Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ You need me as much as I need you ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: All characters and their what's not belong to WeiB Kruez and Koyasu

Takehito and anyone's name that's more Japanese then mine (Hint: everyone's). I

didn't get financial aid so I am poor.

Yohji had first noticed Aya was following him when he opened up the bathroom door to have Aya leaning against the wall outside. Yohji didn't want to think anything about it, though he could have sworn he had left Aya sleeping in the bed. It would have been awkward and annoying, if Aya weren't so desperately in need. Yohji wouldn't ever try to get Aya to talk about it; that would only make him even more cautious. It was the shut up and deal kind of situation.

The days started to pass, time moving on despite everything they had gone through. After the kidnapping, Aya was edgy and nervous, staying directly in the doorway of the room Yohji was currently occupying, not daring to step in and show that he was really following Yohji. It made Yohji feel hunted, but he couldn't really talk.

Beyond the awkward silence they had fallen into, it was by far the best morning Yohji had in years. He had woken up only a few hours before, feeling warm and smothered, just like one should when they were laying in bed with someone else. Aya had managed to get entangled around him, in a deep, rested sleep. One hand was curled up in the stomach of Yohji's shirt, Aya's head resting on his shoulder. Another hand was wrapped underneath Yohji's arm, holding it close to his body like he might try to run away. Another repeat of Aya falling asleep on him.

Yohji had tried to slip out from under Aya's arm, being very experienced with getting away from a sleeping partner without them waking up. Somehow, the man moaned and started to stir in his sleep. Yohji swore he slept like a small kitten, waking up at the slightest movement. He couldn't believe Aya had sensed his minuscule, insignificant motions to ease out from under him.

The day started out like the others had, Yohji already upset at Aya because he had woken up when Yohji had gone through all that extra slow, difficult maneuvering to get out of bed. It wasn't fair that he was such a light sleeper. Again, Yohji dressed, yawning, having to be forced to Aya's personal viewing as he brushed his teeth. Aya didn't move out of the background in the mirror, watching every movement as Yohji combed his hair, washed his face, and did a small amount of shaving. Yohji rolled his eyes at the attention, just about fed up.

He walked into the kitchen, Aya's silence following behind. A note from Ken and Omi was on top of kitchen table. They were at the park and would be back before noon. 'The park' seemed to be a popular place these days. At least they had the decency to take their make out sessions away from Aya's hearing after Yohji had yelled at them for going at it, again, without even thinking about Aya.

Aya stopped in the doorway. He was in a pair of loose jeans and that orange sweater, the collar stretched out under the curve of his jaw to hide his neck up nicely. The sleeves were covering his palms as well, not like the usual halfway rolled up manner that Aya usually wore it in. Yohji glared at him in the doorway, waiting to see if Aya would come in.

Eventually, the man did, moving in leisurely to get the loaf of bread from the cabinet, not taking his eyes off Yohji once. He was just in there to show Yohji he wasn't afraid of him, but he wasn't keeping Yohji out of sight, not for a second. His gaze was pried away from Yohji once, to look into the refrigerator for the butter.

Aya put a slice in the toaster, starting the machine by pushing the button down. The small oven started to hum, the two sockets in the top of the machine lighting up around the bread. Aya rolled up the bread, glared at Yohji, then returned it to it's proper place. Still the anal neat freak, even if he looked on the verge of choking Yohji.

Only the chime of the toast broke the long, icy silence. Aya turned his face to watch the bread pop out. He buttered his single slice, cleaning off the knife and putting it in the dishwasher immediately. Aya put the butter back, sniffing at Yohji like it was more then he had even done in one day. After watching Aya eat the toast, a few crumbs sprinkling here and there, Yohji got fed up again.

He went out of the room, Aya cleaning off the plate in record time and shoving it into the dishwasher with a slam. Aya followed hot on Yohji's trails, chasing Yohji down like he was a disobedient child. Yohji was almost bowled over at times if he stopped too quickly.

Yohji had done it just to make a point that Aya was stalking him, freezing in his tracks unexpectedly. When Aya brushed against his back, he had stiffened up and flinched back, though not with the kind of violence he showed when Omi or Ken accidentally touched him. Another time, Yohji had halted quickly, realizing that Aya might just follow him out of the house and even to a club or a bar. Aya had thrown himself back and flattened against the wall when he realized he might touch another person.

Yohji would have been hurt, if Aya hadn't been so desperate about it while pretending he was still hard as ice. Yohji was feeling a bit put-off, wondering just how much he should buy into that past night. Yohji sat down heavily on the couch, Aya standing over him like death, even though he was leaning against the doorframe. Yohji didn't know what he was going to do. Until Aya started talking, he really didn't have any course of action. If he tried to tell Aya to back the fuck off, he'd probably feel like he was being totally rejected or clam up further. It was very quiet, conversation useless. They both knew that if they talked, it would end up in an argument, so they were both trying to be civil. Yohji knew it wouldn't last much longer before either he or Aya snapped. It was just a matter of who first.

He had been more then surprised when the couch dipped to the weight of another person. He glanced up from the floor, watching in mild shock as Aya draped himself across the couch, using Yohji's lap as a pillow. Yohji's hand was frozen above Aya's head, wondering if he touched him, would his hand pass right through like a ghost? The whole situation was freaky as all hell. Aya sighed, relaxing his neck and stretching with all the grace of a cat for the broken bones. He tucked his feet up, bending his knees to fold his long legs up onto the couch.

Yohji opened his mouth to ask just what was going on, but was interrupted by Aya immediately starting to snore lightly, asleep so fast that it bordered on a faint. But, Aya didn't faint, so that was out of the question. So, Aya using him as a pillow, again! Aya hadn't even asked if it was all right, just assumed he had the right to lie on Yohji. Not that he would ever dispute that fact. Aya had the right to strip Yohji naked and tie him to the bed if it meant gaining a bit of trust. Aya wasn't the most warm, touchy-feely person Yohji had met, so his erratic bouts of being able to stand Yohji's touch was more of a rush then an orgasm. Well, just barely on the same level.

Aya was starting to take naps with Yohji around. The majority was when Yohji fell asleep first, thinking he was alone, then Aya would just curl up with him, without even waking him up, just so he wouldn't have to deal with Yohji's questions. Whenever Yohji woke up, he always wondered why the hell he hadn't roused at Aya getting that close when he was off in dreamland. Yohji didn't consider himself a heavy sleeper but he woke up with an unexpected guest more often then not.

Still, they had been the best mornings Yohji had experienced in the past many years of waking up with a partner. He still hadn't had sex with Aya yet, a fact that was starting to get more painful and clearer in his mind. He had been a nothing but a gentleman in the grace of Aya's constant, demanding, silent and fickle company. When Aya wasn't sleeping on Yohji, he stood around just oozing an attitude that was making everyone shut up. Aya was his own little ball of angry depression, ready to go off at whoever was unfortunate enough to approach him. Yohji didn't consider it to be a bad thing, considering that letting Aya sleep on him kept away those nightmares. The one time he had snuck away to take a shower, he had found Aya on the floor of his bedroom, his back to the wall and the pupils small dots in his eyes.

It had taken a while to convince Aya that he was real and he wasn't dreaming, not even daring to try and touch Aya in the middle of a panic attack. Aya finally realized where he was and started shaking, nodding weakly to Yohji's words. Yohji had offered his hand to help Aya back up, but the man just stared past it to his naked chest. Yohji didn't have the time to put a shirt on, preferring to take care of Aya before getting fully dressed. He had throw a sweat on before Aya would allow him to lightly support him until he was standing.

By the time Aya had made it to the bed, he was already icy and defensive, pulling away from any idea that he might need comfort as he slipped under the comforter. Yohji laid down on the top of the sheets, not really trusting how many body parts he would end up with if he tried to crawl into bed with Aya. Aya had fallen asleep, too tired to be angry for long. As soon as he started to moan a bit in his dream, Aya shifted around on the bed, rolling until he was firmly pressed over Yohji's side, the bed covers falling off his body as Aya nearly laid across Yohji. Yohji pushed at Aya, getting him to roll in his sleep until he made it over Yohji's body. Once Aya was on his other side, Yohji pulled the sheets out from under his body. Yohji gathered up the sheets and yanked at them, pulling them out from the folds so he could wrap them around their bodies. He wasn't going to be responsible for Aya getting cold.

The nightmare had been the one the first. It was almost like Aya's body had done a test, a fire drill just to see that Yohji would be there after Aya had managed to fall asleep. Once Yohji had soothed Aya back into sleep, Aya laid like the dead. He slept a lot, finally able to relax and make up for the past nights of fever dreams and restlessness. Yohji had turned into some sort of security blanket for Aya. He had definitely started to win Aya over.

Yohji just adjusted to Aya's sleeping patterns. It was easy to schedule a long nap in the afternoon, going to bed earlier in the evening and waking up later in the morning. He hadn't been allowed to sleep in much in the past years on the weekdays with Aya being the main alarm clock. Now that Aya felt safe enough to close his eyes, the man was sleeping like he was trying to make up for the past years of waking up at the crack of dawn for the past few years.

He looked down at the dozing redhead in his lap, wondering just what had brought the sudden nap on and yet not really giving a damn. Aya's face was relaxed, the most color Yohji had seen in the pale cheeks then he had seen in the past weeks. Yohji smiled started to smile. Case 'Aya' proved yet again that being in the company of Yohji was good for anyone, especially in large quantity. Aya's health could be factored in, the bones on the mend and a little bit of weight starting to pad back over Aya's ribs. Now, Yohji could barely see the gentle curves of Aya's ribs before it went into a slightly stronger chest. The sickening hollows weren't gone yet, but they were starting to fill out.

Yohji couldn't wipe the smirk of his face when the front door opened. Ken stared openly at the sight of Aya cuddling up on a couch with human being, much less the notorious playboy that Aya had a death wish for. Somehow, being on the same couch with Aya's head on his leg was more intimate then Ken and Omi having actual intercourse. Yohji was definitely smug. Getting Aya to stand his touch was much more hard won then it had been for Ken to tumble around with Omi.

Omi started to push Ken into the room, frustrated at being forced to wait outside the door. He then noticed Aya and Yohji as Ken stumbled over the doormat. Immediately there was a warm, soft 'uaaaawww," from Omi, like he was looking at baby animals. Ken looked at him, one eyebrow down in confused amusement that Omi would ever make that noise over Aya's presence.

Yohji couldn't stop grinning at them. He felt very confident in his claim that he could sway any heart. He had Aya, the original hard ass, hugging him close like a stuffed toy. Ken could get Omi to turn into a cross dressing bondage queen and not top this. Yohji wondered if he should be up for some sort of award. It felt great to wave Ken out silently, pointing at Aya in excuse. He let Aya stay there, leaning back into the couch.

He was building up Aya's trust like that, Yohji gaining reliability and steadiness in Aya's eyes. As long as Yohji didn't try to force himself on Aya, he was believed in a bit more each time. He was the one who Aya had chosen to fallen asleep on. Yohji thought it might be his ticket to building up a somewhat more solid, definitely more physical relationship. Yohji continued to let the days fly by, not worrying about working yet, just staying close to Aya and no longer being quite as irritated. Well, he was trying not to be. Trying very fucking hard…

However, this morning Aya had decided that he had finally slept enough. Yohji wasn't particularly pleased when Aya had awoken him by shoving him out off the bed. Apparently the rest had given Aya a chance to gain back a bit of strength. It was still easy to jump back and pin Aya down to the bed with his body as revenge. Aya stiffened up and froze underneath his weight and Yohji threw himself off, holding his hands up in the air.

"God, Aya, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I swear, I would never touch you if it wasn't okay," Yohji babbled desperately, trying to get Aya to understand before he went ballistic. Aya wasn't screaming or hitting at him like he had originally thought. Instead, the little prick smiled slightly, barely more then a lift of his lips, and there was the distinctive sound of muffled laughter, a few amused, quiet snickers audible.

"What?" Yohji hissed, irritated that he was humorous. Aya let out a clear laugh, a few deep sounds that Yohji had never heard come from Aya before. At least, when he wasn't killing people. It was like Aya was laughing, just testing out how it felt to be amused after going so long without feeling safe to show those easy emotions. Well, even if Yohji was the butt of a joke he didn't understand, Aya was laughing. That was a definite sign of improvement. Or a turn for the worst. Yohji shook his head, trying not to worry.

"Your face, you dumb ass, you looked so scared," Aya mocked, his voice steady though his amusement was clear. Yohji wasn't sure if Aya was holding it in for his sake or if Aya didn't want to be seen laughing in public for too long. Someone might start to think he had feelings. Yohji pushed himself off the floor, grumbling as he started to get ready.

Aya just stayed in bed, laying back on the pillows and watching as Yohji moved about, discarding his shirt into the pile on the floor. Yohji felt Aya's eyes on his body as he left the boxers on, grabbing a few clothes to change into. It was definitely awkward. He felt like he was being measured up or something. Aya's gaze always affected Yohji. How could he remain indifferent around those sharp, violet eyes?

Yohji left the room, for once Aya not jumping up and following him. Maybe Aya was now trusting Yohji enough that he didn't need to make sure Yohji wasn't going to run off. It was pretty obvious Yohji was going to the bathroom for a shower. If Aya had second thoughts about letting Yohji go unattended, he could always head him off outside in the hall.

* * *

"Five dollars. I say . . . three dinner invitations," Ken betted, pausing for a moment as he thought about the number. Yohji collected the bill, folding it solemnly and tucking it into his pant's back pockets. Ken crossed his arms, grinning as if he had already won. Omi's eyes narrowed at the challenge before pulling out his own five dollars from his wallet, flicking the bill toward Yohji. He caught it in midair, holding this bet as well.

"Five dinner invitations," Omi stated, looking very confident. Ken laughed at it. Yohji just felt sorry for Ken. The soccer player had probably forgotten that today there was a field trip scheduled for the botany club from Omi's school. The younger girls would most definitely go for their familiar, cute little classmate then the loud brunette.

"Okay, tigers, go kill them," Yohji declared. It was their ritual. Yohji was the bookie for Omi and Ken's constant betting. They had started to bet on the number of dates they were asked on in one day after Ken had scored a record of twelve. It was nowhere near Yohji's own personal score, but a hearty amount nonetheless. With challenges to Omi's questionable masculinity, Ken threw open the door to the shop, girls pouring in like the waves of a giant, over-sexed sea.

Yohji was more then happy to be a victim, letting the girls squeal and gaze lovingly at him as they suddenly swarmed around him. He loved this job sometimes. The girls always seemed to be on the cusp of womanhood, and Yohji was always going to be there for an inexperienced eighteen year old. He liked to show them first love, and then the first heartbreak. At least he could be sure it would be from a nice guy such as himself and not some creep that would ruin them for the rest of life.

There was a large amount of shrieks and excited talking. Yohji turned, trying to see where the center of attention was. A large crowd of girls had easily encircled Aya around the table he was sitting at. They were all pushing in, moon, fawning over the return of their stoic star. Aya had the stem of a rose in his hands, clippers poised to snip off a thorn. A large vase held several perfect bouquets of red roses in front of him. At least Aya was in plain sight and not more then several feet away.

They had all silently agreed to not allow Aya anywhere in the shop with someone playing watchdog. Aya, of course, wasn't told about their arrangement, because they all knew Aya would have a small bout of homicide if he ever heard they were watching over him. At least nobody had suggested arguing with Aya about not going to work until they scouted out how many of his 'friends' came by. Aya was already touchy enough about the whole subject in general. No need to bring a matter of personal pride into the already degrading situation.

There was a dangerous crashing sound, and Yohji's eyes flicked up from the cleavage pressed into his arm. A carefully measured ring had formed around Aya, the girls all backing up a step or two. They were respecting the aggressive personal space bubble Aya had created, mainly because of the smashed pot now decorating the floor in front of the table. Yohji sighed. It was better then having Aya freak out and run screaming.

He turned back to the crowd, ready to get down to business. Yohji sighed, wondering where the day was going to end up. He was going to have to figure out the business with those men from the kidnapping. Yohji wouldn't allow them anywhere near the shop, that was for sure. He was worried about the people he wouldn't recognize, new, concealed enemies that would look like normal men. Yohji didn't like this worry, because he knew that Aya must be experiencing it as well. He wouldn't let Aya feel scared; Yohji wouldn't let Aya feel endangered anymore.

"There he is!" A woman's voice yelled out. Yohji stopped, the sound vaguely familiar. He couldn't place it though, because a fair officer of the law tackled Yohji hard, sending them both into the buckets full of water and flowers. Yohji grunted, plastic container digging into his sides. Another officer threw his body on top of the pile, keeping Yohji pinned in the floral mess, his shirt soaking wet with the gross, dirty plant water.

"You are under arrest for grand theft auto and excessive driving with disregard for the public road laws," the top officer listed off as the other policeman struggled to handcuff Yohji. Yohji stopped trying to get up, didn't even dare to try and throw them off. It wouldn't do to add resistance of arrest to their list. Hopefully, Yohji could skate along by being agreeable and pay whatever she was asking for damages. That way, he could avoid being detained longer when someone got to the end of the paper trail and found a dead end.

"What's going on?" Ken demanded as the two officers hauled Yohji up to his feet. One looped an arm through Yohji's elbow, making sure that he wouldn't be able to bolt. The whole store had frozen, the girls shocked as the man of their dreams was handled like a common criminal. Omi still had a small pot of daisies in his hands, forgotten as Yohji was dragged toward the door even though he was being fully cooperative. The woman sniffed as Yohji was hauled past her, like he was a garbage bag.

"You don't have any evidence!" Omi accused, finally gaining a voice. The girls looked at each other and for a moment there was dead silence in the shop. Then the officers were surrounded as the girls screamed for Yohji's release. All of them were personally vouching for Yohji's questionable character, swearing that Yohji would never do anything wrong. Unless it involved minors, but nothing too serious.

"Get back! Get back! We are taking this man in for questioning!" One officer yelled, shoving at the girls. They shoved back, far more numerous then the policemen. Ken and Omi watched on hopelessly. They knew they couldn't get involved, because an arrest would be too much for them, especially with Aya's new need for constant surveillance. The policemen marched Yohji out, pulling at his elbows that were now cuffed behind his back. It was embarrassing, to allow himself to be carried off by these men. It wasn't like the wire could slice through even the chain on the cuffs and Yohji could decapitate the two officers before they even had time to grab him. Yohji jerked his shoulders, not about to just be the most compliant arrest they had in history.

"I'm going with him," a cold voice stated from in front. Yohji looked up from the faces of the girls around him. Aya was standing at the door. How he had managed to get there before them was unfathomable. Yohji blinked at the man, Aya leaning his shoulder into the doorway like the world was so boring it was the only way he could remain standing, his eyes casually downcast at his fingers, picking away at a speck of dirt under his nail.

"Sir, we're not a taxi service. You may wait at the station, but we can't promise this man will be done anytime soon. Get out of the way unless you want to be arrested with him," the officer on the left demanded. The woman Yohji had stolen the car from slammed her foot down, smiling in righteousness. She was going to avenge her car, by any means legally possible. Aya looked up at them, his eyes dead and lifeless under the amused arch of his brow. Aya looked psycho. There was no other way to describe it. The way Aya sneered down at the officer without a twitch his lips was almost predatory. Yohji didn't want to be caught standing to close to the policeman anytime soon. Aya was smiling like a big, killer cat that was about to rip out a jugular.

"Omi, is it a crime to hit an officer?" Aya asked, his voice practically purring in the back of his throat. Yohji's middle went cold and tightened up. Don't do this, you crazy son of a bitch, Yohji raged at the other man. Omi blinked at Aya, his mouth opening. Don't tell him, he's going to kill this guy and blow out those stitches or something, Yohji begged. Aya would get into a brawl that he had no right to be in, risking getting worse, if it would take him with Yohji.

"Yes," Omi drawled, confused. Aya was lunging at the guard, so quickly that Yohji thought he might have fallen. He put weight on the healing ankle and just gritted his teeth into an agonizing smile, like the pain didn't matter and hell, Aya even felt peachy about it putting his full weight on a broken bone. The fist was flying before the guard had a chance to let go of Yohji's arm to try and start to defend himself.

"Stop it, Aya!" Yohji roared, far too late. He had just been stunned by the sheer ruthlessness in Aya, pressing past the injuries that had already hurt like a bitch and only been made worse. The fist stopped bare inches from the policeman's face, his wrist shaking with the effort. Yohji was surprised he even had the strength to stop his movements and remain that steady. The policeman sniffed and stood up from his cowering stance, leering down at Aya even though he was shorter by half a head.

"I see at least one of you respects the law," the officer sneered. Stupid prick. Yohji was the one they were arresting for breaking the law in the first place. He wouldn't dignify the idiot by turning around to stare in open disgust. He just looked at Aya, glaring into those cold eyes, trying to reach an understanding with a wild animal.

"Aya, don't do anything. I'll be fine, I'll be back before dinner," Yohji ordered, firmly saying that optimistic thought like it really was the truth. Aya lowered his fist, leaning heavily on his right leg, already showing the pain of his injuries. Aya growled, trying to argue, then bit it off, looking down at the floor in something resembling anguish. If Aya didn't look so pissed off, Yohji would say he looked like he was in serious pain and defeat.

"Just stay here, okay?" Yohji tried, not sure if he had reached Aya at all as they dragged him out the door. Aya was forced to take a heavy step to the side, dragging his already once broken ankle along the ground. He slumped and Yohji tossed his arms, trying to break free so he could catch Aya. Don't fall, please don't fall, Yohji begged, picturing Aya breaking his hip or something horrendous. Ken grabbed Aya around the sides, the only solid grip he could get before Aya completely hit the ground. Aya sagged into Ken's support, his legs falling out from under him. The bells jingled as the door was slammed against the stone wall. The cold morning air hit Yohji's face, his breath immediately visible in the bright yellow of the sun.

"Ken, watch him! Don't let him out of the house!" Yohji yelled back at the door, hoping to be heard over the din of the crying schoolgirls. God, couldn't he hold Aya more gently? The bastard hadn't even thought about Aya's broken ribs as he caught him. Ken wouldn't be able to care after Aya, he was too rough, he would probably touch Aya too much or something sensitive like that and totally blow away the past week of Aya bearing his touch while simply sleeping in the same bed. Oh, please, just don't let Aya do anything stupid like chase after him.

* * *

They had closed shop up pretty quickly after that. Ken had hauled Aya to the back storage closest, setting the man sit down on an upturned bucket. Ken propped him up into the corner of the wall, pulling Aya's body this way and that until it stopped slumping dangerously. Finally, after he managed to get Aya successfully braced against the wall, he walked back out to help Omi.

It had taken a long time to assure the girls that Yohji hadn't really done anything that bad. They were all understandably distraught, seeing their playboy dragged off in cuffs, especially when they were starting to get to be that age. Some were sobbing just because everyone else was, confused at all the emotions. Ken and Omi shuffled them off; standing by the door to pat someone automatically on the back and reassure them that everything was okay. It was like directing traffic after that, the girls starting to form a line as the crowd built up at the door.

When they had finished locking the doors and closing all the blinds, Aya had staggered in, recovered enough to walk by himself. Well, it was more like watching something half dead try to walk with dignity. It hurt Ken to see Aya try and pretend it didn't pain him when it clearly did. Omi offered his hand to Aya, wilting as the man flinched away from the sudden proximity to someone else. Ken finished closing the register for the day before he moved over to Omi's side, draping an arm over his shoulder.

"It's all right, Aya. Yohji will probably pay them a God-awful amount for damages and walk away squeaky clean. No worries," Ken laughed, patting Omi on the head for emphasis. He froze up as he noticed Aya glaring at him, those eyes narrowing dangerously and his lips pulled back to show teeth. It was like looking at a big, very big animal that was ready to attack with really sharp teeth. And those big claws. Ken gulped, suddenly feeling very chilled and threatened. He should have kept his mouth shut.

"Let's go inside. I'll make some soup, how about that?" Omi asked, walking out from under Ken's arm. Aya didn't make any move, still looking very close to murder. Ken made a wide edge around Aya and continued on in the door after Omi's retreating back. Well, he didn't want soup, but it wasn't like Aya could handle heavy solid food. Maybe he could get Omi to cook something else as well.

Ken paused, hearing a strange scrape from behind. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Ken stared out of the corner of his eye. There was Aya, one hand running along the wall, using it as crutch. He was taking steps like an old man, one much heavier then the other, his back hunched in effort. Ken's chest restricted tightly seeing Aya in such struggle just to walk, but he knew that any help offered would only add insult to injury.

Omi was already cutting open the top of a soup can, dropping the log of concentrate into the pot. Ken reminded himself not to watch food preparation as Omi added water to the pot by measuring it out with the empty can. So, he sat down at the kitchen table, crossing on ankle over the other and leaning back into the chair. As soon as he got comfortable, Aya limped in, giving Ken a dinner show. If the little ice princess didn't want help, he wouldn't give it to him.

"I hope you want chicken soup," Omi hinted from the stove, stirring the mixture together. Aya froze in mid-limp, half way to the kitchen table and already swaying dangerously without support. He looked at Omi's back, and Ken felt like he should shout at Omi to turn around.

"I'm not hungry." Something about the way Aya said it, something about his voice made Ken stiffen. It was cold, biting, like the mere thought of food coming from Omi made Aya sick. Omi dropped the spoon, motionless over the now steaming pot. Ken gaped at Aya. He couldn't have meant it like that. Aya didn't say anything else, standing in the middle of the kitchen in a brief rest to get his breath.

After that, the day got weird. Omi burst into to tears, tearing away from the stove and running to the stairs howling. Ken yelled after him, torn between comforting Omi and giving Aya a good blow to the face. He growled, looking from Omi's retreating back to Aya's cold and emotionless face. Snarling, Ken swirled around and turned off the stove, tearing the knob off in his hand. The soup bubbled lazily, already starting to die down.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Ken snapped at Aya as he ran up the stairs. Aya looked down at his feet, like it wasn't even worth his attention to meet Ken's eyes. Ken cursed at him as he took the stairs two at a time. Aya stayed in the kitchen, alone and silent. He waited, listening to Ken's footsteps echo over his head, the house betraying where Ken was. There was the slam of the door and then silence. Ken had found Omi.

Aya glared down at his foot. It was all it's fault. If the stupid ankle hadn't given out like that after Aya put a just little weight on it, Yohji wouldn't be in a police car. Aya wrapped one arm around his chest, trying to hold himself together. It didn't mean anything. Yohji would be back. Why the hell should he suddenly be so scared, so alone? He didn't need Yohji. He had just flashed back, that was it. The policemen had brought back bad memories, from the mission days. Not from that one night he had been caught after a quick job in the alley. He didn't need Yohji.

He bit his lip, refusing to sob. He could take care of himself. See, his body was already going toward the stairs, reflexively heading to his room. He just needed a bit of rest. If he just got some sleep, he wouldn't feel so tired. And when he wasn't so tired, he wouldn't feel so alone and vulnerable as he painfully limped up to his room. At least Ken and Omi had gone into their room. Aya wouldn't let them see him like this. He would at least save that small amount of face left to him.

He looked down the hallway. Yohji's door the only one open wide even though the man wasn't even there. Why did Ken and Omi close the door, though? They didn't want him to hear them? Ken probably wanted to lock Aya out. Ken had told Aya that he hated him only seconds ago. They didn't want him around. But, with the door closed, that meant that they couldn't hear Aya as well. What if . . . What if someone broke in, chloroformed him or something? They wouldn't hear him get dragged off if it was quiet enough. At least when Yohji watched him, he wasn't alone.

Aya wondered if this was what a panic attack might be like. That was ridiculous, because Aya didn't have that kind of terror in his veins. He didn't get frightened like that. But, Aya's brain was numb, his vision swimming in his eyes. His breath was hard to come, making Aya pant and his throat constrict. His heart just wouldn't stop pounding, trying to beat its way out of his chest. He didn't panic, he wasn't that pathetic, but he did feel a bit scared. Just a dull amount of cold terror in the back of his head. He didn't panic.

He was in Yohji's room. Aya blinked down at the floor. He just reflexively went to Yohji's room. If the man wasn't there, the room that usually held him would do. Aya looked down at the floor, unable to make it past the doorway. He needed Yohji here, right now. This wasn't a fucking joke or some weird bout of hysterics. Aya had his instincts, and they were screaming that there was someone outside the house. He could hear the creak of the floorboards settling. A bird chirped, warning that there was a human wandering into its territory. No other sound betrayed any other life in the house.

Aya's foot treaded onto something unfamiliarly softer then the hardwood floor. He looked down, expecting the floor. Instead, he had stepped on one of Yohji's t-shirts, a tight, black, long-sleeved thing. Aya bent down painfully, nearly tumbling over, before his fingers brushed the fabric and he snatched it up. Fucking Yohji. The man never cleaned up after himself. Aya didn't care if it was Yohji's room, he demanded that place be clean enough to live in.

Aya sniffed at the cotton, experimentally taking a whiff. Immediately, the smell of sticky, old cigarette smoke and a sharp cologne filled Aya's nose. He sneezed, the fumes too strong. It was definitely Yohji's scent. Aya wondered how old and how dirty the shirt was. The fabric was still soft from the wash, so it might have just been a quick try on or something. Aya couldn't remember the last time Yohji had worn the shirt. Then again, he hadn't been exactly coherent for a large chunk of the past days.

Aya shoved an arm through a sleeve to turn it inside out, the seams on the wrong side of the shirt. The fabric was soft, stretching slightly as Aya yanked at it. It almost felt like Yohji's arm. Aya could remember the impression of Yohji's weight, similar shirts covering the man more then once. Yohji liked these kind of shirts for sleeping and such. Apparently Yohji usually slept naked, but out of some fluke of sensitivity, the man had actually taken someone else into consideration and wore clothes for Aya's sake.

Aya pulled the shirt on over his head. The sleeves were too long, covering his fingers. The shirt itself was huge on Aya, billowing out from his shoulders and catching on his slim hips. Aya was already warming up, a bit of the cold blocked out by the thin cover. It smelled like Yohji. He could just close his eyes and calm down a bit, breathing deeply. That's right, Yohji would be back. No big deal. He couldn't imagine why he had gotten so worked up.

A door outside the hall creaked and Aya jumped, remembering why he had wandered into Yohji's room in the first place. He just didn't want to be alone in the house. He didn't want Ken and Omi's door closed, keeping him outside their presence. If someone wasn't with him, someone would just grab him again. He wasn't paranoid. It was his instincts, sharp and perceptive. Aya gathered Yohji's collar up around his neck, suddenly needing to be covered, trying not to show any hint of skin to another person.

He heard a low voice, definitely Ken's, before there was a slight giggle. It was Omi. The door clicked shut again. Aya was frozen to the spot, his eyes wide. Omi had giggled just like Aya had done many times before, though he had never felt any humor. He had laughed like that, soft and seductively, like the game was all an obvious flirt, though Aya had never wanted to make those noises. It had just been good business sometimes, to act like an empty-headed whore toward certain customers. Why had Omi done that? Didn't he know what would happen?

Aya started shaking, remembering the pain of the acts, the utter brutality that he had been the victim of. How could Omi possible want that? Sex was painful, a splitting sensation that made Aya's world fall apart in front of him. He couldn't believe that Omi would willingly want that sort of pain. Maybe . . . Maybe Omi wasn't such a willing partner as Ken thought he was. What if Omi had been forced some way? Aya couldn't imagine Ken doing anything like that to their younger teammate, their unofficial little brother. But, the possibility was there.

There was a thud of bodies and a duel bout of laughter. It sounded like they were wrestling. What if Omi was trying to struggle away? Aya couldn't move, his muscles numb. He wanted to make them stop, to help Omi, to make those memories go away. But, if he went into the room to stop Ken, he could end up the new target. Ken could easily throw Aya down for trying to interrupt him. The chance was slim, but Aya couldn't stop trembling, afraid for Omi, afraid for himself. The laughter subsided into low moans and several breathy gasps.

"Stop it," Aya ordered through gritted teeth, his voice low with shaky control. He couldn't hear this. Those noises, he knew very well what they were doing. He couldn't think beyond the soft, barely audible smack of flesh on flesh. His wrists ached, reminding Aya how very little time had passed since he had been tied down and at the same mercy. Aya shuddered, his skin crawling at the memory of those dirty, dry hands on his person, tracing down his legs and arms.

It wasn't the same. Aya knew that. Omi and Ken were in love. He still couldn't understand why Omi didn't scream out in pain. Aya had more self-control and higher tolerance to pain then Omi could ever dream of. Why wasn't Omi crying out? Didn't it hurt? Aya couldn't imagine how it wouldn't hurt, how the act could ever be gentler. Even the slow jobs he had given, those parodies of a passionate sex, still tore him up inside, everyone loosing control and ramming in without a care. He couldn't imagine Ken would have the patience to try to make it easy for Omi. No one ever had for him.

Aya staggered out of Yohji's room, trying to escape those noises. He couldn't hear it, it was too painful. It was agonizing, Aya's heart thudding in his chest, his ribs aching as they tried to keep the organ in his body. He went toward the stairs, then stopped, wondering if anyone was in the first floor. What if someone had gotten in the house and was waiting for him to come downstairs? Aya paused, standing slightly less then halfway down the stairs. Someone could have gotten into the second floor by now as well.

Aya sat down. It was his only option. If he tried to move, they would get him. He could see both the high ground and the low ground through the railing of the banister. He couldn't hear Ken and Omi if he covered his ears with his palms. Aya sagged into the stairs. He could stay here until Yohji came back. Yohji could check the house thoroughly from him. That way, if any of Aya's attackers were still in the house, they could attack Yohji instead. Besides, only Yohji was competent enough for Aya to trust on a search of the house.

His arrogant thoughts shook. What if Yohji was thrown in jail? How many years would he get? What if someone found records of the murders and linked Yohji to them? What would he do? He would be alone, Ken and Omi shutting him out of their lives with locked doors. Aya sagged into the railing, his shoulder easily fitting through the spaces between the metal bars. He would stay here until someone could search the first floor. He wasn't worrying. He just needed to calm down a bit. That was it.

* * *

"God, I can't believe that guy!" Ken snarled, kicking the bedpost of Omi's bed. Omi sniffled a little bit in the pillow, bringing his head up to look at him. His face was bright red with the crying, his bangs messed up and in his eyes.

"It's all right, Ken-kun, I just overreacted. It wasn't like Aya-kun did anything really mean," Omi tried to explain. Ken growled. Omi didn't have to try and accommodate to Aya's mood swings. Omi was fine just the way he was, and Aya was going to have to deal with it. Ken was sick of coddling Aya's violent and temperamental behavior. It wasn't fait to his cute, little Omi.

"Don't make up excuses for that prick!" Ken roared, not wanting to hear Omi say anything else. It was Aya's fault, Aya's fault for being such an all-encompassing asshole. Ken couldn't even remember what he was mad at Aya for, but all he knew was Omi was just finishing up crying, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.

"I'll kill him," Ken promised Omi, murder seeming the only thing that could possible avenge Omi's hurt feelings. Omi rolled his eyes, done with crying and already feeling good enough to be irritated with Ken's overprotective aggression.

"Stop it, Ken-kun. If you try to kill Aya-kun, I'll have to stop you," Omi argued. It was true. Even if Ken got in a small, little fight with Aya, it would still be certain that Ken would win. He had never even dreamed of being able to beat Aya in a physical match before . . . All of this. But now, it didn't seem so far fetched.

"That doesn't matter! I'll still kill him!" Ken ignored Omi. Sure, it would be an easy fight, but that didn't mean Ken wouldn't do it all the same. It was for Omi, and Aya had hurt his feelings. Regardless of how injured Aya was, he wasn't going to get away with acting like a child.

"Ken-kun, you don't need to show off for my sake. Really, I just got upset, it's nothing," Omi tried to reason with him. Ken shook his head at Omi. Didn't he see that it was Aya that was overreacting? Omi was completely justified in being upset. Ken started for the door and Omi leapt up from the bed, grabbing at his arm.

"No, no, you don't! If you go anywhere near Aya-kun right now, I'll hit you so hard you'll see stars!" Ken already had the door open when Omi finally wrapped a leg around his, keeping him from stalking down the hall. Omi was clutching onto Ken's back like an insect, holding on for dear life. Ken suddenly thought of something better then beating the living shit of Aya.

"You don't need to hit me to see stars," Ken suggested to Omi, looking at his face significantly. Omi looked at him for a long moment, glancing down the hall like Aya might jump around the corner and ask them what the hell they were doing. When Aya didn't make an appearance, Omi giggled, his face breaking into a beautiful, welcoming smile. He detached himself from Ken's body, climbing off of Ken's back only to grab one of his hands. Omi tugged at his arm lightly, trying to drag Ken into the room.

Ken closed the door, pressing in the lock. He wasn't thinking about Aya anymore. In fact, he didn't event think long enough to remember that they were supposed to be watching Aya. All Ken saw was Omi's huge, inviting smile, his eyes shining with excitement. How was he supposed to resist against the way Omi pulled at his wrist, the way his head tilted back just so when he looked at Ken over his shoulder. Omi was so cute, so perfect. Ken considered himself damn lucky to be with Omi.

Omi was already working off Ken's shirt before they even made it to the bed, no longer able to be patient. Ken couldn't say he was exactly holding back either, concentrating on trying to suck the life out of Omi through his mouth. For some reason, his hands wouldn't detach from Omi's sides, intent on mapping out every hair on Omi's body to memory. He couldn't stop. It was ridiculous to even try.

Omi was working at Ken's belt, unlatching the offensive thing and yanking it out from the loops on his pants. Omi tossed it somewhere to the side and was already pulling at Ken's pants, very insistent in his work. Ken's pants suddenly fell from around his waist and he stepped on the loose leg, falling against Omi. Omi yelped, tumbling down under Ken's weight, trying to roll out from under him before they hit the ground. They both landed heavily on their sides, Ken's air woofing out from the impact.

It was silent for a moment, both of them a little shocked at their lack of balance. Then, Ken started laughing, Omi joining him to giggle like mad. Omi suddenly pounced, throwing his waist over Ken's chest to pin him down. There was a quick hug and a kiss before Ken rolled, pulling Omi under him. They were tumbling around just like animals, a fond wrestling match to test out each other's strength.

Omi, though being pressed under Ken's heavier body, was still a cunning little thing. He already was suckling at the corner of Ken's jawbone, a little sensitive spot that he had found once being exploited mercilessly. Not about to let him get away with it, Ken worked at Omi's pants, tickling his hips, knowing the tiny body's spots as well. Omi laughed, trying to squirm away. Ken just held onto the pants and boxers and Omi wriggled out of them unknowingly. It was almost too easy; Omi already half naked before he even realized his butt was touching the floor.

Ken was fast out of his own shirt and then his pants before he thought that just doing it flat on the floor might be hard on Omi's back. Ken was lifting Omi up by his thighs and just counted that the boy would wrap his arms around his neck to avoid being slid across the hardwood floor. Ken just fell toward the bed, not patient enough to take the time to walk. Omi didn't mind, because they were both already back to ravishing the other's mouth.

He felt like a fox, just snatching up the defenseless chicken and proud that it got it. Ken was king of the whole fucking mountain. He had Omi as a lover. Who else could say that? Nobody in the entire world, universe, and the what not stuff those scientist guys always talked about could say it. Just Ken, only he could say he had the complete right to get Omi completely naked under him, yanking the shirt of with minimum respect for the fabric.

Omi was already starting to moan, one hand reaching weakly for the bedside drawer. They had done it enough now to leave things permanently in certain rooms. Sure enough, out came the lube and a condom, all ready for use. Ken took care of the task, pulling it on so Omi could have some free hands. Omi was definitely took advantage, already spreading his legs out from under Ken to cut back on time.

Ken was already spreading the lube anywhere he could get, not really able to be concerned about using some kind of finesse. He couldn't be that patient right now. Ken just smeared the gel across Omi's bottom, becoming frantic with Omi's increasing moans. Why did the kid have to be so vocal? It just drove Ken crazy, those small helpless noises making Ken feel like he was taking too much time.

Omi gasped when Ken drove a finger in. He didn't know if he would be able to hold back if Omi kept making those little sounds. Omi's giggling mixing in between the slight moan he'd make as Ken moved his finger in deeper. Steady, man, you can't rush these sorts of things, Ken reminded himself. Omi pushed against his finger, speeding up what Ken was trying to take slow for his sake.

Well, if Omi thought he was good and ready, then Ken would certainly speed up a bit. Like he could even think about holding back. Omi's small cleft was rubbing into Ken's hand, searching for something a little more substantial then fingers. Ken made sure he had himself fully lubricated, checking before letting it all go to hell and driving home into Omi.

It was familiar now, the clenching of the muscles rhythmical around Ken, pulling him in. It was beautiful; Ken couldn't imagine how he could have ever lived before this. Everything was so easy, gone in one moment just because Omi closed his eyes tightly, starting to yell a bit, going toward an orgasm. Goodbye, reality. Ken was in heaven, comfortably warm and burning hot at the same time, all over Omi.

He managed to hold back the yell, grunting when he lost himself, stabbing into the thick pressure that was Omi. Ken was gone, putting one arm out to stop from falling complete over Omi. His loins were trembling with the sudden loss of tension and pleasant throbbing that was beginning to fade. Omi blinked up at him, smiling contently, sitting up to let ken slide out a bit and kissing him gently on the lower lip.

Ken sighed with the effort of it all, having to completely pull out of Omi. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, yanking the condom off unpleasantly. The clean up afterwards was always so . . . clinical. It didn't feel natural to have to carry the little guys off after such a good session of old fashioned fucking. Ken threw them into the trash, pursing his lips as he remembered his duty of Aya watching.

"Omi, I've gotta go check on Aya," Ken apologized, wanting very much to not do it. Yohji would kill him though, that was, if Aya had really managed to run out on his own. Ken didn't want to be the one left to blame if Aya got hurt again. Yohji would have a fit, plain and simple. Ken didn't really want to see Aya right after being so happy with Omi. The man always had a way of bring the whole mood down.

"Oh, my God! Aya-kun! I totally forgot! Jeez, Ken-kun, couldn't you be a little more considerate? Oh, no, oh!" Omi started to moan, trying to wipe his stomach off. Omi was no longer laying about in a daze of passion, but was rolling around on the bed, looking around the floor in a panic for his clothes. Ken located his boxers and stepped into those, the fabric rough on his sensitive skin. The pants weren't too far away.

"Calm down, Omi, I'm sure he hasn't gone anywhere," Ken reassured him. Actually, Ken thought it very unlikely. He just knew that Aya had taken the car, hell, taken the scooter to go cause a riot at police headquarters. Oh, someone was probably already dead and Ken didn't want to be caught by that little tornado. Omi stopped trying to pull on his own underwear backwards, looking up at Ken's words.

"I'll go check on him. Take your time, okay?' Ken asked, fearing that Omi might sprain something if he tried to move any faster. Omi nodded, taking the time to step out and straighten out his own briefs, sliding them on with an embarrassed laugh. Ken found his shirt and pulled it on, wondering if he could find his belt as well. He think it might have gone under the bed. It was probably broken anyways.

Finally dressed, Ken went to the door. He unlocked it and stepped out in the hall, trying to rake his hair somewhat back into place with one hand. Aya would run screaming if Ken tried to walk up to him less then fully dressed. He yawned, scratching at his head, feeling very lazy and relaxed. He moved down the hall, glancing into Yohji's bedroom through the open door. The window was open, allowing the late morning sun into the room. Ken hoped the room was finally getting aired out. You could smell the cigarettes all the way down the hall. Nobody was in there, so Ken looked to the opposite side of the hall, checking Aya's dark, cryptic room. Nobody was in there either, so Ken closed the door and continued to the stairs. He was taking them down slowly, when an unexpected object blocked off half the stairs.

"Aya?" Ken asked, wondering for a moment if he was dead. Aya was sitting down on the stairs, his thin body practically falling through the railing. Thank goodness his head was turned against the banister. Aya's arm was providing a wedge to keep himself upright. Ken started to slowly approach, trying to figure out how to grab Aya back from the dangerous edge of the stairs without freaking the man out.

"Don't come closer," Aya ordered, surging to his feet with one hand on the banister. Ken put his hands up in front of his face, showing Aya he was unarmed. Aya glared at the antics, but didn't move. Ken wondered what he was doing on the stairs anyways? The couch downstairs would be more comfortable. Aya must have collapsed on the climb up and was trying to hide it from Ken by acting like he meant to sit there.

"You going up or down?" Ken asked tiredly, trying to plan out a path that would give Aya enough 'personal space.' Arrogant bastard, Aya was, when his pride was in danger. Aya looked up at Ken's face, his eyes narrowing. Ken glared right back, wondering what there was to be mad about.

"You go down," Aya ordered. Ken stiffened in offense. Okay, he was going downstairs anyways, but that didn't mean Aya could just command him around. Ken grunted, drawing himself up. Aya wasn't the leader when it cam to common household manners. He walked down the stairs, making a significant detour around Aya before stomping the rest of the way down the stairs. Just when he had felt so happy and content, Aya managed to be a prick. Wasn't very fair now, was it?

Ken was surprised to hear the limping pace of Aya's footsteps right behind him. He thought Aya would go down the stairs just to prove that he could to Ken. Ken didn't even really care if Aya could take the stairs or not if he was going to be a selfish jerk all the time. Aya shuffled behind Ken, like it was just coincidence that he was following him.

"Are you following me?" Ken asked, turning around on Aya. Aya wasn't even looking at him, his face turned to inside of the kitchen like he was trying to figure out what to cook. Ken felt like an idiot for even asking the question. Aya didn't follow anyone, Ken was just being foolish.

"Do you want the soup?" Ken asked, moving over and lazily stirring the mess in the pan. The skin of the soup had already gotten slightly hard. If Aya said no, Ken couldn't blame him. Aya sat down heavily at the kitchen table, wrapping his arms around himself as he hunched in the seat.

"I'm not hungry," Aya growled, angry that he had to repeat himself. Ken shrugged off the comment, noticing something else. That was Yohji's shirt. Ken was positive that Aya was wearing Yohji's shirt. Something about it didn't have anything to do with love. Aya looked desperate, holding himself together by tightening the fabric up with his hands. His eyes were fixated on Ken, like he expected something to happen to him at any moment. It was weird.

The afternoon had never been longer. Aya followed him to every room he went to. Omi came downstairs after a long awkward time of being alone with Aya, his hair still wet from the shower. He watched Aya in confusion for a few moments, seeing Aya in Yohji's shirt, hunched over at the farthest corner in the couch from Ken. They were all silent.

"Yohji-kun is probably going to back real soon," Omi assured out loud. Aya sniffed at him, obviously disgusted that Omi thought he was worried over Yohji. Ken threw Aya an angry look. There was no reason for Aya to look at Omi like that. Omi hadn't done anything wrong. Aya needed to stop being such an asshole.

Ken looked at the clock. It had been six hours already. What if they were pressing more serious charges? What if Yohji couldn't worm his way out of the station? Why wasn't he calling them? Yohji got one phone call, why the hell wasn't he using it? At least Omi wasn't as worried as he had been with both Yohji and Aya gone without a word. Ken didn't have to feel so on edge.

It would be nice if Yohji got home soon. Ken glanced over at Aya, slumped in the kitchen chair, holding the collar up around Yohji's shirt. He tossed a glare in Ken's direction, noticing that Ken was paying him a more then casual glimpse. Ken couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn Aya wasn't this annoyed and aggressive with everyone. Aya seemed to be a bit softer in Yohji's presence. For some reason the playboy managed to polish a bit of the edge in Aya's attitude.

Ken couldn't really appreciate the work, currently involved with playing poker with Aya. Omi was in the living room, watching a music video show. It was the weekend, so Omi had no reason to not waste his time. It wasn't like Omi didn't have tons of homework to make up, but it was the weekend. At Ken didn't have to go in to excuse Omi from work again, like the time he had a broken arm and a bullet wound in the thigh but was the only one who could manage the walk from the car to the building. The attendance office already was suspicious enough of Omi's 'family.'

Aya laid down his hand wordlessly. Ken looked down at the cards, stunned once again. At least they weren't playing for money. Ken wondered how long Aya had been playing poker. He had seen Aya playing with Yohji when he had been bedridden. Aya must be some kind of card shark, the way his winning hands kept coming one after another. Poor Yohji must have been frustrated to death with Aya's skill.

They didn't say anything as Ken gathered up the cards and shuffled them. They didn't talk at all. There wasn't anything to say. Ken could sense that if he tried to talk to Aya, they'd more then likely end up in a fight. Aya wasn't acting like he wanted to talk to Ken anyways. So, they both remained tight-lipped, glaring across the table as Ken dealt another hand.

Ken heard Omi yawn, his ears always tuned to any noise his lover might make. It was strange, but he could hear Omi anywhere in the house. It was like he was constantly on alert for his partner. It wasn't like he couldn't wait for the next time he could drag Omi off alone. Ken could be a very patient man when it came to manners like these.

He looked up at the clock again. They were going onto eight hours now. The sun was almost setting, a sort of dusk color edging over the city and through their windows. Aya put two cards face down, tapping the table for a hit. There was the sound of a car stopping outside the house. Aya didn't make a single move, taking up the new cards and arranging them in his hand, his poker face perfect.

"I'm home, ladies," Yohji called out tiredly from the front door, making Ken look up from the cards. Aya's head snapped up, looking at the doorway like a bloodhound. Omi bounded down the hall and there was the grunt of someone being hugged. Ken watched as Yohji turned around the corner, looking very tired and frazzled. Yohji had one grocery bag in his hands, holding it by the handles. Omi was following behind, holding the crumpled bundle of the apron Yohji had been arrested in.

Aya stood up so fast that the chair fell over, the cards dropping from his fingers and onto the floor. Yohji didn't say anything to Ken as he rushed past, his face concerned and worried at Aya's expression. Ken didn't really understand. Aya looked like he was going to kill someone. Yohji threw the bag on the table, stopping in front of Aya. Why would Yohji want to willingly get close right now? Yohji opened up his arms and Ken almost laughed at the idea of Aya wanting to be hugged.

Ken found out how little he knew Aya when the man sobbed weakly, holding onto Yohji for dear life. Yohji closed his arms around Aya, holding him close and whispering that it was all right. God, it sounded like a long time coming, Aya crying so desperately and looking so fragile. Ken slowly put own hand of cards down on the table. He didn't think he could hold them anymore. Ken had no idea Aya had been feeling that depressed, that alone. Aya was clutching at Yohji's back, as close to bawling as Aya had ever been, tears leaking out of his closed eyes.

"What happened?" Yohji questioned, his voice very monotone. Ken knew that meant bad things. Yohji tended to have a moment of calm before he went on a rampage, which made it only more frightening. He glared at Ken, twisting his head around from holding Aya. Yohji obviously thought that it had something to do with Ken. Why was he the culprit?

Ken couldn't think of any words. How could he have not recognized Aya's misery? Aya had been scared shitless to be out of Yohji's sight. It suddenly connected together, Ken realizing that Aya must have been following him around because he was scared to be alone in the house. How could he have not seen that need? The man had been kidnapped only several days before. Ken had totally let Aya down!

Ken hadn't taken the time to get to know Aya. The silent personality was hard to get along with and though Ken tried very hard, he just wasn't able to bond as well with Aya as he had with Yohji and Omi. Aya and he got into fights all the time. Aya was a high-maintenance nutcase in the best of times. Ken lived with him though and had worked with Aya for years. He should have been able to distinguish between happy face and sad face. He had just immediately assumed Aya was angry and cold, because that was what Ken had become accustomed too.

Aya wasn't the same. The utter finality of it was painful. Aya would have never cried in the middle of the kitchen where they could all see him if they were still doing missions. Aya still had the same old attitude, but that edge to it was gone. Aya would always try to save face, no matter how close to death he was, because he took honor and dignity seriously. Already, Aya was gritting his teeth and trying to muffle his own voice. But, that moment of complete and utter defenseless Aya had shown lasted much longer then Ken would have wished. How could he have been blinded by Aya's act of silence and arrogance?

"Hey, its okay, I'm just dead broke," Yohji laughed, rubbing Aya's back like he was a little brother. Aya shook his head, trying to argue but unable to speak. Ken watched, his chest hurting, but he would be damned if he cried right now. What right did he have to cry, when Aya was in tears? Ken bit the inside of his cheek, keeping it inside. Omi looked at Ken, setting the apron down on the counter. The apron unrolled a bit, hitting the empty can of soup across the surface. It rolled, Ken's eyes hypnotized by the small circular path.

"You want something to eat?" Ken asked, trying desperately to stop thinking like that. Yohji hummed, thinking about it by rolling his eyes around the room. Aya sniffed hard, his shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping silent. Yohji rested an arm companionably over Aya's shoulder, pressing head close to his chest for a moment. Aya struggled, pushing away from Yohji in anger, not in terror of the touch, shifting his weight to get a few inches away from Yohji. Not the jerking motions that Aya did if Ken or Omi approached him too quickly, too intimately.

"I'm hungry. That woman brought in take out for her little detectives, and they just sat there talking about me and eating. Wouldn't share a damn bit. They were a little looser with cigarettes. Damn, that guy seriously hated me within twenty minutes," Yohji summarized, his eyes narrowing at the memory. Omi didn't ask if he could cook, still insulted by Aya. Ken just smiled, trying to bear it as easily as he could. Or, he could at least make it look like he wasn't upset. He had no right to look depressed when Aya had already recovered like man, glaring at Yohji like he was waiting for any reason to attack.

"What do you want, Aya? You didn't eat anything, did you?" Yohji stated more then asked, his expression not changing one bit. Aya's shoulders stiffened, his eyes narrowing. Ken wished people had tails. If they had tails, he could see the limb stiffen and slash around behind Aya's back, just like a wet cat. Ken was surprised when Aya didn't tear the toaster out of the wall and throw it at Yohji's head. For a moment, he held himself very still, and then mumbled something very quietly. Ken didn't even catch it. Yohji blinked, one eyebrow rising up.

"Pasta? No thank you, health freak. Ken, you still have that pizza place's number, right?" Yohji asked, letting Aya request go unnoticed even though he had asked for it. Ken nodded, remembering the delivery place that had served them time and time again when they needed it delivered to the empty warehouse or the empty piers when they were on a stake out. Omi sagged in relief that he didn't have to cook. Apparently Omi wasn't up to the food critiquing of Aya Fujimiya.

"Okay, get two mediums from there, surprise me. Omi can pay," Yohji directed nonchalantly, waving his hand as he walked toward the stairs. Aya sighed and rolled his eyes, like he was in relief that Yohji had left the room, then was following before his back even got out of sight. Ken watched as the too-large top billowed around his thin body. Ken had never thought of Yohji as anything thicker then scrawny. Seeing one of his shirts loose on Aya gave Ken a sick feeling him his stomach. Ken picked up the phone, pressing in the speed dial number.

"Ken-kun, order some garlic breadsticks too!" Omi asked, keeping his voice low in case someone had picked up. Ken nodded, the phone ringing in his ear once.

"Hey, I'm paying?" Omi demanded, his eyes going wide as he remembered Yohji's words.

"Hey. All deliveries in twenty minutes or its free. What'll it be, dude?" A lazy, unenthusiastic voice asked. Despite their tones, the employees were very dedicated to the job, more of them likely victims of hunger attacks then not. Lord knew they were all on something to deal with smelling like cheese and pepperoni all day long.

"Uh, hey, it's the 'Cat in the House' Flower Service guys," Ken greeted, nodding at Omi. Omi groaned, sagging in defeat. Yohji wasn't even there to argue with anymore.

"Dude, please say it's not that joint in the mountains again," the operator begged.

"No, it's the store this time. You know, corner of Ninth?" Ken replied, laughing. Omi grabbed Yohji's apron, walking out with it. The brat was probably heading toward the laundry. Now that he had started back at school after leave for a 'family emergency,' he didn't have as much free time to do everyone's laundry. Needless to say, it had been building up.

Ken ordered the pizza and breadsticks, confirming the phone number again before hanging up. Omi was already back, apparently not starting a load. They both looked at each other, not needing words. The silence with Omi wasn't anything like the silence Ken had with Aya. Why didn't he understand Aya better? Why wasn't Ken as easy when he was with Aya as he was with Omi?

Well, Omi did have certain advantages over Aya. That was made crystal clear when Omi leaned in. They would have a few minutes. An innocent little kiss every now and then didn't hurt anyone. Besides, he loved Omi too much not to try and hold him every moment of the day. He didn't want to be all over the boy in front of Aya and Yohji though. That would feel like showing off.

They hugged close, Omi landing a kiss on his cheek. There was the soft noise of footsteps above their heads. Ken could ignore it. Since it was Yohji that was with Aya, he wasn't worried. Aya wouldn't be in any danger in Yohji's friendship. Yohji wouldn't let anything upset Aya. Ken could concentrate full heartedly on Omi, leaning down for a more heartfelt, definite kiss.

* * *

Yohji felt on top of the whole fucking world. Sure, he was going to have to start working seriously in the flower shop in order to make up some of the money, but he wasn't as far in the hole as he would thought he would be. The woman had demanded a ridiculous amount for 'emotional damage.' Even the police had laughed at how much she had tried to claim. After a few long negations and loads of charm and flattery, Yohji had managed to get her talked down to a four-figured number for repairs and such. Not a single police record was brought up. He had gotten away. Yohji had never even dreamed he would be this lucky.

The best was Aya being there when he got home. That moment he opened up the door, he knew Aya had been waiting for him. Aya was already watching the door before he even turned the knob, his eyes fixed on him like a hunter when walked into the house. When Yohji first looked inside, Aya's eyes were soft with relief that it was Yohji. Those eyes had been warm and welcoming, thankful that Yohji had come back. It had made him feel needed, wanted. Of course, Aya immediately hardened up his expression, his brows coming together in a telltale sign that he was hurting. Yohji had started to pick up on the small signs Aya gave to indicate his emotions. He would have never noticed them before if he hadn't taken a sudden interest in Aya's psyche.

Yohji pulled open the drawer, yanking off his soiled shirt. Aya had frozen immediately behind him, staring at his back. At least Aya didn't try to get away as fast as possible. If Aya hadn't been so scared of being violated, that level of trust would be akin to Yohji having sex with him. It was frustrating.

But Aya was so fucking beautiful. His eyes were wide, a little bit of fear sneaking in, but his face was still set in a disapproving line, like Yohji had done something wrong. His lips were almost healed, the cuts swollen bumps in those red, wet lines. His skin was still so white, the yellow and blue dotting his face fading away, Yohji imagining Aya somewhere else. Like under him on a bed, his eyes shut tight because Yohji was giving him the most pleasurable, soft fuck in the entire universe. Yohji blinked away his fantasy, instead reaching out for Aya.

Aya shied away from his touch, but more because Yohji had no shirt on then anything else. He didn't fight when Yohji ran a hand down his arm, catching his fingers between his own. Yohji raised Aya's numb arm up slowly with his hold, letting his other hand catch Aya on the hip. Aya was confused, his hand trapped between their bodies. If Yohji had gotten any closer, it would be. He smiled encouragingly at Aya.

The sun was setting, turning the room a warm orange. There were small shadows spread across the floor, from the bed, from the dresser. Aya and Yohji's bodies cast strange shadows, their shoulders being cut off at the edge of the window. Yohji started humming very lightly, remembering a slow song played in a restaurant once. He took a gentle hold of Aya, stepping back to a waltz.

Aya followed, a bit hesitantly. His foot shuffled, but from the muscles under his hand, Yohji could tell Aya wasn't favoring his ankle. He stepped to the side, humming the end of the introduction to the song. Aya blinked, looking confused and scared, like it was some kind of punishment. His hand went to Yohji's shoulder automatically, forced into being the 'woman' of the dance. Aya's face darkened a bit, angry that Yohji was making him be the follower. Yohji smiled at it, happy that Aya would be comfortable enough to show his anger to him.

"You make me . . . something," Yohji sung slowly, unable to remember the words. He went back to humming, pulling Aya into the dance. Aya went after his step easily, already slipping into a rhythm with Yohji. It almost felt like Aya's hip wasn't under his hand. Aya was a good dancer. Somehow, Yohji wasn't surprised. It was just weird that Aya knew how to waltz.

Yohji remained the only sound in the room except for the soft padding of their feet on the wood floor, Aya staying silent. Yohji was lord of everything he saw, feeling like he had prevailed over something. He raised up his hand, pushing Aya under his arm by drawing Aya's hip toward him, letting go as Aya spun slowly, his hair not even lifting a breath. It was like watching Aya fly. The world behind him was gone, a blur beyond the bewitching figure that was coming back around to Yohji. His hand landed back on Yohji's shoulder.

He speed up, gently dragging Aya along to a faster pace, nothing more then a jazzy beat. Aya followed remarkably well, not showing any signs of pain, his shoulders still square. The black shirt flowed around his body, stretching here, pulling there on his body. Yohji was hypnotized. He had it bad for Aya. He had never been caught daydreaming around a partner. He usually just managed to get them in bed before he got that desperate. Aya was fucking untouchable, an angel passing through Yohji's life. He couldn't just waste time to end up with a one-night stand. He wanted everything of Aya, from his small, shy smile, to his biting, acidic comments he threw about.

He slowed, watching Aya close his eyes slowly, blinking. Yohji couldn't imagine anything more amazing then seeing Aya meet his eyes, a small curve of his lips showing that he wasn't displeased by anything. Yohji raised up a hand, daringly, setting it against the lean curve of Aya's cheek. Aya looked at him, his eyes not showing any kind of emotion, but there was a bit of fear with the contact, and at the same time a desperate need. Yohji wanted Aya to be able to get past the fear so he could get some of the human comfort he needed. But, Aya was too proud to surrender like that.

"Aya, I want you to show me something," Yohji asked, very quietly. If he talked too loud, he might break something in the mood and Aya would pull away from the edge of loosing control. Yohji wanted to be there for Aya, too keep him supported. Just show him it was all right to break down once in a fucking while. Aya's eyes widened and his breathing visible stopped for a moment. Aya didn't like the idea, that much was clear. Yohji's fingers brushed Aya's hairline, tracing down one of the long, soft strands.

"What do . . . What do you want?" Aya asked painfully, expecting Yohji to say the words he didn't want to hear. Yohji shook his head to the unvoiced question. Sex wasn't involved in this favor. He couldn't think about it, as much as he was beginning to wish he could. It was like being constantly on the edge of a razor blade, one little mistake and he could loose everything he was working for with Aya. He didn't like being needy. Yohji wasn't used to being patient.

"I want . . . I want to know what you did," Yohji explained. "I want to understand what it was like. Aya, I . . . I just want to help you," Yohji tried to put it into words. He wondered if Aya would realize that Yohji was going to be there for him, all hours of the day. This was the first time he had been forced away from Aya's company in days. It would be the last. Next time, Yohji would let Aya come along with him. He had been worried sick at the station, the cigarettes distracting him from the chill in his bones that Aya might not be there when Yohji got back.

"Help me?" Aya sneered, Yohji's heart clenching for one moment. Then Aya's lips trembled and he looked pained for a moment, the act coming apart at the seams. Yohji nodded. He couldn't think of any words to say. Aya looked away, his body relaxing again, just looking very tired and alone.

"Just . . . Not tonight, okay? Just stay here tonight, please," Aya asked, like he was expecting to get beaten for requesting something so ridiculous. Yohji laughed, hugging Aya close.

"No, I mean, when you're better, you know, so we can make it fun," Yohji chuckled. He wasn't going to take Aya out on a date if he was going to have a limp. Aya gave Yohji a wary look, like he had gone crazy.

"Fun? How's that supposed to be fun?" Aya hissed, offended that Yohji could try to lighten anything. Yohji nodded in the face of Aya's anger, pulling away to open up the drawer. Aya followed him with his eyes, disbelieving that Yohji thought it could ever have anything more then pain and embarrassment was involved. How little Aya knew about the fun, innocent side to flirting, the easy touches that didn't necessarily lead up to sex. Yohji wanted to show him.

"You haven't been on a date with the one and only mua," Yohji elaborated, winking at Aya and blowing a small kiss in his direction. One eyebrow shot up, Aya shell shocked at Yohji's confident ego. Yohji was very assured that he could show Aya a good time on a date. He had more of them under his belt then Aya, being in the practice for far too long of time to be topped by Aya's few months of male hosting.

"Are you hungry?" Yohji asked, yanking a new shirt over his head. Aya was quiet for a moment, still thinking about Yohji's words, considering them. He smoothed it out around his waist, waiting for Aya to say something. Aya looked up at Yohji, a little intimidated still, but doing his best to not act like it.

"A little. Not really . . ." Aya mused out loud, very quiet. Yohji caught the words, barely. Yohji looked Aya up and down. He didn't like Aya being so skinny. Aya wasn't supposed to be able to fit into Yohji's clothes. Yohji was alarmingly skinny for his height, he knew. Whatever he ate, he couldn't manage to keep the weight on. Maybe it was the cigarettes. Maybe it was metabolism. Whatever it was, Yohji was already uncomfortably thin. Aya shouldn't be small in his clothes.

"Then let's go down. The pizza should be coming soon," Yohji suggested, turning to the door. Aya didn't follow immediately. Yohji paced back, catching one of Aya's wrists, his hand gripping Aya loosely around the sleeve of his too-large shirt. Yohji could never imagine Aya as small, but the bones underneath his grip felt like they would break if Yohji squeezed too tightly.

"I didn't want pizza," Aya argued, trying to avoiding eating. Yohji had no idea why Aya wasn't in the kitchen every moment of the waking day. He looked like he was starving, but he never touched anything edible unless Yohji was forcing it on him and watching carefully afterwards just in case Aya would try to be throw it up. He hadn't done so yet, but there was no reason not to be careful.

Yohji didn't listen, already dragging Aya back out into the hallway. Aya shuffled behind slowly, like it was painful to walk. Yohji knew Aya was faking, trying to get Yohji to stop forcing him to associate with other people, uncomfortable around Ken and Omi. Aya needed to get used to them again, having avoided all of them because of the shame.

Yohji ignored the rest of the murmured demands to be let go as he dragged Aya down the stairs. As soon as he entered the kitchen, Aya sighed heavily but went into the room willingly. Ken and Omi jumped away from each other guiltily, so quickly that Yohji didn't know what they had been trying to be up to. Well, since they both had full clothing on, it was all right. He parted with Aya, heading toward the table.

Yohji lifted up the grocery bag, setting it upright on the table. He dug in and out came two bottles of wine, like it was a magic trick. Aya already had taken the corkscrew out of the drawer and was digging out glasses without even being asked. It was weird, to see Aya doing something servant and domestic. It just didn't it the prideful image Aya had. Even though it wasn't really anything, nothing more then what a normal person would do, it was still weird.

"Yohji-kun, how could you have bought more?" Omi moaned, disbelieving that he could still be ready to drink. Yohji sniffed as Aya dropped the corkscrew into his hand. He glanced down, not expecting Aya to be helpful. It was kind of nice to have Aya act like he cared, or at least was trying to lend a hand, however small it was. Aya doing anything was a big deal. Yohji dug the tip into the bottle, attempting to pop the cork. Of course, it remained tight in the bottle. Yohji jammed it between his legs, grunting as he tried to pull the cork out.

"Give it to me," Aya demanded. Yohji laughed, so hard that he had to stop trying to open the bottle and rest his hands on his knees. The idea was just too ridiculous. Aya would probably break his hand if he tried. Ken and Omi looked on, Omi pausing in cleaning up the kitchen to gaze at Yohji in confusion.

"Sure, fine, go on and try," Yohji laughed, handing the bottle to Aya. Aya snatched it out of his hands, looking irritated with Yohji. He put one hand on the screw and twisted, the cork coming out with a loud pop.

"I loosened it for you," Yohji explained, his masculinity suddenly in question. Aya didn't even answer him, just bent his wrist in at one elegant angle to dip the bottle down, pouring into the glasses. The fingertips flashed dangerously out from underneath the sleeve of Yohji's shirt, erotically white against the deep red-green color of the wine and the smoked glass. Aya made the finger brace look like an intricate ring, lifting up the neck of the bottle to pour another drink. His eyes were downcast, his other hand supporting the bottle. He looked like a hostess, serving the drinks for customers and at the same time that occupation seemed beneath Aya, his lashes dark against the soft blue bruises around his eyes.

Yohji glanced up and caught Ken staring openly at Aya, his gaze hypnotized by Aya's graceful serving. It was unmistakeningly demure and at the same time sexual, making Yohji wish he was the bottle Aya was holding. Yohji knew damn well where Aya must have picked up those skills, automatically falling into the motions of a bought date.

Aya took two in his hands, walking considerably steadier now that Yohji was here, even letting his hips sway with the ease of his pace. He sat one glass down somewhat close to Ken on the counter, not about to risk contact with him. He knew that Omi wouldn't want a drink, so he turned away from the boy doing the dishes and walked back to Yohji, his eyes fixated on a spot on the wall behind Yohji. He almost wanted to turn around and see what Aya was looking at.

"You just don't know how to open a bottle," Aya murmured accusingly at Yohji as he walked closer. His eyes met his, and Yohji's breath was gone. Those bruises blurred, Yohji remembering how Aya's face looked without those swollen marks, that ethereal beauty. His face was so white, like snow, like the wrap of a fine cigarette. Yohji grinned, reaching up and taking the glass from Aya's hands when he got close enough.

"When did you learn how to?" Yohji questioned, trapping two of Aya's fingers under his pinky. Aya twitched, unable to jerk away violently and risk causing a scene, just forced to accept the small brush. Yohji's fingertip mapped the feel of Aya's fingers, the bony knuckle under that soft skin. Aya pulled his hand away slowly, bringing it to his chest in a way that made Yohji go dizzy.

Ken had moved back to Omi, suddenly coming into focus behind Aya's face. He had taken the opportunity of Yohji being distracted to wrap an arm around Omi's shoulders, kissing him on the temple. Yohji's eyes narrowed, angry that they would already be at it the moment Aya and he looked away. And a fair amount of jealousy, but they should have a little common decency. Ken's mouth started moving lower, and Omi wasn't doing a thing to stop it, closing his eyes.

"Hey, knock it off," Yohji ordered. Like he had any right to say anything. The way Aya picked up his own glass made Yohji want to grab his wrist and throw him on the table. His groin was already starting to tingle, the soft grip Aya had on the wine glass imagined somewhere else. Aya raised the glass to his lips and Yohji's mouth parted. He had it bad. The fact that he couldn't have Aya in the worst way only made him more aroused, fantasy after fantasy popping into his head. Watching Aya swallow made Yohji want to cross his legs.

It would be bad if Aya noticed the telltale bulge in Yohji's pants right now. He hissed down at the junior member of the body, painfully reminded that he hadn't been laid for the better half of a month. It was almost closing in a full month. Yohji had been a virgin the last time he didn't have sex for this long. Thank God Aya was still chugging down the wine, guzzling it like he was the one getting all hot. Emotional little prick, he was. So was Yohji, but at least he hid it better as he began to drain his own glass.

"Whatever, there's more tension over there the-" Ken started, putting one hand on his hip. The doorbell rang and Omi squealed in delight in order to cover up Ken's words, glaring at his significant other while he laughed. Omi pranced toward the front door, creating a show that distracted everyone for a moment. As soon as the door opened, Ken glared at Yohji, Yohji looked deeply into Aya's eyes, and Aya looked murder at Yohji after glancing up from Yohji's groin. Shit.

"What the hell?" Aya hissed, like Yohji had tried to kill a small household pet. Yohji gritted his teeth, letting his eyes dart toward Ken. Aya's eyes widened, like he thought Yohji was telling him Ken turned him on. Yohji laughed, the idea too bizarre to even be considered. Ken paused in his glare, looking not so anger and amused, just because Yohji was laughing so hard for no apparent reason. Aya sure knew how to ruin a mood as he snatched the bottle up from the table and drank straight, Omi's voice greeting the delivery boy in the background.

"Whoa, slow down there," Yohji warned, standing up to grab the wine, all thoughts of an erection gone. The bottle was already lighter, the weight significantly smaller. Yohji looked at Aya in shock. That was a crazy amount to drink so quickly. He couldn't believe Aya had managed to take down that much in such a short amount of time. Aya swayed for one moment before shaking his head and standing back up, swallowing deeply and burping lightly. Yohji choked at the smell of alcohol, worse then even he was used to making. Ken was frozen in mid-sip, staring, impressed by Aya's drinking.

"I gave him a big tip," Omi already was bitching from the door, bringing in two boxes and a small bag. He looked at Ken suspiciously, like he was the he was the heavy drinker, even though Ken's glass was the fullest by far. Yohji dodged Aya's hand that reached for the bottle, smiling at Omi as passionately as he could manage to try and cover up his irritation with the little would-be drunk. Omi raised his eyebrow, but set the pizza down on the table without a word.

Ken opened up the pizza box, the scent of cheese and pepperoni wafting up immediately. Yohji blinked away from Aya's face, confused that Ken had managed to walk around them without him noticing. Aya was driving him to distraction, that was sure. Being patient was already wearing thin. Yohji might have to go out with someone and get a good, long fuck in order to deal with Aya for another week. The thought of sex with Aya had started to infuse into every part of his brain. Yohji hoped Aya wouldn't have to pick anything up off the floor, or Yohji just might rush over there and start the most passionate, desperate, longest bout of sex in history right in the kitchen, regardless if Omi and Ken watched in shock or not.

"Here are some plates," Omi offered to Yohji. He blinked down; surprised that Omi as well had managed to walk past him to get plates without him noticing. Yohji grabbed two for both of them, even though Omi had been holding them out in separate hands. He would serve Aya up, making damn sure the man ate something. Anger flared, driving away thoughts of sex. At least, for a few minutes. Aya shouldn't be so skinny.

"Let's watch TV," Omi suggested, already tearing into the paper bag and stuffing a breadstick in his mouth. With a healthy appetite like that, Omi was not in any danger of being too thin. From the stack of slices on Ken's plate, there was no need to worry about him either. Yohji put two pieces on Aya's plate, prepared to wait until forcing Aya to eat more pieces. If he tried to stuff too much down Aya's throat, he might just vomit it all back up because his stomach couldn't digest it. Yohji could be patient for these matters.

Yohji loaded his own plate and took both himself to follow Omi and Ken. Sure enough, Yohji could trust Aya to carry the wine bottle. Aya picked it up, walking behind Yohji in an amazingly straight line. Ken had sat down at the far end of the corner, Omi shuffling around the top of the coffee table in an effort to find the remote. Aya sat down opposite of Ken, setting the wine down on the table next to the edge of the couch. Yohji plopped down right next to him, effectively pinning Aya against the armrest with his body.

Aya stiffened, still uncomfortable at the first touch, but relaxed slightly only because it was Yohji. He placed the plate down on Aya's lap, careful to hold it by the rim so his fingers wouldn't brush Aya's groin. Don't go there, Yohji mentally hissed, stopping any thought from going further and give him another useless hard-on.

Omi found the remote and turned the television on, the channel immediately flicking onto the home shopping channel. Omi laughed nervously, everyone knowing who had been watching TV last before he fell down soundly in the center of Ken's lap, setting the bag of breadsticks on top of his own legs like Ken was just another cushion. Ken grunted, almost loosing his dinner but saving his hold on the plate. They both laughed together, looking into each other eyes, the channel forgotten.

Aya and Yohji were both staring at them in open disgust, the two repelled by the sweet smothering adoration their roommates were basking in. Yohji growled and Omi coughed, turning away from the breadstick Ken was trying to feed him and flipping through the channels. He couldn't really blame them. It wasn't like Yohji would have any self-control if Aya was okay with touching.

Still, having Aya's leg pressed against his was worth settling for. He'd much wish to drag the leg up over his shoulder and go at it, but instead he put a slice gingerly in his mouth, hissing with the heat of the pizza. Aya watched Yohji, judging by the way Yohji was huffing around the hot bite in his mouth that he shouldn't try to eat it yet.

"How about this?" Omi asked, settling on what looked like a horror film. It seemed recent, Yohji recognizing one of the actresses. She had done a few fair porns in her time. Yohji wondered when she had started to work in real films. Or, just TV specials. It was a step up, no matter what. Linda . . . No, it was Tracy. That was the actress' name, suddenly brought forward in Yohji's mind when those familiar breasts jiggled in her too-tight shirt as she ran. It reminded Yohji of a certain sour secretary.

"Seems like Yohji's kind of movie," Ken teased as the girl fell heavily, her legs revealed. She looked behind wildly, then was running again across a large field. A male voice called her name and Tracy turned, running into the arms of a handsome, young superstar. Omi took a large bite of a breadstick, nodding in agreement.

Yohji didn't say anything. He was watching Aya, the television flashing gray on his white face. Aya used one hand, lifting the slice up to his face, his mouth parting. Yohji was entranced as the white teeth dug into the pizza, the lips closing down on top of the cheese. Aya tore of a small, delicate bite, setting the slice back down on the plate and chewing slowly. Yohji wondered if anyone else had thought that the process of digestion was the most arousing thing they had ever seen.

Aya noticed that Yohji was staring at him, his eyes narrowing at the uncalled for attention. Yohji smiled guiltily before eating automatically, trying to distract himself. Aya continued to take small, slow bites, milking the pizza like he wanted it to last for hours. It was probably that Aya couldn't swallow it all in one fast bite like Ken seemed to do. Aya didn't have the stomach for it anymore, if he ever did.

The movie unfolded as they ate, Tracy managing to meet up with her boyfriend to explain that there was a serial killer loose on the college campus. Apparently it was the ghost of a dead student who had jumped from the roof. Something like that. Yohji wouldn't say that he was paying attention to every detail of the movie. He was much more caught up in watching Aya nibble around the edge of the crust, leaving a long, curved stick of bread.

Apparently Aya didn't like pizza crust, because he dropped it back onto the plate, untouched. Yohji flicked his eyes back to the screen just in time as Aya started to glare at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Yohji watched as Aya turned back toward the television, looking Yohji up and down like he was just making sure Yohji wasn't trying anything before paying attention to the movie.

How could he even be interested in the piece of edited crap playing? Yohji wanted nothing more then to haul Aya out of the couch and into a bed so he could give it to him good and proper. Didn't Aya at least sense that Yohji was going to orgasm over every little thing? God, he was desperate. Sex. He needed sex. That word, the whole act, even the foreplay, it all circled around in his mind with Aya at the center of it.

"You want a breadstick?" Yohji asked, trying to find something else to concentrate on. Aya looked at his plate, still full with one untouched piece of pizza. He shook his head, very likely already full. Yohji shrugged and reached over, stealing on from the bag nestled in Omi's lap.

"Hey!" Omi protested. "No fair, I paid for it," Omi argued. The boy did love his breadsticks. Yohji smiled at him, breaking the stick in half. He handed part of it too Aya, keeping the other for himself. Aya took it with a grunt, breaking off a small piece on top. Yohji just took a bite, chewing around the dough as Aya pressed a small, bite sized chunk against his lips.

Yohji stopped chewing, trying to commit everything to memory as Aya opened his mouth up in a small 'o.' Aya's eyes were partly lidded, watching the movie with a bored, passing interest as his mouth closed around the bread, capturing the tip of his fingers in between his own lips. Yohji leaned forward automatically, already too far gone in a fantasy to stop from trying to kiss Aya. What he would give to be that hand when Aya sucked on his fingernails, trying to get the grease off his fingers. It was not by any gluttony that made Aya lick each separate finger, but he was cleaning himself with the efficiency of a cat, not wanting to be caught with dirt in his claws.

Aya paused when he tore off another small hunk, freezing with his mouth open to look at Yohji. Yohji just smiled invitingly, wondering what he could get away with. He didn't think Aya would really give him a chance in hell with Omi and Ken only a foot away, but a man had to try. A man had to try very hard after imagining Aya placing those lips around something else and sucking softly. Yohji needed sex.

"No, you don't. Don't even push it," Yohji's brain fiercely ordered his groin. Yohji managed to shake his head and break away from the line he had established with Aya's eyes. Aya looked at Yohji in confusion, setting the breadstick down like it was a snake. He suspected something, but if it was the right thing, Yohji had no idea. He looked back at the movie, settling his arm on top of the couch.

Aya was going to be forced to sit against Yohji's arm if he wanted to relax. Of course, Aya did the exact opposite and went forward. Aya grabbed the wine bottle and took a swig. The movie switched onto a commercial, allowing Ken and Omi to relax, no longer completely absorbed with the programming. Ken opened his mouth to say something, resting his hands on top of Omi's stomach.

"Aya-kun, are you drinking all of that?!" Omi gasped, his eyes wide at the bottle in his hands. Aya opened up one eye to glare at Omi, then nodded once into the bottle, his throat visibly swallowing. Yohji rolled his head back. Aya was just doing it to prove that he could, like he was in competition with them all. It was an act, cold and calculated, to prove that he could take care of himself and didn't depend on any of them. Because, if Aya allowed that act to break, he was scared that they might take advantage of him showing a vulnerable, healing side.

It didn't really matter to Yohji. Now that he had seen through that attitude to the real person underneath, all of Aya's coldness and solitude was just a method of protection. He could see now that Aya was scared of them coming into contact with him, more because he was afraid of them betraying him. The act of icy superiority was just that, an act Aya had put up so they wouldn't ever guess at his secret life of shame. Just like he hid his sister when she was in a coma, Aya hid the fact he had been a prostitute, but this time it had been out of a desire to protect himself, not his treasured little sister. The act was still good, but Aya was having a hard time keeping it up, too tired, too hurt to try much longer. Yohji would be there to catch him, even if it meant waiting for Aya to finally be overcome by his own emotions. It was just a matter of endurance.

By the time the commercial break was done, so was the bottle. Aya set it down with amazing steadiness, leaning back into the couch and sighing lightly, suddenly ready to relax. His face was already a little red from the alcohol. Aya burped very delicately, raising his hand up to cover his mouth and finishing up with a very soft "excuse me."

Aya was drunk again, now able to rest his head on Yohji's shoulder, sagging onto his body. But this time, it had been by his own choice. Yohji had not forced him to drink a single drop, not even to smell the cork. Whatever Aya did now was entire of his own choice, because he had been the one to get himself drunk in the first place. Right? God, Yohji hoped his rationality was on the right track. Please, please, please, I need a hint right now, or else I'm going to screw the couch out of next week so I don't rape Aya, Yohji begged the world in general. He didn't want to end up forcing himself on Aya. He just needed sex, badly. That wasn't so bad. He was a man, after all.

The movie continued on with the occasional whispered comment by Ken followed by Omi giggling softly and shushing Ken at the same time. Yohji watched team, Omi easily sitting in Ken's lap, leaning into Ken's hand, comfortable at their close proximity. Yohji was jealous of the way Ken had easily won over Omi's entire affections. Those same touches were painful, hard-won caresses that Yohji had to earn over time. Aya would be much harder to tame then Omi would ever be. Hell, Omi was so readable that Yohji could have an easy time of seducing him away from Ken. If he ever wanted Omi, that was.

Working it out with Aya wasn't so hard, it was just so long. Yohji couldn't wait all these nights without ever going further then a good, strong cuddle. He couldn't do the playful wrestling that Ken and Omi went through every now and then. He didn't even dare try to find out if Aya had any ticklish spots. Wandering hand would get Yohji killed, while Ken would only suffer a vocal slap. Yohji wanted that kind of relationship with Aya. He wanted to be able to have his hands on Aya at all times.

The only way Yohji could 'legally' get those according to the unwritten laws of Aya's body would be if Aya was drunk or finally gave up trying to fight him. Yohji just had to last longer then Aya could refuse. Their love life, if any at all, had turned into an endurance match. Yohji finished off his dinner, passing the plate to Omi. The boy took it without a word, setting it down on the table next to the couch for cleaning later.

Yohji turned to the awful movie, trying to think of other things. Tracy had apparently solved the 'mystery' of the murders. Good for her. She was telling the handsome main hero the whole story, her trite, high voice, a flashback playing with a small 'explanation' clip. The boy nodded, running off to get the police. Tracy stood alone on a grass football field, when all the lights went off dramatically in the stadium. Yohji groaned, sagging back into the couch. Ken and Omi were mesmerized by the screen, both of them leaning forward in anticipation.

Tracy screamed weakly as the two football players tackled her. There was an extreme angle, the camera shaking for effect as her shirt was torn off. Yohji was surprised to see a bra. Well, it was being shown on public programming. Then, one of the football players laughed and Omi whimpered as they started to pull back her already questionable skirt. Oh, God, no. Please, don't let this go where I think it's going, Yohji pleaded to anything that would listen.

He looked at Aya out of the corner of his eye. Even though it was horrible acting, Aya's eyes were still wide, his pupils small with fear. Aya was already shaking a bit, the scene hitting too close to home. Yohji couldn't ask them to change the channel. Aya wouldn't want Yohji to bring attention to it. What could he do? Aya held his breath for a moment, trying to calm down.

Yohji covered Aya's ear with his hand, pulling Aya's head close to his chest. Aya closed his eyes tightly, letting Yohji take care of muting the noise. Ken and Omi stared at the screen, fascinated and oblivious. She screamed again and Aya didn't flinch. Maybe cupping his hand over his ear was helping, however little. Aya hands were left against his sides, clenching into fists, his fingernails visibly digging into his skin.

Thankfully, the boy came back, kicking one of the football players off of his girl. The fight ensued and Yohji relaxed, confident that the boy would beat them if he went with the plotline so far of this movie. Aya stop holding himself so tensely, letting the fear go bit by bit. Yohji just waited for him, until Aya was ready to settle back comfortably in the couch, letting Yohji's arm support his neck.

The movie continued on without a hitch, the boy saving his girl by beating the living shit out of the other two with a discarded rake. Thank God for messy janitors. They continued on the police, arresting the serial killer. There was even a short wedding shot in the end, the boy and Tracy happily getting married. All in all, it was a happy end.

Omi yawned at the credits, no longer interested in the credits. Yohji looked down at Aya, the man being unusually still. Ken shoved Omi up, making him stand by keeping a hand on Omi's hip. Yohji looked down at Aya's flushed, sleeping face, still obviously drunk. He wanted to put a hand on Aya's hip without the fear that Aya might draw away at the touch. Those flinches killed Yohji inside, even though they weren't really because of him.

Ken stood up as well, looking down at Yohji. Yohji shrugged, rolling his shoulders to make Aya's head shake a bit. Aya opened one eye lazily, glancing up at Yohji. Then he giggled once, so softly it might have been a cough, and leaned in, landing a pert kiss on his chin. Yohji blinked at the butterfly lips on his face before Aya slipped in his balance and fell onto Yohji's neck, laughing very quietly in Yohji's hair. Drunk.

Omi and Ken looked like a set of deer in the lights of a sixteen-wheeler. Yohji laughed at them, hoisting Aya up by getting an arm around his waist. Aya staggered, almost dragging Yohji down to the floor with him in uncharacteristic clumsiness. Yohji pulled one of Aya's arms around his neck, trying to find a better hold on the swaying body.

"I'll take care of him, okay?" Yohji asked them both. Ken nodded, shrugging. Omi was still staring at Aya's limp body, speechless that Aya had shown such affection, however small it was, however intoxicated the move had been. Yohji was happy about it. Maybe there was hope for Aya after all. Just a glimmer that somewhere, deep down, maybe Aya was starting to feel attracted as well.

He started the long haul toward the stairs and his own room, Aya making it considerably harder. He made Yohji slam against the wall when they got up the stairs. He body fell over Yohji's hip, almost hitting the ground if Yohji hadn't caught him quickly. He grabbed at the shirt, at Aya's waist, lifting him up onto his feet. Aya smiled at the antics, thinking himself incredibly amusing at the moment.

Yohji managed to get Aya to his bed, dropping the man on top of the covers without a care. Immediately, Aya was asleep, snoring as soon as his head hit the pillows awkwardly. Yohji rolled his eyes, grabbing Aya's shoulders and gently pulling him onto his back. Yohji picked up Aya's sprawled arms, setting them across his chest in what looked to be a more comfortable position. When Aya was properly arranged, Yohji sat down at the edge of the bed, sighing heavily at the exertion.

Aya didn't say thank you, didn't say get the fuck out; just slept like he hadn't closed his eyes in years. Aya didn't even twitch in his sleep, his hair tousled from the brief crash in the hallway. Yohji brushed a strand of hair away from Aya's face, out from his eye. He didn't twitch, didn't moan. Aya was truly out, one hand lightly curled on the pillows. There was a faint flush on his face from the alcohol, the healthiest he had looked in a long time. Yohji couldn't help it. He couldn't let go of Aya's face, running his thumb along the jawbone, up to the red line of Aya's mouth.

Aya's eyes tightened, a small sign he might be close to rousing. Yohji froze, watching his face as his thumb stayed on Aya's lower lip, pulling at the soft, crimson skin. It stretched, it was warm, it was slightly moist. Aya relaxed again, already out and breathing lightly, his breath warming the tip of Yohji's finger.

He leaned down, hesitating. He felt like he was going to steal something. It was irresistible to bend down over Aya's face and kiss him lightly. He didn't have enough self-control, trying to not tear Aya's shirt off and go at it like an amateur, all speed and passion. Aya's eyes opened, his pupils large and relaxed in his face, almost in a sort of dazed shock that Yohji was pressing his mouth onto his.

Aya didn't pull away. In fact, he just opened his mouth and sighed between the slight contact of their lips. Yohji pushed his tongue in, not even thinking that it might be too aggressive. He was having a hard time keeping from nailing Aya on the edge of the bed. The man ought to be grateful to be getting off with this small little kiss. Aya held onto Yohji's upper arm, one hand gripping around the muscle.

Yohji stopped, wondering if it might be too much. Aya had closed his eyes during their kiss, and he looked up at Yohji with a warm look, his eyes softened. His mouth wasn't so tight, but Yohji wouldn't say Aya was smiling yet. It was just a pleasurable look, Aya happy that Yohji had just checked himself and backed off.

Yohji sighed and looked away from that loving look in Aya's eyes. If he continued, it would break this new little bit of trust Aya had gained for Yohji's self control. It was going to be important to show Aya that he could stop, to show Aya that he wouldn't force himself on him. He rolled off of Aya, stretching out on the bed.

"Wait," Aya ordered when Yohji put a hand around his waist to pull him close. Aya sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He was a bit unsteady because of the alcohol, swaying drunkenly before reaching down, the sound of a zipper echoing in Yohji's ears. Aya stood up, lurching as he pulled his pants down. He stepped out of the legs, keeping the boxers high on his hips as he dropped the slacks on the floor. Yohji's long shirt covered Aya just to the bottom of his rear, a small curve of the butt imaginable under the boxers. There was still a large gauze bandage over the lower inside of his thighs and band aids dotted Aya's legs like a plague.

Yohji watched as Aya rested on one of those beautiful white legs, Yohji unable to see his feet over the edge of the bed. There was a bit of a struggle with the socks, but then Aya managed to regain balance and turn around. Yohji hadn't even moved a single inch, afraid that it would scare Aya off. Aya lifted up the blankets, Yohji's weight keeping them secure on the bed. Aya crawled under the covers, shivering a bit at the chill of the sheets.

Yohji blinked hard. Aya wasn't going to be wearing pants to bed. That little bit of strip tease had shown him as much. He was absolutely stunned right out of his mind. Aya hadn't said anything, just dropped his pants like he was comfortable enough with that because they were both guys and there was nothing to worry about. Aya wasn't afraid about Yohji tearing off the covers and humping his thigh like a teenage boy. Yohji wondered if Aya knew how much he was in true danger, the longer Yohji had to wait. He was going to have to get laid quick, or he wouldn't be able to be a gentleman much longer.

Yohji just rolled into bed with him, content to be in his pants. It might just give him an extra layer of protection if he needed to hide something from Aya during the night. He didn't think it would really be necessary, but one had to always be prepared. Right now, Yohji was pretty sure he could hold himself back for at least tonight, if they could just continue to lie together.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If Ken and Omi didn't have sex here, they wouldn't have been heard from for weeks, and there would be NO SEX this chapter! (Mr. Bean: OH, NO!) So just enjoy it . . . They're so in love! Ha, this takes longest chapter title, I thought it would be too short if I didn't throw in a lil' lovin' for the boyz, and now it's too long! Preview for next near future episode: Yohji and Aya can date! Wouldn't that be fun? Um, I'm not psycho into details, such as the REAL address or what street names are in Japan. Hell, I didn't give the pizza place a name because I was worried about 'authenticity' in a pizza chain's name in Japan. If it bugs you . . . deal. It probably worries me more then you. All those reviews for the last chapter were so nice; a little tear came to my eye. I just didn't think that many of you liked this (I always think the worst things). Thank you so much everyone, those were really sweet!! I especially like the 'porno with a brain' line; my friend and I want to make a bumper sticker out of it. Thank you, those made me feel really good, happiness leveled up 125%! Um, if you notice any grammatical errors, feel free to tell me, because this is unedited and not read-through because I just wanted it out there for you all because I felt like I was starting to take a long time . . . I think I worry too much.