Yohji than he wanted to know himself.

"That sounds lame," said Yohji, lamely.

Ran's expression didn't change. "I understand," he said, flatly. He probably thought he did.

"I meant… this isn't easy." It was suddenly terribly important, that Ran should understand that Yohji did care for him, that he'd tended him and watched out for him, and tried his damndest to help him recover from Shion, not just because he was part of Weiß and all that meant, but because he'd wanted to look after him. He'd seen Aya be braver and more dedicated and committed than he could ever dream of being, and he wanted to see him get better.

"Is there anything else?" Ran's voice was low, lacking even his usual energy; his eyes drifted over Yohji's shoulder, towards the stairs. Looking forward to escape. He was folding a paper napkin, creasing a spine into it with careful fingers.

"Yes, damn it, there is! Look, this isn't just up to me," Yohji said, almost pleading with the still face and impassive eyes. "What about you? What do you want, really?"

Ran blinked, and his eyes focused on Yohji's with a confused, almost resentful look.

"I told you," he said. He lowered his eyes behind crimson bangs. Then a sigh, and: "Yohji, I understand. I know that you don't want me. I understand. You could have told me straight away. I should never have…"

"You're not listening," Yohji muttered, almost under his breath. "It's not that I don't want you, God, no. It's just I was thinking… if anything were to happen between us, and then if it didn't work out… if we were to… we'd still have to work together. Live together. Kritiker wouldn't give a fuck what we felt about each other… Can you imagine what that would be like?"

"Yes," Ran said quietly, still not meeting Yohji's sincere gaze.

"And there's the others to consider," he continued, feeling desperate now, "Omi and Ken… it would change the whole dynamic of the team. It would change the way we work. And…"

"Aya-chan," Ran whispered, eyes intent on his fingers, and the napkin.

"Of course," he exclaimed, almost relieved, "she's…"

"She'd hate me." Ran's face closed even further at the thought, and Yohji wished for a moment that he could recall his own words. "Even more than…"

"No, Ran, I don't…"

"You're right, Yohji," Ran interrupted him suddenly. His voice had cleared, and he met Yohji's gaze with opaque violet eyes. "Don't think I haven't considered every possibility. I have." He faltered then, eyes drifting to the door again. "I just…"

"Yes," Yohji said softly, staring at Ran, "I know. I'm glad you told me."

There was a silence. Yohji took a long draw on his beer, and pulled out a cigarette. Ran didn't even seem to notice, until it was lit and a plume of smoke drifted across the table. Even then, although he shot Yohji an icy glare, he didn't say anything.

Yohji continued to smoke his second-to-last cigarette, closing his eyes determinedly to enjoy this last bit of chemical bliss.

"You won't tell anyone?" He looked up, and Ran caught his gaze, piercing eyes carrying half-threat, half-request.

"Fuck, Aya, Ran," he stumbled, nearly dropping the cig. "Of course not. And," he continued, hesitant now, "you know, if you need anything… to talk, anything...."

Ran pulled his gaze back, dipping his head in a single nod, eyes mostly hidden under crimson bangs.

Yohji dragged miserably on his cigarette, even the nicotine bringing him no pleasure now. Why did doing the right thing always hurt so damn much? "There are other reasons," he said, cursing himself for prolonging the conversation even as the words escaped his lips. "I mean, if this is all new to you, you should take it slow. It's bound to take some working through," he said, desperately convincing. "And you don't really want to do that with a cynical old bastard like me."

Ran's eyes cut through him like the slice of his blade to a target. Yes, that look said, I do.

"If I can help," Yohji's tongue was running away with him now, he knew, but somehow he couldn't stop it, "if you ever want to talk, or…"

"Thank you," Ran said, coldly.

Yohji clamped his mouth shut around his cigarette and sucked hard. Desperate to keep himself from making this worse.

"The others will be back soon," said Ran, after a while. He stood up, graceful as ever, absently rubbing at the soreness in his right shoulder that had lingered since the fight with Shion.

Yohji nodded, folding his cigarette stub into the ashtray. "I'm almost out of cigarettes," he said, almost to himself. "I might just take a drive, go buy some."

"Be careful," said Ran, softly. "You've been drinking."

Yohji looked at the empty beer can, as if noticing it for the first time. "Oh. Yes. Of course."

Ran placed the napkin carefully on the table in front of Yohji. It was folded, perfectly, into a paper airplane.

Yohji stared at it for a moment, a shiver running down his spine.

"One of those saved my life, once," he whispered.

"Yes," said Ran. "And mine."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, reaching an understanding, of sorts.

"It's best this way," said Yohji, eventually.

"Yes."

Ran made to head for the door, just as Yohji pushed his chair back, bumping hard against Ran's arm. He saw the pain in Ran's eyes straight away, as his hand went to his shoulder as if to protect it, too late: damnit, thought Yohji, what a time to get clumsy. He scrambled to his feet, anxious.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry, is it alright?"

"It's nothing," Ran lied. "Just stiff…"

"Let me see…" Yohji gently took his fingers to Ran's shoulder, probing muscles taut as his wire.

"It's okay," Ran insisted. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? Only the muscle was ripped you know, and if it doesn't mend properly…"

"Now you sound like Omi. I'm fine."

"Just let me get the knots out." Yohji turned Ran away from him, without waiting for his approval, and set to work about his shoulder blade, sharp bone all too easily found even under his thick shirt, and dug in underneath it, separating muscles with clever thumbs.

Ran grunted, pressing back into him a little, tilting his head back, a crimson curtain falling in front of Yohji's eyes.

"Is that okay?" Yohji leaned forward just a little, whispering into Ran's ear. His left ear. The one with the earring.

"Yes," said Ran, nothing at all in his voice. "Thank you."

Yohji was suddenly aware of a particular patch of Ran's bare neck, just below his ear, behind the earring. Slender ivory with a pinkish cast from the reflection of scarlet hair, pulsing faintly in time with his heartbeat.

The world stood still and quiet, for a moment; Yohji was aware that his hands had stopped moving.

"Yohji?" His name dripped like honey from Ran's lips.

He stared at Ran's skin with a longing so deep it hurt.

It was too much to ask, that he resist this. Too much.

He reached out to Ran, not with his words, or his hands, or even his lips. He reached out with his tongue, soft and wet, and tasted alabaster skin, licking a glistening line up slender neck to ear, finally wrapping around his earlobe, bright metal mingling with sweet skin.

Ran let out a soft cry of surprise. His body didn't melt into Yohji's arms; neither did he pull away. He just held still, barely breathing. World stood still. Yohji waited, his whole body singing to him, eyes closed, heart pounding, his breath cool on Ran's wet skin.

Yohji felt a hand, reaching back to pull his head closer into Ran's neck.

With a groan, Yohji put his mouth to tender flesh, his arms snaking around Ran's slender waist and pulling him back, fingers teased by a flash of naked skin around his hip where his shirt didn't cover.

Oh God. Yohji's eyes fluttered closed, better to feel Ran's body against his, holding him close. God, it felt so good, just holding him...

"Yohji," Ran's voice was a rasp, as if he couldn't get enough breath into his body to speak. "Yohji…"

"It's okay," Yohji whispered in his ear, almost sure that it was.

"No, I can't…" Ran peeled Yohji's arms away from his body, twisting free; Yohji reluctantly let him go, and fought hard to keep from pursuing him, for now, at least.

Ran folded his own arms over his belly, where Yohji's had just been, hunching his shoulders, eyes closed, trying to find his thoughts under the haze of lust that Yohji had thrown over his mind like a veil.

"Ran…"

He didn't answer. Yohji waited, pulse racing, uncertain, missing the warmth of the other man's body, the taste of his skin fresh on his tongue. He realised Ran was trembling, slightly, just a quiver in the tight muscles across his back. Finally, stumbling a little, words came.

"I don't want... I understand, Yohji, you don't have to..." He paused to fill his lungs, fragile ribs expanding under strong breath. He straightened a little as he exhaled, slowly. "I don't want your pity."

It was all Yohji could do to keep from laughing, or crying. Pity? Did Ran really think that holding him in his arms, adoring that beautiful flesh, was an act of pity?

"Come here," he said quietly.

Ran darted a look over his shoulder, narrow eyes flashing between shoulder and bangs.

"Come here," Yohji persisted, voice calm, eyes soft, head tilted slightly to one side.

Ran turned slowly, confused by the certainty in Yohji's expression, and even more so by the slight tilt to his hips, and a strand of dark blonde hair that was curling gently towards his mouth. He stood, hypnotised by this small, casual detail of Yohji's appearance, as Yohji stepped towards him.

"You know this isn't pity." Yohji's serious voice, deep and resonant. "Fuck, Ran, I don't do pity."

"Then." Ran had never felt so vulnerable in his life. Of all the attacks he'd endured, of all the times he'd glared at an opponent, disarmed and waiting for a finishing blow, none of them made him feel as exposed, as raw, as this. He just looked at Yohji, completely out of his depth; he had no idea how any of this worked. He felt weak, his usually sharp mind reduced to confusion by Yohji's gaze and near-starvation; caught between an almost overwhelming desire to take whatever Yohji offered, and a conviction that Yohji didn't, couldn't possibly, want him.

"Ran, stop this," he said roughly. "I told you I'd think about it." Then he smiled. "I did. I want you, Fujimiya Ran. I want you."

"What? But, then . . . the others . . ." Ran looked confused; it reminded Yohji vaguely of the look on Omi's face when he was trying to puzzle out information from the riddles Kritiker called mission briefings. As if he was thinking so hard he couldn't see the plain truth in front of him. Then, suddenly, there was just the slightest, brightest flicker of hope. Fleeting, soon gone, but Yohji had seen it. It was enough.

"I've suddenly decided that I don't care anymore what they think," he said. One brow arched. "Actually, I never did care what they think. Ran," he continued, suddenly serious. "I don't care for myself. Only for you. If you don't want the others to know..."

"I don't..." A flicker crossed Ran's eyes. "Aya can't know," he said sadly. His eyes were fading slowly to despair, and Yohji stepped forward quickly. He crossed the short space between them, reached out a hand, slowly, to touch the bare patch of skin on Ran's neck that he'd so recently claimed.

"Ran, if you want to keep this hidden..." he trailed off. "I just want you to be sure about this."

Ran's eyes were still downcast, lids flickering minutely with the movements of Yohji's fingers over his bare skin. He nodded vaguely, and Yohji grimaced.

"Ran, I am sure," he said intently, catching Ran's chin and forcing the violet eyes to meet his. "Are you? I need to know that you're sure."

Ran 'mmph'ed, his lip curling in a snarl. His eyes flared. "Why do you keep asking that? I can't... Why does it matter so much to you?!" He was practically spitting the words.

"I-" Yohji stopped, stunned. A slow tenderness crept into his eyes, and he smiled, just a crook of his lips, and brushed his thumb across Ran's cheek. "Because you matter to me. I want to get this right, can you understand that?" Some of the desperation was creeping back into his voice. "No regrets, Ran. I want this to be right."

"It's right," Ran said, voice a bare whisper, eyes open. He pulled Yohji's head down so that their foreheads bumped gently together. "It's right."

"Ran, I-" Yohji half-smiled. "Can you... How can you be sure?" he asked, voice burning.

Ran's eyes softened, staring up at Yohji. His lip curled in a tiny, crooked almost-smile. He blinked. "I matter to you." The tiny smile widened, and Yohji melted. "To you, I matter." And he tugged at Yohji's neck until their lips met, a delicate brush of flesh on flesh.

"You matter," Yohji groaned into slickened skin, hands coming up to card crimson hair. "Oh God, Ran, you matter."

Their lips barely touched, a teasing butterfly dance of Ran shifting onto his toes to kiss just the edge of Yohji's smile. Yohji moved to his bit of flesh, the naked skin of Ran's neck, and touched tongue to bruise until Ran's eyes glazed over, lost focus and finally fluttered shut. Yohji smiled, sliding his fingers through Ran's hair to cradle the back of his head, pulling him close enough for a deeper kiss.

"That's better," he murmured, and covered Ran's lips softly with his own.

Ran stiffened slightly, either still fighting himself or unsure as to how to respond, Yohji wasn't sure which; then he kissed Yohji back, hard and a little clumsily, with a bump of noses. Yohji stroked the back of Ran's head with his thumb, letting him find his way a little before he took control again, taking the kiss back to the merest brush of lips, feeling Ran relax at last under his touch. His mouth was soft now, and his body leaned comfortably into Yohji's as tentative arms slid down to Yohji's waist.

Yohji hummed approvingly, brushing Ran's hair back from his uptilted face with both hands, luxuriating in the soft, silky feel of it. He kissed Ran a little harder, delighted at the way he picked up the change of pace, awkwardness forgotten in easy, sensual movement.

They came up for air, breathless; Ran's eyes shuttered open to meet a heat in Yohji's green gaze he'd never seen before. His heart thudded in his chest.

"Okay?" Yohji stroked a finger along the clean line of Ran's jaw.

"Yes," he said, his voice clear and steady, belying the rare and pleasant chaos of his mind.

Yohji smiled lazily, hair falling in his eyes, head tilted to one side. "If you want to stop," he said, teasing more than offering, "just say."

"No," Ran replied, the hint of an answering smile tugging at his lips, "I don't want to stop. Unless you…"

"Oh no," said Yohji with a chuckle, and dipped his head for another kiss, a little firmer this time. To his surprise Ran flicked out his tongue for Yohji to welcome into his mouth, circling it with his own and sucking gently on the tip. He ran one hand down Ran's spine, settling in the small of his back, grunting with satisfaction as Ran echoed the move, pulling them closer together. Yohji felt a shock of pleasure as his hardness brushed against an answering bulge in Ran's tight jeans, voiced in a moan deep in his throat. He felt Ran smile into their kiss, and he started to tease Yohji's tongue with his, darting into his mouth only to retreat into his own, forcing Yohji to follow.

Once again panting for breath, Yohji raised his head, kissing the tip of Ran's nose, his forehead. "You taste good," he murmured.

"You taste awful," said Ran, "but I don't give a fuck." He brushed his lips down Yohji's throat, coming to rest in the hollow between neck and shoulder.

"Sorry," said Yohji, a little repentant. "I could go brush my teeth," he said, "but that would mean letting you out of my sight and I really don't want to do that right now."

"Me neither," murmured Ran, licking his way back up Yohji's neck to his ear.

"There is one thing, though," Yohji crooned.

"Mmm?"

"If you're going to carry on with that, I need to be near something soft, because my knees are going to give way."

"Hn." Ran grunted. "Where?"

"Upstairs?" Yohji suggested, "my room?" He felt the faintest hesitation as Ran paused in his licking of Yohji's ear. He waited.

"Alright," Ran said, eventually. "Your room."

Yohji grinned broadly, quite pleased that Ran's face was still buried in his neck, or he would probably have been accused of gloating. "Come on then," he took Ran's hand, unwilling to let go of him for fear he might change his mind, and led him smiling upstairs.

to be continued...