Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ I Hate Him ❯ Butterflies controlling the heart ( Chapter 14 )

Disclaimer: All characters and belong to WeiB Kruez and Koyasu Takehito… If they

didn't want cross-dressing, they shouldn't have made everyone so pretty!

"Sebastian, baby," Aya-chan called out from the hallway. She came strolling in with a large black bundle of clothes in her hands, smiling at him as he continued to lay on the bed. He was reading the latest magazine his advertisement had been featured in. It was some male political compilation called 'The Governor.' He was opened up to his own page, looking down at his own elegant Greek features and overcome with a sense of pride. It took a lot to look good.

"Are you still reading that thing? Really, Sebastian, you'd should get a new magazine," Aya-chan suggested in English as she kicked the door closed behind her. She was a good girl, knowing that he liked the privacy of the closed door and how hard it was to stay in this incredibly foreign, unfriendly land. Nobody here looked on foreigners with any kind of respect. They wouldn't even try to speak English. Aya-chan had assured him that if he was slow and stayed calm, any well-to-do Japanese would be able to understand him.

Sebastian had yet to see any of that famous Asian genius his father praised so much. He smiled at the thought of his father and threw the magazine down on the bed to look at his girlfriend. Half the reason he was in this stupid country was because of his father's obsession with Japan. Apparently he had spent one summer abroad and fell in love. Sebastian knew that daddy would love it if he found himself a nice Asian girl. Aya-chan was a girl and she always did was she was told, so there was no reason not to like her.

"What's all that, dear?" he asked curiously. She smiled and held up a black formal tuxedo jacket. He looked at it in confusion. He couldn't think of any parties that he had been invited to since coming to this dismal, reserved country. He didn't even think they had a word for 'party.' Everyone was so god damn touchy here.

"Don't you remember? Yohji is taking Ran out on a date," she reminded him, her voice grating on the blonde's name. Now that they were alone, she didn't try to hide her hatred for the man. Sebastian had never seen such an aggressive and violent side to Aya-chan before. It was almost refreshing to see that the lass had a temper after all. He had been beginning to wonder if she really was that 'Japanese doll' his father always talked about, never complaining and near reverent to her loved one.

"Oh, yeah, the drag," Sebastian said out loud as the memory came back to him. Aya-chan had told him about it earlier in the afternoon when he had first started to wake up. Apparently she, Omi and Ken had cooked it up together after Yohji had departed from the kitchen after announcing the date on which Aya-chan's brother was going to be wearing a dress.

He couldn't believe the skinny little fag was going that low. He hadn't liked the man the moment he had found out his sex. Ever since then, he couldn't stand Aya-chan's brother. Ran was always eerily silent and rude, never staying in the same room long with him. Sebastian was still pissed that the man had looked so beautiful the first time he had laid eyes on him; in the beginning he had thought Ran was a woman. The attraction he felt for Ran hadn't faded and it angered him. He wasn't gay.

After Sebastian discovered that the lady was Aya-chan's older brother, Yohji had made it quite clear that he had claims on the redhead. Sebastian didn't like the blonde, smoking asshole. He had never seen such a rude prick in his entire life! The taller, lazy man liked to hang over Ran's shoulder and exhale smoke at everyone. It was disgusting to be around him, but Sebastian kept his opinions to himself. No sense in complaining to Aya-chan about her beloved brother's choice in friends.

His first thoughts on seeing Aya-chan's 'other' sibling was that here was the woman he would marry. Sebastian had no clue that from the stories she told him that she had such an exquisite close relative. He had been expecting a small, cute brother to match Aya-chan and the perfect family to welcome them home.

Instead, it was this breathtaking feminine wisp of a man who wouldn't speak unless it was to hiss out some kind of threat. Sebastian didn't know what the redhead said half the time and he doubted Ran knew what he was saying as well. The men Aya-chan's brother lived with were an odd assortment. He couldn't imagine what had brought such people together. It certainly wasn't the lifelong ambition to cut flowers.

"Sebastian, I thought I told you. Sorry, I guess I should have reminded you again," Aya-chan apologized properly. Sebastian waved his hand at her as she began to unbutton the front of the silver satin blouse she was wearing. She knew that Sebastian enjoyed watching her change. He loved to see woman's lingerie, outlining all those delicious curves. Aya-chan could stand to loose some weight, but she was also fine with the little pudge of stomach low between her hips. Her brother was sick looking, like a picture out of those pamphlets on eating properly. Sebastian saw a lot of them on photo shoots; activists tried to them push it on the overly thin models.

"I'm borrowing one of Ken's old tuxedos. We're going to cross-dress too and surprise Ran so he won't be embarrassed," she explained in a rush. He raised an eyebrow at that notion. He would absolutely not wear a dress. Sebastian was a man. He had more pride than that. He wouldn't put on a skirt- not even as a joke.

"I'll go see a movie. I want to see a Japanese movie," Sebastian lied. He really would rather be forced to attend one of those unbearably dull museum openings than see a film in a language he didn't understand a word of, but he wouldn't cross-dress. He wouldn't demean himself like that. Who wanted to be humiliated willingly? Obviously, the rest of the people in this house, Sebastian thought bitterly.

"Oh, well, they're expensive. Just use your biggest yen and take the change," she informed him. Sebastian wouldn't want to sort through a completely different monetary system in a foreign country with a line behind him. Aya-chan had exchanged Sebastian's cash for him and tried to explain how much it was worth in pounds but it was a hopeless attempt. This place had too many damn zeros.

"At least Yohji won't be in drag," Sebastian rationalized. He didn't want to see that skinny, messy blonde put on a dress. He would probably enjoy it a little too much. This place was crammed full of homos, with Ken and Omi shamelessly affectionate all the time and Yohji constantly hitting on frigid Ran. He wondered what Aya-chan's interesting, mysterious brother might be planning to wear.

"Oh, Sebastian, it's dreadful!" she wailed, dropping the shirt off of her arms. A nice, simple white bra was nicely padding those small breasts of hers. He nodded as she unbuckled the belt around her waist. He would love to hear her say something bad about one of the three men Ran lived with. Sebastian had something to complain about for each of them… Except Omi. He couldn't really seem to find anything wrong with the cheerful boy. Unless, being too happy was a bad thing.

"Aya-chan, what's wrong with you and Yohji? Is something going on?" he asked, trying to not sound as hopeful as he felt. Maybe she didn't like the man as well. He needed someone to complain to and Aya-chan always listened to him without interrupting or judging him. She was as loving as a mother and patient as a therapist. It was the perfect mix for him, even if she was a little simple looking.

"Yohji has seduced my brother. He's awful, rude, and he smokes. I don't know what Ran sees in him," Aya-chan blurted out as she undid the zipper on the pants and dropped them to the floor. She stepped out of the pants and put one hand on her hip to look at Sebastian pointedly. She was expecting some kind of answer from him. He didn't want to start listing off everything Aya-chan had missed, at least not yet.

Besides, Yohji was like a cancer that needed to be operated on. He clung onto Ran like death and fanatically protected him from absolutely nothing. All of Sebastian's attempts to warm up the icy redhead had been thwarted by Yohji or the other members of house. He had a split cheek from Ken and an aching toe from the 'rat.' He doubted that Japanese rats bit that hard. Yohji had something to do with it, but Sebastian couldn't prove it… yet.

"It's probably because Yohji took care of Ran after his accident. He sees Yohji like some kind of savior," Sebastian explained. He had seen it in on a movie once. The patient falls in love with the nurse because she was the one to take care of him. It was some kind of misplaced emotion from the trauma. He still didn't even know exactly what had happened to Ran, but he could tell the man had recently been heavily injured. The redhead looked like he had been beaten up right and proper. With a tongue like that Sebastian saw why people would want to smack Ran around.

"Oh, Sebastian! You're absolutely right! How do you know so much? That must be what's going on!" she said in a relieved breath, happy with his explanation. Sebastian smiled, feeling rather pleased after her compliments. She didn't know where he had learned it, nor did she care. Aya-chan believed he was smart, so he had to be.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," he sighed and sat up in the bed. Aya-chan looked up from buttoning up her borrowed large white dress shirt. She could look so cute and innocent at times with those surprised oriental eyes. She was a doll, but nothing more. Her brother had definitely inherited all of the looks in the family.

"Why not? I don't want Yohji to… change him any further. Ran's already so distant," Aya-chan moaned, shaking her head as she pulled on the too-big pants. She used the belt she had been wearing earlier to secure the large-waisted pants around her small, round figure. Aya-chan tucked the shirt into the pants, wriggling around to get the back as well.

"Right now, everyone's so angry that they won't listen. Wait for things to cool off and then we can work from there," Sebastian strategized. Things were already too hectic to throw oil onto the fire. Besides, he wanted to try stealing her brother away from Yohji. He wasn't going to let such a rare, good-looking person out of his grip now that he knew Ran existed. He was suddenly very interested in getting to know Aya-chan's remaining family.

"Sebastian, you already knew that I didn't like Yohji, didn't you?" She flattered him. She didn't know that Sebastian hadn't been giving her needs a single thought. She just seemed to think everything he did was for her sake. If that were how Aya-chan interpreted his actions, he wouldn't disappoint her by saying otherwise.

"Of course, baby. I love you," he lied again. Aya-chan was like a sister or a close, trusted friend. She would certainly make a good wife, but the sex left something to be desired and Aya-chan just wasn't the best looking woman to cross his path. Sebastian associated with models everyday. He was used to beautiful people. It was only logical that he should be with Ran. Good-looking people belonged together. Ugly people like Yohji didn't appreciate such splendor.

Sebastian walked out of the room without kissing Aya-chan or saying goodbye. She knew that he would be back. He would leave her to get ready to tonight and he would wander the streets for a while. He could discover Tokyo. Maybe he should call the photo shoot director. He had said something about a motorcycle being available this weekend as a movie was being put on hold.

He grabbed his cell, pressing the speed dial as he walked out the backdoor without meeting anyone on the way. That was better, because he didn't want to see any of the men who lived in this house unless it was Ran alone. If Yohji were with him, there'd be no point in approaching the man. He had to think of a way to break those two up.

This would call for a lot of planning. He would just have to wait for now.

* * *

"Okay, it's almost time! You ready, Ken-kun?" Omi asked, his smile clear in the dark of the room. Ken nodded. He had done this once in high school as a joke for the school festival with the rest of the soccer team. The cheerleading team had also gone in drag, wearing their team's game uniforms. It had been just as uncomfortable and ugly then as it was now.

"Will you guys be quiet? I think he's coming," Aya-chan hissed from her spot over by the light switch. She was staying very still in the dark living room, ready to turn on the lights as a signal for Ken and Omi to jump out. They were hiding in the small entrance hall with their backs flat against the wall. One could never be too careful when dealing with Aya. He might notice them even though they were around the corner and hiding to the best of their abilities. Aya was superhuman like that.

"I'm ready," Ken hissed back, glancing over at Omi. Even though it was dark, he still could see the outline of the pleat skirt. Amazing that Omi had managed to find one so quickly. Aya-chan had sprung the idea on them earlier in the morning when Sebastian and her came back from last minute shopping. Ken and Omi agreed, thinking that it might make Aya feel more comfortable.

Christ! How can a man be comfortable in woman's clothing? Ken and Omi both still looked very male even though the dresses hit mid thigh on both of them. Well… Omi was leaning more toward androgynous, but he was still male for certain. It was unfair that they were the only ones who had to do this. Aya wanted to, at least by Yohji's story.

Sebastian backed out quickly, saying that he had some sort of publicity meeting to go to. He had turned tail and ran at the thought of going in drag. Omi and Ken were the only ones left standing in the dust Sebastian left as he got away as soon as possible. Aya-chan had run after him for a kiss goodbye before asking Ken if he had any skirts. Omi had laughed, knowing the answer to that question. Ken had tried very hard not to yell at Aya-chan and settled with growling at her back when she turned around.

Aya-chan's sundress was an ill fit, but so would be anything else. There was no way a man could look good in woman's clothing. Example: himself. Ken couldn't even imagine what Aya would look like. He tried to do the old 'visualize the goal' trick his coach had taught him all those years ago, expect this time it was one of his best friends seriously going in drag. He couldn't get a dress to form on Aya's body. Nothing came to mind. It was really, really freakin' weird, and Ken didn't know what to expect. There was no way to prepare for it.

When Yohji had first told Ken and Omi that he was taking Aya out on a date, they had been thrilled. It was amazing to think that Yohji had actually managed to get Aya to agree to being in public. The last few outings Aya had were either not of his own will or ended in someone dying. When Yohji had added Aya was going to be wearing woman's clothing, Ken and Omi had both laughed.

After Yohji didn't laugh but continued to stare at them over the top of his sunglasses, Ken realized that it was the truth. It was still as foreign of concept as it was now. How the hell was Aya going to get into a dress? Willingly? It just wouldn't happen! The man was too fucking wrapped up in honor, pride and face to ever put on woman's clothing. Aya was a man, from his fast temper to his annoyingly strong pride. Aya 'Abyssinian' Fujimiya did not wear dresses.

Ken heard someone take the stairs without turning on a light. It probably was Aya, the man liking to stay in the dark as much as possible, but it sounded like a pair of heels. No way was their 'leader' walking down the dark stairs in a pair of woman's shoes, so Ken must be mistaking the clicks for something else. Okay, he was willing to accept that they all had their own weird habits, but this might be pushing the limits.

He tried to picture Aya in the high heels and found his mind a blink. Aya took a few steps into the living room, coming to a stop and looking around in the darkness, only a shadow against the banister. Ken hide behind the wall, thinking that Aya might have actually sensed him hiding.

"Brother?" Aya-chan greeted in a questioning voice. Oh, fuck. How bad does Aya look? Ken had no time to imagine the worse, because they had to jump out. Omi grabbed his hand as they burst out into the living room. The boy gamely struck a pose and Ken followed suit blindly before looking up around the room to see whom they had leapt in front of.

Aya-chan's mouth was open as she stared at the stranger in the room. Ken blinked, standing up straight to laugh softly in embarrassment. They hadn't surprised Aya. The victim was a woman, a very beautiful but indecent looking thing, with skin so pale and perfect it looked like a dream. The soft light glowed on her skin, giving the woman an angelic halo on every feature. Ken felt relieved when those large, violet eyes settled on Omi instead of him, saving the embarrassment.

His jaw dropped as the woman stared at Omi's chest without shame, her eyes widening at the 'breasts.' Ken had been the one to convince Omi to shove a sock into each cup of the bra. Aya-chan had surrendered bras for their use, swearing to throw Ken's away immediately afterwards. Apparently Omi didn't stretch out bras like Ken did.

Ken couldn't believe such a classy woman was in their shop. She was wearing a black coat that cut open on her chest to reveal a small hint of her chests and breasts. It was tasteful, so much more then a certain secretary who usually wore even less then this woman. Ken stared openly at the woman in plain desire even though Omi was right at his side. One could still appreciate the female body with itself graceful curves, especially a creature like this. It didn't mean he loved Omi any more or less. This woman was a knock out.

Her hair was straight and simply cut spectacular red. It almost looked like the same color as Aya's hair, but this woman had shoulder length hair falling flat around her face. She had a velvet collar around her neck that drew Ken's eyes. Jewelry sparkled on her fingers and on the long, slender earrings. Everything about her was thin and tall and willowy, almost delicate if her face wasn't as cold and emotionless as it looked now.

This woman was stunning, if an obviously inviting looker. She was probably a professional escort service that had gone to the wrong address. Ken was attracted to the elegance of the soft, quiet sophistication the stranger held around her. It was painstakingly familiar, but Ken couldn't think for the life of him where he had seen her before. He would remember a woman such as this. No man would forget someone as beautiful as her. Everyone was silent at her entrance, probably embarrassed that she had caught them like this. Then, those eyes turned on Ken, looking at him and enveloping him in familiarity.

She was no woman.

It was Aya. Ken's roommate and friend, called 'popsicle' jokingly behind his back because nobody dared to say it to his face. Holy. Fucking. Shit. Ken didn't know what to do, didn't know how to react. He had been dreaming about doing the nasty with the female stranger he had thought Aya was only seconds ago. Ken had wanted to screw Aya, badly, his whole body freezing up with anticipation. Now he was doing his best to looked relaxed and cool with it all.

Ken smiled to Aya. He must really look like an idiot now. Aya was… indescribable. Those breasts were real, but they had to be fake. Guys just didn't grow boobs in one afternoon. Ken couldn't get past the gentle curve of Aya's ankle he could see under the hem of the coat. That was a woman's leg. He was sure of it. How could Aya pull this off? The man had a body most girls would die for. Nobody would ever believe him if Ken told them what he was seeing now. Aya Fujimiya looked fucking hot in drag.

"Hey, hey," he whistled, unable to keep his mouth shut. God, what a stupid thing to say! Of every word he knew, he had to pick the simplest, dumbest comment! Christ, am I really as stupid as everyone says? Aya paled, his eyes getting wet and large. He looked like he might be sick. Ken grinned even bigger at the expression, flashing a bit of thigh and pulling his chest out as he shot up a victory sign to Aya. Omi groaned, embarrassed at Ken's usual lack of diplomacy.Cover it up. If he didn't show that it was a screw-up, maybe they would let his catcall pass. He didn't want Yohji to tease him about it later.

Aya made some small noise, like he was choking. Ken thought Aya looked like he was going to toss his cookies, blanching and smiling at them all weakly. He looked like he wanted to run. Ken didn't know how Aya was going to get anywhere in those heels. He couldn't believe Aya could even walk in those. What had he done to make those breasts look so real? He could swear he could see the curve of flesh that all women had on their chests even under the heavy coat. What had Aya done by changing into a dress?

"Brother… you look really good," Aya-chan said in awed way, gazing her brother's body up and down. Ken raised an eyebrow. It was like she was examining a piece of meat. The doorbell rang. Yohji. The signal was to come in after the lights turned on. Nobody went to open the door. Ken didn't want to move, his feet unable to turn.

"Excuse me…" Yohji drawled in his usual manner, looking up at Ken and Omi. Yohji laughed at the sight of them. He had been gone all afternoon, preparing himself down in the den so Aya wouldn't see beforehand. Yohji had been getting ready for Aya's date since one o'clock. Which was an early time for Yohji to even wake up at. He was wearing his best suit, a painfully stylish and modern looking black coat on his back.

Yohji grinned at them, knowing he looked good. Yohji wasn't bashful about his looks, taking pride in being a pretty boy. He even had a red tie on to match Aya's hair. Ken moaned the man's full outfit. He would have never considered dressing with coordinating colors. Then again, Yohji was much more experienced in being romantic.

Omi scowled next to Ken, growling at Yohji as the man busted out into loud laughter at them. Yohji waved at the boy, smiling a quick apology. Omi grinned, having only pretended to be angry for that moment. Yohji looked away as he walked into the room, already ignoring them and searching for Aya. Omi discretely took Ken's hand in his own, lacing his fingers though his own without looking at Ken.

Yohji stopped, the roses dangling at his side as he paused like an image on TV when he saw Aya. He didn't say a word and Aya's face fell, openly ashamed. Did Yohji think Aya was weird, dressed like that? Ken's fist clenched, not liking the silence one bit. He wouldn't let Yohji get away with hurting Aya's feelings like that. No one would be allowed to put that mortified look on Aya's face.

"You're beautiful," Yohji decided, walking toward Aya. Ken suddenly felt like he was just watching them, no longer a part of the scene as Yohji presented the bouquet to Aya. Aya-chan gaped at Yohji, impressed by his sweetness and sincerity. She was probably shocked that Yohji could be such a charming gentleman when he wanted to be. Aya-chan had only seen the playboy swaggering around the shop with one hand always somewhere on another girl's body, not the dashing romantic he was as well.

"For the lady," Yohji said. Ken wanted to say something to Omi, but the words were stolen when Aya blushed and looked down into the roses. Aya didn't avoid looking in someone's eyes. Hell, Aya usually started staring contests, glaring hard at people all day long. Aya's hands reached out slightly, taking the roses from Yohji with a mumbled 'thank you' that was barely heard in the quiet room.

They were all silent for a moment, no one ready to break the spell of Yohji's romance. Aya's hands tightened visibly on the roses, crinkling the wrapping further. Aya-chan smiled at Yohji, satisfied with the gesture. Yohji had gained some sort of respect in her eyes, now that he was treating her brother like a damn prince.

"Could I take picture, Aya-kun?" Omi smiled, letting go of Ken's hand. He

grabbed the camera from the table in the greeting hall. Omi had loaded it before they started to change, being very prepared for things like this. Aya looked around at Yohji, his eyes widening when the blonde remained silent and smiling.

"No!" Aya hissed, flushing so hard that the tips of his ears turned red. Ken had no idea Aya was such an easy blush. Aya didn't usually let things get to him. Then again, Aya was wearing a dress tonight. Ken couldn't blame the man for being a bit sensitive. Yohji smiled, draping an arm around the top of Aya's shoulders. He kissed Aya lightly on the cheek and Ken waited for the explosion, knowing that the redhead wouldn't stand for that display of emotion in public.

"Oh, Ran, please? Can he take some pictures?" Aya-chan begged, nodding her head at Aya. Her brother's eyes widen even further, big as saucers, looking like he might bolt at any moment. Yohji leaned in, saying something into the curve of Aya's ear. Ken couldn't even read his lips to guess what he was saying. Whatever Yohji had said, it must have been enough, because Aya relaxed immediately, leaning against the blonde's side.

"If… Aya-chan wants one," Aya relented quietly, looking away from them. Aya-chan gasped, clapping in excitement that her brother had agreed. Yohji grinned like a fox, pressing his face into the side of Aya's head. Is he smelling Aya?! Ken didn't even get a chance to think about it, suddenly dragged forward with Omi to take pictures. Ken handed the boy the camera, knowing he would take better ones.

Yohji said something quietly for only Aya's ear, squeezing the man's shoulders with both hands. Then Yohji tried to pull off the coat, Aya not moving an inch to help him. Ken looked at Aya's hands, noticing the man was still holding onto the flowers. He probably didn't want to ruin the roses by switching them back and forth between his hands to get the coat off.

Ken reached out take the bouquet from Aya. The man glared at him for a moment underneath a few long, fake strands of hair before slowly handing Ken the flowers. It wasn't like he was going to burn them or something. Christ, Aya could try to trust him for once. Ken would be careful with the bouquet. He did work in a fucking flower shop! Yohji and Aya ignored him, wrapped up in their own world of taking off Aya's coat.

It fell away and Ken's eyes immediately dropped to the pale white hip and thigh that was revealed by the highest slit Ken had ever seen in his life. Aya was wearing fishnets. And a garter belt. God, Ken loved garter belts. The lingerie was something he missed about women. He loved taking it off, figuring out how the complicated clasps worked.

He looked up in shock at Aya, not knowing what to say. Jesus fucking Christ, you look like a woman. Aya was glaring hard at him, as if he had read his mind. Ken held out the flowers again for the redhead. She… he took the flowers again, red nails flashing. Red nails on Aya. Ken closed his eyes, a bit stunned at the revelation.

Even though Ken had spent the past years living with Aya and knew for fact that he was really a man, he looked like woman right now. The black leather dress was painfully tight on Aya's too-thin frame. Ken liked his women with a little more meat on them then Aya's skin and bones. His eyes were drawn to the breasts, staring and those two rounded mounds and wondering what they would feel like. Pads, or something real? Did this dress come with a set of boobs as well?

"Thank you, thank you!" Aya-chan said over and over again, bowing to her brother. Omi aimed the camera, taking one shot. The flash blinded Aya, making the redhead wince and blink fiercely, shaking out the burn on his retinas like a startled kitten. Yohji laughed at Aya's reaction and the man forced a sick smile on his face as he stared down the camera. It didn't fit on his face and it wasn't real. Aya was faking any sort of happiness. He was uncomfortable in front of the camera and all of them.

Omi moved around in the living room, adjusting his feet so he could get the best shot as he snapped more pictures. Yohji began to preen himself, jerking the folds out on his jacket as he laughed with Aya-chan and Omi. Again, Yohji pressed his face into Aya's hair, saying something that only Aya could hear. Aya's eyes widened for a moment before he looked down at the flowers in his hands, not showing any sign of hearing Yohji's words. Ken didn't know what to do. Should he step forward and pull Aya out of there before he got hurt any further? That would ruin everything... but it looked like it was already heading to hell in a handbag by the scared look on Aya's face.

Then, Aya looked up at the camera with determination, his shoulders suddenly pulled back and his back went straight as a ruler. Aya adjusted his feet, shifting in the heels as he brought the bouquet up like it was a trophy. Yohji smiled at Aya's rapid shift from scared and dying of embarrassment to proud and gorgeous. Ken's jaw dropped at Aya's proud, curving stance. The redhead was sexy and perfectly fuckable… and he shouldn't be thinking like this.

"Okay, last one, I promise!" Omi announced, holding up his fingers. The boy counted down to three, letting Yohji put his hand on Aya's hip and fix his smile for the picture. Aya brought his chin up to its normal raised and superior crock, looking down his nose like he usually did when observing the world.

"Well, we better be on our way," Yohji hinted with a laugh, taking the coat out of Ken's hand. He stood there awkwardly, still recovering from his initial shell shock of Aya's entrance and the slit on the dress. Yohji held the coat up for Aya to put his arms through. The redhead looked down at the flowers in his hand. Ken shook himself out of his stupor, realizing he should take the roses from the man again. He couldn't walk around the town with them.

"I'll put the flowers in some water, Aya-kun," Omi offered, stepping forward to take the roses. Aya stared at Omi for a moment like the boy had been speaking an entirely differently language. Aya-chan was staying silent, not wanting to ruin the moment for her brother right now. Strange how she could be so perceptive right now and completely ignore what was right in front of her nose half the time.

"Thank you, squirt," Yohji said, shamelessly teasing the boy. Omi huffed, puffing out his cheeks indignantly at the comment about his height. Ken couldn't help but laugh at the two. They were all a bunch of idiots some times. Yohji reached over without even looking and took Aya's hand in his.

It was almost unnoticeable and it was very out of place, but Aya smiled slightly at Yohji. They were a couple, looking into each other's eyes and finding some kind of salvation there, something they all looked for. It was kind of a relief to see Aya finally had a steady relationship. Yohji could be trusted with Aya. Any other guy wouldn't be good enough for Aya, not knowing the redhead half as well as any of them did. Yohji wouldn't try anything stupid tonight and Ken wouldn't have to worry about the playboy jerking Aya around. Nobody would ever be able to toy with Aya's life, not if Ken could help it.

Aya and Yohji walked to the door, where their night would start. Yohji better back up all of the bragging he had been doing since he went down into the mission room to get ready. Ken had to sit there and listen to Yohji go on and on about making this the best night of Aya's life. The redhead looked over at Ken, no expression on his glimmering, made-up face. He seemed to be waiting for Ken to say some good advice or explain a deep fact of life.

Ken smiled at Aya, not knowing what else to do. He didn't have the answers. Frankly, he was scared shitless to let the two go out without a loaded gun each. Was it too much to get a piece of happiness every once in a while? Why did they have to always be so paranoid? Aya deserved it, having gone through more then most people could handle. He was still trying to survive, determinedly hanging onto his pride and character even though he broke down most of the time. Aya just kept getting up and brushing off the dirt before continuing on, despite all the hurdles that kept coming.

Ken had been surprised to hear that Aya had been the one to ask Yohji out, at least from the account the playboy had told both of them. It was so much more then Aya simply working up the nerve to talk to Yohji. For Aya to ask a favor that had a lot more weight on it then any of them could imagine. It was the first time Aya had ever expressed a desire to go outside the house in what seemed like… forever. The only times he left the house were either for work or so he wouldn't leave Yohji's side.

The three of them followed the couple out the door, standing out on the porch as Yohji led Aya out to his car. Ken had shoveled the path earlier today after Omi's suggestion, clearing the snow off of the sidewalk so Aya and Yohji wouldn't slip in ice and break their necks. It would be their luck to die on the night of the first date. Ken smiled as the two walked away from the house. Yohji would take care of Aya, even if he was going in drag. Aya had definitely pulled it off. There was nothing to worry about.

"Have a good night, Ran!" Aya-chan yelled in Ken's ear, pushing past him to wave at her brother. Aya looked back, waving slightly as Yohji rushed toward the car. He probably didn't want to stay out in the cold any longer then possible. Ken watched as Yohji held open the door for Aya, letting the man get in on the passenger side first before closing the door and running around to his own side.

They were silent after Yohji pulled off into the night, unsure of what to say to each other. Aya-chan smiled at them, waiting for one of the guys to break the silence. Ken stared at her, looking past to the falling snow. It was so dark and cold, the fog holding all the light at bay, keeping it from illuminating the night. Ken turned back, noticing that Omi's face was glowing with a halo from the porch light, small and precious.

"Oh, it's Sebastian!" Aya-chan squealed as a motorcycled roared in the night. A large, bright yellow Ducati roared in, sleek and the most god-awful color Ken had ever seen. The rider was wearing all black leather with silver straps of nylon down the arms. The helmet was black, covering the entire face, making the motorcycle look even more suspicious. The engine was loud and ominous in the fog, echoing as it roared up the sidewalk before parking it in a clearly illegal zone. The front curb of the store was for loading only. What kind of dumb ass parked there? Oh, yeah, it was Sebastian. Ken crossed his arms, looking away from the two.

"Hey, babe. How's my pretty?" Sebastian cooed in English, turning off the engine. He came marching up the steps, hugging her immediately. Sebastian smashed Aya-chan against his chest, lifting her up from the porch. Aya-chan giggled madly, ordering him to put her down. Sebastian did so reluctantly before the helmet turned and he looked at Ken and Omi through his mask.

"Darth Vader," Omi hissed, looking straight back at Sebastian's helmet. Ken burst out laughing at the same time as Sebastian, both of them raising up their fingers to point at each other. Then, the both stopped, realizing that they were being laughed at. Aya-chan and Omi both tried to hold in the giggles, but it was useless when Ken cursed at Sebastian.

"What the hell doing you think you're laughing at, asshole?" Ken roared, flipping Sebastian off. The man snarled, tearing off the bike helmet and growling at Ken. His cheek had a thin strip of medical tape over it, carefully powdered so that it was almost unrecognizable. Ken knew it was there, because his knuckles still hurt.

Aya-chan reached out, holding her boyfriend back as she tried not to laugh at him at the same time. Omi joined in, grabbing Ken's middle finger and squeezing it, smiling at Ken in warning.

"What's your problem, girlie?" Sebastian sneered. Ken wanted to lunge at Sebastian, but Omi hissed at Ken, pulling his finger back toward the top of his wrist. Ken winced and laughed as he backed down, knowing that he was in trouble again. Omi let go of Ken's finger, turning around to glare at Sebastian for insulting his boyfriend.

"Oh, little thing, don't get so angry. You look most proper in the skirt. So, if I was you, and I ain't, I wouldn't be speaking. Get my drift?" Sebastian sneered. Ken blinked, trying to grasp the sudden rush of English. Aya-chan took care of the punishment for him, bonking Sebastian in his head.

"Honey, don't say that! Omi's cute!" Aya-chan admonished as Sebastian mumbled an apology he didn't mean. It was for her sake, not theirs. Ken huffed, forced into agreement by Omi standing between him and Sebastian. The model sighed prissily, running a hand through his hair. Why didn't the two just let them beat the shit out of each other and be done with it? Ken would at least be a lot happier then.

"Where'd you get the bike?" Ken asked rudely, changing the subject. It was a nice motorcycle, newer, but a weaker model then Ken's trusted Kawasaki. Ducati's were just no good, in his opinion. Sebastian looked back at his bike before turning back to Ken, a superior, cocky grin plastered on his face. Ken gritted his teeth, knowing that violence wouldn't get him anywhere but finding it very hard to care.

"Jealous? It came with the photo shoot," Sebastian leered, obviously finding something that he thought made him better then Ken. Ken stopped himself from punching Sebastian in the nose by a mere second, one foot already going forward to the man. Aya-chan laughed, realizing that the motorcycle truly did belong to Sebastian. She ran up to it, running a hand over the seat of the bike in appreciation.

"We have to ride it before we go, please, Sebastian?" Aya-chan pleaded, her eyes going big and liquidly. She looked like a small puppy, absolutely adorable with her wide, vapid and expectant look. Ken preferred kittens himself, glancing over at Omi. He really wanted to pull off the skirt so he could see every inch of the boy's legs.

"Yeah, whatever. If everyone's done brawling now, I brought the movie," Sebastian grumbled like he hadn't been fighting like a child only a moment ago. He held up a video for Aya-chan, some romance-comedy from last year. Ken groaned at it silently, knowing Omi would kill him if he expressed his disappointment loudly. He already had been warned before.

"Oh, yay, Sebastian, you're the best!" Aya-chan complimented, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. Sebastian smiled, handing her the tape. Ken wondered how he could get out of watching the movie, desperately not wanting to sit in front of the TV right now. He could do other things, looking down at the hem of the skirt. Still dressed in the stupid sundress.

"We should change first," Ken said suddenly, coming up with a stall. Sebastian laughed, nodding his head in agreement. Ken wanted to grab the model by his pretty-boy mouth and slam him into the wall. That would be most satisfying, and Ken smiled feral at the thought, giggling in mad anticipation of violence.

"All right. We'll start the popcorn," Aya-chan announced, kissing Sebastian again. They laughed, opening up the door on the front porch. Already forgetting that Yohji and Aya were off on the most important night of their lives. Ken hoped that Sebastian got ticketed for parking on the street. Maybe he should tip off the traffic force.

Did they even have a number to call? Ken wondered, never trying to report anything before. Usually the reports were for him, speeding around town. Oh, well. They had a phone book. If he didn't forget about it, he'd love to see the look on Sebastian's face when his bike got towed.

"Ken-kun, are you already so uncomfortable?" Omi baby-talked to Ken, like he was a shying child. Ken looked down his nose at Omi, trying to look bigger in the sundress then he had before. Omi turned around, smiling at Aya-chan and Sebastian as they walked in the front door.

"Aw, same for you," Ken spat, flipping up the back of the skirt. Omi yelped and turned bright red, clamping two hands over the fabric to drag the hem down to his knees. Aya-chan and Sebastian closed the door behind them, minding the heater the expensively warmed the house and also ignoring them. It was all the better for Ken.

"Ken-kun, don't!" Omi moaned, embarrassed as he crouched, making sure that Ken wouldn't get another chance at the skirt. Unfortunately by covering his legs, Omi had pulled the elastic hem down on his hips, revealing a pair of plain white cotton briefs. Ken grabbed the top of the underwear, yanking them up soundly.

Omi cried out, loosing his balance as Ken gave him a wedgie. Ken reached out, grabbing the smaller boy around his waist before he could fall in the wet snow. Ken hefted Omi up in both arms, slinging another arm under Omi's knees. Omi yelped, forced to hold around Ken's neck or risk falling.

"Ken-kun, you're the worst!" Omi admonished. "What are you doing?" he demanded as Ken walked around the side of the house and not the front door. Ken grinned at Omi, laughing mysteriously. He had a stroke of brilliant, absolutely fucking genius plan! Christ, even Yohji would admit that it was a smart idea. Ken wasn't a complete idiot, carrying Omi around to the side garage for their cars.

"They can't hear us in here," Ken said, struggling with the doorknob to the garage door as Omi shifted. He got the door open and shifted in sideways, minding Omi's feet. Omi grabbed the door, slamming it closed behind them as Ken held him up. He turned with Omi's weight in his arms, going toward the car.

"We're not doing it outside, it's freezing!" Omi demanded, shivering in Ken's arms. Ken laughed at the boy, carrying him toward the truck they used for deliveries. The three front seats would be enough room. He tossed Omi in on the passenger's side, starting to lose his grip on the boy's legs. Ken dug into the glove box, fishing out the spare set of keys they left in every car, just in case.

Ken found them, walking around the front to get in on the driver's side. He turned on the truck, fiddling with the knobs until he turned the heat on. Omi looked at Ken in a resigned sort of irritation, knowing that he wouldn't be able to argue his way out of it. Omi shifted in the seat, reaching down to rid himself of the uncomfortable wedgie Ken had childishly given him.

"Wait," Ken said, reaching down to stop Omi's hand. Omi looked up in confusion at Ken, his eyes wide as Ken pulled his hand away, forcing the boy to put his right hand on the dashboard. Omi's back was facing Ken, his face looking out the side window, reflected back at Ken by the lights from the dashboard.

"I'll get it for you," he offered, pulling Omi up by the waist until the boy was almost on all four in the seat of the car. Omi gasped, putting one knee up on the seat as the other foot shoved against the rise of the middle divider for the stick shift. Ken slid the loafer off the foot on the seat, pulling the high socks down his leg. He grabbed the top of the skirt, yanking down the waist until it was on Omi's thighs.

Ken lifted up the leg on the cushions, slipping that one out of the skirt. He let the clothing slide down Omi's leg till it pooled over the shoe. Ken didn't mind that Omi wasn't really completely naked. As long as there was no obstruction to the real goal, he could forget about the little details. He didn't need to pay attention to such trivial things.

Not when Omi had a tight white line of cotton splitting between his two butt cheeks. Omi moaned at Ken's embarrassing stare, at his strange customs when they had sex. Ken leaned forward, biting the top of the bunched cotton. He pulled it away from Omi's rear with his teeth, noticing the red line the underwear left over Omi's anus.

"Ken! What are you doing?" Omi demanded as Ken used his hand to pull the underwear the rest of the way down his left thigh. Omi lifted up his knee, obediently helping Ken to stretch the cotton off his leg, leaving it around Omi's calf without care. Ken put a hand to his side, touching the sundress' bunching waist. Oh, shit! Was he still wearing the dress?

Ken tore it off in one yank, realizing how ridiculous it was to seduce Omi while wearing a dress. He was a guy. Ken couldn't imagine how it would ever look good on him. On Omi, the short shirt's hem looked attractive as it fell off of his back, revealing the borrowed stuffed bra. Ken dropped his own boxers and unclasped Aya-chan's bra in a short manner, not caring to stay dressed a moment longer if Omi was going to remain up on one knee, waiting for him.

Ken pushed up the shirt with one hand, revealing the small curving line of Omi's back. Where his spine turned into a small pool below his waist. He kissed it, unable to hold back. He wanted to know Omi, inside and out, and that meant constantly checking the taste of Omi's flesh. Ken didn't ever want to forget the feeling of Omi's skin under his lips.

He reached up, pulling out the two rolled socks and dropping them carelessly in the car. Ken looked down at the clasp facing him, his fingers deftly working to unlatch the little metal bitch. Ken always had trouble with getting bras undone, but the struggle was half the fun. It felt so great when he actually managed to pull the back straps away, staring at the undone bra.

He left it loose under Omi's shirt, getting his hands up under the silky fabric of the borrowed bra. Aya-chan had remarkably sound taste in the plain white bra she had given Omi. Ken grinned, pinching one of the boy's nipples underneath the shirt. Omi panted, wanting to turn around and see Ken, but unable because of the hand on the dashboard. Ken wanted Omi to stay put and not try to \ help out. Ken got enough satisfaction out of watching Omi wriggle and squirm under him, deliciously fresh and young. He loved Omi, every inch of the boy that he had touched and felt and adored to the best of his ability.

Omi didn't have near the resistance and endurance Ken liked to brag about. It may have something to do with sports, or the streak of shameless perversion that ran in him. Either way, it was Omi who started moaning first, falling into passion before Ken did. He continued to kiss the stretch of Omi's skin, caress the boy's hips. Ken loved the feeling of Omi's muscles under his skin, moving and jumping as Ken took charge.

Ken licked the small stretch of skin below Omi's anus, behind his balls. Omi cried out, grabbing at the armrest on the door. Ken had been having sex with Omi long enough to know what would drive the boy crazy. He had found certain spots that immediately had Omi gasping for breath, his face flushed red. Ken sat up, pressing his fingers flat against Omi's lips.

Omi opened up his mouth and closed his lips around the two first fingers, biting the skin softly with his teeth to keep Ken from moving his fingers around. Omi sucked on Ken's digits, swirling his tongue in between to make sure he covered Ken's fingers with saliva. Amazing how that small bit of suckling could make Ken hard so fast.

He dragged his fingers out of Omi's mouth when he figured it would be enough. Ken slipped the first finger inside Omi's small, red opening, gently stretching the skin. Omi moaned, trying to relax at the still awkward intrusion, shifting and squirming on the seat. Omi put one hand on the fogging window; using his other to began to stroke his own dripping erection. Ken put the second finger in, rushed with lust and in no way going to be left behind Omi.

Ken spat into his other palm several times while he continued to stretch Omi with his fingers, twisting and flexing them inside the warm hollow of the boy's body. He tried to cover his dick with enough saliva to hopefully lube himself for Omi. Ken wasn't stopping to go run upstairs, not when Omi was panting softly, repeating his name. Ken panted, sweating hard in the heat of the car. I should turn the heater off now. "Ken… Ken, come on," Omi begged, not ready to wait anymore. Ken crouched over Omi's body, putting one hand on the dashboard to keep himself from falling completely over the boy. Ken was still careful, even if it was a bit hasty. He replaced his fingers with his own wet cock, hoping that it would be enough and yet not really caring. Ken would never want to hurt Omi, but his groin was getting impossibly hard and he needed something to relieve it with.

"Love… you," Ken grunted as Omi cried out first in a bit of pain before he finally settled enough to fit. Ken began to thrust into Omi, their skin slapping together as Ken rested both his knees on the seat over the boy's leg. Ken pounded into Omi, grinding his chest against Omi's back as he started to feel a climax. The heater in the car was beginning to get heavy, steaming the windows up to a thick, foggy wall.

Omi came first, his whole body clenching tightly around Ken, who was still buried up the hilt in him. Omi cried out, throwing his head back in a toss of beaded sweat, gasping hard. Ken thought he saw stars, the muscles convulsing around his own dick. The world narrowed for a bit, the pain overwhelming in the middle of the passion. Ken ejaculated, collapsing as he finally attained a sense of release.

"Ken-kun, you're heavy," Omi whined for a desperate moment before his arms gave out. Omi fell flat on the seat, his chin hitting the side door as he buckled under Ken's weight. Ken landed right on top, content until he heard a squishy smack against the vinyl of the seat and their bodies.

"Omi?" Ken asked, his eyes widening as he realized what he had done. Omi looked like he might be crying from the blow to his chin, his head to Ken as he raised up one hand to his face. Ken rose off Omi guiltily, praying he wasn't hurt too bad. Omi laughed helplessly for a moment, struck by the ridiculousness of it all.

"Yes, Ken-kun, I landed in… it…" Omi trailed off, his irritation melting into disgust that his stomach was covered with his own sperm. Ken couldn't stop his lip from curling. This was not a clean situation. Ken pulled on his boxers again, opening up the door and motioning for Omi to step out.

Omi didn't immediately get out. Instead, his slipped his foot out of the pile of clothing that had formed, using the socks to wipe off his stomach and privates. Ken grabbed his own socks and walked around to Omi's side, opening up the door.

"We'll have to sneak back in. We can take a shower together," Ken grinned, wiping off the cum. Omi sighed, sliding out all the way to the driver's side so he could stand. Omi pulled on the skirt uncomfortably as Ken made a final swipe at the seat, figuring that would be good enough until he could put some cleaner on it. They'd probably have to buy some.

"Ken-kun, how are we going to get in? They're in the kitchen. The backdoor's blocked," Omi strategized, mapping out their possible entrances. Ken pulled on his shoes without the socks and Omi followed suit, figuring Ken just might have a plan. Ken turned off the car, throwing the key back into the glove box.

"Run through the front door. We'll take the stairs and secure the bathroom," Ken ordered. Omi raised an eyebrow at the plan as they closed the door to the car. Ken handed the dirty socks to Omi, who added them to his own bundle.

"Ken-kun, you look like you just had sex," Omi sighed, reaching out to try and straighten Ken's hair. Omi sighed again, looking defeated and pulling away as Ken grinned. There was no way to lie about walking in the house in only a pair of boxers and messy hair. If they could get this past Aya-chan and Sebastian, they should get a prize.

"Best sex of my life, too," Ken added, kissing Omi hard on the lips. Omi opened up his mouth, teasing Ken with his own tongue as they kissed. When they finally parted, Ken was breathing hard as Omi broke into giggles.

"You ready?" Ken asked when Omi had finally stopped laughing. Omi nodded. Immediately, they both set off in a dead run for the door, Ken wishing on every lucky star that just tonight, he could pull it off.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Aya dug his head further into the pillow. He was sore, tired, with a dull, aching pain coming from his groin and going up to his stomach. It wasn't unbearable. In fact, Aya had much worse mornings. At least he was in a soft, warm bed. The heavy blanket covering his body was more then enough to keep him down on the mattress for a while longer.

He opened up his eyes slowly, letting himself wake up to the world once again. There was a soft breeze on his left ear, warm and small. It was Yohji, his face pressed into the back of Aya's head as they lay on their sides. The blonde must have cuddled up to Aya sometime during his sleep, pressing his body against Aya's back. One arm was draped over Aya's waist underneath the covers, a leg between his own.

Someone had made himself quite at home, using Aya like a giant pillow. Yohji was warm, his body almost unbearably hot against Aya's back. They were both naked, Aya feeling of a limp dick resting firmly against his right butt cheek. The only reason Yohji was alive right now and getting away with this kind of contact… was because he was Yohji. If it were anyone else, Aya probably would have killed them by now.

Aya continued to lay there, looking around the room aimlessly as Yohji made small and soft snores. He didn't want to move away just yet. The sun was drifting in through the large glass doors that led to the balcony, slowly reaching up to touch the bed. Aya shifted, stretching his neck on the pillow as he moved back, further against Yohji's embrace. He didn't want today to come so soon. He didn't want everything to be ruined again, like it always was when he finally got out of bed.

Yohji didn't say anything, snoring on. Did he know how much it meant to Aya, to be able to lie with him? It was so strange, so perfect that Aya was sure it would end soon. How could something this good last? He was paranoid, confident that fate would destroy his life again. If he finally let go and took down all those defenses he had made, something would come along and tear out his throat. That was the way things went.

If only he could be sure of Yohji's intentions. If he could have some kind of promise, a written guarantee that Yohji would be around for a long time. He didn't want to start some kind of small fling that the blonde seemed so fond of. Aya couldn't do that, not anymore. Aya didn't want to stay so removed from everything, but at the same time so scared to let go. What should he do?

"Mm… stop moving," Yohji groaned, using his arm to hold Aya back from moving away. He didn't even realize that he had been tensing up. He had started to get afraid, his senses starting to sharpen in anticipation of an attack. The more he thought about things, the worse it all seemed.

How could Yohji continue to sleep in on a day like this? He lived so recklessly, not caring about the world until he got enough rest. Aya was jealous of that freedom, of the ease Yohji sailed through life. Yohji coughed, a bit of his morning lung coming in. Aya wished Yohji would stop smoking again. His constant bitching kept Yohji from smoking a pack a day… barely.

"We need to head back. Aya-chan only has two more days here," Aya ordered. He didn't want to waste any time, if they were both awake now. It annoyed him a bit that Yohji had woken up. Aya thought he hadn't been moving around so much. Yohji groaned, sensing that there was an argument ahead.

"This is our first morning in a hotel," Yohji countered. "So stop moving around so fucking much." Yohji effectively ignored Aya's words, snuggling deeper into the mattress. Aya tried to think of an argument, wondering how he could get away from the bed. He was suddenly apprehensive. What did lovers talk about now? How they felt? Aya didn't want to share his emotions with Yohji. Not yet, possibly never. He wanted out of this bed.

"Yohji," Aya started again, not sure what his argument would be. He couldn't do this. They weren't a normal couple, they both were fucked up as all hell, and so what would be wrong with trying to run away? Shower. He needed to be clean suddenly. Yohji's body pressed up against his own made him realize how dirty he felt. The grime had never come off, no matter how hard he tried.

"Love you," Yohji made it sound like an offer. If he said those words, maybe Aya would stop trying to leave the bed. Aya's eyes widened, knowing he couldn't turn around to look at Yohji's face. The playboy didn't mean those words. Nobody could, when they were talking to him. He didn't deserve to be loved.

Aya clenched a fist up in the sheets, hiding the confusion he felt. So much was in that small, murmured sentence of the morning. What was he supposed to do, swoon over the saying? Yohji had said 'I love you' a thousand times to just as many people, all strangers that Aya had seen leaving the house in morning. It wasn't something special.

"You smell good," Yohji whispered lazily into Aya's ear, licking the small inner arch of skin. Aya shivered away from it, getting a chill on his back. Goosebumps pebbled his skin when Yohji put a hand on Aya's stomach. He took a breath with the blonde's palm over his navel and he started shivering underneath the heavy, warm covers. Not many people had complimented him on his scent. It was a very Yohji-like thing to say, assuring Aya that this was real and not a dream.

"I don't smell like cigarettes," Aya snapped as Yohji licked his neck from the back of his ear to the collarbone. He couldn't be horny, not this early in the morning. Then again, it was Yohji. He chuckled at Aya's return, not insulted like he should be. The bastard thought it was funny. Aya rolled away from Yohji's warm body, onto his back so he could see Yohji's face. And put some space between them as Aya pulled the sheets up to his chest. That was another reason, Aya's heartbeat fluttering and his breathing becoming a hard thing to do. Not a panic attack.

"You want to do anything before we go back?" Yohji asked, propping himself up on his elbow. The man's hair was a mess, but for some reason it still looked good on him. Yohji wore the scraggily, unkept style everyday. The closest he got to well groomed was a half-ass attempt with a hair band. Yohji didn't look tired at all but invigorated, wide-eyed and bushytailed. It was like facing a large, demanding tomcat, being so demanding and lusty first thing in the morning.

"You're suddenly wide awake," Aya sneered, thinking of how long he had laid in Yohji's sleeping embrace. He didn't want them to do anything, uncomfortable with what the other man had been trying to start. Aya grit his teeth, trying control his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He was going cold with the fear of descending into one of those flashbacks that he couldn't stop, couldn't fight. Aya would prefer the safe comfort of lying together, rather then doing this act. It was too familiar, too damn hard to face when he had been so comfortable only moments ago. Wasn't there any shame?

"You woke me up," Yohji pointed out, settling on Aya with a hard, even gaze. Aya couldn't argue with that. He had been so tense only moments ago. That was because he had been so scared that if Yohji touched him, he would spread his poison into the man. Yohji didn't deserve it. Everyone Aya had ever loved died, except for Aya-chan. Why add another person to the list of those he cared about? Another weakness, another place where the mask could break down and he'd be forced to face the world head on, no defenses in place.

"I didn't mean to," Aya said out loud before he could stop it. Did I really just say that? How stupid, how shameless of him to apologize! To lower himself, debase himself even further in front of Yohji? He was so pathetic. Yohji's eyes widened, wavering a bit in his stance. So stunned at hearing Aya say such cowardly things out loud. He really was like a woman, announcing every little worry and guilt to the whole world.

"You're cute sometimes," Yohji murmured huskily, moving across the bed to roll on top of Aya's body under the covers. Their skin stuck together, Yohji warmer then Aya's own cold flesh. Aya stiffened, the guilt replaced with anger. How dare the asshole call him such things! Yohji put an elbow down on either side of Aya's head, resting heavily on top. Aya shoved at him, trying to dislodge the man from lying uncomfortably close chest to chest.

"Get off," Aya demanded, his voice cold enough to make the air freeze. Yohji grinned, not moving an inch. Irritating man. Yohji wasn't as irresistible as he thought he was. Yohji sighed, leaning up to allow Aya enough room to breath. Not enough space for him to shove Yohji away.

"God, you never fucking joke around," Yohji sighed huffily, rolling off Aya when he remained silent. Aya looked up past Yohji, to the ceiling. He didn't want to see Yohji's disappointed face. He had ruined it again, with the attitude Aya couldn't afford to lose. If he stopped being so alone, it would be even harder to go back. Aya knew he would be alone again, because the world had shown him time and time again it would be just the same. Yohji wasn't immortal and Aya-chan wasn't the same. It felt like his sister already dead, and one day Yohji would be too… Or Yohji would get fed up with him and all of his episodes.

"You want breakfast?" Yohji asked, changing the conversation tastelessly. Avoid the questions and try to stop Aya's train of thought. Yohji had picked up on the fact that the longer Aya remained silent, the more he was starting to think and doubt. Yohji was silent for barely a minute at a time now days. Aya couldn't even think without the blonde's voice interrupting his thoughts.

"No," Aya refused. He didn't want food now, the thought of eggs or even miso soup too greasy and salty for the morning. He wasn't hungry anyways. He didn't want to force himself to chew the same shit that turned into ash in his mouth. His appetite was really a fickle thing, except for Yohji hovering and forcing square meals on him. Aya had managed to throw things down the sink or in the trash without the man noticing, but he knew he would be caught soon. It was a shameful, guilty thing that he did, but some days he didn't want to eat. It was hard to open his mouth and put his teeth and lips around something soft and thick in his mouth these days. Especially when Yohji was watching.

"You can eat it off me," Yohji offered in all seriousness, not at all modest at the sheet that was starting to slide off his body. Aya blinked, realizing what Yohji was suggesting. A complete sex freak, every single damn second of the day! Aya thought fiercely, shaking his head at the older man, trying not to laugh. Yohji's banter didn't scare Aya like other's had. Instead, it was almost humorous coming from him, because Aya did know for sure that Yohji would never actually force him to do half the things he said.

"You're dirty. Don't even think about it," Aya ordered, sitting up. He supposed that they should be getting home. Funny, how hesitant he felt now about seeing Aya-chan. He felt dread every time he spoke with her, fearing that she would start to yell at him. Sebastian hung around too much, hovering around Aya-chan's side whenever he tried to talk to her.

"I could take a shower," Yohji tried, not about to be put off in his quest to become a human plate. Aya sighed. Yohji would argue until he got his way. He was like a small child. How he managed to last through life while being so immature was beyond Aya. Yohji smiled, flashing those perfect white teeth at Aya.

"I'm taking one now," Aya insisted, wanting the first shower. He didn't fancy staying dirty a moment longer, though they had cleaned up after last night. He still felt filthy, from acts that were months old. The kind of touches that didn't leave his skin, their stain burned into his flesh. No matter how much he healed, he would still know where he had been touched. Where he was no longer clean.

Aya pulled himself out from under the covers, ignoring the whining noise Yohji made in protest. He didn't want to stay in bed any longer. Yohji had ruined the perfect silence they had for that brief moment, opening his mouth and ruining it all. Whenever Aya talked with Yohji, he ended up saying exactly what he didn't want to.

He padded to the bathroom, not looking back to see if Yohji got up or not. It didn't matter that he had no clothing. It wasn't like he had anything to hide. Yohji knew Aya's body intimately, just as he had proven last night. While he was in the shower, Yohji could watch TV or have a morning cigarette, but either way he would have to entertain himself while Aya got clean. He wanted to scrub his skin off, making sure that there wouldn't be a speck of dirt on his body.

Aya didn't bother with the door, preferring to march toward the large, extravagant shower stall. He had only turned the water on when Yohji yawned behind him. Aya jumped under the spray of hot water in surprise, trying to get away from someone being at his backside. He hissed and flinched away from the steaming water, his back hitting the tiles on the wall.

"Come on, Aya, we're saving water this way," Yohji insisted, stepping into the shower like he had the right. Aya stayed against the wall, frozen as Yohji closed the door and adjusted the water so it wasn't unbearably hot and burning. Immediately the heat from the shower faded into a soft warmth, Yohji's hair already starting to become soaked.

"What do you think you're doing?" Aya half yelled, unable to stop the panic in his voice. Don't look at me. He hated Yohji's eyes on him. It made him more self-conscious, of how white and scarred his body was next to Yohji's near perfect tanned skin. At least Yohji had a few bullet wounds too, several puckered gashes in his stomach. They still didn't compare to the heavy mutilation Aya still carried on his own flesh.

"Taking a shower," Yohji said very obviously. Of course the bastard was taking a shower! Aya wanted to know why he thought it was all right to be in here with him! Aya needed some space, privacy… somewhere dark where he could hide from Yohji. He didn't want him to look on his body, noticing some blemish that wasn't healing like it should.

"You're so beautiful," Yohji said out loud, honestly and softly. He stared at Aya's face, one eye closed against the stream of water as he ran his fingers through his hair. Aya blinked, shocked at the compliment. Didn't he disgust Yohji? What could the man possibly see in an ex-whore?

"Yohji…" Aya trailed off, looking to the water swirling down the drain as the shower hit the floor. He wasn't sure what to say. That it meant so much to him, to hear from someone else, anyone else, that he had some sort of value? How could Yohji possibly be drawn to him, actually attracted? Aya didn't understand it, didn't know what could make him appealing to Yohji. He had so many counts against him, so much past to deal with. Yohji didn't seem to mind, didn't even give a passing thought to it.

"I'll wash your back," Yohji said mischievously, grinning widely. These little details meant nothing to the man. He lived by the moment, not caring where he should end up in the future. Yohji was dangerous and erratic, constantly forgetting his duty. Aya didn't want to admit that he was jealous, almost to a painful intensity. He wished he could live half as freely as Yohji did.

"I don't need you to," Aya hissed, wishing for distance. He was starting to come closer to falling apart more and more these days. As long as Yohji kept pushing at him, one day he would eventual break down all the masks and shields. Aya dreaded it, fearing that if he let go, so would Yohji. Who am I kidding? I need him like I need a fucking hole in the head.

"Well, I want to," Yohji insisted, grabbing Aya's upper arm. He didn't know how to resist, his body suddenly unresponsive except for Yohji's tugging. He stumbled forward, under the hot water and too close to Yohji. Aya didn't want something to happen. He didn't want sex. He was sick of it, his bones and heart aching at the thought.

"Do you even know how to relax?" Yohji questioned, putting one soapy hand on Aya's shoulder. He stared at Yohji's face dumbly, the water hitting his face without heed. He didn't know how to. He had forgotten how to simply enjoy being alive. Yohji squeezed his arm, his touch heavy and real. Every time Yohji laid hands on Aya, he lost himself for a moment; letting those horrible memories go and reduced to trying not to shiver in anticipation.

Aya didn't know how to answer such a question. His thoughts couldn't be spoken out loud. So, he looked down at the drain again, watching the water swirl away and fall into the sewer system. Forgotten, ignored as it was rushed from the bath, tunneling toward a large, intricate set of caverns and drains. Just like he should be.

He didn't realize Yohji had gotten so close when Aya felt a kiss on his cheek. He looked up, not once considering that it might be an attacker or someone he needed to push away. Aya knew that it was Yohji, and no matter how afraid he ever got, Yohji would never hit him or force him to do something against his will. Yohji might whine and bitch a lot, but he would uphold his word.

"You're always such a little thinker," Yohji teased, slapping a hand down on top of Aya's head. It was covered with the free shampoo, the little bottle discarded at their feet. Yohji didn't care about putting the cap back on and trying to save some of the hair product. Indignantly, Aya knocked Yohji's hand away, working it into his own scalp. He wasn't some sort of invalid. He was sick of people trying to bathe him.

"Shut up," Aya ordered, not in the mood to entertain Yohji's ridiculous passions. Yohji frowned in mock hurt, putting a hand to his heart like he had been shot. Aya's comments didn't seem to affect the man anymore, no matter how hurtful and brutal he made them. Aya hated being ignored in such a manner. He lifted his hands away from his head, finished with the job of getting shampoo throughout his hair.

Yohji had taken one of the washcloths from the sink into the shower with them. Aya discovered this as it soundly hit him in the middle of his back. Yohji rubbed the warm terry cloth across his back, helping to scrub away some of the imagined dirt. Aya sighed, always able to calm down after a shower. As long as it burned away the dead skin, allowing him to forget the phantom touches. His chest would seize up against his will, the panic more frightening then the actual memories. It scared him, when he lost control of everything, helpless at the fear. He started to become skittish, wondering at things that might set off those… attacks.

Yohji kissed the top of his neck, right above the large bump of his spine and shoulder blades. Aya was jerked back to reality, unable to think around the soft caress of Yohji's lips. Gentle, loving, so alien and almost painful. It made Aya ache with a desire to finally have someone touch him without contempt or violence. He just wanted someone to hold him, like everyone else had. Aya admitted to be jealous of Ken and Omi's easy relationship with each other. He couldn't let go that much, because that's how he wound up getting hurt.

"Christ, Aya, I don't know anyone who takes more showers then you," Yohji teased lightly, continuing with his rub down of Aya's body. Aya felt a bit of anger at first. Didn't Yohji see the filth that was covering his body? How could he pretend to ignore it? Yohji smiled like he had made some great joke. Aya felt sick.

"I'm dirty," he said helplessly, softly. Why did Yohji force him to say these things? It hurt to admit to that. Aya bit his lower lip, trying not to give into saying anything more. Yohji sighed, recognizing that Aya was starting to doubt himself and fall into his depressed, shamed manner.

He kissed him gently on the top of his forehead, a place that was innocent, where Aya didn't have to fear anything. Aya was sure that Yohji wasn't one of those psychos who liked to pretend to be gentle before beating the shit out of him. He sighed, welcoming the contact. Yohji wouldn't hurt him. He had sworn so. Aya had nothing to fear. So easy to relax into this lull Yohji had created with the help of warm water. Aya couldn't be so panicked when it felt so soothing. Yohji was taking the time to assuage the fears the redhead still had when people touched him.

It angered him a bit, to have to be domesticated like this. Yohji seemed to understand that he still had yet to tame Aya to his hand completely. The other man knew when he was starting to press too hard. Every time they had wound up on a bed, wrestling like some adolescent couple, Aya hadn't even been sure if he really wanted it to stop. He couldn't believe that Yohji had such undying patience for him. Yohji always handled him like a bomb about to go off, and Aya couldn't say it was far from the truth.

It wasn't too far from the truth. His thoughts of late were terrified and panicked thoughts of being hit or touched like… that. Sebastian put him on edge, instantly making his heart pound faster, preparing for violence. Then, Yohji would show up and rescue him, so much better at handling social situations. Yohji still pretended to not know English, but Aya knew the man was fluent in it from a mission a while back that had required a master of the foreign language. It had been agony to listen to Yohji's radio as the man hit on girls in English while he infiltrated the party.

Yohji was a calm spot for Aya's mind. When Yohji was around, he couldn't help but relax a bit. Yohji was always protecting him, looking out for him. Nobody had ever done so before with such dedication. No one had ever stolen a car to chase after him before, but then he had never been kidnapped before either. He couldn't remember most of what happened because of whatever drug they had pumped him full of, but what he could recall was terrifying enough. It had been a living nightmare until Yohji crashed his illegally 'borrowed' car into the limo.

The man seemed to work miracles, allowing Aya to lose some of the tension that he always held around others. If it was just Yohji it would be nothing more then a shower together, so he could relax. He didn't think Yohji wanted sex in the morning now, not after Aya had shown his displeasure at the first attempt of the day. Aya was sure there were plenty more tries to look forward too, but Yohji knew to back off and wait a while. The man was like a scavenger, circling around for the chance that an opportunity would arrive.

Yohji toweled Aya down and accommodated him when he wanted to run the water through his hair. It was a relief to rid himself of the feeling of dirt and sweat building up at the roots, foul and irritating. Yohji let Aya finish washing the soap out of his hair, whistling gamely as he started to scrub at his own back.

"Gimme that,' Aya demanded, grabbing the soaked rag out of Yohji's hands. The man couldn't properly clean his own back like that. Yohji grinned widely as Aya suddenly started to regret taking it. What have I done, offering to wash Yohji's back?!

"Thank you, Aya," Yohji smiled, like he had won the lottery. It might as well be so. He had given in to Yohji just fucking once and now he would have to go through this awful, painful ordeal. Aya felt like a fool for giving in to a whim like that. Why hadn't he thought for a moment longer? Then he would have realized what a dumb ass move this was. What was Yohji going to think of him now? Yohji would only see him as some… used… cheap thing that wanted to touch him.

Aya raised up the cloth, scrubbing down Yohji's back mechanically. Was it shame? He did want to touch Yohji's body, to put a hand on the other man's skin and feel the warmth of someone else. Something that was alive, just like he was, real. Aya was so sick of cold delusions that left him alone in the night. Yohji wouldn't ever, ever attempt to hurt Aya in such a manner. He knew that, painfully well.

"Are we… okay?" Aya asked as he washed Yohji's back. Were they right to do this? To fall in love with all of the sins they both carried? Aya wasn't sure if he deserved it. He hadn't thought himself worth the effort for a long time. Yohji laughed softly, the chuckling making the muscles dance under the skin in front of Aya's eyes.

"'Course we are. Shit, Aya, what do you think about all the time?" Yohji questioned, raising up an eyebrow at the skepticism Aya showed him. Like he should know the answer already. Aya was so stupid when it came to these things! He knew it, felt it in the excruciating inexperience he kept flashing. Yohji had come to take so many things for granted that Aya had never even considered.

"Nothing," Aya lied. His thoughts were always heavy dark things… or the small bits of relief when he was with Yohji. The blonde's man happy, relaxed attitude melted away some of the throbbing anxiety Aya was constantly at the mercy of. So free in everything he did. How could Yohji possibly think Aya was too good for him? Hell, even good enough to be partners.

"Mmhm," Yohji murmured, clearly doubting Aya's answer. It was the truth. His thoughts were worth nothing. Who cared about his desires? Why did Yohji want to know? Why did Aya want to tell him so badly? He closed his eyes, dropping the washcloth from Yohji's back.

"Aya?" Yohji asked as he leaned forward. Aya rested his face on Yohji's back, not minding the wetness of his back. He was so much stronger, beautiful. A perfection that Aya could never achieve, broken as he was. Somehow, he had been graced with Yohji's affections. And, he never wanted them to go away, feeling a little better each time. The pain was starting to fade, dissolving under Yohji's care.

"Don't leave," Aya asked. That was the only thing he needed from Yohji. To be there forever, even after Aya gave breaking down and telling someone everything. It was hard to keep this secret shame to himself for such a long time. Yohji was the only person who listening to him, he really knew just what had happened to Aya. The only one he could talk to.

"Aya, I'm never going to leave," Yohji scoffed. Whenever Aya feared what would happen next, or expressed one of his pathetic terrors, Yohji laughed. He made them not as scary anymore when he showed such brashness in the face of Aya's fear. If Yohji wasn't scared of it, why should he be? Yohji could chase away what haunted him.

"I wonder sometimes," Aya admitted softly as Yohji turned around to face him in the shower. "Your track record isn't so good." Yohji stared at the comment, his face not showing any emotion. Then, the other man blinked, his brows drawing together in confusion.

"Did… you just make a joke?" Yohji asked out loud. Aya glared at him, frustrated that Yohji could always take things so lightly. Couldn't he put a little more thought into what came out of him mouth?

"You did, didn't you?" Yohji yelled out loud, falling into laughter. Yohji hooted, wiping at his eyes even thought they were in the shower right now. It was Aya's turn for confusion as Yohji fell into hopeless giggles. Why was the blonde laughing at him? What had he done? Whatever it was, he didn't have to stand here and take this shit!

Aya turned the water off, unlike how he wished he could turn off Yohji's laughter. He stepped out as Yohji remained in the draining stall, his humor not abating in the least. Aya grabbed one of the towels off the rack, frustrated at himself again. He was always such a fool, to try and say things out loud. It was so stupid of him... as usual.

"Oh, God, Aya, I don't think I'll… ever stop laughing," Yohji managed, trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. "I can't believe you just fucking said that. I think that's the funniest thing I've ever heard you say." Aya stared at Yohji's words. He hadn't even meant it to be funny, but Yohji didn't seem to think so. It was hilarious to the man, an absolute fucking laugh riot.

"Are you going to stand in there all damn day?" Aya snapped, toweling himself off briskly. His wet hair dripped into his eyes and down his neck, making Aya stop in the middle of drying off his back so he could wipe at the trickling water.

"Maybe I will," Yohji returned, looking down at his nails and picking at some imagined dirt. The idiot had just taken a shower. There was no dirt there! Aya threw a folded towel square into Yohji's face, very accurate in his irritation. Yohji caught it as the towel fall from his face, his grin wavering a bit.

"Geez, Aya, lighten up on a guy, will ya?" Yohji moaned like an over punished child. Yohji thought of everything in a joking manner, light and humorous. He didn't see the underlying darkness that Aya saw. The blood that stained all of them. Their past crimes that needed atonement. Didn't he recognize that?

"It's okay, I'm not a scary guy," Yohji assured. Aya doubted that. He had seen Yohji kill people before. It was ruthless, just as he was. Yohji considered him dangerous, a threat to himself and others around him. Didn't he? Weren't they killers? Aya didn't understand how they could let go of that attitude so easily. To fall out of practice would fall into death.

"Really, Aya, I do love you," Yohji emphasized as he toweled off his hair. Aya nodded. He knew it already. Yohji didn't have to say it so much. It almost started to become a cheating phrase because it disarmed Aya entirely. He couldn't attack Yohji when he said such words. Things that Aya was desperate to hear.

"How… How do you think we're going to get out of here?" Aya asked, glancing around the large bathroom. There, he found a white, large bathrobe with the hotel's emblem on the left breast. Aya went for it, still drying his hair with the towel.

"What do you mean?" Yohji didn't know what Aya was talking about as he pulled his arms through the bathrobe sleeves. Yohji didn't have to worry about what to wear. He was fine with putting on the rumpled tuxedo from last night. Yohji didn't wear a black leather dress last night, either.

"I'm not walking out in the bathrobe," Aya insisted, not allowing any argument. Yohji raised an eyebrow in thought, his gaze drifting inward as he considered the possibilities.

"You wanna wear my shirt?" Yohji offered. Aya shook his head. It wouldn't make a difference anyways. Yohji could give him a shirt, but not a pair of pants. It wouldn't help cover his legs.

"Well… I guess it's a run for the stairs then. We can get to the car that way," Yohji strategized. That was it? Just a ditch effort in hopes nobody would be walking up the stairs? Ridiculous notion!

"Can you think of anything better?" Yohji snapped; noticing the sour expression Aya wore. He sighed, knowing that there wasn't any other way. It was a poor plan, but it was his only choice. Yohji scowled and looked away, knowing that any further conversation would only lead to an argument. He turned away from Aya, dropping the towel on the floor and pacing out to the sink.

Aya blushed and looked away from Yohji's body. He couldn't believe that Yohji could be so immodest sometimes. The man's preference for wandering around naked never failed to shock and startle Aya. The first time he had walked out from the hallway bathroom to the room bare as the day he was born, Aya had screamed and slammed the door in the man's face, stubbing Yohji's toes. He had been alarmed, only recognizing a naked body when it was the middle of the day. People weren't usually naked during lunchtime.

Yohji washed his face, grabbing the complimentary razor before he worked up a soapy lather on his face. Aya didn't need to shave. He didn't really grow much facial hair, so he had little need to shave every day. Yohji was already starting to look grizzled, a light dark flecking on his cheeks and chin.

Aya walked into the bedroom, keeping his eyes fastened on the floor. He didn't want to see Yohji's naked body. He tried to ignore Yohji when the man started to hum. He picked up the discarded shirt and pants, turning them right side out and laying it out on the bed. He found the tie strewn across the jacket. The socks were harder to locate, balled up under a chair. His shoes were by the fireplace, typically forgotten.

Aya dumped the mismatched items on the bed, picking out the clothing and straightening it out. He set it out for Yohji, should the man ever chose to finally stop dancing in front of the mirror. Once Yohji found a reflective surface, it was hard to separate the man from it. He shamelessly loved his body, no matter how many cigarettes he smoked or how many drinks he put down. Aya couldn't blame the man either.

He was guilty of sometimes looking at Yohji's body in admiration. He couldn't believe that someone this perfect would be in love with him. Aya was used to hulking, ugly men, usually scarred or sometimes even disfigured men, sometimes with limbs no more then a mangled stub. Aya had swallowed his disgust back then, just laying back and allowing it to crash around him, not really paying attention.

There was no way that he deserved Yohji. Aya was so tainted, ugly in his own right. Yohji wasn't steeped in sin, despite the tattoo on his upper arm that labeled him so. Yohji was nearly perfect. He was better then Aya could ever hope to be. Yohji continued to hum in the bathroom as Aya paced uncomfortably in the room. He was very much aware of Yohji's nakedness, to the point of physical pain. He didn't want to look over.

Yohji splashed his face, bending down to grab the towel from the floor. Aya glanced up at the noise. His gaze caught helplessly as Yohji straightened and dried off his face. Aya wanted to die in shame over the blonde's nakedness. He didn't deserve this sort of relationship or paradise. It would kill him, brining down his defenses until his world crumbled again because he had let down his guard. Yohji looked up, raising an eyebrow in concern as he saw something in Aya' face. Damn. When had his mask broken so much? How did Yohji seem to know when he was upset?

"Aya, baby, you have got to calm down. It's all right," Yohji said softly. For some reason, it didn't sound cheap coming from Yohji. If anyone else had said those words, Aya would have become angry at the mere thought of someone calling him 'baby.' Coming from Yohji, it wasn't as offensive. It didn't seem so humiliating to be comforted like he was a scared child.

Yohji kissed Aya on the side of his head as he swept past, a brief touch of his lips to the redhead's hair. Aya sighed into it, trying not to moan with desire. Need. He wanted to be touched by Yohji, to be shown that it was all right. That he wasn't the whore he thought he was. Yohji didn't seem to think Aya was ugly. In fact, the man announced quite the opposite time and time again, assuring Aya that he thought he was beautiful.

"Whoa. Thanks for laying out the clothes, Aya," Yohji said, lightly kissing Aya on the cheek again. The redhead was sure Yohji thought he was being anal. The blonde just wasn't saying that out loud. Aya watched in silence as Yohji went past him, slipping into the silk boxers from last night. The older man wasn't the least bit modest about anything he did, shrugging into the rumpled white shirt. Yohji buttoned the front, looking like a wet dog with his hair still soaking from the shower. He looked good doing it, his fingers wonderfully strong yet still so soft. Aya didn't know that men could have hands that nice.

Angrily, Aya turned his thoughts away from that. He wasn't supposed to desire anyone's touch. He didn't want Yohji to touch him. That was ridiculous. It was that… he didn't want Yohji to leave. The thought of having to watch Yohji's back as he left him was painful, making his whole chest constrict.

"We can just run out, the room's already paid for," Yohji assured. He pulled the black pants on, tucking the shirt into the waist sloppily. Aya shrugged. It didn't really matter to him. Yohji had decided to pay for the expensive hotel, not him. Aya wasn't worth such displays. He scratched his neck, absently thinking back to when they had first walked up to the hotel. He couldn't believe it when Yohji had strolled up to the hotel, recognizing it as easily one of the most expensive places in Tokyo.

"Besides, they have the card if they want to bill for the bathrobe," Yohji said out loud. The man seemed to talk just to keep it from being silent. He didn't care if Aya answered him or not, pulling on the jacket from last night. Yohji was a bedraggled mess, his hair dripping onto his shoulders.

"Yohji," Aya cursed, walking into the bathroom. He grabbed a fresh towel from the counter and brought it back to Yohji. He tossed it over the man's head, infuriated that he couldn't manage to take care of himself. Yohji laughed as he took the hint and began to dry his hair, chuckling lightly at Aya's anger. Bastard.

Aya forced himself to remain standing there, silent as Yohji finally took the time to make sure the mop on his head was properly dried. He didn't want to give Yohji the impression that he wanted to run. Because, he didn't. Aya didn't feel the slightest inclination to make a dash for the keys on the table and try a shot at running away from Yohji. He didn't want to be refused by Yohji, left behind, but he couldn't reveal that fear to the man either.

It was a confusing place to be at the best of times. Yohji always managed to catch him off guard, asking him questions that Aya didn't ever mean to answer. There was something about the man. It couldn't be attraction, because Aya found himself exasperated with Yohji most of the time. He didn't want it to just be a desperate need not to be alone. That couldn't be the only thing holding them together.

Yohji sat down on the edge of the bed, the towel still draped over his head. He grabbed the socks and pulled them on one at a time, humming as he tied the laces on his shoes. Aya moved away, going into the bathroom to take a clean towel. He laid it out on the floor, ignoring Yohji's questioning look as he laid it out on the floor.

Aya picked up the dress from the floor, shaking it out and folding it. He really didn't want to take the time with it, embarrassed as all hell as Yohji watched him fold a woman's piece of clothing. Aya had paid money for it, and he wasn't about to stop taking care of his clothing. He put the folded bundle in the middle of the towel, bending at the knees so Yohji wouldn't try to stare as his ass as he bent down. The blonde had a pervert streak a mile wide.

Aya stood up, walking around as he gathered up the rest of his clothes. He found the wig in a crumpled, tangled mess on the floor next to the bed. He put the ruined corset on top of the dress, not wishing to leave that bit of evidence for the maids. He would have loved to throw it away then and there, but Aya didn't want anyone to see the stain and make assumptions. He couldn't stand the thought of someone knowing, even if it was a complete stranger.

He put the stockings in the pile as well. He could carry the shoes outside of this package. He wouldn't want the soles to stain the expensive silk of the dress. There was no way he would wear the things though. It would be easier to go barefoot then try and navigate the steps in high heels. Aya tucked the jewelry into the bundle, not wishing to wear it out. He could go with the earrings, but no more. Finished with his task, the redhead balled the whole thing up in the towel, making a knack sack to carry down to the car.

Yohji shrugged at Aya's packing, picking up his keys as he went to the door. He held it open for Aya, grinning like he was some sort of gentleman. Aya gathered up his clothes with one hand, the shoes dangling by the straps from his the other. Aya sniffed at Yohji as he walked forward. He wished Yohji wouldn't do all these overt gestures. As he passed through the door, someone most definitely slapped him soundly on the rear.

"Yohji!" Aya roared, feeling the blood rush to his face. He swirled around, very ready to do murder. Yohji was laughing like a maniac, brushing the hair out of his face. Aya could have killed him. Would have choked the life right out of the laughing blonde for daring to put a hand on his ass. He wished the robe was tighter… he wanted a pair of underwear and some pants. Lots of pants and belts.

"Oh, fucking lighten up," Yohji smirked, rolling his eyes at Aya's bristling figure. Aya would not 'lighten up.' He was going to beat the shit out of the man. Yohji closed the door, still very proud of his latest accomplishment. Aya would give the man a gold star for being the biggest prick in the world. He hated Yohji so much that it turned the world red, his hands turning into fists around the bundle in his arms.

"Hey," Yohji suddenly said very rudely, looking past Aya. There was someone probably walking down the hallway as well. Aya didn't want to turn around, afraid they might recognize him from last night. It was doubtful that it would be anyone who even gave damn, but Aya couldn't risk it. Not when his stomach compressed at the thought of facing someone dressed in a bathrobe.

"Red?" A voice said familiarly from behind with the same exact sneer and disbelief from his nightmares. He dropped his bundle of clothes in shock, his eyes widening in recognition. Aya took two running steps forward before he could stop himself, turning around on his heels to face the man. He panted, frightened out of his mind and trying very desperately not to hide behind Yohji. How could he try to run away from this man? He wasn't some weakling or coward! Aya's nails bit into his palms as he tightened his fists, trying to stand his ground.

Of all the people in the world, why was it this man? Aya was staring into the same, thin, nightmarish face from what he remembered in the limo ride. The kidnapping. Aya's breath caught, his heart starting to pound fast. He wanted to run away. Screw face and pride. He just wanted away. His hand tightened around the leather straps of the shoes as he started to gasp for breath, his vision wavering.

The last coherent thing he could remember was the needle and the pain of the injection. From then on, the memories were hazy, blurred at best, but that did nothing to blunt the terror Aya felt. He remembered the pain of simply breathing, of drooling helplessly like a stupid child. Then, a man's face, very clear and frightening for it's lack of any handsome or striking features, thin and young. Aya memorized the features, making sure he would never forget. Then, there was a hole in his memory except for sharp phantom pains around his groin and balls. Aya remembered someone falling into his lap, their face pressed against his crotch.

"Aya, stay back!" Yohji ordered, standing in front of him. Putting a wall between Aya's prospective pimp and himself. He dropped the shoes, wrapping his arms around his body as he tried to hold his lungs in. He couldn't breath, the world spiraling down to Yohji's black dress shoes. Not now, not now, Aya begged, terrified at the thought of another panic attack. He didn't want the world to stop, to feel like he was going to die. He drowned in his own fear, gasping as his vision blurred.

Yohji had come. Yohji had stopped that nightmare. That was the only rational thought as Aya connected the shoes to being on Yohji's feet. There was acid in his throat, burning as his stomach clenched up in panic. His body went cold and stiff, so utterly afraid that he couldn't even move. His frantic heartbeat was starting to pound faster until he felt it coming out of his ribcage. He was going to die.

Yohji lifted up his hand. Yohji was there right now, so this had to be real. Wake up, Fujimiya! Aya screamed at himself. The man must have worn his watch on their date. For once, Yohji proved useful and resourceful, raising it up to pull out the wire. The young pimp took a step back, unarmed in his own loose bathrobe. The same one Aya had tightly wrapped around his body. He held a round tub of ice in his arms, probably on the way back to his own room. There was likely a poor whore in there as well, exactly how Aya had been not so long ago.

The red head bent down, picking up one shoe from the floor. He pressed on the heel, and out came a small metal knife, thick as his finger. It was delicate and light and probably wouldn't inflict much fatal damage, but he could work with it. Yohji looked at him wildly out of the corner of his eye, surprised that he had recovered so quickly.

Life was a distant thing, pushed away. Emotions weren't needed right now. Fall right back into the feeling of Abyssinian, cool and sleek with a deadly accuracy. He could ignore things for a moment. All he knew was that his heart ached with desire to kill the man. He didn't want to be scared right now. He wanted to be avenged.

He dropped the shoe, letting it fall to the carpet loudly in the silence. The thin man stared in horror at the hidden blade, wondering what the redhead could do with it. He better damn well have a good idea, because Aya wanted vengeance a hundred times over. He hated being drugged. He hated being at the mercy of another. He hated everything.

It was easier to slide away from the side of him that gave a damn. Pretend it's a mission, there's the target. He's not a threat, Abyssinian assessed the lanky, unshaven man before him. He could take this punk. He lifted up the small dagger, rushing forward past Yohji. He left the man behind, ignoring the blonde's yell and grab at his arm. He dodged Yohji's hand, pressing toward the shaking, greasy pimp, his bare feet silent on the carpet.

The redhead's eyes narrowed, finding a spot and lunging in as the man tried to run away. He grabbed the man around the chest, too intent on the kill to care about touching another person. He ran the small, razor-sharp blade across the man's throat, pressing it in as deep as the metal would cut. The man screamed shrilly, his hands going up to his neck as the redhead dropped his hold. His hand was splattered with red smears. Blood welled out over the arching sweep of the wound, soaking the front of the man's bathrobe.

Abyssinian stepped back, avoiding getting blood on the white fabric of his own robe. He ignored the slip of the small handle as blood dripped down the blade. He spun, stabbing it into the man's heart as solidly as possible. The man screamed again, more raggedly and hoarsely, loosing his breath and blood all at once. He held his hands up on either side of the blade, staring down in shock at the wound. The pimp obviously thought he was too young to die.

"Go to hell," he snarled, ignoring the disbelieving look in the man's eye. Once Abyssinian had picked him for death, there was no escape. The man staggered back, dropping to one knee as he struggled to breath. Blood fell out, gushing to the carpet at their feet. The redhead stood over the kill, his face twisted in a smiling, feral grimace.

Yohji wrapped two arms around Aya, crushing him back against the blonde's chest. Aya took a shuddering breath, looking down at his victim. The man was limp on the carpet, his eyes and mouth frozen open in horror at his last moments. Yohji was warm and solid against his back, holding the redhead against his body. Aya looked down at the carpet, suddenly realizing that the pattern was familiar to the carpet in a different place he had been in not so long ago. Yohji was trying to hold Aya back from mutilating the corpse any further, hugging him and pressing into him.

Pressing into him, the hard mound of an erection prodding the back of his upper thigh. He didn't want to be taken, not like this. Not in public. Aya looked around desperately at the other people in the elevator, the world spinning and churning as everything fogged out. The man was forcing Aya to put his arms up on the wall as he worked at Aya's pants. His elbow burned from a shot given by Mr. Stevenson only minutes ago. People stared, aghast as the erection fell out of the man's own pants. A child started crying, and Aya wished he were dead as the man poked a hard penis wet with pre-cum against his rear.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Aya screamed for what must have been the hundredth time. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop from reacting. He shoved his palms up into his eyes, trying to desperately block out that pattern on the fabric. He was panicking, he couldn't stop it. Not when the hallway smelt like blood and it reminded him of the elevator and…Oh, God…I'm gonna be sick.

"Aya, we have to get out of here before someone see this… Shit…" Yohji cursed empathically, reaching down to dig the knife out of the man's chest. No way would he leave that bounty for the police force. Yohji's right hand was died red as he jerked the small dagger out from the stiffening muscles and bones. Get out of here? Aya didn't even know where they were… His stomach clenched and Aya vomited, dry heaving as he turned to the wall.

Yohji grabbed Aya's hand, squeezing it hard. Aya looked up in Yohji's large, agitated green eyes, blinking as he was snapped out of whatever trance he had been in. How can I be so damn out of control? He was losing it, the hold on his identity. He was starting to shake, not exactly sure what had just happened. The body was familiar and the blade was his, but how they had wound up together was a mystery. He couldn't remember killing the man. It felt the same as it always did after a murder, strange and detached. Abyssinian killed, not Aya. Deep inside, he couldn't handle the sight of blood anymore.

"Come on, come on," Yohji demanded, pulling Aya along. He blinked, following in confusion. Aya pulled his bloody hand into the sleeve of the robe, hiding it began to shake. He wasn't sure what was going on, but anyone would want to get away from a murder scene as quickly as possible. Aya blinked, remembering his bundle of clothes and his shoes. He let go of Yohji's hand, gathering his things up in both arms before he started following the blonde. The towel covering his clothing helped to dry the blood off his hand. He wanted to wash his hand now and dig out ever last speck of blood in his nails.

They started to run the rest of the way down the hall, toward the stairway. Aya covered his bloody hand with the oversized sleeve of the bathrobe as he threw the door open, letting Yohji rush past. The blonde was already putting Aya's dagger in his silk handkerchief, scrubbing at the blood covering his right hand. They trotted down the thankfully empty stairwell, circling down the dizzy flight of the stairs. Yohji had enough time to get his hand only slightly pink, wrapping the blade up in the bloody silk.Waste of money.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Aya, really! Did you need this damn thing on the job?" Yohji snarled as they rushed down the stairs. Aya didn't know how to answer the question. There were plenty of times when he should have used the blade, but didn't. This had been the first time he had actually snapped it out and stabbed it home. Yohji was waiting for an answer, glancing back at Aya as he followed down the stairs.

"It's nice to have handy," Aya joked, but he doubted Yohji would catch the humor. An eyebrow was raised as they hit the floor of the parking lot. Again, Aya opened the door with the bathrobe so they wouldn't leave fingerprints. After Yohji's recent arrest, they couldn't risk it. Maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he was just being safe.

"You're sooo secretive," Yohji mockingly hissed, turning around on Aya suddenly in the middle of the road. The lines of parked cars shone in the lighting of the cement parking complex. Down here, one couldn't tell if it was day or night. Aya came to stop in front of Yohji, staring back at him in irritation. Yohji didn't have to make everything into a fight. The man must have some kind of guide on how to piss him off!

To make it worse, Yohji leaned in and kissed him, as deeply and passionately as if they were familiar lovers. Aya gasped, unable to push Yohji away because of the load in his arms. The blonde pushed his tongue past Aya's lips and teeth, brushing the top of his won mouth in exploration. Yohji didn't seem to ever stop being curious about the feeling of Aya's mouth, never really intrusive or forceful, but always so damn gentle and deceptively calm. Aya knew what the man must have planned for him. Sex, that was the only thing he thought of.

"You're so sweet, Aya-baby," Yohji crooned against Aya's lips. He sucked the breath in through his nose, trying very hard not to kill Yohji as his hands tightened on the towel. How dare Yohji call him such ridiculous pet names! Aya had told him time and time again to not address him with those slanders that worked on everyone else. He wouldn't be treated like some cheap whore, ever again.

"Stop it," Aya moaned, because it was the only think that came to mind. He was speaking out of instinct, reflexively trying to resist. Yet, a part of him wanted to finally let go. Stop worrying, stop hiding, release from the act. It had been so long ago when he had last stopped trying to hide his emotions. Aya couldn't remember the last time he hadn't yelled at himself afterwards for smiling. For allowing that facial feature to sneak past the mask he had made.

"You want me to?" Yohji asked, capturing Aya's bottom lip and sucking on it. Aya didn't know what to say, stunned into silence. Yohji felt good, inexplicably welcome, and yet the terror kept him from falling into a pile at Yohji's feet. He wanted to break down and cry, so amazed that anyone loved him so much, desired him so much. But, what would happen afterwards? Where would Yohji been then?

"No." Aya didn't ever want anything to stop. Even if the world finally righted itself and he could go on with his life, he didn't want to move away from Yohji. Yohji was still there, holding him close against his body, so much warmer then Aya could ever be. Always there for him, supporting him. He didn't ask for anything, didn't want anything other then Aya's unconditional love. Why was it so hard to give?

"Well, it's not like we can screw each other's brains out in the parking lot," Yohji joked, putting an arm comfortably around Aya's waist. He was pulled against Yohji's side, tucked under the taller man's armpit like he fit there. Common decency was such a foreign concept that Aya blinked as Yohji went toward his Seven.

He wanted to go home. Aya just wanted to sit on the couch and have Yohji be there with him. They didn't have to say anything. They wouldn't have to do anything. Just as long as Yohji stayed by his side, Aya could relax. Yohji was reality, Yohji was safety. Amazing how his life had come down to focus on such a point. A weakness.

"Aya?" Yohji asked after taking several steps, noticing that Aya was standing still. He turned around, facing Aya again. Worry was starting to come into his features as he looked at Aya, the silence and lack of response translating as bad things to come. Yohji was concerned, unsure what Aya was thinking of.

Making a fist so hard that his knuckles cracked, Aya forced himself to smile at Yohji. It felt strange on his face, carefully thought out. He had to concentrate on curving his lips upward and allowing his eyes to soften enough to make it look like he wasn't going to kill someone. It seemed the right thing to do. He didn't have any words.

Yohji didn't say anything either, staring at Aya's face. The redhead wondered what the other man thought of him. What did he look like now? Aya regretted even trying to smile. It had been the only thing he could think he could grace Yohji with. He didn't have anything left, no money, no body, no life. They were all ruined, dirtied things that Yohji wouldn't care for. All Aya had left was to open up. There was nowhere left to go.

"You're so confusing," Yohji whispered, coming in close to Aya's personal space. There was nothing to back up to, alone in the middle of the parking lot. He stood his ground, staring levelly at Yohji and forcing himself to go on guard again. Aya tensed, figuring that if Yohji were going to take advantage of him, it would be now. He could feel that by the tension in the air, by the way Yohji stared down at him.

"I could go crazy for you," Yohji said softly against the jut of Aya's jawbone, not caring how close they were in the empty lot. There was no one watching, no one judging them. It would be all right, if just for one moment, to give into emotion that was becoming harder and harder to fight.

Aya didn't push or shove at Yohji when the man leaned in and kissed him again, a little bit lighter this time. Concerned for Aya's change in mood, for the way his face darkened when he had these sort of thoughts. Aya would love to be able to live like Yohji, so free and simple with everything he did. Maybe Aya could manage… by living with him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ha, motorcycles are cool, especially the riding jackets! If you're worried, I'm going to use the power of being-the-author-makes-me-god-of-all- aspects-in-this-fictional-world and say that Ken and Omi use no protection now because they are confident in each other's blood work and cleanliness and don't fear STDs anymore, and besides, they needed their last romp! I'm mean; they can't just screw and then get shoved to the side! They still live in the same house, poor guys. Omi's a boy because, well, he's not a minor, but his face, come on, he doesn't look a day over 12! … But that's what makes him so cute. Err, the 'sorry, sugar' is a thing I picked up from a waitress at Denny's that came from tex-ass (cough), and I'm sure the Japanese have some kind of equivalent if that's going to be a bone with someone…

EXPLICATION: I've gotten several personal emails about this, so I bet it's a concern with other people too. Now, if you're reading this, you might know I wrote Aya cross-dressing. This may have seemed… improper (not sure what word to use)?… So, the reasoning behind this: I think that it is a good step between Yohji and Aya to try and get over some of the awful things I put them through and was the best way I could think of to illustrate a strong relationship, though it doesn't come out like that, I suppose. All I can say is, please be patient because some of the questions people asked me I couldn't really answer because that's what I had written to go next. These chapters have to go through WONDERFUL editors who make sure that my grammar gets better, because we all know it's shit on a stick. So, what I want to say is sorry for the shamelessness, but it's a pastime that I really enjoy as well. This is all just shameless porn, my attempt at a Victorian romance novel, just like how they should be. Books today shouldn't be about the political theory behind the terrorist bombings. Most of which are America's fault (I didn't vote for bush, I went for Nerberg!… the green party guy, he visited our hometown and I don't even remember his name.). Dislike my country, but there is that freedom of speech thing.

THANK YOU! On another note, I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed me. It's just so sweet of you to take the time to write something. I'm sitting here think it's awful and then I have these wonderful people telling me that they LOVE it. People are printing it out and wasting money on ink cartridges and getting plastic binders for it… I mean, you took the time to three-hole punch it. That's just so heartwarming and sweet to hear from everyone, and I don't know how I can thank you all enough. It knowing that people really want to read this that makes me all the more eager to write it, because it's just so nice… I'm babbling now and it probably sounds repetitive, but I thought I should say something because I'm just so painted pink at it all.

IN CASE YOU NOTICED: I changed the Virginia Café to Celestial Gardens, because in my Asian American film study class (Had to bitch a girl out for saying Jet Li wasn't good. I shoved Fists of Legend down her throat) we watched 'The Flower Drum Song,' this old musical movie about Chinese Americans by C.Y. Lee (Oh, SHIT! I educated you in the note at the bottom of porn. Apologies to all! )

… and sorry that was so long. I'm gonna listen to ABBA now.