Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ You're Joking, Right? ❯ Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 

Yoji had been having anxiety dreams all night. Well, all morning, since he hadn't even tried to sleep until after 4. They were embarrassingly pedestrian anxiety dreams, too -- all variations on the theme of trying to get to the airport and just not quite being up to the task. He was actually glad to be awake.

 

He sat up and yawned, then looked at the clock. Christ, it was only 10 -- no wonder he felt like he'd been pecked to death by ducks. He didn't want to go back to sleep, though... maybe a nap later. At least he didn't have to work today. He sat up and stretched.

 

But he did have to do something...

 

Oh. Oh, yeah. Aya had turned his world upside down.

 

He should be immune to this sort of thing by now, since his world turned upside down more than once. He wasn't entirely surprised that their puppet masters were screwing with them; he almost didn't even care. What seriously fucked with him was Aya, who appeared to have infected him with... what? Longing?

 

What the hell had happened last night?

 

After giving in to sensory overload and leaving Aya to sleep, Yoji had thought about the situation for hours. He was sure Aya had told him the truth -- at least, basically the truth. Part of it. But why had Yoji reacted the way he had? Aya was gorgeous, sexy, dangerous, mysterious... He'd known all that for months. Until last night, though, none of it had been enough to overshadow the main fact of Aya, which was that he was almost impossible to deal with. Yet Yoji had taken it upon himself to not only shelter their resident psycho but actually fight for him.

 

He couldn't come up with a reason for it. But neither was he ready to say, “Fuck it, I've come to my senses.” It was almost as if he were still dreaming.

 

Yoji sighed and reached for a cigarette. He lit it and took a quick, deep drag, hoping the nicotine would work some head-clearing magic. It hadn't helped last night, but maybe after a few hours' sleep he'd have better results.

 

He still didn't know what he was going to tell Omi, and now he was out of time. The best plan he'd come up with was to say he'd fallen for Aya and throw himself on the kid's mercy. Should work, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

 

Yoji got up and put on a pair of sweatpants that lay crumpled on the floor. Taking a deep breath, he snagged his cigarettes and lighter and headed downstairs.

 

Omi was at the kitchen table, sipping distractedly from a mug of coffee. His expression was worrisome -- confused. Upset. Guilty.

 

Yoji pulled up a chair and lit another cigarette. “What's going on, Omi?” He took the coffee from Omi's hand and drank the rest in two gulps.

 

Omi merely frowned vaguely -- bad sign.

 

“Omi, you're freaking me out. What's wrong?”

 

“Aya.”

 

Yoji nodded. Right -- might as well dive right in. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about Aya.”

 

Omi nodded. “Yeah, Ken wanted to talk to me about Aya, too. I wasn't sure what to do, but... It doesn't matter now. He went to Kritiker this morning and told them what happened.”

 

Yoji stared, speechless. He'd done what?

 

Omi nodded. “Right. I'd been thinking we could try to talk to him or something, maybe fudge the report a little, but...”

 

“Umm, what did he tell them?”

 

“I didn't get all of it, I'm sure. Basically, he decided to deviate from the mission plan at the last minute and draw off one or two of the other team members because he figured the odds would be better that way.” Omi frowned. “Arrogant ass. But he admitted it was a bad call and said it was his fault we lost the target. And got himself seriously injured. He figured they'd want to punish him, so he just went to them to get it over with, I guess.”

 

Yoji was shaking his head in disbelief.

 

“I know. Manx said she wasn't supposed to tell me, but he told her he didn't want to make us turn him in. Just when I'd decided we absolutely couldn't work with him, he suddenly does something that makes you think he might be on the team after all.”

 

Yoji lit another cigarette. What the hell was Aya doing?

 

“So, what happened?”

 

“She said he'd been reprimanded and that it was up to Aya whether he wanted to give us any details. I guess we'll see when he comes home.”

 

“Did you tell Ken?”

 

“Yeah. He doesn't know what to think either. We're going to have to try to get Aya to talk to us when he gets home.”

 

“You're joking, right?”

 

Omi sighed. “I'll make more coffee.”

 

“Hey -- did Manx say anything about where that other team of assassins came from?”

 

“No. She said they're looking into it.”

 

Yoji nodded. Had Aya been lying after all? And if he hadn't, how far in the dark was Kritiker keeping them?

 

Yoji sat at the table, absently smoking as he replayed everything that had happened last night, searching for clues. It wasn't clear what Aya would have gotten out of lying, really. Besides, it had been too good a performance -- he couldn't have just been making it all up. Didn't mean Yoji trusted him, though.

 

Why the hell had Aya surrendered himself to Kritiker this morning? He must have had a pretty fucking good reason -- they all knew what happened when you didn't follow orders. Aya presumably knew something about that first hand, since he'd tried to desert before being sent to Weiss. Or whatever the hell had really happened -- couldn't believe anything now.

 

Yoji's musings were interrupted by a scrabbling at the back door. He and Omi were both halfway across the kitchen when the bolt finally turned and Aya staggered in. He closed the door and leaned against it heavily, taking several very careful breaths before looking up.

 

Yoji wondered just how much damage it would take to wipe that look of petulant disdain off Aya's face.

 

“Much as I'd love to stare back at you two all day -- or at least knock you the hell out of my way so I could get to the stairs -- I could actually use some help here.” Aya's voice was deeper than usual, and raspy. Like he'd been screaming. That couldn't be right, though -- Aya wouldn't have cried out. Of course, holding back a scream can be hard on the throat, too.

 

Slowly, Yoji came to Aya's side and held his arms out. “Lean against me -- I don't know what not to touch.”

 

“It would be ideal if you didn't touch anything,” Aya muttered. “Don't get smug -- this is just a necessary evil.” Then he leaned against Yoji like a lover -- something Yoji hadn't realized he'd wanted until Aya did it. Not for the first time, Yoji wondered just how dangerous this treacherous mother-fucker really was.

 

Aya held himself very carefully and walked with a stiff, lurching gait. Well, the pain was real, at least. Yoji helped him upstairs as gently as he could. Aya made it obvious that he didn't want Yoji to come in, but he didn't protest when Yoji kept hold of him and insisted on helping him onto the bed.

 

Yoji reached over to unbutton Aya's coat.

 

“I can imagine the theories you've come up with about what kind of deviant I am, but let me make it clear that now would actually be a good time to leave me the hell alone.”

 

“I was going to check your wounds.”

 

“Getting into that, are you?” Aya huffed dismissively, then winced. “Well, there's no need. Nothing's serious, just painful. This was done by a professional.” The side of his mouth that wasn't swollen twisted into a grim half-smile.

 

“So there's nothing I can do for you.”

 

Aya's lips were already forming the word no when he stopped himself. He looked up into Yoji's eyes, his gaze clear and unguarded. Relatively. The smile returned, this time less bitter. Aya raised an eyebrow and asked, “Take off my boots?” It came across as kind of winsome, which was distinctly unnerving.

 

“Yeah. And how about some pain killers?”

 

Now Aya looked hopeful. “Dilaudid?”

 

“You have a concussion.”

 

“It's fine.”

 

It did seem fine, and Aya did tend to know exactly what he could handle. Also, Yoji wasn't interested in arguing about it. Sometimes you just need opiates. He nodded and went to get the pills.

 

When Yoji returned, he'd half-expected to find Aya already undressed and in bed with the covers tucked up to his chin, just to spite him, but the man was exactly as he'd left him. Yoji was relieved -- he'd been looking forward to stripping the surly bastard.

 

“Here.” He handed Aya the two little yellow pills, which he dry swallowed. He'd been careful not to touch Yoji's hand when he took them -- force of habit, Yoji guessed.

 

Yoji sat on the bed and, for the second time in 12 hours, started taking off Aya's clothes. He was trying not to get turned on by it and failing. Well, who wouldn't be affected? Aya was just drawn that way.

 

This coat was easy to open, a simple hip-length black leather jacket with the normal number of buttons and no buckles to contend with at all. Interestingly, Aya appeared to have lost his shirt again; in its place was a perfectly straight slash from the middle of his sternum all the way down to his hips. Yoji's eyes followed it all the way down, then -- pausing for a good look at Aya's crotch in those tight jeans -- looked back into his eyes to ask a silent question.

 

“They cut off my shirt,” he said flatly. “Since I like that sort of thing.”

 

Just how much did Aya like that sort of thing? Had he gotten off of being pistol whipped by some brutally efficient Kritiker agent, or did it have to be done by someone he, well, cared about?

 

His gaze wandered over Aya's torso, taking it all in, and Yoji had to admit there was something erotic about this, uncovering Aya and revealing the secret damage... he could appreciate the peculiar beauty in the contrast between Aya's milky white skin and all those bruises, purple and blue and black.

 

Yoji decided to take his time with it, allow himself to enjoy it. If this had been, say, Ken -- God forbid -- he'd have moved quickly and efficiently out of respect and a desire not to make an injured teammate suffer further. With Aya, though, Yoji figured all bets were pretty much off.

 

He popped the button on Aya's pants and reached for the zipper. Did Farfarello like to expose Aya like this? Was this how Aya's menacing lover felt about the injuries he inflicted? Probably, Yoji assumed. But more so. He wasn't especially concerned to learn that he might share this kink with one-eyed freaky guy. Nothing Yoji did or felt surprised him anymore. Since joining Weiss, he'd learned that he was capable of anything.

 

Yoji realized he'd been kneeling between Aya's thighs, hands on his hipbones and eyes fixed on the perfect, unmarred skin of Aya's stomach. Well, rather lower than that, actually. He looked up to see Aya's face, wondering what he might be thinking. Yoji wasn't worried that he might take offense -- Aya had consented to something last night, and Yoji was taking him at his word. It was more that he would prefer to keep the depth of this sudden, inexplicable yearning to himself. He didn't trust Aya with it for a second.

 

Aya was watching him. *Really* watching him. Yup -- prey object. Yoji shrugged off the shudder that went down his spine and shrugged off the revelation that he wasn't shuddering because he disliked it. Then, he smiled calmly. “What, are you still conscious? I gave you enough to knock out a horse. Close your eyes and die already.”

 

Aya smiled slowly, and Yoji hid another shudder -- it really was a terrifying smile. Yoji doubted that many men who'd seen it had lived to tell the tale.

 

“You going to fuck me while I sleep?” Aya purred.

 

Shit, fuck, and son of a bitch, but that had him hard as a rock in the space of time it took to say the words, zero to sixty in 2.5 seconds.

 

“Then I wouldn't be able to hear you scream.”

 

Aya looked fucked up but -- what, interested? Pleased? His smile broadened. “I don't think you answered my question.”

 

Yoji shrugged. “Hadn't thought about it.” He finished peeling off Aya's jeans and took a good, long look at Aya's naked body -- broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, every plane, contour and angle absolutely perfect. Aya wasn't hard, which actually added fuel to Yoji's fire -- kind of an extension of the staying dressed while your partner is naked dynamic. Oh, he was working that angle too, wasn't he. Yoji was going to have to give some more thought to this domination shit. Later. Elsewhere. Right now he wanted to take hold of Aya's flaccid penis and roll it gently between his thumb and fingers, and cup those full, round balls, barely covered by the finest dusting of soft, red hair.

 

Aya shifted, spreading his legs and tilting his hips just so, offering easy access to everything.

 

Yoji looked back to Aya's face, expecting a knowing smirk. Instead, Aya's eyelids were half-closed, his mouth slightly open, his lips -- usually held in a tight, angry line -- now lax and swollen and available, like the rest of him. Yoji didn't have a clue what game Aya was playing, but he had to give him credit, he was good. “You couldn't possibly actually want me to fuck you right now.”

 

Aya smiled, slow and sleepy. The drugs had finally kicked in. “No,” he said softly. “I like the idea of you doing it anyway, though.” He finally closed his eyes.

 

Yoji kept looking at Aya for a long time before finally covering him up and leaving the room. He was still aroused, although at a level more tolerable than before, and he was tempted to just go to his room and stroke himself off to fantasies of his battered teammate. Then he could take a nap and stop thinking about this damned mess for a while. He'd taken a step in that direction when he realized, in a moment of sudden clarity, that Aya had managed to keep him from asking any questions about what the hell had happened this morning. He'd been played like a God-damned violin.

 

Shaking his head, Yoji headed back downstairs and found Omi in the living room on his cell phone. Ken was on the sofa, staring at Omi, listening carefully to that side of the call.

 

Omi nodded at Yoji and motioned for him to wait. “OK. Well, thanks, Manx. We can handle it from here.” He turned off the phone and looked at his colleagues. “He's off active duty until the doctors clear him, but no restrictions -- weird, huh? They seem to think they've made their point. What else did you find out, Yoji?”

 

Yoji sighed. What he'd found out was that Aya had him by the balls. “Not a thing. He's bruised like you wouldn't believe, but that looks like all of it. I gave him some pain killers, and he fell asleep.” Yoji looked at each of his teammates. “You didn't think he'd actually tell me anything, did you?”

 

Ken snorted, and Omi shook his head. “Do you think this was his way of apologizing? I mean, it's kind of extreme, but...”

 

“Aya's pretty fucking extreme,” Ken said.

 

Roger that, Yoji thought.

 

“So, you think that's it?” Omi asked.

 

Ken sighed. “Yeah. Maybe. Makes more sense than anything else. What do you think, Yoji?”

 

No. About the only thing Yoji was sure of was that contrition had nothing to do with it. He shrugged elaborately. “I don't know. I plan to ask him what it was all about when he wakes up, though -- and if by some fucking miracle he actually answers me, I'll be sure to let you know.”

 

Yoji paused to light a cigarette, trying to come up with something useful. “OK, here's what I think. If he winds up being easier to live with, I don't care why. Right?”

 

“Maybe,” Omi said slowly. “You think we should just leave well enough alone if he seems -- contrite? We could use a break.”

 

Ken shrugged. “I don't know; I always think of him as kind of an angel -- reminds me every time I see him that I'm in hell.”