Weiss Kreuz, "Amaze," Aya/Youji, PG
I wrote this on our flight back from Disney. And yes, I sob and cling to whomever is sitting next to me during take-off, no matter how many times I fly. Great way to meet strangers, I kid you not.
PG, Aya/Youji, Aya-chan/Ken. And since when do I write non-NC-17 Weiss fiction???
Amaze
by Mistress Quickly
Aya Fujimiya never failed to amaze Youji.
The first time they met, he surprised Youji by being in his bed. The first time they’d fought side-by-side, he surprised Youji by being completely fearless, utterly focused. When his sister woke, he surprised Youji by being a total softie, hugging the girl and taking her out for ice cream, laughing and acting like a normal twenty-three-year-old, not a former assassin with the blood of countless people drenching his soul. When he crawled into Youji’s bed, all deep kisses and gentle passion, he surprised Youji by being a phenomenal lover, a devoted partner.
And now, clinging to Youji’s arm, practically hyperventilating with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he was surprising Youji yet again, shaking like a leaf and whimpering like a child. Youji was stroking the man’s hair, murmuring to him comfortingly, bewildered and concerned and guiltily wanting to laugh at the spectacle.
Aya Fujimiya, apparently, was terrified of flying.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have been cleared for take-off,” announced the flight attendant over the PA system. “Please check your safety belt and make sure your tray-tables are secured, your seats in the full upright position. We will be lifting off momentarily.”
Aya whimpered, holding onto Youji’s arm more tightly. Outside the window of the plane, lightning flashed, bright and sharp in the distance. Youji didn’t really mind flying, but flying in bad weather always did make him a bit nervous. He’d felt like a wuss for closing his eyes on take-off the last time he’d flown through a storm, but Aya ... He bit back a laugh as the man trembled, rubbing his cheek on Youji’s cheek like a kitten. They’d not even reached the runway, and already Aya was practically crying.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said gently, running his fingers through Aya’s soft hair. “It’s okay.”
Aya lifted his head only enough to glare at him. “Shut up, Kudoh,” he growled. “I hate flying. You know that.”
“Actually,” said Youji, settling back comfortably in his seat, Aya’s glare settling hotly on him, “I had no idea you had a problem with flying. I mean, you used to jump off high buildings and whatnot all the time. Didn’t know you were scared of anything.”
“That was then,” said Aya. “I didn’t care, back then. Didn’t think I was going to live past each day, so it didn’t matter if I got hurt. And we never had to fly in Weiss. I hate flying.”
Youji chuckled, twisting a strand of red hair around his finger. “Yeah,” he said. “I kind of noticed.” But it was sobering, the notion that the man he loved so much had ever been so miserable, so utterly depressed that his fears had no longer mattered, that he’d viewed his life as being so insignificant. He kissed the top of Aya’s head, nuzzled the soft hair, breathing the scent of his lover’s shampoo.
Aya glared at him only a moment more, then returned to his earlier position, wrapped around Youji’s arm. “Tell Ken about this, and I swear I’ll kill you,” he growled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” said Youji, making mental note to tell Ken everything the moment they landed. “You know that.”
Aya sat up and opened his mouth to retort, but whatever insult he had ready died a sudden death as the plane began moving, jarring down the runway, returning Aya to a quivering, crying mess on Youji’s shoulder. Youji patted him gently, smiling as the plane lifted off, bouncing unsettlingly in the rough air of the storm. He held his lover close through the turbulence of ascent, through the bounce and jostle as they cleared the clouds. By the time they were cruising smoothly, the seatbelt light turned off and flight attendants passing by with drinks and snacks, Aya was fast asleep, curled against Youji’s shoulder, snoring softly.
Youji chuckled and stroked Aya's hair, once again amazed at his lover.
~*~*~*~
Youji decided, about the time that his arm went numb, that takeoff had been very low on the scale of Aya’s ability to freak out, when compared to landing. The redhead was curled up in a ball, gripping Youji’s arm so hard his knuckles were turning white, squeezing all the blood out of Youji’s poor abused arm, whimpering in a way that Youji suspected would leave his sleeve very wet, by the end of it. He wasn’t all the fond of landing himself, but he was still breathing, something he quite frankly doubted Aya could claim.
“It’s okay, baby,” he crooned, wiggling his fingers experimentally and finding them nearly completely numb, too. “Almost over.”
Aya made a low sort of whining sound and squeezed tighter, squeaking when the plane hit rough air and jostled hard, making Youji’s stomach flip unpleasantly. He kissed Aya’s head once more, absently hoping that the redhead wasn’t prone to airsickness. He was rather fond of his jeans, after all, and didn’t particularly want to have to walk around with a big vomit-stain on them.
He heard the landing gear drop, glanced over the whimpering mess of man out the window, saw the ground approaching faster, closer.
“Soon, baby,” he said. “We’ll land soon.”
Aya sobbed at that, clinging more tightly to Youji’s arm, pinching it painfully. “Shut up, Kudoh,” he squeaked, his voice almost comically higher-pitched than usual, tinged with what Youji suspected was panic. He settle back and closed his eyes, hearing the air rush around the wings, waiting for the hard jolt of the plane touching down. He didn’t have to wait long, grimacing when it happened, Aya’s grip tightening unbelievably hard on his upper arm, bruising him, he was sure. Normally, he loved Aya’s strength, loved watching the man’s muscles move when they made love, loved feeling the strength under Aya’s clothing every time they touched. Now, however, he found himself wishing his lover was built more like Omi, small and less dangerous, less like an anaconda, draining all the blood out of his arm.
Only when the captain announced across the PA system that they were arriving at the gate did Aya let go and sit back in his own seat, cheeks wet with tears and stained red with an embarrassed blush. Youji reached out and brushed the tear-streaks away with his thumb, soft and loving, smiling at the death-glare he received for his efforts.
“Not a word to Ken, Kudoh,” Aya growled.
“Not a word,” said Youji. More like several hundred words, he added mentally. And if not to Ken, then to Aya-chan. Aya won’t kill her if she tells.
“And if you tell my sister, I’ll never sleep with you again,” said Aya.
Youji sat back in his seat and pouted, arm sore and tingling with the return of sensation. He flexed his fingers and sighed, all his pain having been for nothing.
~*~*~*~
Hugs between Aya and Aya-chan always took forever, no matter if it had been four months or four hours since they’d last seen one another. Not that Youji minded. Quite the contrary, he thought it was adorable, his lover’s affection for the girl. He stood by with their luggage and Ken, watching Aya hold his sister, a look of total bliss on his beautiful face.
“She loves it when he visits,” said Ken, shifting from one foot to the other, a ball of energy as always. “Never sleeps the night before, she’s so excited.”
Youji nodded. “Yeah, he’s no different.”
“Still hate flying?”
Youji quirked an eyebrow at the brunette. “How’d you know?”
Ken grinned. “Aya told me. Said he cried like a baby every time they flew with their parents. She figured he probably hadn’t changed enough to have gotten over it.” He bounced a little closer to Youji. “So. He cry at take-off?”
Youji opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Aya’s snarling.
“Kudoh,” Aya growled. “I told you not to tell Ken about that.”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” said Youji, holding his hands up and giving his lover his very best innocent look. “He already knew. Your sister told him.”
Aya scowled. “Like she’d do that to me,” he said. “You’d better hope they have a soft couch, Yotan.”
And with that, he stormed off, his bag in one hand, the other hand wrapped around his sister’s shoulders. Youji made a squeaky sort of protest, then picked up his own bag and followed them, a snickering Ken right behind him.
“You could have come to my defense, you know,” he said to the brunette. “Some friend you are.”
“Aw, Aya’ll straighten him out,” said Ken. “And besides, we’re just starting out. Don’t have a couch for you to sleep on, so you’ll get to sleep with him tonight, even if he wants you to sleep on the couch.”
Youji rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up to his lover. Somehow, he just knew that, if Aya wanted him on the couch, nothing short of divine intervention would prevent the redhead from finding one for him to sleep on, even if it meant putting him on the next flight out and braving his own return home alone.
When he slipped into the backseat of the car with Ken and caught the hint of Aya’s smile, telling him he’d been had, he could do little more than laugh and shake his head.
Aya really never did fail to amaze him.
PG, Aya/Youji, Aya-chan/Ken. And since when do I write non-NC-17 Weiss fiction???
Amaze
by Mistress Quickly
Aya Fujimiya never failed to amaze Youji.
The first time they met, he surprised Youji by being in his bed. The first time they’d fought side-by-side, he surprised Youji by being completely fearless, utterly focused. When his sister woke, he surprised Youji by being a total softie, hugging the girl and taking her out for ice cream, laughing and acting like a normal twenty-three-year-old, not a former assassin with the blood of countless people drenching his soul. When he crawled into Youji’s bed, all deep kisses and gentle passion, he surprised Youji by being a phenomenal lover, a devoted partner.
And now, clinging to Youji’s arm, practically hyperventilating with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he was surprising Youji yet again, shaking like a leaf and whimpering like a child. Youji was stroking the man’s hair, murmuring to him comfortingly, bewildered and concerned and guiltily wanting to laugh at the spectacle.
Aya Fujimiya, apparently, was terrified of flying.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have been cleared for take-off,” announced the flight attendant over the PA system. “Please check your safety belt and make sure your tray-tables are secured, your seats in the full upright position. We will be lifting off momentarily.”
Aya whimpered, holding onto Youji’s arm more tightly. Outside the window of the plane, lightning flashed, bright and sharp in the distance. Youji didn’t really mind flying, but flying in bad weather always did make him a bit nervous. He’d felt like a wuss for closing his eyes on take-off the last time he’d flown through a storm, but Aya ... He bit back a laugh as the man trembled, rubbing his cheek on Youji’s cheek like a kitten. They’d not even reached the runway, and already Aya was practically crying.
“It’s okay, baby,” he said gently, running his fingers through Aya’s soft hair. “It’s okay.”
Aya lifted his head only enough to glare at him. “Shut up, Kudoh,” he growled. “I hate flying. You know that.”
“Actually,” said Youji, settling back comfortably in his seat, Aya’s glare settling hotly on him, “I had no idea you had a problem with flying. I mean, you used to jump off high buildings and whatnot all the time. Didn’t know you were scared of anything.”
“That was then,” said Aya. “I didn’t care, back then. Didn’t think I was going to live past each day, so it didn’t matter if I got hurt. And we never had to fly in Weiss. I hate flying.”
Youji chuckled, twisting a strand of red hair around his finger. “Yeah,” he said. “I kind of noticed.” But it was sobering, the notion that the man he loved so much had ever been so miserable, so utterly depressed that his fears had no longer mattered, that he’d viewed his life as being so insignificant. He kissed the top of Aya’s head, nuzzled the soft hair, breathing the scent of his lover’s shampoo.
Aya glared at him only a moment more, then returned to his earlier position, wrapped around Youji’s arm. “Tell Ken about this, and I swear I’ll kill you,” he growled.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby,” said Youji, making mental note to tell Ken everything the moment they landed. “You know that.”
Aya sat up and opened his mouth to retort, but whatever insult he had ready died a sudden death as the plane began moving, jarring down the runway, returning Aya to a quivering, crying mess on Youji’s shoulder. Youji patted him gently, smiling as the plane lifted off, bouncing unsettlingly in the rough air of the storm. He held his lover close through the turbulence of ascent, through the bounce and jostle as they cleared the clouds. By the time they were cruising smoothly, the seatbelt light turned off and flight attendants passing by with drinks and snacks, Aya was fast asleep, curled against Youji’s shoulder, snoring softly.
Youji chuckled and stroked Aya's hair, once again amazed at his lover.
~*~*~*~
Youji decided, about the time that his arm went numb, that takeoff had been very low on the scale of Aya’s ability to freak out, when compared to landing. The redhead was curled up in a ball, gripping Youji’s arm so hard his knuckles were turning white, squeezing all the blood out of Youji’s poor abused arm, whimpering in a way that Youji suspected would leave his sleeve very wet, by the end of it. He wasn’t all the fond of landing himself, but he was still breathing, something he quite frankly doubted Aya could claim.
“It’s okay, baby,” he crooned, wiggling his fingers experimentally and finding them nearly completely numb, too. “Almost over.”
Aya made a low sort of whining sound and squeezed tighter, squeaking when the plane hit rough air and jostled hard, making Youji’s stomach flip unpleasantly. He kissed Aya’s head once more, absently hoping that the redhead wasn’t prone to airsickness. He was rather fond of his jeans, after all, and didn’t particularly want to have to walk around with a big vomit-stain on them.
He heard the landing gear drop, glanced over the whimpering mess of man out the window, saw the ground approaching faster, closer.
“Soon, baby,” he said. “We’ll land soon.”
Aya sobbed at that, clinging more tightly to Youji’s arm, pinching it painfully. “Shut up, Kudoh,” he squeaked, his voice almost comically higher-pitched than usual, tinged with what Youji suspected was panic. He settle back and closed his eyes, hearing the air rush around the wings, waiting for the hard jolt of the plane touching down. He didn’t have to wait long, grimacing when it happened, Aya’s grip tightening unbelievably hard on his upper arm, bruising him, he was sure. Normally, he loved Aya’s strength, loved watching the man’s muscles move when they made love, loved feeling the strength under Aya’s clothing every time they touched. Now, however, he found himself wishing his lover was built more like Omi, small and less dangerous, less like an anaconda, draining all the blood out of his arm.
Only when the captain announced across the PA system that they were arriving at the gate did Aya let go and sit back in his own seat, cheeks wet with tears and stained red with an embarrassed blush. Youji reached out and brushed the tear-streaks away with his thumb, soft and loving, smiling at the death-glare he received for his efforts.
“Not a word to Ken, Kudoh,” Aya growled.
“Not a word,” said Youji. More like several hundred words, he added mentally. And if not to Ken, then to Aya-chan. Aya won’t kill her if she tells.
“And if you tell my sister, I’ll never sleep with you again,” said Aya.
Youji sat back in his seat and pouted, arm sore and tingling with the return of sensation. He flexed his fingers and sighed, all his pain having been for nothing.
~*~*~*~
Hugs between Aya and Aya-chan always took forever, no matter if it had been four months or four hours since they’d last seen one another. Not that Youji minded. Quite the contrary, he thought it was adorable, his lover’s affection for the girl. He stood by with their luggage and Ken, watching Aya hold his sister, a look of total bliss on his beautiful face.
“She loves it when he visits,” said Ken, shifting from one foot to the other, a ball of energy as always. “Never sleeps the night before, she’s so excited.”
Youji nodded. “Yeah, he’s no different.”
“Still hate flying?”
Youji quirked an eyebrow at the brunette. “How’d you know?”
Ken grinned. “Aya told me. Said he cried like a baby every time they flew with their parents. She figured he probably hadn’t changed enough to have gotten over it.” He bounced a little closer to Youji. “So. He cry at take-off?”
Youji opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Aya’s snarling.
“Kudoh,” Aya growled. “I told you not to tell Ken about that.”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” said Youji, holding his hands up and giving his lover his very best innocent look. “He already knew. Your sister told him.”
Aya scowled. “Like she’d do that to me,” he said. “You’d better hope they have a soft couch, Yotan.”
And with that, he stormed off, his bag in one hand, the other hand wrapped around his sister’s shoulders. Youji made a squeaky sort of protest, then picked up his own bag and followed them, a snickering Ken right behind him.
“You could have come to my defense, you know,” he said to the brunette. “Some friend you are.”
“Aw, Aya’ll straighten him out,” said Ken. “And besides, we’re just starting out. Don’t have a couch for you to sleep on, so you’ll get to sleep with him tonight, even if he wants you to sleep on the couch.”
Youji rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up to his lover. Somehow, he just knew that, if Aya wanted him on the couch, nothing short of divine intervention would prevent the redhead from finding one for him to sleep on, even if it meant putting him on the next flight out and braving his own return home alone.
When he slipped into the backseat of the car with Ken and caught the hint of Aya’s smile, telling him he’d been had, he could do little more than laugh and shake his head.
Aya really never did fail to amaze him.