Fic: Strange Affections
Strange Affections
Author: pkabyssinian
Series: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Yohji x Aya
Rating: PG to PG -13
Disclaimer: I don't own them, nor do I own any money. So suing me would be pointless!
Author’s Note: PK's first fanfic ever written. Oh, the humanity. Full of cliche and badness.
Summary: Yohji wants Aya. But does Aya want Yohji?
It must sound ridiculous… me, the renowned playboy forced by circumstance NOT to seduce someone I wanted. Crazy, neh? Unfortunately, it’s true. The object of my affections stands not six feet away, carefully making an arrangement of violets and lily of the valleys, totally unaware of me. Well, maybe not totally since I keep throwing small sprigs of ivy at him, timed to the exact moment he would need them. No, really, I’m being helpful! It doesn’t matter if pissy Aya doesn’t see it that way… and it makes him look AT me, not just through me as he is want to do with so many people.
I don’t know what it is about him, but he has managed to do what no other woman or man has been able to since Asuka. For whatever reason, I’m enamored of Fujimiya Aya. Never really thought of myself in that light before, but as a lover of beautiful things it doesn’t really surprise me. I’m attracted to whatever is most aesthetically pleasing, and you don’t find creatures of surpassing grace and beauty every day. Ah, time to throw more ivy…
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, beauty… works of art given movement. That would be our flame-haired leader, the worst part is that he really has no idea how he affects people. Take darling Sakura for instance… that girl would do anything for Aya. I really do mean anything, but he pats her on the head and forgets her existence once she’s out of sight. Poor thing doesn’t realize that she wouldn’t be tolerated as much as she is if she didn’t look like Aya-chan. Eh, maybe she does realize it… come to think of is she’s taken to wearing her new, longer hair in twin braids and her clothes are becoming more little girlish. She still doesn’t stand a chance, because Kudou Yohji is on this case.
I see more of the inner Aya than any other person, except maybe Omi. Sweet Omitchi has the gift of opening up the hardest of people with little more than his smile and sad, puppy dog eyes. Fortunately, the little one isn’t interest in Aya that way. I don’t think he’s interested in anyone that way, not yet at any rate. But once again I digress. I know more about Aya than anyone. It’s true! I wasn’t a PI for nothing you know! Plus, it’s hard to live with someone for several years, to kill with someone for an equal length of time, and not figure out a few things about them.
For instance, I know Aya’s real name. Sneaky Yohji flirted and dated the young lady in charge of filing birth certificates… found out Fujimiya Aya was a young woman with a brother named Fujimiya Ran. Also learned a little about the family’s tragic history, and knowing about Aya-kun’s hatred for Takatori I decided that his sister’s coma and parents death must be at that man’s hands. Have I ever mentioned that when presented with a mystery I can’t help but try to unwrap it?
I also know that Aya began learning swordplay at the tender age of five. More searching through records told me that he was a prodigy with it, earning more ribbons and awards than boys twice his age. I’ve seen him in action with his katana and I know how well he puts his training to use. He is more than grace personified when moving through the katas.
The same records led me to his schooling history; our Aya was a bright boy, he skipped ahead two grades and was accepted on full scholarship to one of the most prestigious high schools in Japan. The grade school records happened to mention that he’s gifted, or cursed, with a photographic memory. No wonder seeing the death of his family hit him so hard, to never be able to forget it and to have it replay in perfect clarity constantly? I begin to understand his motivation in Weiss.
Through living with our enigmatic leader I have learned wonderful, trivial facts. Aya doesn’t like coffee to drink, but if you buy coffee ice cream he’ll eat all of it. He uses a softly scented shampoo that leaves behind a trace aroma that smells amazingly clean and masculine. The same pumice that I use to keep my hands callus free is used by Aya for the same reason. He tries to hide the sword wielding calluses as much as I try to hide the ones I get from using the wire. I would guess for different reasons, I don’t want to scare off potential dates and he to make sure there is as little trace as possible of what he does on him.
Tsk, he’s finished the arrangement… oh well, I guess this means I should pretend to work. Nah, Momoe’s not here so I’ll sit in her chair, push the shades over the eyes, and take a rest while contemplating my next move.
It’s incredibly hard deciding when and where and how to do things with Aya. It’s a complicated dance made up mostly of a language of silence. He so rarely talks to any of us about himself, just tiny snippets. I know he feels that he doesn’t deserve to be loved, something I originally thought stemmed from him being a killer with Weiss. But it goes deeper than that, I think… I think it really comes from the fact that he didn’t save his family. If they can’t love anyone then neither can he. His deepest guilt is over Aya-chan… I think he wants to live for her but is afraid to. I mean, after all, he may be 20 but in reality he’s still that young boy who has just lost everything. Since Aya-chan hasn’t aged in his mind, he won’t either. He’s caught on the cusp of adulthood, terrified to step over the line that separates him from his childhood. If he does that, then he is leaving behind his reason for living.
I’ve noticed that he prefers to deal with me when I wear the darker sunglasses. Something about my eyes disturbs him, when we make eye contact without the shades a quicksilver succession of emotions chases across his face - fear, longing, and an unnamable depth of feeling. I’ve seen the exact sequence crossing his face when he goes into the hospital room that holds his sister. Makes me wonder what the two of us have in common to get such a response. The best thing about these glasses is that I can watch him to my hearts content and no one will know what I’m looking at. Heh, clever Yo-tan!
My most cherished memory right now is of the last time Aya got himself hurt during a mission. It wasn’t much really, just a scratch. But that man is so damn stubborn, he wouldn’t admit to it until it became infected and he almost passed out while putting away stock. Lucky for him, and for me, I was there to catch him. And since I did that, I took it upon myself to play nurse. Now, now, put away those nasty thoughts… the poor man needed care, not a tender lovin' Yohji. Anyway, I got to take him to his room and stripped him down looking for the problem. All that smooth white skin, scented with soap and that ineffable aroma that is Aya bared to me. OK, I admit it; I took longer than I needed to looking for wounds but who wouldn’t?
As soon as I ascertained it was a single graze across his chest, I cleansed and bandaged him. Poor Aya was feverish, so I forced some fluids down him and watched him sleep. Gently, so as not to disturb him, I brushed his bright hair off his face. At some point I must have gotten too comfortable because I woke up several hours later, with Aya draped over my chest sleeping soundly. I relaxed every muscle and just held him until he woke up, dazed and confused. The fever was near its peak and he wanted comfort. He wanted to held and rocked, so I did those things while making him sip on green tea. It pleased me that he allowed me to care for him like a child, and since then I have been allowed inside his guard more often.
Take three weeks ago, for instance. Manx wanted us to go hunting for some drug lords, however these men holed up in some of the flashiest clubs around. If we were going to get in we all had to dress in tight, outrageous vinyl. Omi was our eyes and ears, so he was spared. Plus, would anyone believe a 17 year old boy, who looks 12, could get into a place like that? No way. So it was up to Ken and I to buy appropriate wardrobes for the three of us.
Aya was flabbergasted at his outfit; the poor man had no idea how to get it on. The pants were so tight they looked like they were painted on, and they matched his hair in color. His normal black boots were deemed worthy of the outfit, but the shirt had him in fits. It was nothing more than a mass of leather straps and buckles that would create a meshed look when on. Over top of that was an arrangement of chain mail that would act like a loose collar and sleeves. I was shocked when he knocked on my door, in nothing but those sexy red pants on and offered me the shirt. It took me almost five minutes before I could figure out what he wanted, which was for me to put the shirt on him, not peel him out of those pants. Damn.
I helped dress him, and the finished effect was almost worse than the just the pants. Aya looked sexy and dangerous and wild. I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and placed my hand on his cheek, Aya blushed but allowed the contact. My second shock of the evening. I knew then that he would never make it in the club, people would have to be allowed to touch him, and I told him that. His iris eyes blazed at the thought of strangers pawing at him… and I, I really couldn’t help myself, I gave him an out. He could go in there and let me claim him; I would be the only person allowed to touch him. After a few seconds, and that strange combination of fear and longing passing over his features, he nodded his assent. I couldn’t breathe for a minute, knowing that for a few hours I could possess Fujimiya Aya. Even if it was just a game.
The night progressed swiftly, and I was a true gentleman. I kept a hand on Aya all night until we cornered the two men that Persia had told us to kill. Then Omi doused the lights and we took care of the dark beasts. By the time the lights were fixed, we were long gone. I had thought my want of Aya had reached its height already. I had thought that it was only so strong because I couldn’t act on it the way I normally would. In truth though, I finally realized that I cared for him more than I thought was possible. The whole night, while I was touching him, claiming him, saying that he was mine, I wanted it to be true. To make matters worse, he hid in the shelter I provided, if anyone else dared to touch him he would tremble slightly and move closer to me until I warned them off. Then it dawned on me, Aya didn’t understand affection.
He understood the love of family, the small touches that accompany a boy through his childhood. Quick hugs and light, chaste kisses from family members. Holding a young sister’s hand after graduating from the need to hold a father’s. Never in his life had he had to deal with overtly sexual advances. It scared him, it probably made him terribly uncomfortable, and I had been doing it all night long. Then came the inevitable thoughts of being the one to teach him what loving was about. I am not now, nor have I ever been a statue or a saint. That I have not pounced on our luscious leader yet is a testimony to how much I value him and my own life.
Since then I have delighted in making contact with him, everything from walking in to shower while he is still getting ready in the bathroom to throwing sprigs of ivy in his direction. In the mornings, I now make a cup of coffee for me and a cup of jasmine tea for Aya. Ken rolls his eyes but wisely stays silent. As long as we don’t interfere with business, the shop or the missions, he doesn’t really care who I chase. Omi thinks it’s cute. I really don’t know how to take that… I mean ‘cute’? Me? I think it’s been close on fifteen years since anyone thought I was ‘cute’.
Aya seems to look forward to his breakfast being ready for him, and he actually thanked me for it today. His face was puzzled since I figured out just the right amount of honey to add to his tea and how much egg to add to the miso soup. I gave him a dazzling smile then casually wrapped my arm around his shoulders… instead of shrugging it off he leaned into me for a moment before moving away to sit down. I think I’m finally getting to where I want to be.
Tonight is going to be the real test, if we don’t have a mission that is. Ken has a soccer game and Omi is going to watch the kids play, so Aya and I will be alone tonight. I have no idea what I’m going to do, my plans seem to work better on him that way. Ah, he’s watching me right now, with that thoughtful expression on... maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll ask me to do something. Nah, he’s walking towards the storeroom without saying a word and there goes Omi, following behind like a good worker. Never wants any of us to do more than our fair share. Speaking of fair share, here comes Ken to nag me into working. I think I’ll surprise him and get the rest of the orders done before closing time… that gives me an excuse to be in the back room with Aya. See, I’m always thinking.
As I saunter back, making placating hand gestures at Ken with the promise to send Omi out I notice that Aya is already bent over and working on one of the orders. I shoo Omi to the storefront, walk up behind Aya, and place my hands on his hips. I’m not sure what has compelled me to be this bold, lets hope he doesn’t decide to remove my hands as punishment.
“You shouldn’t do this while we’re working,” he quietly chastens, but doesn’t move and doesn’t push my hands away. I begin to feel hope beating with frantic wings behind my ribcage.
“Saa, does that mean I can do it when we’re not working?” I ask lightly, giving a playful yank on said hips. Aya slowly straightens his posture; he takes a small shuffle back until he is almost leaning on me. Is he actually trying to come on to me? I didn’t think our Aya had it in him! Continuing with my bravery, or stupidity, I rest my chin on his left shoulder. He tenses for a moment then gives in and leans back on me.
“This is what you wanted, neh?” he asks gently and I can hear a smile tugging at his lips as he speaks. I blush, grateful that he can’t see me. I guess I haven’t been as subtle as I thought. I would swear that this man is a statue… and that he wouldn’t ever willingly allow someone to care for him. This is somehow not right, but I can’t argue with it when it gives me what I’ve desired for so long.
“There are many things I want, Aya, but I don’t think you’re going to give in to all of them,” I tease before nuzzling at his neck. Surely he will come to his senses now and stop me. Its heartbreakingly disappointing when he does, he reaches one slim hand up to push at my forehead and gracefully steps out of my arms. I regret his leaving, but I think I’ll get another chance if I’m smart.
He turns to face me and now I’m no longer sure of myself. His expression is completely unguarded, something I’m not prepared for. It shows sadness and caring and a deep regret etched into his violet colored eyes. I prepare myself for a rejection that will certainly leave me no room to try again.
“I don’t deserve to have people care for me. I’ve done my best to keep you, all of you, away from me. The harder I push you out, the harder you push to get in. Why is that Yohji?” he asks, his face a mask of seriousness. Again his eyes are still heavy and I pull off the sunglasses to stare into those iris orbs.
“Because you don’t see yourself the way we do. You don’t see how worthy you are of admiration, or how perfect you can be. You make me think that I can be more when I’m with you… more skilled, more resourceful, more cunning. But I can also be more than just a hired killer for Kritiker. You can be too… the four of us have strange affections, strange ways of dealing with our lives. Only you try to live like you don’t have a life. I want to show you that you can live and still take care of Aya,” the last is said in a rush because it will either break through to him or make him hate me. I know how little he appreciates us digging into his personal life.
His eyes narrow and his hand unconsciously strays up to the golden earring he wears. The hand drops slightly before reaching out to be placed in the center of my chest.
“You don’t understand. She has to be kept pure, she has to be able to wake up and know that I haven’t changed,” Aya chastises me. His voice is still gentle though and incongruously I think that he must be feeling my heart beat.
“You’re the one that doesn’t understand. Even if you hadn’t taken this job to be able to take care of her, you would change. If she hadn’t been hurt, you would change. Time, no matter what has, or will, or should have happened is going to draw you two apart. The only thing you can do is care for her in your heart, keep the good times alive in your memory and eventually you’ll meet in the middle,” I tell him. My voice has taken on a pleading quality that I don’t ever remember using before.
“If this is true why don’t you let go of your own past?” he hisses. I think I’ve pushed Aya to the limit, he’s never been known for having a long fuse.
“I’m trying to. Never said I was good at taking my own advice. Anyway, Asuka’s death is directly my fault… your family’s wasn’t because of something you did. It was just plain bad luck that Takatori could pin the embezzling on your old man. And it was even worse timing for it to happen on Aya-chan’s birthday. You have to allow yourself to live a little so that when she wakes up she has a brother that is capable of functioning in society,” I tell him. I reach up and grab his hand, pinning it to my chest. He struggles against the action for a moment and then suddenly stills.
“And allowing you to be with me will make me normal?” he asks. His voice is absolutely inflectionless. I have no idea of what sort of answer he wants to that question. I guess honesty will have to do.
“Well, maybe not normal in a conventional standard… but you will at least be able to interact with people. You can’t just kill everyone who offends your sensibilities!” I laugh before sobering. “Anyway I never said you had to be normal, just able of living within the boundaries that society places on us. Learn to let go a little, let yourself enjoy some of life.”
“That isn’t fair,” he whispers.
“Not fair, not fair to who? The only person it isn’t fair to is you! What happens when Aya wakes up? You’re not going to be able to talk to her because she’ll be bored to tears with shop talk and she isn’t going to believe you spent all of your time playing with flowers. At least I’ll give you some decent stories… you can say ‘hey Aya-chan did I ever tell you about the time Yo-tan and I went to the Tokyo Tower?’ Or, ‘hey, sis, did I ever tell you about the time Yohji forced me to sit through that three day Iron Chef marathon?’” I yell at him, frustrated beyond belief with his bull-headedness.
“We have never done those things.”
I am stopped cold by that statement. It is just so Aya-ish that I can't stand it and begin to laugh, in the middle of my fit I pull him into my arms and simply hold him close.
“That’s the point, baka! I want to have a chance to do those things with you. I don’t want to simply hide in our rooms and molest you all the time. I want to spend time with you, I want to enjoy our time together. Even if that means I have to force you to do things you find ridiculous and that I love. It also means that you can force me to do things that I don’t enjoy but that make you happy,” I chortled. I am still holding him close to me and he is beginning to relax.
“I can force you to do things?” he asks cautiously. His face is a curious mix of solemnity and capriciousness. I nod enthusiastically in between my laughter, hoping he understands that I am just pleased that he seems to be listening to reason.
Unexpectedly his arms snake up and I release him, thinking he wants to be let go. However, his arms twine around my neck and he quickly lifts his face to kiss me.
I am stunned to say the least. Not too stunned that I can't kiss him back, and part way through I deepen the kiss. I find myself groaning in pleasure, finally being allowed to savor the sweet tea taste that is Aya, I quickly recapture him in my arms and mold him to me. After a few minutes we surface for air and I rest my forehead against his, my eyes are still closed in bliss and to be honest I am half afraid this will never happen again. After a quick nibble at my chin, I hear the unexpected.
“You can take me to your room and molest me… if you want,” the perfect Aya says with a gasp of hesitancy. Almost as if he isn't sure I will want to. I laugh again, something I didn’t realize Aya would engender in me, before lifting him off the floor slightly. I gently drop him and grab his hand, leading him out of the storeroom and through the front of the shop. We pass Ken and Omi who are shocked silent with surprise.
“Boys, Aya has finally come to his senses, we’re taking the rest of the afternoon off,” I crow, still leading an unresisting Aya towards the stairs that led to our living quarters. Aya blushes slightly before adding his own parting remark.
“It’s OK to close early today. We’ll finish the arrangements tomorrow.”
This is supposed to automatically cross-post to LJ if I understand things correctly. If it does, glory hallelujah. If not, I'll have to figure something else out. =)
Author: pkabyssinian
Series: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Yohji x Aya
Rating: PG to PG -13
Disclaimer: I don't own them, nor do I own any money. So suing me would be pointless!
Author’s Note: PK's first fanfic ever written. Oh, the humanity. Full of cliche and badness.
Summary: Yohji wants Aya. But does Aya want Yohji?
It must sound ridiculous… me, the renowned playboy forced by circumstance NOT to seduce someone I wanted. Crazy, neh? Unfortunately, it’s true. The object of my affections stands not six feet away, carefully making an arrangement of violets and lily of the valleys, totally unaware of me. Well, maybe not totally since I keep throwing small sprigs of ivy at him, timed to the exact moment he would need them. No, really, I’m being helpful! It doesn’t matter if pissy Aya doesn’t see it that way… and it makes him look AT me, not just through me as he is want to do with so many people.
I don’t know what it is about him, but he has managed to do what no other woman or man has been able to since Asuka. For whatever reason, I’m enamored of Fujimiya Aya. Never really thought of myself in that light before, but as a lover of beautiful things it doesn’t really surprise me. I’m attracted to whatever is most aesthetically pleasing, and you don’t find creatures of surpassing grace and beauty every day. Ah, time to throw more ivy…
Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, beauty… works of art given movement. That would be our flame-haired leader, the worst part is that he really has no idea how he affects people. Take darling Sakura for instance… that girl would do anything for Aya. I really do mean anything, but he pats her on the head and forgets her existence once she’s out of sight. Poor thing doesn’t realize that she wouldn’t be tolerated as much as she is if she didn’t look like Aya-chan. Eh, maybe she does realize it… come to think of is she’s taken to wearing her new, longer hair in twin braids and her clothes are becoming more little girlish. She still doesn’t stand a chance, because Kudou Yohji is on this case.
I see more of the inner Aya than any other person, except maybe Omi. Sweet Omitchi has the gift of opening up the hardest of people with little more than his smile and sad, puppy dog eyes. Fortunately, the little one isn’t interest in Aya that way. I don’t think he’s interested in anyone that way, not yet at any rate. But once again I digress. I know more about Aya than anyone. It’s true! I wasn’t a PI for nothing you know! Plus, it’s hard to live with someone for several years, to kill with someone for an equal length of time, and not figure out a few things about them.
For instance, I know Aya’s real name. Sneaky Yohji flirted and dated the young lady in charge of filing birth certificates… found out Fujimiya Aya was a young woman with a brother named Fujimiya Ran. Also learned a little about the family’s tragic history, and knowing about Aya-kun’s hatred for Takatori I decided that his sister’s coma and parents death must be at that man’s hands. Have I ever mentioned that when presented with a mystery I can’t help but try to unwrap it?
I also know that Aya began learning swordplay at the tender age of five. More searching through records told me that he was a prodigy with it, earning more ribbons and awards than boys twice his age. I’ve seen him in action with his katana and I know how well he puts his training to use. He is more than grace personified when moving through the katas.
The same records led me to his schooling history; our Aya was a bright boy, he skipped ahead two grades and was accepted on full scholarship to one of the most prestigious high schools in Japan. The grade school records happened to mention that he’s gifted, or cursed, with a photographic memory. No wonder seeing the death of his family hit him so hard, to never be able to forget it and to have it replay in perfect clarity constantly? I begin to understand his motivation in Weiss.
Through living with our enigmatic leader I have learned wonderful, trivial facts. Aya doesn’t like coffee to drink, but if you buy coffee ice cream he’ll eat all of it. He uses a softly scented shampoo that leaves behind a trace aroma that smells amazingly clean and masculine. The same pumice that I use to keep my hands callus free is used by Aya for the same reason. He tries to hide the sword wielding calluses as much as I try to hide the ones I get from using the wire. I would guess for different reasons, I don’t want to scare off potential dates and he to make sure there is as little trace as possible of what he does on him.
Tsk, he’s finished the arrangement… oh well, I guess this means I should pretend to work. Nah, Momoe’s not here so I’ll sit in her chair, push the shades over the eyes, and take a rest while contemplating my next move.
It’s incredibly hard deciding when and where and how to do things with Aya. It’s a complicated dance made up mostly of a language of silence. He so rarely talks to any of us about himself, just tiny snippets. I know he feels that he doesn’t deserve to be loved, something I originally thought stemmed from him being a killer with Weiss. But it goes deeper than that, I think… I think it really comes from the fact that he didn’t save his family. If they can’t love anyone then neither can he. His deepest guilt is over Aya-chan… I think he wants to live for her but is afraid to. I mean, after all, he may be 20 but in reality he’s still that young boy who has just lost everything. Since Aya-chan hasn’t aged in his mind, he won’t either. He’s caught on the cusp of adulthood, terrified to step over the line that separates him from his childhood. If he does that, then he is leaving behind his reason for living.
I’ve noticed that he prefers to deal with me when I wear the darker sunglasses. Something about my eyes disturbs him, when we make eye contact without the shades a quicksilver succession of emotions chases across his face - fear, longing, and an unnamable depth of feeling. I’ve seen the exact sequence crossing his face when he goes into the hospital room that holds his sister. Makes me wonder what the two of us have in common to get such a response. The best thing about these glasses is that I can watch him to my hearts content and no one will know what I’m looking at. Heh, clever Yo-tan!
My most cherished memory right now is of the last time Aya got himself hurt during a mission. It wasn’t much really, just a scratch. But that man is so damn stubborn, he wouldn’t admit to it until it became infected and he almost passed out while putting away stock. Lucky for him, and for me, I was there to catch him. And since I did that, I took it upon myself to play nurse. Now, now, put away those nasty thoughts… the poor man needed care, not a tender lovin' Yohji. Anyway, I got to take him to his room and stripped him down looking for the problem. All that smooth white skin, scented with soap and that ineffable aroma that is Aya bared to me. OK, I admit it; I took longer than I needed to looking for wounds but who wouldn’t?
As soon as I ascertained it was a single graze across his chest, I cleansed and bandaged him. Poor Aya was feverish, so I forced some fluids down him and watched him sleep. Gently, so as not to disturb him, I brushed his bright hair off his face. At some point I must have gotten too comfortable because I woke up several hours later, with Aya draped over my chest sleeping soundly. I relaxed every muscle and just held him until he woke up, dazed and confused. The fever was near its peak and he wanted comfort. He wanted to held and rocked, so I did those things while making him sip on green tea. It pleased me that he allowed me to care for him like a child, and since then I have been allowed inside his guard more often.
Take three weeks ago, for instance. Manx wanted us to go hunting for some drug lords, however these men holed up in some of the flashiest clubs around. If we were going to get in we all had to dress in tight, outrageous vinyl. Omi was our eyes and ears, so he was spared. Plus, would anyone believe a 17 year old boy, who looks 12, could get into a place like that? No way. So it was up to Ken and I to buy appropriate wardrobes for the three of us.
Aya was flabbergasted at his outfit; the poor man had no idea how to get it on. The pants were so tight they looked like they were painted on, and they matched his hair in color. His normal black boots were deemed worthy of the outfit, but the shirt had him in fits. It was nothing more than a mass of leather straps and buckles that would create a meshed look when on. Over top of that was an arrangement of chain mail that would act like a loose collar and sleeves. I was shocked when he knocked on my door, in nothing but those sexy red pants on and offered me the shirt. It took me almost five minutes before I could figure out what he wanted, which was for me to put the shirt on him, not peel him out of those pants. Damn.
I helped dress him, and the finished effect was almost worse than the just the pants. Aya looked sexy and dangerous and wild. I couldn’t help myself, I reached out and placed my hand on his cheek, Aya blushed but allowed the contact. My second shock of the evening. I knew then that he would never make it in the club, people would have to be allowed to touch him, and I told him that. His iris eyes blazed at the thought of strangers pawing at him… and I, I really couldn’t help myself, I gave him an out. He could go in there and let me claim him; I would be the only person allowed to touch him. After a few seconds, and that strange combination of fear and longing passing over his features, he nodded his assent. I couldn’t breathe for a minute, knowing that for a few hours I could possess Fujimiya Aya. Even if it was just a game.
The night progressed swiftly, and I was a true gentleman. I kept a hand on Aya all night until we cornered the two men that Persia had told us to kill. Then Omi doused the lights and we took care of the dark beasts. By the time the lights were fixed, we were long gone. I had thought my want of Aya had reached its height already. I had thought that it was only so strong because I couldn’t act on it the way I normally would. In truth though, I finally realized that I cared for him more than I thought was possible. The whole night, while I was touching him, claiming him, saying that he was mine, I wanted it to be true. To make matters worse, he hid in the shelter I provided, if anyone else dared to touch him he would tremble slightly and move closer to me until I warned them off. Then it dawned on me, Aya didn’t understand affection.
He understood the love of family, the small touches that accompany a boy through his childhood. Quick hugs and light, chaste kisses from family members. Holding a young sister’s hand after graduating from the need to hold a father’s. Never in his life had he had to deal with overtly sexual advances. It scared him, it probably made him terribly uncomfortable, and I had been doing it all night long. Then came the inevitable thoughts of being the one to teach him what loving was about. I am not now, nor have I ever been a statue or a saint. That I have not pounced on our luscious leader yet is a testimony to how much I value him and my own life.
Since then I have delighted in making contact with him, everything from walking in to shower while he is still getting ready in the bathroom to throwing sprigs of ivy in his direction. In the mornings, I now make a cup of coffee for me and a cup of jasmine tea for Aya. Ken rolls his eyes but wisely stays silent. As long as we don’t interfere with business, the shop or the missions, he doesn’t really care who I chase. Omi thinks it’s cute. I really don’t know how to take that… I mean ‘cute’? Me? I think it’s been close on fifteen years since anyone thought I was ‘cute’.
Aya seems to look forward to his breakfast being ready for him, and he actually thanked me for it today. His face was puzzled since I figured out just the right amount of honey to add to his tea and how much egg to add to the miso soup. I gave him a dazzling smile then casually wrapped my arm around his shoulders… instead of shrugging it off he leaned into me for a moment before moving away to sit down. I think I’m finally getting to where I want to be.
Tonight is going to be the real test, if we don’t have a mission that is. Ken has a soccer game and Omi is going to watch the kids play, so Aya and I will be alone tonight. I have no idea what I’m going to do, my plans seem to work better on him that way. Ah, he’s watching me right now, with that thoughtful expression on... maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll ask me to do something. Nah, he’s walking towards the storeroom without saying a word and there goes Omi, following behind like a good worker. Never wants any of us to do more than our fair share. Speaking of fair share, here comes Ken to nag me into working. I think I’ll surprise him and get the rest of the orders done before closing time… that gives me an excuse to be in the back room with Aya. See, I’m always thinking.
As I saunter back, making placating hand gestures at Ken with the promise to send Omi out I notice that Aya is already bent over and working on one of the orders. I shoo Omi to the storefront, walk up behind Aya, and place my hands on his hips. I’m not sure what has compelled me to be this bold, lets hope he doesn’t decide to remove my hands as punishment.
“You shouldn’t do this while we’re working,” he quietly chastens, but doesn’t move and doesn’t push my hands away. I begin to feel hope beating with frantic wings behind my ribcage.
“Saa, does that mean I can do it when we’re not working?” I ask lightly, giving a playful yank on said hips. Aya slowly straightens his posture; he takes a small shuffle back until he is almost leaning on me. Is he actually trying to come on to me? I didn’t think our Aya had it in him! Continuing with my bravery, or stupidity, I rest my chin on his left shoulder. He tenses for a moment then gives in and leans back on me.
“This is what you wanted, neh?” he asks gently and I can hear a smile tugging at his lips as he speaks. I blush, grateful that he can’t see me. I guess I haven’t been as subtle as I thought. I would swear that this man is a statue… and that he wouldn’t ever willingly allow someone to care for him. This is somehow not right, but I can’t argue with it when it gives me what I’ve desired for so long.
“There are many things I want, Aya, but I don’t think you’re going to give in to all of them,” I tease before nuzzling at his neck. Surely he will come to his senses now and stop me. Its heartbreakingly disappointing when he does, he reaches one slim hand up to push at my forehead and gracefully steps out of my arms. I regret his leaving, but I think I’ll get another chance if I’m smart.
He turns to face me and now I’m no longer sure of myself. His expression is completely unguarded, something I’m not prepared for. It shows sadness and caring and a deep regret etched into his violet colored eyes. I prepare myself for a rejection that will certainly leave me no room to try again.
“I don’t deserve to have people care for me. I’ve done my best to keep you, all of you, away from me. The harder I push you out, the harder you push to get in. Why is that Yohji?” he asks, his face a mask of seriousness. Again his eyes are still heavy and I pull off the sunglasses to stare into those iris orbs.
“Because you don’t see yourself the way we do. You don’t see how worthy you are of admiration, or how perfect you can be. You make me think that I can be more when I’m with you… more skilled, more resourceful, more cunning. But I can also be more than just a hired killer for Kritiker. You can be too… the four of us have strange affections, strange ways of dealing with our lives. Only you try to live like you don’t have a life. I want to show you that you can live and still take care of Aya,” the last is said in a rush because it will either break through to him or make him hate me. I know how little he appreciates us digging into his personal life.
His eyes narrow and his hand unconsciously strays up to the golden earring he wears. The hand drops slightly before reaching out to be placed in the center of my chest.
“You don’t understand. She has to be kept pure, she has to be able to wake up and know that I haven’t changed,” Aya chastises me. His voice is still gentle though and incongruously I think that he must be feeling my heart beat.
“You’re the one that doesn’t understand. Even if you hadn’t taken this job to be able to take care of her, you would change. If she hadn’t been hurt, you would change. Time, no matter what has, or will, or should have happened is going to draw you two apart. The only thing you can do is care for her in your heart, keep the good times alive in your memory and eventually you’ll meet in the middle,” I tell him. My voice has taken on a pleading quality that I don’t ever remember using before.
“If this is true why don’t you let go of your own past?” he hisses. I think I’ve pushed Aya to the limit, he’s never been known for having a long fuse.
“I’m trying to. Never said I was good at taking my own advice. Anyway, Asuka’s death is directly my fault… your family’s wasn’t because of something you did. It was just plain bad luck that Takatori could pin the embezzling on your old man. And it was even worse timing for it to happen on Aya-chan’s birthday. You have to allow yourself to live a little so that when she wakes up she has a brother that is capable of functioning in society,” I tell him. I reach up and grab his hand, pinning it to my chest. He struggles against the action for a moment and then suddenly stills.
“And allowing you to be with me will make me normal?” he asks. His voice is absolutely inflectionless. I have no idea of what sort of answer he wants to that question. I guess honesty will have to do.
“Well, maybe not normal in a conventional standard… but you will at least be able to interact with people. You can’t just kill everyone who offends your sensibilities!” I laugh before sobering. “Anyway I never said you had to be normal, just able of living within the boundaries that society places on us. Learn to let go a little, let yourself enjoy some of life.”
“That isn’t fair,” he whispers.
“Not fair, not fair to who? The only person it isn’t fair to is you! What happens when Aya wakes up? You’re not going to be able to talk to her because she’ll be bored to tears with shop talk and she isn’t going to believe you spent all of your time playing with flowers. At least I’ll give you some decent stories… you can say ‘hey Aya-chan did I ever tell you about the time Yo-tan and I went to the Tokyo Tower?’ Or, ‘hey, sis, did I ever tell you about the time Yohji forced me to sit through that three day Iron Chef marathon?’” I yell at him, frustrated beyond belief with his bull-headedness.
“We have never done those things.”
I am stopped cold by that statement. It is just so Aya-ish that I can't stand it and begin to laugh, in the middle of my fit I pull him into my arms and simply hold him close.
“That’s the point, baka! I want to have a chance to do those things with you. I don’t want to simply hide in our rooms and molest you all the time. I want to spend time with you, I want to enjoy our time together. Even if that means I have to force you to do things you find ridiculous and that I love. It also means that you can force me to do things that I don’t enjoy but that make you happy,” I chortled. I am still holding him close to me and he is beginning to relax.
“I can force you to do things?” he asks cautiously. His face is a curious mix of solemnity and capriciousness. I nod enthusiastically in between my laughter, hoping he understands that I am just pleased that he seems to be listening to reason.
Unexpectedly his arms snake up and I release him, thinking he wants to be let go. However, his arms twine around my neck and he quickly lifts his face to kiss me.
I am stunned to say the least. Not too stunned that I can't kiss him back, and part way through I deepen the kiss. I find myself groaning in pleasure, finally being allowed to savor the sweet tea taste that is Aya, I quickly recapture him in my arms and mold him to me. After a few minutes we surface for air and I rest my forehead against his, my eyes are still closed in bliss and to be honest I am half afraid this will never happen again. After a quick nibble at my chin, I hear the unexpected.
“You can take me to your room and molest me… if you want,” the perfect Aya says with a gasp of hesitancy. Almost as if he isn't sure I will want to. I laugh again, something I didn’t realize Aya would engender in me, before lifting him off the floor slightly. I gently drop him and grab his hand, leading him out of the storeroom and through the front of the shop. We pass Ken and Omi who are shocked silent with surprise.
“Boys, Aya has finally come to his senses, we’re taking the rest of the afternoon off,” I crow, still leading an unresisting Aya towards the stairs that led to our living quarters. Aya blushes slightly before adding his own parting remark.
“It’s OK to close early today. We’ll finish the arrangements tomorrow.”
This is supposed to automatically cross-post to LJ if I understand things correctly. If it does, glory hallelujah. If not, I'll have to figure something else out. =)