Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Come As You Are ❯ Baby, if you're good to go ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Weiss Kruez and Koyasu Takehito and whoever else may apply…despite the fact they butchered them up nicely for season two! Grr…

Double Disclaimer: Guess what? There's gonna be sex- and MUCH worse if this keeps going. SO- you've been warned (and I've already gotten in trouble enough times to know some people don't expect smut despite the summaries). You might also want to check out `I Hate Him' off of Mediaminer.org for some background to this.

"Are you sure about this?" Ken asked, leaning on the glass case with one darkly tanned arm as he looked down at the price tags. Yohji glanced over again at his friend over the rim of his sunglasses, wondering again just why the fuck he had decided to bring the idiot along. Ken looked totally out of place in the jewelry store, ripped jeans and a tight, white tank-top for the heat outside, while finer members of the richer citizens of the city cruised around the store. The former cover-player obviously didn't think that this was a good idea with a frown on his face as he opened his mouth to ask Yohji the same question again.

"Yes, I'm sure about this. Christ, are you gonna be like this the whole time?" Yohji snapped back, starting to get frustrated with the man. It was the damn summer warmth, the streets hot enough to fry an egg on as greasy heat waves rose up outside the windows of the air-conditioned jewelry store. Yohji regretted wearing his favorite dark-blue sports jacket over a simple grey t-shirt, but he had to at least look like he had some money to be taken seriously in this place. He had his hair tied back to keep it off his neck, which was sticky with sweat just from walking from where he'd parked Seven to this store. Black, leather loafers weren't his shoes of choice for this weather either, but Ken looked cool as a cucumber in open-toed sandals.

"But, Aya's not the type to wear jewelry…he's not the type to get hitched, either," Ken argued two points on top of each other, glancing back down at the shiny exhibit of diamonds, gold, and silver trinkets. Of course, the stupid fuck would be looking at the most gaudy pieces, not even tasteful enough for an old woman trying to impress someone. Aya certainly wasn't the type for large, inset jewels and intricate designs of simple pure elements.

"He wore that damn earring for years," Yohji pointed out; bring up that now unworn memento of Aya's sister. "Trust me, Aya will want to wear this," he insisted, very sure that the said person would be quite pleased with what he picked out. He wasn't about to insult the younger man with something huge and expensive, but he knew there was a hell of a lot of pressure to find something that would met Aya's high standards. Hell, his very own, because Yohji wasn't about to buy a cheap engagement ring. He'd thought it through for months, and in that time had saved up money for this very day by easing off the boozing with Ken and clubbing with Omi. Neither activities were much fun anyway when Aya always sat in the corner until he could finally be convinced to get off whatever stool or bar stand he'd become physically attached to. He had found much more happiness at home when Aya would let Yohji cuddle up to the usually frigid man while he read. It had becoming a surprisingly peaceful and domestic routine for Yohji to lay his head down in Aya's lap while he got absorbed in whatever text he was holding inches from his face, absently scratching Yohji's hair between flipping the pages.

Yohji slowly walked down along the glass cases, skimming over the rings as he thought back to the last few weeks where he had finally made up his mind about Aya. Oh, he'd be certain that he was in love with Aya, almost to a sickening degree, but it had taken a long time to actually consider marriage. He knew that while legal, it'd be nothing more than a farce of a ceremony if he could even talk Aya into it. Yohji didn't really care for it, deciding that the meaning behind this would weigh more than any certificate of marriage could mean. Paper was just paper, but if he could have Aya actually recognize a physical manifestation of their love-maybe even get the man to finally say those three words Yohji longed to hear-that would meant a hell of a lot more in the end.

He'd admit in a second that it was sappy as all hell, but he couldn't help falling completely in love, his heart in his throat, the world cast in a rosy light, the whole fucking ten yards. It was enough to make him sick sometimes, but in the end the obsession had been just another reason to finally get the balls to go into the store. He couldn't waver between wanting to kill and fuck the same man all hours of the day if he didn't love him. That still didn't mean Yohji was confident enough to pick something out all alones in the middle of the jewelry displays. He had to bring Ken along just so he wouldn't get overwhelmed and leave empty-handed. He would buy the ring now just because Ken was there watching him, even as the shorter man turned and smiled at an elderly lady in a high-neck white sweater despite the heat, obviously caught in the middle of glaring at Ken for looking middle class or lower in this fine establishment.

"Yo-ohji, that lady's checking me out," Ken whined, doing a fair imitation of Omi after all the years he had spent in the kid's constant company. Yohji rolled his eyes at Ken's idiotic comment, finding it hard not to crack a smile anyway. The boy had been able to make Ken even worse, if such a thing was possible…well, Omi was more of a man now, with all that boyish awkwardness and small growth spurts finally done with as he started to mature into an adult. Yohji still couldn't help but think of the blonde as young though, with that constant smile and naive look in his blue eyes despite all the pain he had been through.

"Oh, shut the fuck up and help me look for something nice," Yohji snapped out dryly when one of the employees glanced over at them in confusion at the commotion. Ken grumbled something about `becoming a damn square,' but Yohji decided to gracefully ignore the remark entirely. If nothing else, Aya had taught him that sometimes silence really could serve best.

"How about that one?" Ken asked, smashing his finger down hard on the glass to point out a huge blood-red ruby perched on a thick band of intricately twisted pieces of gold on a fake hand for show. Yohji didn't think his eyebrows could go up any further than they were now. At least he hadn't been counting on depending on Ken's clearly horrible taste to help make a final decision on anything. Yohji was sure his own judgment would work just fine this time.

"Hell no. It should be more like that," Yohji tapped the display case on Ken's right to direct his attention to a simple, thick silver band with a flat diamond inset in a thin circle that lifted up from the ring. Not exactly what Yohji was looking for, but it was closer to something that Aya would consider wearing. It was nowhere near as high-quality as Yohji was planning on, but he supposed it would be a good visual for Ken to go off of. He didn't need the brunette distracting him with more bad choices.

"Diamond? Really? Aya likes that?" Ken asked the questions one after the other, crossing his arms as he leaned back away from the jewelry boxes lined up underneath the fluorescent lights of the cases. Doubt was written all over his face, probably still thinking the mere idea was flawed in the first place.

"Hey, who's been screwing who?" Yohji shot back; quite merciless in pointing out that he was damn sure he knew more about Aya than Ken ever could. Favorite foods, color, season, book, smell, place to be touched, and much more was stored and noted inside Yohji's head, because it was worth it to him to know Aya inside and out, even better than the man knew himself.

"Ha, at least you and Aya find the time," Ken grumbled, his face souring as he looked out the window to the busy city streets. Yohji only sneered at the brunette, having heard this complaint before. With Omi attending college fulltime and Ken getting a permanent paying job at the local volunteer center to teach neighborhood kids soccer, the other couple only had time on the weekends to be together. Not that the two didn't do more than try to make up for it.

"Serves you right for fucking him so hard all the time when you first started. I'm amazed the poor kid can still even walk straight," Yohji shot back. Last Saturday had been so bad Aya and he had had driven up to the mountains to do some stargazing, far away from Omi and Ken's ridiculously loud sex. Yohji couldn't help but think it was a bit of karma from when the two had been screwing each other blind every other hour, back when they had first decided to engage in such activity.

Ken raised his hands up in mock defeat, clearly backing out of this verbal spat before it could get any worse. Despite being incredibly hotheaded, Ken was also wise when it came to arguing with Yohji…because he knew very well from experience that Yohji would always get the upper hand in a mud-flinging contest. He had to, to keep up with Aya on a daily basis. A sharp wit was a necessity around the man just to continue the conversation beyond grunts and nods; and much more than crafty words were required to actually get Aya `in the mood.'

Shit. Yohji still had to shake his head in disbelief that it had all started the night Aya had shown up half-dead on the back porch long ago. He would never have thought that `Aya' and `prostitution' would ever sit together in the same sentence, but had found out the horrible, bitter truth when the three of them had tried to do a little damage control after Yohji had dragged in that cold body to the kitchen table. He had long since finally accepted the fact that Aya had once sold his body to compensate for the lack of income after they had stopped doing missions, all for his ungrateful little sister. It still was strange though, to have to come to terms with what had happened to Aya. He'd admit that it had been a wonderful opportunity to nurse and comfort Aya back to health-and into his bed---but, Yohji had ended up screwing up at every single corner. Except here he was, considering what ring he wanted to give Aya when he proposed.

Yohji Kudoh did not get married. Hell, he had never even been loyal to a single person before, had never once thought that there was someone out there that he wouldn't consider cheating on eventually. And, then, Aya had finally self-detonated and Yohji had found himself wanting to pick up the pieces. He had been there throughout Aya's entire rocky and sometimes seemingly endless recovery; and what he had ended up with was a very special, unique person that Yohji really couldn't imagine life without anymore. He was sure any of his old flings would laugh out loud if they saw him now, head over heels for an introverted and stoic ex-whore, though not very many knew about the last part.

Ken trailed slowly on his heels as he looked over the displays, finding even worse-looking rings or other pieces of jewelry that he wouldn't give a second look. Hell, the first ones hurt enough. Yohji balked at the thought of having to try a different shop in this damned heat, more than ready to get the fuck back home and crawl inside the walk-in freezer for the flower displays…but he wasn't having any luck with this joint. Just because it had been in the best part of town, Yohji had assumed he'd find something really nice here. Instead, he was just getting frowned at by a male employee who clearly thought them to be nothing more than browsers.

"Yohji, what about this?" Ken asked, pointing again at another setup of ring boxes on the upper shelves inside the clear panes of the cases. Yohji knew the man was trying to get him to look at a silver ring with a large, fat pearl in the center, but thankfully the amethyst collection in the corner of the same display caught his eye instead. It looked like some older pieces of jewelry had been put there, out of style and shoved aside for the new fashions that Ken seemed to be in love with, and Yohji knew he had found exactly what he had been looking for.

A slightly rectangular piece of onyx was laid into the simple enough body of silver, the circle of the ring tapering down in back for the finger. Inside was a large amethyst cut in a perfect, faceted oval as the top of the nearly-black jewel caught blue shards of light on the top and deep violet ones on the bottom, almost the exact color of Aya's eyes. The man's were more radiant than the gem, but close enough. It was all surrounded by a thin twisted band of silver to fasten the jewel to the ring, but the uncomplicated designed made it all the more breathtaking.

"Excuse me, Miss?" Yohji called out lightly, raising up his hand to grab the attention of the female employee closest to their counter. She turned to them with a slight look of confusion before he smiled invitingly, sure to turn on the charm hours before he really needed it. She came over slowly in the modest, knee-length, blue female business suit, as plain as they came with shoulder-length, black hair and bangs.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked in a polite and quiet voice, glancing over at the other male employee nervously. Yohji could guess easily enough to the man was the manager and she definitely had something riding on this sale. He hadn't been a detective for nothing, no matter how many lifetimes ago that might have been. The girl had no idea how lucky she was to have gotten him as a customer, because he was damn determined to buy that ring and also was feeling generous today on top of it.

"Yes, I want this ring," Yohji rapped on the glass with his finger. She looked down at the piece he was pointing out, then blanched and glanced back up at him in a clearly measuring manner. She stole a quick glance at Ken's shabby appearance as well, her mind racking up the points and clearly finding them lacking in appearance. He fucking knew shouldn't have brought Ken along, but perhaps it would be humorous after a while…like after he beat the utter shit of the shorter man.

"But, sir- that piece- that ring was an heirloom. It's over one hundred thousand yen," she stammered out lightly, trying desperately to not insult him with the price but doubting Yohji's checkbook.

"I wasn't expecting anything less," Yohji assured her, being quite honest. He had a fair lump saved up in his account for this day, and it didn't matter if he blew the whole lot. Aya used his checks to pay all the bills-being the only one responsible enough to make sure things got mailed on time- and Yohji only worked with cold, hard cash.

"But…" she trailed off, glancing back at the manager who finally noticed and looked over in their direction suspiciously.

"May I see your hand?" Yohji asked, rousing a tired sigh from Ken a surprised intake of breath from the woman. She raised up one hand slowly in front of Yohji's face, clearly confused at the request. He took it gently in his own, studying the thin white fingers and experimentally rubbing his thumb on her ring finger to imagine Aya's own hand.

"Yes, you'll be perfect," Yohji finally decided, loosening his grip to let her slowly pull the limb away. She stared back at him, amazed and flattered already. Yohji hadn't even had a chance to try any lines yet. Ken was grumbling at the whole display, always irritated and a twinge bit jealous at Yohji's ease with the ladies. Ken knew quite well which way the door swung for Yohji, and that the poor woman didn't have a chance with this retired playboy-but that wouldn't stop him from making sure that the old charm still worked. Aya could make a man doubt sometimes.

"'Perfect?' For what?" she echoed, looking between Yohji and Ken's faces for an answer. Yohji smiled down at her thin, tanned hands, figuring that her middle finger would be about the size of Aya's ring, despite the obvious difference in sex and age. Aya still had managed to keep delicate pianist hands that had no right handling swords and other means of assassination throughout their killing career.

"Could you bring that ring out and wear it, dear?" Yohji asked, sure that she wouldn't agree to simply taking it out for a customer that she was clearly doubting the honesty of them as customers. She smiled and giggled lightly at the endearment before bending down to unlock the back of the case. Yohji held his finger over the ring while she searched in for the box, set it out on the counter, and plopped the ring down on her finger. Yohji took her hand again, bringing the girl's arm over the counter to get a closer look as he motioned at Ken to do the same.

"Isn't that a little morbid for an engagement ring?" Ken asked as he leaned over to look down at the ring in what was sure disapproval. If it had been for any normal person, Yohji would have agreed with Ken. But, this was for Aya, and that meant getting something a bit different than the usual big-ass diamond.

"Just what job did we work in?" Yohji questioned the man, wondering how he could think the color black was `morbid' when he used to tear through people with claws, up close and personal. At least a wire had given Yohji some distance from the carnage he caused. Ken shrugged and went back to gazing at the other jewelry underneath the glass, understanding that his opinion wasn't really wanted.

"This is a family heirloom that predates 1920," the girl started rambling off as Yohji twisted her hand to let the ring catch more of the light. Sure enough, something glistened deep within the amethyst, muted but distinct through the cut faces of the jewel.

"There's something inside," Yohji made it a question as the girl glanced up at his face in surprise.

"You must have really good eye-sight, sir. There's a rose diamond underneath the amethyst and its cut to allow precise rays to go through. Apparently, it's supposed to sparkle fantastically, but none of the lights we've tried have caused a reaction," the girl explained, certainly well-informed about all of the pieces. Yohji shrugged, not really caring about whatever shitty story the store had cooked up in order to sell the piece. They were obviously asking too much if the ring hadn't been sold yet, but that didn't matter to Yohji. Nothing really did, except when it came to making Aya happy.

"The diamond itself is thi-…"

"I'll take it," Yohji interrupted the girl before she went off again about the ring. He didn't need to know the life history to know that it was what he wanted to give Aya. This was close enough to what he had been thinking of that it could have been crafted from his dreams. How the fuck could Aya not love it, not be taken back in astonishment and gasp, and saying `yes' before rationality returned?! Because the other possible answer left a sick taste in Yohji's mouth just thinking about it right now. He dropped the girl's hand, wondering just when Aya had become such a focal point for all of his self-esteem and worth; but unable to deny that if he could get the man to smile, Yohji thought he could take on the world. And Aya always made sure to make him feel like the biggest asshole on the face of the planet when he made the younger man mad.

"But, sir, I said before-…"

"That I'll take it," Yohji cut her off again, wishing that he could slam down all the money in cash right underneath the employed princess' nose without seeming like he had knocked over an ATM. And he had been ready to help this girl out, too. Maybe he should call the manager over just to fuck with her if she tried rebuffing him courteously one more time. Damn the upper class and their stuck-up attitudes.

Yohji grimaced, and counted to ten. Backwards. A little bit of Aya's volatile temper had worn off on him as well, it would seem. At least he still had his patience, or else Yohji would have gone crazy long ago. He could give that fucking Buddha a run for his money when it came to sitting back and allowing things to slip off your back, from Aya's digging insults to the flying objects that would sometimes be used to help articulate a point when they argued. There hadn't been any fights in a long time, but when they did break out, very few rooms would be spared from Yohji and Aya's combined fury.

"It's going to be an engagement ring. Trust me, I'm good for my money," Yohji guaranteed while the girl glanced back over at Ken, who was wandering further away from them to show off the rip underneath the back pocket of his jeans- and the fact that he was going commando. Not that Yohji couldn't blame the guy for not wearing any underwear in this goddamn heat, but it just wasn't the time for him to be showing off that tanned ass.

Or was it, from the blush that came across the girl's face? Yohji took the chance to reach inside his jacket and take out his checkbook and wallet from his pants while she none-too-discretely ogled the soccer player's butt. He flipped it open to show his driver's license and held his hand out for a pen. She blinked down in surprise; finally noticing Yohji again as she embarrassedly took the ring off her finger and back in the box. The girl dug a pen out from her pockets and passed it to Yohji nervously while he started to fill out the check.

"I'll go get a receipt printed," she announced nervously before turning and taking the ring to the manager. Ken noticed the movement and came striding back over, tapping his knuckles on the glass to an absent beat that made Yohji wince every time. He sidled up to Yohji's side, now close enough to hear the man humming one of those sickeningly-sweet songs Omi loved so much.

"Behave," Yohji ordered quietly as the girl came back with the receipt and a fancy bag already stuffed with soft, colored paper like a bizarre Christmas gift. Ken stood there with arms crossed as he pouted at being treated like a child, muscles flexing muscles drawing the girl's eye helplessly as she weakly set the items down. Ken grinned at winked at her, finally catching on to the fact that he was been checked out. Yohji copied down the bill to the check without a care before he signed, ripped it out, and passed it to the girl. He wasted no time in shoving the receipt into the bag before grabbing Ken by the elbow to get fuck out of this place, with the rest of the customers starting to look their well as well. Ken and Yohji were probably the most `real' people they had seen in a long time. Rich pricks.

"Thank you very much. Please come again!" the girl called after their retreating backs. Yohji pushed through the doors and they were back out the rushed streets of a summer in Tokyo. People swarmed in front of them, traffic was stopped dead with heat waves radiating off the cars, and even over the clamor of horns and complaining citizens Yohji swore he could hear the buzzing of insects.

"Christ, it's hotter than hell out here," Yohji grumbled as he shrugged out of his jacket now that they had left the store. Even the shade of the giant skyscrapers wasn't enough to fight off this summer heat wave. Ken shaded his eyes from the sun glancing off the glass and metal buildings as he looked up at the sky, slightly blue-brown from the pollution. No doubt looking for a cloud that wasn't in fucking sight. They couldn't hope for rain to stop this one, because the weather was likely to remain constant for the rest of the week. Aya had read as much to Yohji off of the morning paper.

"I wanna go back home and turn the air condition up until we have an ice rink in the living room," Ken said wistfully, sometimes coming up with good, if far-fetched, ideas. Yohji nodded his agreement as he fished out his car keys from his pocket, holding the jacket and bag in one hand. Taking another moment to curse the midday sun, Yohji turned to start making his way through the moving crowd shuffling down the sidewalk. Ken followed behind as they went back to the parking lot, babbling about soccer, Omi, the new next door neighbors, and other such that Yohji didn't pay much mind to. He was thinking about much more pressing matters…like how he should propose to Aya.

It certainly wouldn't be tonight, that was for damn sure. Yohji wondered how much it would take to get fireworks, thinking he should make it as big as possible…and then remembered it was Aya. But just a quiet dinner with the two of them was nothing out of the ordinary, which was exactly what Yohji was going to avoid. He hadn't done this sort of thing before, and wasn't about to let there be the slightest opportunity for a fuck up. Aya deserved as much as well- much, much more than an ordinary old "will you…?" and a kiss to seal the deal. No fucking way.

"…nd then I got crabs," Ken's voice suddenly broke through his chain of thought at the worst possible moment.

"What?" Yohji asked, shocked enough to become an active participant in the conversation instead of only giving affirmative grunts as an answer.

"Nice to know you're listening, asshole," Ken snapped with a smile on his face, clearly proud at having called Yohji on his zoning. Oh, thank God, just a really bad fucking joke meant to catch his attention. Ken had a skill with those. Yohji coughed and adjusted his glasses, not about to give the man any other satisfaction from seeing him embarrassed.

"Okay, please, Ken, tell me everything from the very damn beginning," Yohji mocked-begged, turning on the shorter man with watery eyes and a pouting lower lip. Ken sighed and started walking faster down the sidewalk in an obvious attempt to leave him behind. Yohji only laughed heartily, having dealt with much worse insults in his time, as he easily caught up to the athlete with his much longer legs. Oh, if Ken started running, there would be no way in hell a dedicated smoker such as himself would be able to catch up with the athlete, especially in this godforsaken heat.

"Come on, we'll go back home and stand in the flower cooler for a while, `kay?" Yohji bargained with Ken once he was side by side with him again. Ken glared at him out of the corner of his eye, tempted but still pissed.

"You want a soda? Hmm?" Yohji asked as if speaking to a small child. He wouldn't call Ken his little brother, but the way he teased the man felt damned close. He didn't know where he would be without these playful little spats that he wouldn't have to end up apologizing for later. Aya still had yet to learn that not everything was personal, unlike Ken who could dish it out as well as take it.

"Bite me, Kudoh!" Ken shot right back, smiling despite the harsh tone in his voice. The brunette liked this sort of bickering as well, no doubt waiting for the perfect chance to use a new line he had thought up.

"Oh, so I suppose that means you want to walk back?" Yohji ruthlessly used his right as the driver, not below `cheating' as Omi had called it many times after hearing the age old classic `How would you like to get out and walk?' threat. Only Aya was immune to the joke, because last time Yohji had tried it with the man, he'd gotten a katana shoved under his nose the second they got home. Things didn't seem so funny when a redhead was going for your jugular with a four-foot long piece of polished steel.

"Did I mention how good you look today?" Ken asked in a manner that could almost be mistaken for actual honesty, his expression transformed into one of pure friendship. It was good enough to make Omi jealous- if Ken's green eyes hadn't been twinkling with mischief.

"And?" Yohji waved his hand as they stopped at a crosswalk before the parking lot. The corner was packed with business men and women on their lunch breaks, along with high school kids enjoying their free days mixing in between the adults. Dyed hair and shiny, plastic, stretchy, and tight fashions clashed with all the suits, Yohji finding himself severely underdressed for this carnival of people.

"Jesus H, do you want me to have sex with you too?" Ken joked with an elbow in his side, making Yohji glance around to several fuckers that had been too close and not minding their own business giving them undeserved glares. Yohji didn't begrudge them for the fact that Ken and he would never make a good couple, Ken too plain and him much too handsome to be together; but the obvious disapproval made his teeth go on edge. Yohji had a hard time not thinking about turning around and taking out each and every single on of them. Bet the populace would be shocked to know that there were professional assassins walking around with everyday people, getting coffee in the morning and renting videos like everyone else. What a fucking world.

"I don't think you could handle it, Ken," Yohji returned, not even looking at the man but at a man wearing a tie and three-piece suit in this goddamn heat who had been trying to discretely give Yohji and Ken the shit eye along with several others. He blanched when he noticed Yohji glaring at him over the curve of his sunglasses, nervously checking the light to see how much longer he had until the man could walk away and pretend it had never happened. Yohji wondered how it felt to be afraid of a gay man kicking your narrow-minded ass…Aya being an exception. He didn't even register as human when it came to fighting.

Ken just laughed out loud at that one, unable to continue as good humor took him. Yohji wished he could live in Ken and Omi's world, because the two always seemed so happy that they couldn't possible be in the same reality. He didn't even notice the crowd around them as the light changed and everyone started rushing off to get the hell away from the perverts. Good old oblivious Ken.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Omi's graduating in two years or less, so what's he gonna do then? What if he gets a job in Sapporo or something?" Ken asked Yohji, not really so much as expecting an answer as he was just musing out loud. Yohji scoffed at the fear, so far off in the future and so fucking impossible that he had a hard time believing Ken was seriously considering it. Omi would never go anywhere without Ken, the two practically connected at the hip, and there was nothing to say otherwise that Omi might simply get his diploma and continue working in the flower shop for the rest of his life. Yohji was already happy there, easy money with tons of girls falling all over him everyday. Even best of all, he got to see Aya every single minute of the day.

"What if he goes to America?!" Ken half-yelled as they crossed the street, panic and paranoia making his thoughts even more scatterbrained than usual.

"What the hell would he do in America?" Yohji countered, deciding it was time to whip out the big guns and try a rational argument. Ken blinked at him in clear incomprehension, his eyes closing for a moment in deep thought as he tried to figure out some basis for his worry. They stepped up onto the sidewalk on the other side of the road, Ken surprisingly enough not tripping over it in his deep contemplation. Yohji absently wiped at his already sweating forehead with the back of his free hand, wondering if America would be any cooler this time of the season.

"He'd start his own business or something. You know Omi's smart," Ken finally announced, scratching the back of his shaggy hair as they reached the corner of the parking structure. Yohji started up the stairs before Ken while he prattled on about Omi's computer skills, his remarkable grades at school-

"You know Omi's completely in love with you, you fucking moron," Yohji threw back over his shoulder as they started climbing up the flights of stairs to where he had parked Seven. Amazing that there could still be this many people out in the godforsaken heat, but parking had been a bitch as well.

"Eat a dick, Yohji," Ken grumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets angrily, unable to argue any further after that point had been brought up.

"I fully intend to when we get back home," Yohji turned it around just as easily as they hit the last set of stairs before the floor he'd parked on. Ken's expression was classic: a mix of shock and slow realization that Yohji meant Aya.

"It's the weekend. Don't think that you're the only one having fun tonight," Ken countered, the statement alone enough to make Yohji grimace. Would there be any way to tric---seduce Aya into bed if Omi would be screaming his head off as per usual? Yohji had some loud lovers before, but the younger blonde was downright ridiculous at times. He had a hard time believing that it was just because Ken was so great in the sack either.

"Just be quiet tonight, that's all I ask," Yohji begged as they started walking down the line of various tailgates and back bumpers of the other cars parked in neat, straight lines. Yohji could cast a few appreciative glances at some choice bodies and clearly expensive rides, but none were even close to his Seven, souped-out and ready to crush anything else on the road in about 3.7 seconds. They approached Yohji's car, packed between a crappy SUV and old Volvo. Anything would look good under the circumstances, but Yohji couldn't help smile proudly at his baby, second love to Aya.

"What? What are you talking about?" Ken demanded, lost as Yohji unlocked his door and opened it one-handedly, not that it really mattered with the open top. It was still habit for him, one little obstacle for a car thief that might buy Yohji a needed extra second to grab the guy. Paranoia was a deep-rooted thing as well, after years upon years of working in high-risk jobs. Ken sighed at the locked door and reached in to pull up the knob before he opened up his own door and fell down into the passenger seat, slamming it close harder than necessary. What an ass-wipe.

"Hey, you find Omi sexy. Whatever. It still seems like robbing the cradle to me, and at least Aya and I try to be quiet," Yohji retorted as he tossed his jacket in the small space behind the seat and trunk. He eased into the comfortable leather of the seat before reaching across the car to put the small shopping bag in the glove compartment before locking it. He wasn't about to bring it inside when Aya might be around to see it and ask questions. Yohji had to keep it a surprise until the perfect moment- which might take a while to put together, at this rate.

"Shut up! Omi's damned cute," Ken shot back, yelling to get the last of it out over the roar of the engine starting up as Yohji turned the key.

"I prefer beautiful," Yohji announced coolly as he shifted into reverse and started to back out. Ken's eyes narrowed, and Yohji had no sort of idea what kind of argument he had started. It continued straight out of the parking lot and through the drive home, both bringing up very good points about both sides of the spectrum. Cute could be good at times, undeniably irresistible at others. It was like looking a baby puppy in its face, big, watery eyes all trusting and naïve. Cute could cheer you up on really shitty days; even Yohji had to admit that there had been some bad times when simply seeing Omi practically bounce off the walls with energy had made him feel a bit better.

But, his Aya was beautiful. Like a Greek marble sculpture, cold, harsh lines and a sense of the untouchable. Aya was all fine angles and delicate features, but there was never a second's doubt that he was strong as well. Narrowed, exotic, lavender eyes that emanated the very real threat of danger, even the feline way Aya could hold himself…obviously used to violence and ready to move at any moment. It had caused more problems than not. Yohji practically had his hands full fighting off the other fools that thought they might possibly have a chance with his Aya. It made a man damn protective, almost borderline obsessive, but that was how everything was when it came to Aya.

It could almost be a contest to see who loved their partner more, if they could only prove once and for all if `cute' could possibly be better than `beautiful.' So, of course, by the time they finally got home and pulled into the garage, sensible debate and reasonable dispute had been completely forgotten and reduced to nothing more than a child's fight.

"Cute!" Ken yelled as they walked the small distance of the backyard from the garage to the backdoor. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, Yohji could smell something cooking on the air. Through the windows of the kitchen, he could tell that someone, or maybe two as another shadow darted past the window, was hard at work. It couldn't be Aya, since the workday was still going on and he'd be screaming bloody murder at anyone trying to slack off at the flower shop while in the house at the same time.

"Beautiful, you fucking retard," Yohji snapped right back, temper a fine thing right now. Ken sighed tiredly at his answer, like he was the stupid one. Ask any person on the street and they would immediately agree that Aya was the better looking one. It was a fact of life, just as the sun was going to rise in the morning. Yohji opened up the door; sure he had the last word now that they were back inside the house.

"It's still better to be cute, prick," Ken whispered behind his back as Yohji opened his mouth to announce they were back home. He froze in the middle of it, unable to say anything back as the soccer player shoved around him in the doorway and stepped into the kitchen.

"Omi, I'm back," Ken cried out, as if he should be awarded for managing to get home safely. The boy turned around from where he was setting the table for four with a huge smile on his face, perfect set of white teeth practically blinded Yohji as the kid beamed at them. The kid was dressed for summer vacation at the drop of a hat despite still attending classes at the university. A small, bright blue shirt was tugging around Omi's body, showing off a little bit of bellybutton before skin was covered up by a pair of cut-off jeans, ripped a little too high in Yohji's opinion. No matter how old Omi got, he always ended up looking like a little girl no matter what he wore. Yohji scratched his head and wondered why the kid was getting dinner ready in the middle of the afternoon, but Ken rushed forward and the two started hugging as if it had been years since they last seen each other. `Ken-kun' was over-affectionate as always, swinging Omi up and around until the kid's feet lifted off the floor.

"Ken-kun, where were you all this time? I started to miss you," Omi managed to get between the kisses Ken was trying plant up and down his face and neck, like a dog greeting its master; all Ken needed was a tail. Yohji glared hard at the couple, so happy together that it was enough to turn his stomach. How could they have even been long enough for Omi to get lonely? Hadn't Aya been here all day? In fact, where was Aya? Yohji tried to clench down on the little bit of panic the fluttered up from the bottom of his stomach every time he thought about Aya going missing, knowing from experience that within a few seconds, Aya could be snatched up and disappear without a trace.

"Yohji?" asked a humble voice to the right, between the door and the kitchen. He turned to see Aya standing there with a letter held up in front of his face, his deep purple eyes looking everywhere but at him. Yohji smiled in appreciation at the sight of Aya in Yohji's `Kiss the Cook' apron, obviously caught in the middle of preparing a meal instead of working. His slightly-longer than shoulder length hair was tied back in a low pony-tail, after Yohji had begged and pleaded with Aya to grow it out. Yohji loved the feeling of running his hands through the silky-soft hair, couldn't help but want more of it to play with. Aya had eventually agreed and stopped his monthly self-given hack job, mainly because Aya couldn't trust anywhere that close to his face with a sharp object, not even Yohji, and now it was starting to sprawl down between his shoulder blades. It had once been bright red, but months and months of staying inside the house or flower shop because the outside had proven too dangerous to venture alone had let the color dull out. Not that Yohji wasn't happy with the result: dusky purple and glimmering streaks of red still left over from when Aya used to get a little bit of sun. Anyone would be fooled into thinking Aya was a delicate homebody from his pale complexion, close to an albino's…But Yohji knew that underneath the loose black t-shirt and meticulously ironed jeans was muscle and bone and not much of anything else.

"Aya?" Yohji echoed back, wondering if something might be wrong. The younger man held up the piece of paper again, a proud smile on his face. Yohji had worked hard to get Aya comfortable with showing such open emotion on his face, and he was very happy with the result. Shit, Aya was absolutely fucking radiant right now, smiling like a feline that had caught a particularly large mouse.

Hesitantly, Yohji took the letter out of Aya's hands and skimmed down the page. `Dear Mr. Fujimiya'…long winded introduction from Tokyo University…'regarding your application'…'happy to announce your acceptance into-`

"You got into Tokyo University?! When? I thought you didn't graduate high school," Yohji questioned, hands clenching tightly on the paper in surprise. Tokyo fucking University?! Omi had gotten in with his good grades and a computer technology scholarship, but Aya had gotten his parents blown up and a younger sister in a coma before he could even start to study for entrance exams. Despite the lack of education, there was no doubt that Aya was intelligent. The only thing he lacked besides knowledge was the bullshit credentials for it.

"I wanted it to be a surprise, so, well…I took one of those at-home high school degree courses," Aya mumbled, a blush appearing on his face in the man's obvious embarrassment. Yohji shook his head, wondering how the man could possibly be ashamed of doing such an amazing thing. Yohji wondered how long it must have taken, and where Aya could have found the time to study in secret. The younger man had even managed to hide from him, when Yohji considered his full time job to be finding out everything about Aya.

"Yeah, you know those commercials you see on T.V. to call in a get a degree, `from the comfort of your own home?'" Ken asked from the other side of the kitchen, apparently having finally put Omi down from his fierce bear hug. The shorter blonde was standing to Ken's side as he continued to place the last of silverware on the table, effectively blocking the death-glare Aya shot toward the soccer player. Now Yohji understood why Aya had been hiding this, humiliated that he had actually called the number on the screen throughout those cheesy commercials of people earning degrees in `filing' or `secretarial services.' It wasn't like any other legitimate institution would take him, the death certificate for Ran Fujimiya that Kritiker had put out would be sure to raise a few eyebrows.

"The mail came today, so Aya-kun just found out. We're going to the same college," Omi tossed over his shoulder while he finished arranging the table, obviously excited even though his back was facing Yohji. Ken started grinning like a maniac, the celebratory mood spread through the air faster than a disease. Even Aya's face shifted away from extremely irritated to a muted bit of delight when he turned back to Yohji.

"But, Tokyo University? I can't believe you got in! You're fucking amazing, baby," Yohji rushed out, jumping forward to put both arms around the thin man firmly. Aya's own hands reached around Yohji's back, finally able to return the embrace freely and without hesitation. Yohji had just done it so many times that Aya had little other choice than getting used to being touched and adored 24/7. Yohji was filled with pride for cultivating the wonderfully emotional man underneath the icy-stoic mask; for Aya to have finally gained the confidence to spread his wings and try out something new. Yohji had always known that Aya was close to a genius, but he hadn't dealt with normal people for normal reasons in years and had been out of formal education for even longer. Yohji guessed that all the reading Aya did had paid off, but he got a headache from the small print the thin man read with almost the hungry ferocity of a starving man.

"You think so?" Aya whispered softly against his ear, warm breath on Yohji's neck. Yohji squeezed the man tighter, hoping to push some of his own confidence and arrogance into Aya. He had full reason to be bragging about this to anyone and everyone.

"I know so," Yohji answered back before he kissed Aya lightly on the cheek, aware of how the other man felt about public displays of affection, even if it was in front of their two closest friends. He didn't question Aya or dig deeper on the subject, sure that one day the purple-haired man would eventually tell him on his own. As for now, Yohji could damn well guess where the self-consciousness and trepidation came from, and even though he had finally been able to accept the fact that Aya had been a prostitute, it didn't stop the rage. Old, familiar, sweet, and raw fury that Yohji was still victim to, and he wasn't about to let go. He fucking hated the thought that there were people walking around in the same damn city that had used Aya and taken him apart piece by piece.

"We should be celebrating! What the hell are we doing inside? Aya is going to goddamn To-k-yo University," Yohji yelled at Ken and Omi as he finally disengaged from Aya, wanting to hold on longer but feeling the back underneath his arms start to twitch. Sure enough, the moment he let go, Aya was turning and moving over to the stove to tend to something boiling in a pot. Yohji was torn between wanting to eat Aya's home cooking and wanting to take the man out for a night on the town regardless of how much money he had already spent today. Aya was worth much more than a bunch of numbers in his bank account.

"I'm making dinner, tonight," Aya explained with a slightly sour look on his face that didn't bode well for Yohji, perhaps a little too harsh just because of what he had said. Yohji was smart enough not to argue further on the point that since the celebration was for him, he shouldn't have to do anything. Not when the thinner man seemed to be already upset at something. Aya was, in general, completely fucked up on his ideas of how a family and close friends should operate. Yohji loved that sort of naivety about Aya, and wouldn't change a damn thing about the man. He just wished that Aya could be a little more open to being shamelessly showered in gifts and the like, since Yohji felt he needed to make up for a couple of damn hard years that Aya had been through. The man deserved to be treated like a normal lover.

"Is that what smelt like heaven when we came in?" Yohji asked innocently, turning it around on Aya before the purple-haired man had a chance to get angry and offended. Hazy violet eyes softened as Aya replaced the lid on the pot; then he reached forward to snatch the letter out from Yohji's hands and read it again. It was like watching a kid taste candy for the first time, Aya's face lighting up as he reread the words he must have already memorized by now. Yohji was saved by Aya's obvious elation, which he already was feeling building up in his own chest. He couldn't believe that Aya had managed to get accepted to Tokyo University with a degree from a telemarketing commercial, and was struck by the bitter question of how well Aya might have done had he actually been able to finish high school like a normal kid. Yohji forgot how stunted Aya's life was sometimes, finding that even he could still be fooled by the plum-haired man's cool and jaded attitude toward life.

"Ken, do we have anything good to drink?" Yohji asked, pretty sure there was a six-pack in the fridge and a bottle of red somewhere in the cupboards, but neither would do for tonight. He wanted something that he could use to toast with, feeling the side of him that had attended many dinner parties with well-to-do families rear its ugly head. At least he wasn't stuck with a bunch of relatives that he had to play nice with because he wanted in their precious daughter's bed just one more time. If only half of those people had known what Yohji had really been after. But, he had finally been able to settle on a person, and unfortunately Aya only had a little sister: `mini-bitch' as Ken had coined one night.

"I bought a bottle of Scotch," Aya answered without looking up from his letter, the poor piece of paper nearly lighting on fire from the fierce attention. Omi frowned at the three of them, always disapproving of the heavy drinking. The last time he had tried to pour all of the alcohol down the drain, Yohji had held the boy's entire precious CD collection hostage until Omi had agreed to stop trying to make the house a dry hellhole. In exchange, Yohji had agreed to let the kid complain however much he wanted…an agreement he was already learning to regret as Omi opened his mouth for yet another long speech on how unhealthily they were living their lives.

"And some Pepsi," Aya added before the blonde could start up, the casual mention of Omi's favorite soda enough to make the kid shut up and turn back to Ken without comment. The brunette eagerly started explaining about whatever he had done this morning before Yohji had snagged him to go ring shopping. Yohji had made damn sure that Ken knew he wasn't supposed to breathe a word of it to Omi or anyone else, because Yohji knew it would get around to Aya. That was just the way of the world.

"When did you go shopping?" Yohji asked, pretty sure he hadn't been around for those particular purchases, along with whatever ingredients Aya had chosen to utilize for dinner. It wasn't like Aya was the type to adventure outside alone either, just as paranoid as Yohji when it came to the `real' outside world being out and ready to get him. Aya didn't look much like he did long ago, with his hair dulled down to its current rich wine-color from choosing to stay inside the house all the time.

"With Omi, after you and Ken decided to disappear," Aya snapped, his eyes shooting up from the acceptance letter to glare at Yohji through the fall of his bangs. Ah. There was the root of Aya's `slight' irritation, if there ever was such a thing with the man. Aya didn't appreciate it when Yohji left without saying a word, made it quite clear despite the fact that the younger man would never say it out loud. Yohji supposed he could have left some bullshit note instead of trying to fly completely under the radar, forgiving Aya's insane abandonment issues easily. After a whole lifetime of everyone close to him dying or leaving him in some tragic way, the purple-haired man had full right to be scared.

Yohji glanced over at Ken and Omi, the boy totally involved in whatever Ken was blathering on about now that he was done setting the table. Deciding that it could serve as distract enough, he leaned in over the letter and delivered an apology kiss full on the lips. Aya had a faintly sweet taste compared to Yohji's own nicotine-fouled mouth, no longer the resisting partner that Yohji had first dealt with, as Aya's own tongue slid against Yohji's. It was hard to simply put his hands on Aya's hard and angular hips, knowing that anything more would be slapped away. But, he still hooked his thumbs into the pockets of the jeans Aya was wearing to haul the man closer. He wouldn't ever be able to get enough of this.

"And you're bitching about us?" Ken snapped in a playful manner, still caught up in their verbal argument from early. Yohji cursed into Aya's mouth before it was violently ripped away as he jumped back from Yohji as if he had been burned. Damn Ken's mouth, always opening up at the worst fucking time! He fixed on the insensitive bastard with a hard glare behind his lover's tense back as Aya hunched back over the stove in an embarrassment silence. Ken grimaced and scratched the back of his head as he realized he had just unintentionally offended Aya.

"Congratulations, Aya! When do you start classes?" Ken laughed out nervously, having finally picked up on the fine art of diverting the conversation after saying something stupid, yet again. Omi gritted his teeth together next to the man, obviously making an effort to look happy and civil instead of punching Ken for his idiocy. Yohji felt just the same, desperately trying to think of way he get Ken alone to shove his foot up the brunette's ass without Aya and Omi any wiser.

"Fall term, in September," Aya practically gushed out as he jerked around to answer the man, still too excited by the news to stay in his old `stoic and eternally pissed' mood for long. Yohji grinned widely, so easily swayed from frustration by seeing the purple-haired man so excited over something. They would have never seen this side of Aya, not once during the missions or after, if Yohji had ever given up and walked away after the umpteenth fucking time Aya freaked out for no reason. It had all definitely been worth the effort and the bruises, both physical and emotional, along with the occasional, seeming impossible `worse' that Aya came up with sometimes. Yohji's face still ached with the memory of last time Aya's short fuse had finally burned down.

"I wonder if we'll have any classes together, Aya-kun," Omi mused out loud, smiling wide as he moved away from Ken. The blonde came over to the man's side as Aya neatly folded the letter back up and stuffed it into the front pocket of his borrowed apron. Yohji frowned at that as Aya opened up the oven and Omi handed him the oven mitts, the dynamic partnership done without a single word.

He was not jealous. He had seen it before. Omi and Aya just worked well together, no matter how much it set Yohji's teeth on edge. He had asked Aya once about it before, and the man had admitted that he thought of Omi like a little brother, always a sucker for cute puppy-eyes. Aya-chan used to have that look too, as well as that Sakura girl Aya had taken a liking to as well. Yohji wasn't envious of that little spot Aya had reserved for a younger sibling that Omi had managed to fill quite nicely; the easy way they just picked up on what the other needed, probably even better than Yohji himself did with Aya or Ken was with the kid.

"He's going to be an English major, so tough luck `Computer Science,'" Yohji shot off before he even thought about, earning him a curious look from everyone else in the room. So-so what if Omi and Aya ended up taking a class together? Wasn't Yohji the one that Aya slept with everyone night? He was not jealous! Absolutely fucking ridiculous notion.

Yohji tried to laugh it off, but he wasn't sure if he was successful as Omi gave him a questioning look before turning away to compliment Aya on his cooking. Sure enough, perfect dinner rolls were already coming out of the oven to compliment whatever else Aya had prepared for tonight. Yohji gritted his teeth and slowly backed away from the two as conversation moved past him. No need to make a further ass out of himself.

So, he went into the refrigerator and looked around for the scotch Aya had been talking about…and ended up with two beers when the searched turned up fruitless. He walked over to where Ken was lounging by the kitchen table, both of them unsure if they should be seated yet while Omi helped Aya transfer everything into serving plates. Yohji silently handed Ken a beer and the man took it with a grateful and apologetic grin. No need to stay mad at his only good ally in the house. He had been shoved off by Aya so many times before that Yohji had long lost count. It didn't really matter what the reason was anymore, either because Aya was freaking out over a memory or if Ken had said something to embarrass the man.

Ken and Yohji both sipped on the beers in unison, watching as the other two men moved around the kitchen, probably completely unaware. Yohji couldn't help but end up staring whenever Aya was in the same room, and Ken was the exact same way with Omi. Yohji found the sway of Aya's ponytail nearly hypnotic, the ends swishing back and forth between the man's shoulder blades like a tail. Incredibly silky, smooth tail that Yohji could vividly recall the feel of, just begging for him to grab a hold of and use the grip to kiss Aya senseless…

Yohji didn't know if he had gotten even hornier since meeting Aya or not. Something about everything the man did could make Yohji fall completely in love all over again. Sick, sappy, downright pathetic at times; and Yohji enjoyed ever single fucking minute of it. He didn't care what kind of sensitive, over-dramatic, over-possessive, and downright sugary sweet bastard he became, because it was all for Aya.

Soon enough, even that was forgotten as dinner was served. Whoever would have thought that they would sit down for a meal together, much the same as any other kid of family? Yohji took his usual spot at Aya's right, and tonight Ken chose to sit on his other side while Omi took the remaining seat left. It almost felt normal, if Yohji's hands hadn't been scarred and calloused from using the wire as his method of assignation as he picked up the bowl of steaming noodles and served himself. Ken held the meat sauce for him as Yohji passed off the dish to Aya, a wide smile on his face that would make anyone doubt that the man could go into a berserk killing frenzy in a matter of seconds.

This planet was a strange, shitty place. Yohji hadn't even expected to live past twenty, much less be on the closer side to thirty. He hadn't ever imagined that he'd find a place that actually felt like a home, or finally unpack that overnight bag he always kept for `just in case.' Things always turned out the exact opposite of how Yohji had planned, and he was rather pleased with the results.

When everyone had finally served themselves, Aya poured himself a glass from a bottle that suddenly appeared like magic before he passed it to Yohji. Yohji took it slowly, rolling the scotch around to steal a glance at the label. 1954. Aya was certainly not known for picking up anything that was less than `fine quality' or better. Yohji could hazard to guess that it had cost the man a pretty penny, but Aya had no idea how much he had dropped today as well.

"A toast," Yohji announced when Ken finished pouring himself a glass and Omi was prepared with his own filled with Pepsi. Everyone raised their glasses, Aya looking a little dubious on Yohji's elbow. The man had full right to be suspicious.

"To the newest and most beautiful college student at Tokyo University," Yohji announced before clanking his glass against Ken's with a grin. The soccer player frowned at his cup, realizing he had just toasted to Yohji's side of their earlier argument before Yohji reached across to hit Omi's non-alcoholic beverage. Did that even count as a toast? Yohji shrugged before finally cheering Aya's glass, looking up into his lover's eyes for a reaction; but they were hidden behind the shadows of his purple bangs.

Smoke might as well have been coming out of the man's ears for how fiercely red he was blushing, something that Yohji considered to be insanely charming and cute. Even better than Omi. Yohji would never dare use that adjective around the man though, having wound up almost losing a very dear piece of the anatomy the one time he had dared called Aya such. Still, Aya calmly raised his glass and mouthed a `thank you' to him, knowing that Yohji would be watching him with his utmost attention. He was still just a little bit too shy to admit anything more, at least in front of a curious audience.

Ken and Omi actually had the balls to make disappointed noises when Yohji simply took a drink while Aya started to delicately sip on his own glass. The scotch burned as Yohji swilled it around his mouth for a moment, holding it for taste before swallowing. The aftertaste was a slow, deceptive numbness on the back of his tongue that spread out, making Yohji want to kiss Aya to counter the tang.

He ended up settling on home cooking, able to be content by imagining that Aya must have taste-tested it. A little indirect kiss, that Yohji was sure only he was considering. If Ken or Omi had the same sort of thoughts about his Aya, Yohji would be sure to teach them a damn good lesson about a jealous boyfriend. Yohji had full right to be overprotective of Aya; having to fend off dumbasses that wandered into the flower store almost everyday. The last guy that had interrupted them when they had actually been sitting down for dinner had wound up with a bloody nose.

At least there was nothing like that to worry about right now, in the comfort of their own home. Yohji could laugh along with Omi when Ken made a bad joke, Aya smirking slightly next to him. He ate as much as he could considering that his usual dinner time was hours away, but Yohji didn't want to leave a single crumb. Aya had made this with an obvious extra effort, and he wasn't about to let that go unnoticed.

Of course, his appetite was nothing to compared to Ken's as the shorter guy served himself up a second plate while everyone else was clearly finishing up eating. Omi was still working on his own remaining meal when Aya stood up to clear his own plate. Yohji got up as well with his own, following behind Aya obediently. He had learned that there was just no arguing with the purple-haired man when it came to everything being nice and neat. There was no chance in hell of getting Aya out of the fucking kitchen unless every dirty dish in the sink was taken care of. If he just helped the anal bastard, the task got finished up a lot quicker… and that meant more `private' time.

Yohji returned to grab the main dishes and start putting everything away in plastic containers for later. Whoever would have thought that Yohji Kudoh would finally get domesticated? Well, the basic goal was the same as he snuck a glance at man out of the corner of his eye. Long thin legs wrapped in the jeans were almost hypnotic as Aya shifted his weight while cleaning the dishes. Yohji had finally been able to convince the man to wear tighter clothing, and on the good days Aya would even wear a t-shirt. Aya was still incredibly modest and self- conscious of the scars on his body, though a fair amount of them had healed without even the slightest trace unless you knew where to look and could feel the hardened line of damaged skin…

He opened up the refrigerator to put in the leftovers, standing in front of the cool air for longer than necessary to just put away food. He needed it right now, the recollection enough to make his fingertips tingle and blood start to flow to his loins. Aya didn't even have the slightest fucking clue. The man didn't even have the slightest fleeting thought of sex swimming around in that cold, intelligent mind of his; always frigid and numb until finally catching onto the fact that Yohji was trying to get him `in the mood.' Aya was pretty much always in a fucking mood, but that was something that came along with the package. Oversensitivity and temperamental disposition had to be appreciated. Aya always looked so lovely when he was yelling his head off.

"The air-conditioning's already on, Yohji-kun," Omi chirped next to his side, suddenly much closer than he expected when the kid had been sitting down only a moment ago. Had he really been that oblivious? Well, when he had Aya on the brain, it was hard to notice anything else. The said man of his thoughts looked over from the sink with one fine eyebrow arched in a silent question, now drawn in by Omi's stupid comment. Even Ken was stared now, cranked around in his seat to catch a glimpse over the back of his chair.

"It's too damn hot," Yohji grumbled lamely as he shoved in the leftovers, hoping that the lame excuse would be good enough to cover him right now. Omi seemed to take it as he placed his own dirty dishes down on the counter next to Aya as the man furiously scrubbed at the used pots and pans. Ken just raised an eyebrow at them all, clearly out of the circle but not very concerned. That was just the way Ken was.

"Aya, I'll finish those off if you want to take a shower," Yohji offered quietly on Aya's side while Omi handed the man dishes on the other. Of the sound of the running water and clinking of silverware, Yohji knew that the boy couldn't hear them as he tried to persuade Aya away from the chores. He was also very much aware of Aya's love of cleanliness, not just limited to the kitchen, and didn't give a damn about exploiting it.

Aya glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye, a very smooth and calculating look while Yohji guided a plate out from between the man's hands. He none-too-subtly muscled the man out from in front of the sink, taking Aya's place before there was a chance to protest. Aya was left with wet hands a cross look on his fine features, glaring over at Ken like the man had even been paying the slightest bit of attention to the exchange. Yohji chuckled as he turned toward the full sink and dunked his hand in the warm water, fishing around for the sponge.

"But I-" Aya started at Yohji's back, not about to let it seem like Yohji had any say whatsoever in the decisions he made.

"Worked your ass off all day long and didn't even take a break, right?" Yohji shot back without even checking over his shoulder. He knew Aya well enough by now to be certain that the wrinkle between Aya's brows that stood out whenever he was angry was positively throbbing by now. Honest truth was the best weapon against a stubborn man like Aya. Ken barked a short laugh at that from over at the table, likely agreeing since he had worked with the thin workaholic today.

"You stink worse than me, Ken," Aya snapped as he made his way toward the stairs, not quite managing to keep from stomping. The ponytail swayed between his shoulders like a cat's swishing tail, Aya following Yohji's suggestion while making it seem like he had ever intention of doing it anyway. Yohji smirked at the egotism, finding it cute and endearing. A few years ago, Aya wouldn't have even allowed conversation, once able to spread out that icy personality until everyone was uncomfortable…even Omi had had a hard time getting along with the man at first.

"You sure know how to pick them, Yohji," Ken whistled, not waiting until they could be sure that Aya was out of earshot. Yohji winced, Omi grimacing in similar anticipation of the reaction to Ken's usual lack of tact. From the bathroom door slamming above their heads, Yohji could be sure that Aya had caught that little comment. Ken laughed nervously before swallowing and looking like he was considering drawing up his will. If Aya didn't send the athlete there, Yohji would for the man. He shot the death glare over at the brunette, learning how to prefect it into an art from Aya. Ken gulped and started concentrating fully on finishing off every last crumb on his plate. Yohji shook his head, finally turning to the dishes as he got a grip on the bristly sponge.

"Don't listen to him, Yohji-kun. Ken-kun's just jealous over how well you and Aya-kun are getting along," Omi assured at Yohji's side, smiling brightly like his hands weren't stained in blood, like he had never taken a life before. Assassins arguing after a `family' dinner. Who would believe this story in a million years? Yohji looked over at Ken, who was starting to sweat noticeably.

"Ho ho, really now? And just why would that be, Ken-kun? Did Omi stop doing it for you?" Yohji couldn't help the snub comment, sarcasm slipping out before he could even think about it.

"Yohji!" Both yelled in unison, clearly the opposite of what Yohji had been suggesting. Those two could be so on-cue with each other that it made him sick. Aya and Yohji had bitched about it before, both of them too disgusted to stand more than five minutes in their presence. His lover had just as little taste for the sickeningly sweet endearments, and agreed that he'd rather stand in front of an oncoming train than watch the two have another `Eskimo kiss.' Yohji couldn't help but feel violently ill whenever Ken and Omi started to get a little bit randy, giggling and contesting between each other to see who could say the sappiest piece of crap Yohji had heard in his entire fucking life.

"Why am I always the bad guy?" Yohji moaned out loud, scrubbing at the dirty dishes reluctantly while the Omi decided to no longer help. It was probably because he wasn't Aya. The water pipes above his head hummed, pointing out that his said redhead was starting his shower.

"Maybe because you always act like one, Yohji-kun. I don't know what Aya-kun sees in you, sometimes," Omi tusked, having a surprising amount of lip on him for having such a sweet face and disposition. Yohji had a hard time not growling at the kid as the blonde practically floated over to Ken's side and plopped down to watch the athlete devour the last bit of bread left on his plate. Yohji had a hard time seeing what Omi saw in his own fucking pick, Ken certainly not the top of the barrel for any man or woman. He was sweet and honest, but there was depressing little beyond that. The man was so forgetful and carefree that he had even forgotten to get his hair cut repeatedly…now he looked like a shaggy dog, but Omi seemed to adore it.

"Yeah, tell me that after you get your pet to wipe his face off," Yohji suggested, pointing at Ken's smeared face. No one would ever accuse Ken of being a neat eater. Omi frowned at that, but had nothing to say as Ken consciously wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. It was a little late now, and Omi tiredly handed Ken a napkin as if he was the mother of a particularly messy child. It wasn't too far from the truth.

So, Yohji listened to Omi lecturing Ken about proper table etiquette while he scrubbed at the dishes lazily before loading them into the dishwater. Of course, there were a few pots and pans that Yohji would have left to anyone else, but he'd catch all hell if Aya found out he had slacked on cleaning duties. Ken moaned and whimpered like a kid in the middle of church, even stomping his feet underneath the table until Omi finally changed the subject to his latest day at school.

Yohji couldn't wait to start hearing such stories from Aya as well. Aya had a brilliant mind and the ordinary, everyday life didn't offer enough intellectual challenges to satisfy the man. Yohji preferred to kick back and watch the clouds rather than think to hard on complex things like math and foreign languages, but Aya had mastered both with ease along with hundred others; some of which Yohji knew about... others not. He rolled his head up at the ceiling, wondering if Aya was taking a shower or a bath, would wash his hair or just run water through it…all those small little nuisances. Yohji was determined to find them all. Sniffing as he finished off the last pot, Yohji wiped his hands dry on the towel before stepped outside for a quick cigarette break. Omi would scream to high heaven about second-hand smoke and staining the walls if he tried to smoke inside.

The view might have not been the best, larger buildings hemming their small backyard before the skyscrapers of the city blocked out the mountains or sea. Yohji wasn't even sure he'd be able to see either through the fog, even if there wasn't a huge urban sprawl not five feet away. Still, the pollution stained the sky a rosy pink, like the color of Aya's hair when he had first shown up in Weiss, new and obviously green to any sort of social paths. Not that the attitude had changed in time, but Yohji had actually been with the man long enough to notice Aya's face growing longer, the edges of his jaw bone not exactly getting harder, but more mature. He had even grown an inch or so during the time they had all lived together, though Aya was still shorter than Yohji by a forehead.

Yohji grinned, tossing down a finished cigarette to the concrete before rubbing it out with the toe of his shoe. Not just physical, but Aya had grown into a spectacular man. He couldn't take a compliment worth shit, had a hair-triggered temper, and was gorgeous to boot. Yohji scratched at his loose hair, wondering how he could have managed to entice Aya with his lanky body; once so damn confident in his looks until he'd met Aya. There had been pretty boys, and then there were men that had no right having faces like Yohji's own little kitten Aya was blissfully unaware of it, too busy with self-hatred and loathing to even notice a single good aspect of himself. The naivety and shattered innocence underneath a thick, hard exterior had been what drew Yohji more to Aya in the first place.

He was getting old, going off and thinking crazy like this. Not every other sentence could end with `Aya,' as much as Yohji would have liked it to. Shaking his head, Yohji tromped off the garage and retrieved the ring from the glove compartment along with his discarded jacket. He used that to hide the shopping bag, not wanting Omi's sharp eyes to catch the store name or guess at what he was carrying. Aya couldn't get a whiff of this until Yohji was damn good and ready. It would be the perfect scenario or nothing at all.

Yohji walked back in the door without announcing or knocking, forgetting that he wasn't the only person that lived there. He instantly regretted it, feeling his mouth open in pure disgust at the scene before him. Omi had switched chairs, now plopped on Ken's lap with his thighs draped over the soccer player's legs. With two hands firmly planted over Ken's on either side of Ken's head, the boy was licking the brunette's face clean, the napkin long forgotten. Yohji was sure that his cigarette hadn't taken that long, but he had walked in just before all the clothing had been lost.

"Yohji-kun," Omi squeaked, blushing something fierce now that the kid had been caught in the middle of the act. Ken just grinned at Yohji, as if this was some sort of bizarre peep show…obviously proud of what was going on despite Omi squirming and fidgeting in the seat as he tried to come up with a stammering explanation. Yohji just walked past them, unable to listen to whatever excuse the boy could come up with. If Ken had been on the floor choking and Omi had been trying to give the man the Heimlich maneuver, Yohji would have still doubted the two. As it was, Yohji just jogged a quick path through the kitchen and straight to the stairs to spare them all a little bit of embarrassment.

Yohji walked down the hallway, past the closed door of the bathroom. He looked down at the light sneaking out from underneath the door, considering jumping in on Aya as a nice little erotic surprise…and then continued all the way to their bedroom with the ring weighing a bit heavier in his hand than expected. At least he still heard the water hitting Aya's skin, the steam that must had rolled off his body- and you're done, Yohji ordered himself, reining it in before he could be classified as `psycho.' Besides, he still had an engagement ring hidden in one hand; and Aya would certainly start asking questions.

He moved into what used to be his old bedroom, with the same mattress and dresser still in place. Except now, Aya lived in here with him; that much as obvious from the bookcase shoved up against the wall by the window, stuffed full of texts Yohji wouldn't even use as substitution toilet paper. He wouldn't doubt if less than half of it was even in Japanese. Aya had a love for foreign books, but damned if Yohji knew what they were about.

Yohji tossed the jacket into the hamper at the bottom of the closet, not about to be foolish enough to leave something out on the floor. He had learned that particular lesson about tidiness long ago. Taking the now crumbled shopping bag, Yohji crouched down against the side of the bed and reached underneath the frame. He shoved his hand into one rip in the soft fabric covering the underbelly of the box frame, successfully hiding the ring inside the mattress before Aya came out from his bath.

Back tracking to the closet, Yohji stripped off his sweat-damp shirt and tossed it in with the rest of the dirty laundry, saving himself from the lecture if he did any less. He pulled out the band holding up his hair, grimacing at the familiar, hot weight. He loved summer, sunny days and long sunsets…except for the fucking heat. His kin was already sticky and itchy from dried perspiration, but it was still too early for a shower. Yohji planned to sweat even more tonight before he finally went to sleep. All he needed was the equipment, which would be provided the moment Aya walked through the door. He threw the dirty jeans in after the shirt, and as usual, didn't have to add any underwear to the hamper, already naked. The cool air of the room felt good on his bare skin, and he didn't have to worry about Aya freaking out when he came in. It had taken some time to finally get Aya used to it, but nudity was just as much a part of him as his name. Yohji was just comfortable this way

So, Yohji sat down on the bed, bored and impatient for Aya to finish getting cleaned. Or maybe Yohji should go in there with the man like he had first wanted to when he walked past the bathroom earlier. It had been a while since they had last used that room, not one of Yohji's favorite places to screw when there was a toilet so close, but it could still be fun. Yohji was half-ready to get up and go when he heard the pitter-patter of the other resident lovebird's feet. Omi and Ken were giggling like two high school girls between trying to hush the other. If they thought they were sly, they were very, very wrong.

Aya, however, demanded a little bit of restraint when others were present, could see, hear, or even guess at what he and Yohji engaged in behind closed doors. Ken didn't even believe Yohji half the time whenever they started talking about their sex lives. Yohji had been surprised as well, but once Aya had finally gotten comfortable and gained back that cocky arrogance, he had been more than inventive in bed. Of course, Yohji always had to try and not think about where his Aya might have learned such from, or else he would end up pissed off as all hell instead of horny. It was still hard to not think cold, murderous thoughts about other people that had touched Aya before, not in the careful manner which Yohji did.

Though on some nights, if there was enough alcohol involved, things could get a little rough. Yohji still was careful, even though he knew Aya had a pain-tolerance that went beyond human. He could push Aya down the stairs and fuck him into the floor and the man would probably still get up the next morning and be exactly fifteen minute early for his shift at the flower shop. Chilling thought, but true. Yohji grimaced, wondering how Aya still managed to be such a complex mess between amazing sensitivity to a rock-hard coldness, could still get his feelings hurt even after everything he'd been through.

Well, all of that was going to change permanently. Tomorrow, Yohji would call for reservations at that nice little Italian joint that Aya liked as a starter, and then he'd have to find the number for the woman he had dated years ago whom worked at a park. Hopefully she still had the same job. Imagine the look on her face when he told her he was now a confirmed gay and marrying another man.

"You know you have early shift tomorrow morning?" Aya's voice made Yohji's head jerk up as the man didn't so much ask as made a reminder out of it; like Yohji never took the time to check his schedule. He was about to say differently until he actually took in Aya on the when the words were stolen from his mouth as Aya simply closed the door behind him as he walked into their bedroom. The man was drying down his hair with a towel, obviously fresh from the shower with skin still pink from hot water. Aya had a thing about cleanliness, but Yohji supposed someone had to make up for what a messy shit he was.

Aya didn't have the slightest fucking clue to how beautiful he was just running the terry down the length of his hair to squeeze out some of the water. When wet, Aya's hair looked like a deep shade of the finest wine, brighter strands of red still streaking though the darker mane. He was wearing a plain grey yukata, a little threadbare already from being worn and washed so much. After seeing Aya in a kimono for `one-time only' at the cherry blossom festival last year along with the rest of them, Yohji had started buying old-fashioned yukatas for the man like crazy. He didn't know if it was the way the clothing looked on Aya, or if it was something about how the slender man wore it, but Yohji had certainly never seen any one else look more attractive in one. The drapery, the cut, the simple sway of the fabric as

"Of course, baby," Yohji cooed back, though it had been long ago when he would have said something smart back for Aya assuming that he didn't know. He grinned at the put-upon sigh and shake of Aya's head at Yohji's lecherous smile, obviously recognizing the look in his eyes. The man should damn well know by now that once the door closed, all those little idiosyncrasies and `rules' flew right out the fucking window. Pet names and opening flirting were okay in the privacy of their room- or at least when Omi and Ken were gone- and Yohji was already jutting his hips out and trying to look inviting.

Good fucking luck on trying to seduce Aya as the man walked through the room calmly without a single glance in Yohji's direction, the old `ice princess' in so many ways. Yohji finished pulling off his pants in disappointment, Aya obliviously getting every last drop of water out from his hair. When he was finally satisfied with his hair, Aya hung the towel up on a hook behind the locked bedroom door before turning around to pad over to Yohji. Aya produced a brush out from the folds of the yukata, already starting to yank roughly on the ends without a care. When he got close enough, Yohji caught the man's wrist before he did any more, plucking the brush out of his hand.

"Let me do that," Yohji offered, more than happy to get the chance to touch Aya's hair. The younger man turned around slowly, a not-so-rare-anymore, soft smile gracing his lips. Aya followed obediently back to the bed as Yohji sat down with his legs spread wide. A small ritual between them: Aya sat down between his knees and bent his head forward slightly, already adjusting to give Yohji a better angle. The man might be as silent as a rock, but the ardent emotion was still underneath it all…encompassed in Aya's body movement, his non-so-subtle acts of cleaning and organizing, looking out for Yohji's well-being after he had long forgotten. He had never had someone to remind him of all the annoying appointments and promises he had made, like a person organizer.

And incredibly sexy, irresistible young man. Yohji already felt the stirrings of a hard-on, and all he had done was gather up the long, damp length up in it with one hand. Yohji could never get over the silken smoothness, thin and straight when his own was curly and too thick to even try and get a manageable pony-tail out of. He started combing through the bottom of the purple mane, sure to get the knots worked out before trying any higher. Yohji let his fingers do some of the work as well, parting off small locks to brush out separately, caring for Aya's delicate hair…and trying to delay things for as long as possible.

Aya was almost starting to purr underneath the attention, just as much as an ignored cat whose master had finally come home. He deserved the attention, estranged from someone personal who would actually care about what happened to him for much too long. Yohji made sure to make up for it every single day, but some days it felt like it was so much less than what Aya really deserved. Yohji had to bite his lip to hold back the desire to bite Aya in the neck. Something personal, something that was permanent. Better than the other marks on Aya's body. Yohji was more than certain that the people responsible for the scars were dead, but it wasn't enough. Not when Aya still woke up in the middle of the night screaming.

"I love you," Yohji whispered against Aya's ear as he snuck an arm around the man's shoulder to hug him closer. Just the feeling of another person pressed against his body was enough to make Yohji feel his heart clench with desire. He couldn't wait to show Aya the ring he had in his car. He wanted something just as permanent and binding as much as Aya wanted- even though the man would never say so. Those words were still too hard to utter out loud for the younger man; but Yohji wasn't about to prod into the reasons why.

He was much more content to be here right now, his fingers roaming through Aya's hair while he finished pulling out every single knot with the comb. The man rolled his head around on his neck, this way and that, in a small motion that was so erotic Yohji had a hard time not pouncing the man right then and there. The little noises of contentment Aya was making in his throat sent blood to Yohji's loins better than any woman, porno magazine, or video ever had. What made it all so much more was when Aya put his hands on Yohji's knees, gripping tightly for a moment before traveling up further to start massaging his legs.

Aya knew where Yohji's muscles tensed the most, sometimes showing such a deep knowledge of his body that Yohji had to wonder just what his little purple-haired vixen was studying all the time. He would lay money down that Aya had drawn up a map of all Yohji Kudoh's pressure points and studying them every night; thumbs digging into one tendon that Yohji didn't even know he had. Aya had been a quick study to the art of massage, having the technique turned on him so many times before. The man was nothing if not smart…or would it be cunning?

Yohji didn't even bother trying to figure out the right word, tossing the comb somewhere to the side as he buried his face into the crook of Aya's neck, starting a massage of his own; done with his mouth and tongue, worshiping pale flesh the whole way between jaw and shoulder. Yohji put his hands around the hem of the yukata, almost regretting the loss of such a sexy prop- but it was nothing compared to the full expanse of Aya's body. The folds of the cloth parts down, spreading to the sides as the sleeves caught on Aya's arms before the man impatiently shook them out.

There was a small erection coming to life between two thin legs with almost unnoticeable pink scars tracing down into the curly thatch of plum pubic hair. Yohji let his hand run down the lower part of Aya's stomach, feeling huge and harsh with his big calloused hand as he hooked his thumb into Aya's bellybutton. Amazing how Aya could have gone through so much and still have skin like a baby's; between the puckered ridges of old, hardened scarring. One contradiction after another, even down to how Aya's skin tasted like a tangy apple pie…

Was he really that drunk off of the little bit of wine at dinner, or was it just Aya? Yohji didn't know, didn't care, just felt good with the man. That was why he was going to marry the oblivious bastard. No one else had been able to invoke this sort of desire to care, this outright need to protect Aya against anything and anyone that would hurt him. His only mission in life had turned to making Aya happy, because there had been too many bad experiences for the man already. Yohji was determined to not be one of them, reaching down to start running his fingers along the length of Aya's penis; not actually lingering or gripping anything yet. Aya was sensitive as all to teasing and foreplay even after Yohji had engaged in it so many times before. He just couldn't help himself when Aya made that little gasp, a sharp, breathy flutter that let Yohji know he was doing the right thing.

Aya twisted around Yohji's arm, turning back to kiss him hungrily and allow him a better angle for the blonde to reach down between pale thighs and cup the solid weight of Aya's member. Wrinkled but silky-smooth skin against his palm and fingertips with bouncy, curly hair ticking the back of his hand. Yohji might as well have been touching heaven. He was tasting it too, with Aya's tongue swirling around the roof of his mouth and across every single tooth, like the man just couldn't get enough. Yohji would like to think that, but Aya had always been a tough one to read, no matter how good he was with people. Aya was different, Aya was unique, Aya was Aya. Yohji always got to learn something new about the younger man; maybe not every day, but often enough that Yohji believed he could spend the rest of his life trying to figure it out. He couldn't wait to propose, couldn't wait to seal it all forever.

Aya paused for a moment, then his body went tense and cold like a switch had been flipped. His tongue slipped away and suddenly the pressure of Aya's warm, pliant lips was gone as a set of offended violet eyes glared up at him. Aya looked like a snubbed cat, the displeased frown clear on his pretty face. Yohji raised up an eyebrow, their silent exchange quicker than any conversation could hope to be. He may not get Aya had the time, but on some mutual level, they understood each other. Even when Aya seemed like he was fixing to remove a body part.

"I never thought the day would come when you wouldn't be in the mood," Aya growled, crossing his arms and twisting back to stare forward at the wall. He was all but bristling, taking Yohji's distraction as much deeper insult. Damn Aya's pride. If there was one thing the man had too much of- besides drop-dead gorgeous features- would be that snobby arrogance. There was conceit, and then there was Aya. Not that the man would ever admit to it, but he could become easily insulted at the slightest wrong, regardless of if it was intentional or not.

"I'm sorry, babe, I was thinking," Yohji apologized without a thought. He didn't see admitting to being wrong as such a big deal, because he still had his own thoughts on the inside. And, it got Aya to shut up quicker if he just `gave in.' He could always get the purple-haired man back in another way, at another time. Just like how he was trying to slip a hand around Aya's hip right now, reaching down to hook it underneath the man's groin and forcibly haul him back against his chest. Aya made a show of struggling; both of them knowing that if the man was serious Yohji could have ended up with a lot more than some smarting skin and a bruise.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love you?" Yohji tried to pacify his lover, adjusting his grip to start lightly stroking up and down the length of Aya's quickly stiffening penis, hot and heavy in Yohji's hand. The younger man didn't give an answer back, but the soft moan that came from his parted lips was good enough. Aya squirmed and rubbed his ass up against Yohji's own crotch in such a delicious way that it certainly couldn't just be coincidence. Yohji wanted to rip the yukata off Aya's body completely, almost unable to hold himself back any longer. Aya could be such an utter tease sometimes, once the initial coldness wore off.

It was all a matter of getting that switch in Aya's head to flip, like a rusty circuit breaker that needed a little physical coercion to move. So, Yohji started suckling at the curve of Aya's neck, using the slightest bit of teeth to drag across that creamy white skin he loved so much. He used his other free hand to reach up and tilted Aya's face toward him, fully meaning to kiss Aya into oblivion- when Aya turned the other way, opening up his mouth to clamp around Yohji's fingers. Warm wet velvet and perfect teeth met his fingertips, Aya's tongue swirling around as he took Yohji in knuckle by knuckle.

"Oh, God, Aya…I love you," Yohji breathed out, the heat building up between his legs undeniable. It didn't matter if he was starting to repeat himself. He just couldn't believe that one person would ever be able to keep him feeling this way, even though they had been together for so long and had such more times to count. Yohji would have left long ago out of pure boredom if it had been anyone else. As it was, having Aya purr back an affirmative, the vibration around his fingers enough to make goose bumps break out on Yohji's captured arm.

Yohji used to have a little more patience in bed too, but he just couldn't wait a single second longer. He wanted to feel Aya now, inside and out in the most intimates of ways. He was pretty sure Aya did too, from the way he dropped a set of full set of salvia-slick fingers out of his mouth to turn around and crawl up behind Yohji on the bed. Aya could even make moving forward on all fours look sexy as the yukata `caught' on Yohji's hands, slowing trailing off to reveal Aya's lithe body in it's fully glory. Yohji started staring at the two thin, long set of legs that any woman would have killed for, the hips and ass a little more packed now after Yohji had stuffed three meals a day down Aya's stubborn throat for months. He liked a little bit of meat on his lover, never once comfortable with being able to see and feel every fucking bone in Aya's body when he had finally taken notice of the self-destruction. Now, Yohji had managed to get Aya to actually eat like a human being instead of alternating between tea and coffee.

Aya had just blossomed under the smallest little bit of attention, and even Ken and Omi had noticed the change. They had actually gotten to meet a real person instead of the cold bastard that had served as their not-so-respected leader for years. Aya was even attending college now. Who said that there could be no happy endings for assassins? Yohji had finally managed to get something close to a normal, happy life, and he wasn't about to let go of it now. His hands itched to pounce on Aya right then and just slam on home, physical action to confirm that they were actually here, together; no matter how silly and banal it sounded after all the time they had been together. But, Yohji knew better than to naively assume that everything would be just fucking peachy from these days on. All the more reason to marry Aya now instead of waiting until the purple-haired man finally gathered the balls to say that he loved Yohji back.

Well, if Yohji had a dollar for every time he wished Aya would be able to mention such a complex word as `love' without making it sound like a clinical disease, he would have been a rich man by now. But, despite being unable to say so, Aya still managed to show that such affection was reciprocated, in the smile that had eventually started to show up freely on Aya's face, the sense of humor Aya was gamely trying to develop, the longer hair that trailed along perfect shoulders. All those Greek sculptures of perfect male bodies had nothing on Aya Fujimiya.

What if it finally became Aya Kudoh? It sounded strange as all hell in his head, but for some reason it warmed Yohji's heart. He grinned like a fucking idiot as he reached over to the bed stand to grab one of the several tubes Yohji had made sure to stock up on. Being caught unprepared was not an option with Aya. Not when just that body alone could drive him nuts. Aya's back was a masterpiece, the ridges of his spine casting long shadows in the lazy afternoon light that was coming through the vertical blinds in the window. The small lines of old, long-healed scars caught the glow and shimmered a bit as Aya moved, though Yohji sound it hard to appreciate. Some of the bad just had to be taken in stride, because there was really nothing Yohji could do about it. Not unless he finally saved up enough money for plastic surgery…and hit Aya soundly over the head so the man wouldn't be able to protest about such an operation.

"Yohji," Aya growled in an impatient manner, his amethyst eyes practically glowing in the darkness. Yohji already knew he was thinking too much, a habit he only tended to do around Aya. He bowed his head apologetically, unscrewing the cap and squeezing out a healthy amount onto his fingers. Aya complained of Yohji using too much at times, but would prefer that over anything else. Surprisingly enough, Aya was usually the one that wanted things to go faster, harder…almost onto the point of violence and Yohji would have to back off and sit by himself, because it had gone borderline close to that sick original conception Aya had of sex, drilled in from many nights of working the streets.

Yohji had promised himself he'd only make love to Aya, easing himself down on top of the flushed, warm body and taking Aya's mouth with his own. There was a meeting of tongues; Aya practically making it an arm-wrestling match that neither of them wanted to lose. Yohji slid his hand down between the man's legs, so familiar and intimate with Aya's body that he didn't even need to look to find that small entrance. Yohji started working one well-greased finger in slowly, causing Aya to rock up and gasp wordlessly into his own mouth.

Now that he was concentrating, Aya became like liquid in his hands, moaning and arching back when Yohji switched his lip to his nipple. It didn't matter that a nasty, puckered scar ran across the length of the already hardened nub of flesh. He nibbled on it, tasting Aya and plain anti-bacterial soap. Aya's fingers tangled up in Yohji's hair, holding on as he did his best to blow the purple-haired man's mind by adding another finger. Aiming for complete sensory overload was the only way to get the man truly excited.

"Yohji," Aya moaned out his name in a way that had nothing to do with the usual irritation while Yohji scissored his fingers inside the man's clenching, velvet heat. It may have taken an extra minute or two, but Aya was soon squirming on his fingers in a near frantic rhythm, whispering something incoherent into Yohji's ear. He didn't need much more urging than that, slipping his fingers out and smearing what was left over his own heated erection.

"Just wait a second, babe," Yohji insisted softly while he made sure to coat himself entirely. Aya looked like the first temptation, thighs spread on either side of Yohji's knees, his hair glistening and catching the light as he started to breathe harder. Aya arched up delectably, rubbing their hips together, his cock trailing down the back of Yohji's fingers. It almost made him regret that he didn't have a third hand to thoroughly appreciate Aya with.

It was just as easy as breathing, so natural now that Yohji couldn't imagine where his life would be if he didn't get to press the tip of his penis against Aya's ass. Yohji used his hand to start guiding himself in while Aya bent up to capture his lips in a kiss. He enjoyed the slow, sluggish initial entry as muscle still tried to refuse his girth; Aya's mouth forming a suction as the purple-haired man tried to do something else to take his mind off the slight pain and discomfort that Yohji couldn't do a damn thing about every time. He tried to be gentle about it, tried to slow down even further for the first few inches.

Aya transferred his own hands to Yohji's shoulders; short, trim nails digging into his back as the man found a death grip on his body. It was hard to hold onto any self-control at that stimulus, but Yohji attempted to focus more of kissing Aya savagely instead of thrusting in and rutting like an animal. And Aya just jerked his own hips up in answer, suddenly slamming down on top of Yohji until he hit the balls and pubes, crushing them under the force of his movement. Aya might have cried out, tossing his head back in satisfaction as he took the decision straight out of Yohji's hands. He wasn't sure, too busy being blinding with the most amazing spots of white light.

Shit. Yohji didn't have words for it, couldn't really explain the way that every part of Aya's flesh pressed against him felt like electricity. He started pushing in and out, slowly until he could begin to build a rhythm. A tight ring of muscle that didn't quite accept Yohji's girth and soft warmth inside that that made Yohji go crazy with desire. It felt like he was being sucked back in each time he tried to move out. Aya was grunting with each thrust, like he was running a marathon. The deep hum of the man's voice, the feeling of Aya's body clenching around him, the taste as Yohji scrapped the top of his teeth down the smooth line of Aya's collarbone. It was all a symphony to make him go absolutely mad, mind blanking as he was caught up in the motion and the moment. His own hand reached out, wanting to feel Aya and choosing to hold the man's ignored cock, never before holding such a fascination for another male's genitals before. Aya was soft and clean, wrinkled skin and nicely healed wounds that they had both had to get over creating a perfect mix of human skin.

They might have well came in unison, so close together and overlapping and falling down together.

Yohji came to in a tangle of limbs, panting slowly down to normal breathing as his head bobbed on top of Aya's heaving chest. He could hear the man's still-racing heartbeat, could feel it shuddering though the thin body underneath him. Sweat and semen made them stick when he tried to roll off Aya, so Yohji took it as a sign and stayed where he was and nuzzled the other man's neck with affectionate exhaustion.

"You're heavy," Aya mumbled, pushing at Yohji's shoulder insistently. Yohji didn't so much as twitch, much too comfortable with his whole body covering Aya's own and pinning the smaller man to the bed. Aya growled at Yohji's laziness, elbows and knees starting to prod and poke as the man recovered from momentary mind-numbing bliss. Yohji twisted and used his longer limbs to his advantage to readjust his body against Aya's.

"You want to take a shower?" Yohji asked, knowing what the answer would be with his purple-haired lover. Aya nodded his head as an affirmative, but didn't immediately follow when Yohji finally got up off him. Aya held his hands up in a clear request when Yohji turned around on bare feet to see what was keeping his younger lover. Smiling at the content and tired look on Aya's face, Yohji leaned over to help him up out of the bed and toward the door.

* * *

Omi and Ken both stared up at the ceiling, Ken absently running his thumb along the length of Omi's palm while that awful pounding kept going on and on. They lay quietly in Ken's bed, since his room was down and across the hallway from Yohji and Aya's room…but it didn't help at all when Yohji was making the bed shake so hard it sounded like a bizarre thunderstorm. The ceiling light blazed above their heads, because the darkness was just so much worse when the other two were so clearly in the throws of passion. Ken scratched at his ear with his other hand, trying to imagine how Aya managed to survive every night when he and Yohji went at it like animals. It wasn't even possible to talk with the awkward background noises, making Ken wonder if he and Omi had ever been this bad. He rolled his eyes; pretty sure it wasn't possible as he heard Yohji's familiar voice cry out Aya's name.

Omi didn't seem to mind it so much, using his free hand to hold up a large textbook braced on his stomach while he read through whatever section he needed to finish by tonight. Ken couldn't believe that the blonde could manage to study at a time like this, but the blonde had been complain about finals coming up. All Ken had to worry about was the flower shipment coming in on Friday and unloading it in time for the community's children soccer tournament in the afternoon. Life was pretty damn easy; if Omi would finish reading and Yohji would get done with poor Aya. It was hard to muster up any sort of romantic mood with their roommates going at it in the room next door.

Not that there wasn't lack of trying. Ken had thought he was going to be lucky tonight when Omi had plopped down on his lap to finish up what dinner hadn't hit his mouth. And found himself sorely disappointed when they simply changed to pajamas while Omi finished up a chapter for his history class, chewing on the end of a highlighter as the blue eyes scanned the page like it was a particularly exciting police report. Ken couldn't so much as read the horoscopes stuck in the bottom of the comics without getting a headache. Especially with Aya and Yohji grunting and yowling like alley cats in heat.

Just about the time Ken was about to stomp down the hall and yell at the two of them to shut the fuck up, the sound finally tapered off. Ken could actually hear the cars outside and the hum of the air conditioner. He didn't mind it so much at first when he had started hearing Aya call out Yohji's name in the middle of sex; figuring that was a hell of a lot better than when their once `fearless leader' woke up screaming at nightmares. Yohji had managed to cure Aya of that too, even getting that once stoic bastard to open up. Aya turned into someone Ken actually thought of as a friend instead of someone to be respected because he could kill with a katana faster than one could blink. He found Aya played a mean game of poker and was excellent at pool the few times he'd managed to wedge the man out from underneath Yohji's wing and take him to some quieter local bars. He hated the clubs just as much as Aya did, but endured it every Friday night because Omi loved the laser-shows, techno with bass that made the foundations shakes, and the ridiculously expensive neon-colored specialty drinks. Yohji liked the clubs for other reasons, like the things that went on in darkened corners or the bathrooms, too close to the fringe of the sort of people Ken had hunted down in cold blood only years before. Ken was sure Aya enjoyed the chance to escape out on his own just as much as he did, not one could tell with how nervous Aya would be at first. But, after a few beers, Aya usually loosened up to the point of friendly and Ken could have a fun night as long as he brought Aya home before ten. Any later and he'd catch all hell from Yohji for it.

Yohji would probably get even worse after he married Aya…if the man accepted the proposal. Ken couldn't believe that Yohji Kudoh was actually going to settle down, with another man, with Aya of all people. They were certainly in love, but Ken hadn't once imagined that it was marriage material. He loved Omi with all of his heart, having never wanted to protect someone's absolute innocence and naivety before. Omi was some sort of fallen angel, still able to smile despite everything he had been through. Ken was determined to make sure things stayed that way, but he wasn't about to get engaged to the boy anytime soon. He liked where things were now, simple despite their pasts. No need to fuck it all up with some big drastic move like marriage.

Ken caught a side-glance at Omi, not so sure if the other felt the same way. Omi actually still had a future ahead of him after college, maybe even an actual legitimate profession. Not like the rest of them. He could only do volunteer work at the local Boys and Girls center, because it'd be a cold day in hell when he could actually have all the information he needed to be employed for a paycheck. Ken had long since forgotten his social security number after Kritiker had given him his own forged death certificate upon entering. They were all plain fucked; at least that was what Ken had always thought. Now Aya was going to school too; but Ken was sure that Yohji wasn't going to step on a campus ever again…unless it was to pick up on college girls, but Ken was pretty sure those tomcatting ways were long gone.

Life was pretty good; living with his old teammates and best friends; because there certainly wasn't anyone else on the planet that could quite understand what they had gone through. It was much easier to explain a flashback to someone else that had them as well, for just the same reasons as well. Killing people wasn't a profession that let you go so easily, dead victims still haunting Ken's dreams no matter how at peace he felt now. At least Omi understood that, knew when to back off or stay there when Ken got taken by one of his moods. He had a problem with his temper, probably much worse than Aya's, but he couldn't really remember much of the times when he raged until he came to in the middle of a messed up room. So, Ken just didn't think about such a depressing thing, turning to rest his head on Omi's smaller shoulder.

"Are you done yet?" Ken demanded in his best `whiny' voice, hoping that he might get lucky and persuade Omi to finish up early. Surprisingly enough, Omi took the flap of the cover and tucked it into the pages to mark his spot before rolling over to drop the book on the ground.

"I am now. I can read the rest tomorrow morning," Omi sighed, preferring to turn back against Ken's side and settle in comfortably. With his clothes still on. Ken tried to not be disappointed, knowing that it was still a school night for Omi and that he should really just give it up…but found himself furious nonetheless for having to wait for the weekend, yet again. He was getting damn sick of it, but wouldn't dare say so to Omi. It wasn't really the kid's fault. Just Ken's overactive libido and jealousy over Yohji being able to screw Aya whenever he chose.

"I can't believe Aya-kun is going to be going to college," Omi said out loud, just as surprised by the announcement as Yohji had been. The other two hadn't known about it, and Ken had been sworn to secrecy by Aya. It was been his fault in a way; settling down in the living room for the soccer game months ago. The commercials had been rolling across the screen when Aya had walked through, catching the cheesy infomercial about earning a high school degree at home. Ken had been about to change the channel until the break was over when Aya had slammed two hands down on the back of the couch, locked onto the TV like someone had told him the meaning of life. Ken hadn't been able to look away as Aya suddenly became a flurry of activity, running for the phone and calling the number in what could have been desperation. He couldn't have helped but overhear Aya sign up for the classes and pamphlets and what not, easily sucked in by the gimmick.

And Ken had been proven completely wrong when Aya started to earn his diploma at home, threatening to kill Ken in a very slow and painful manner if he had dared to tell anyone about it. Especially not Omi, who would have told Yohji in an instant. Aya hadn't wanted Yohji to know most of all; embarrassed by the program he was earning a high school degree through. Ken didn't know what the big deal was. He certainly wasn't smart enough, or motivated enough, to even dream of trying to settle back into the real world. It wasn't meant for people like him.

"What if he made some new friends?" Omi asked, all innocence and pure adolescent thoughts that everyone still got along and there were puppies and rainbows everywhere in the background. Ken couldn't understand it at times, but he loved it all the same. He laughed out loud at the mere thought of some normal student trying to approach Aya for something mundane like a movie or the usual. They had a hard enough time getting Aya out of the house. Only Omi would think that Aya was already off to start a whole new life from scratch, full of normal and common day things. Like modern music. Ken could just imagine Aya's face at listening to the latest number one boy band.

"What if I went to school too? Would you be thinking about me as much as Aya, then?" Ken asked, glared through the walls at the said man. Since when did he get to be the center of attention when Ken had been trying to get some midweek action?

"Ken, don't say that. You know who I think about all the time," Omi insisted, wiggling against his side as he enunciated his point. Ken snaked a hand around to Omi's hip, figuring that his boy might be into something tonight after putting that textbook down earlier…and found a palm smashed into his nose when he tried to kiss Omi somewhere else than on the lips. Ken grunted, brought up short as Omi shoved him back playfully, an apologetic half-smile on his face.

"I've got a morning class tomorrow. I'm sorry, Ken," Omi excused himself while Ken grumbled and mouthed curse words that he wouldn't voice right now. They better not get any shifts on the weekend, because Ken was planning to keep Omi in bed Friday through Sunday to make up for this. If it was anyone else, Ken would have already snapped and just gone at it; finding himself waking up next to women with black eyes and such when he had first joined Kritiker…but, Omi blinked up at him with liquid blue depths, the puppy-face on in full strength. Ken couldn't help but wilt under that sort of gaze, holding a grudge, yes, but feeling all sickly and warm with the sweetness of the apology.

"Aw, it's okay," Ken forgave Omi easily, at least for now. He chose a chaste kiss on the temple; sure that Omi would object again to anything more, before clapping his hands together twice. Ken had never appreciated modern technology before he found this device; the lights clicking off immediately. The Clapper had saved his ass many times before from a long walk over the switch on the wall for the overhead light. As it was, they were plunged into darkness and the relative silence of the city as a bus rumbled by outside the building. At least it wasn't Yohji and Aya again.

"I love you," Omi offered into Ken's ear before squirming into a more comfortable position against his side for sleep.

"I love you, too," Ken sent it right back, throwing his arm over the blonde as he found his own spot for the night, mixed up in Omi's own limbs that he wasn't even quite sure of where he was, except pressed up against Omi's warm, smaller body. It kinda felt like home…and strawberry shampoo that the blonde loved so much. Ken had grown used to it too, buried his face into the top of Omi's head as a makeshift pillow. Still a little bit on alert for anyone else, the paranoia that would never pass taking control while Omi drifted off into some peaceful dream. Ken would stay up for a while yet; looking out the window for the bad stuff that he knew was coming.

They didn't deserve to be this content for this long. God just wasn't the type of guy that gave assassins happy endings so easily.

* * *

Yohji kept slowly drawing his fingers through the whole length of Aya's hair, until the ends slipped off and fell back to join the rest of that silken lavender mess. He just enjoyed the feeling of Aya's soft breath on his chest, one hand splayed on Yohji's stomach. Aya shifted in his sleep with a soft moan, jamming his shoulder up uncomfortably into Yohji's armpit as he curled up closer to him like a child with its favorite stuffed animal. He didn't mind the strange angle Aya forced him arm into that was already staring to ache. It didn't really matter to him, just happy with the small, unconscious movements Aya made in his sleep that reassured Yohji he was loved. Aya still had quite a complex about being touched by strangers; Yohji having to clean up more than one incident with an over-affectionate customer. The fact that he was trying to crawl into Yohji like he was a second skin spoke volumes, so he didn't so much as even move his fingers to relieve the tingling discomfort starting to spread up his arm.

Yohji never really knew how long he would lay there in the dark with Aya, not looking at the clock to check until some nights turned into dawn as the day crept up on them. He guessed it was like the way a night, day, and a good chunk of the week could be lost between the blur of clubs and bars that Yohji used to partake in. Except now, he didn't need the alcohol and drugs to numb that hurt after each and every mission…that addiction had been quickly replaced by Aya. It was soothing, probably some sort of meditation to lay there with Aya's naked warmth pressed against his entire side and a thin, perfect leg laced between his calves.

It might have been mere minutes or hours later, but Yohji had managed to separate every single fine hair on Aya's head before the man shifted in his sleep, dragging the thin summer sheets with him. Yohji's arm had already long since gone numb, so it was a painful relief when the blood finally started flowing through his shoulder joint. Aya ended up on his side with his back facing Yohji, still using his forearm as a pillow. Using the small movement, Yohji slowly and gently slid his arm out from underneath Aya and waited a moment until he was sure the man hadn't woken to start shifting his weight toward the edge of the mattress. If he wasn't careful or exact, he would wake Aya up in an instant. The younger man was a ridiculously light sleeper, so it took Yohji what felt like the better half of an hour to actually get out of the bed.

Finally free to move around, Yohji went to the bookshelves, down to the section he knew Aya wasn't prone to reread anytime soon. Running his finger along the tops of Aya's heavy texts, Yohji found his own book…except this one didn't have any words in it, just plain old white paper. Omi had apparently bought it for a class and forgot to even use it and had simply tossed it down in the old mission room along with the other miscellaneous crap they had managed to stockpile. Yohji had spotted it and on a whim grabbed up the pad and started scribbling. It had been forever since he had drawn; vague memories of an art class in high school before he dropped out. He couldn't even remember if he'd been in good, but Yohji did remember enjoying it.

Of course, his hands had started to ache and cramp with the familiar pain leftover from using a wire as his weapon of choice. At least it wasn't as messy as Aya's katana and Ken's bugnunks, but even a thick pair of custom gloves hadn't protected him at times. His fingers and the edges of his palms were striped with tough, old scar tissue built up onto of another. Holding a pencil for a long amount of time wasn't the easiest thing in the world at first, since Yohji hadn't so much as written a letter in years. But, practice had indeed made perfect, and he had ended up surprising himself when he looked down at the paper. Yohji sometimes couldn't even believe he had actually been able to draw something, much less capture it pretty damn convincingly.

Still, the book was mostly full of shaky, crappy lines and circles until Yohji had finally been able to draw one of the stray cats outside in the alley and actually recognize the old, fat tomcat. From then, Yohji had found a sudden desire to actually fill up this damn book now that he had worked so much. The view of the opposite sidewalk outside the shop, the mess Ken and Omi had left on the kitchen table after Italian take-out, and, of course, Seven, had all been put down in lead on the 70% recycled paper. Nothing he was about to show off.

And after a while of cultivating his new hobby, Yohji had found himself looking at Aya and wondering just why the fuck people weren't offering money everyday to get the man to pose for art. Absolutely fucking perfect; and Yohji couldn't tell Aya it as many times a day as the purple-haired man deserved. He had to breathe at one point. So, he had taken it upon himself to start drawing the man. Just a few rough sketches here and there when Aya was reading or working, too absorbed to notice what Yohji was doing. He wasn't about to insult Aya with some mediocre piece, so he had kept all the sketches and studies to himself. But, he found that when Aya slept, he provided a perfect model. He'd been working on the same picture for weeks now, nothing more than a few light lines as small directions for better detail. He had only just started on filling in the side of Aya's face, painfully slow in the process, but now about to screw up either.

Yohji chewed on the end of his pencil for a moment, absently observing the curved slope of Aya's jaw, the indent of his eyes, and the perfect line of his forehead. Finally, when he thought he had memorized the line enough, Yohji took the pencil out from between his teeth and started to harden the edges of his own picture, alternating the pressure to give it some shading. He worked on through the cheekbone and even up to Aya's nose before his hand started to ache and his eyes became tired. Shaking himself awake, Yohji tried to finish off the shadow underneath Aya's eyebrow before calling it a night. In the end, he might as well of just gone to bed, but Yohji smeared the lead until a soft base shadow was spread out enough for him to just call another layer. Nobody had to know how many tires it took him to get Aya's eyes just right.

He gathered up his supplies and closed the book, deciding to call it quits before he screwed it up any further. The mood to draw had just taken him for a few minutes before it had disappeared and Yohji started to become frustrated with every mark. That was no way to work when the subject was Aya. He shouldn't be having any trouble at all, so Yohji decided to wait until he felt confident again, like maybe tomorrow night or sometime after. Just not now. The desire to lie down beside Aya and feel that smooth, taunt body next to his own again was too powerful to ignore anymore, so he didn't. After tucking everything back into its place, Yohji crawled onto the bed to resume his cooling spot by Aya's side. The purple-haired man grunted at the movement Yohji caused on the mattress as he slid down just in time to have Aya grab at shirt. He'd hate to have to explain why he was getting up in the middle of the night, because the bathroom excuse was starting to get old.

Aya, fortunately, seemed too tired to even wake up now, just forcibly hauled Yohji the rest of the way down onto the bed and went back to snoring lightly. Yohji had little choice but to go still and try to find a way to relax his shoulders at the strange tangle Aya had landed him in. Not that Yohji had much choice in it. So, Yohji just bore it and tried to catch a few more hours sleep before morning came up to ruin these special moments all over again. He was never going to get that picture done…and he didn't really care either. He was going to have to use this particular model for a very long time.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Watch the Discovery channel. You learn all sorts of words, like `piquant.' Just don't watch any of those home improvement shows or you'll want to go nuts (like me)! And C-Span is cute. Did you know there a coalition not supporting any particular candidate, just NOT Bush? VOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! VOTE, VOTE, VOTE! Sorry, but if something's gonna change, you gotta get off your ass and do it, not just bitch! If you're in America and over 18, VOTE! (And if under, stop reading this under Puritan moral value. The law makes me say that now. Keep reading, young smut-lovers!). Typical writer's block: I can't think of anything so let's use the greatest entertainment ever: sex!

Yeah, lame start, but oh-ho-the angst awaits.

Once again… I'll need more beta readers. I know it. But, Dawnfire has done an absolutely fabulous job, so thank her for the grammar.