Fic: Stages 1/12
Title: Stages 1/12
Author: white_cross_b
Type: Fiction
Characters: Yohji & Aya
Rating: R
Beta:
whymzycal
Summary: Yohji didn't do guys -- or get done by guys, for that matter. He had nothing against it; he just had nothing FOR it.
SURPRISE
Yohji had had enough of Aya. Watching the red-head glare at him from across the shop was getting to be really annoying. Yohji had actually been working, for fuck‘s sake, helping a young woman pick out some flowers for her mother. Yeah, he might have flirted quite a bit and had gotten her phone number, thank you very much, but he'd also made a sale, and a damn good one at that. Aya had made the arrangement himself, 48 roses of different shades of pink, yellow, and peach, with a generous amount of baby's breath, boxed and tied with a thick satin ribbon. The woman had been more than willing to spend a large amount of money, especially once Yohji had winked at her over the top of his sunglasses, so what was Aya's problem anyway? He had been working.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Yohji demanded as he stalked over to where Aya was working. Aya had a pair of scissors in his hand and had been clipping the ends of the stems on an arrangement he was currently making. Aya pointed the scissors accusingly at Yohji.
"You. You're my problem," Aya said with a glare.
"Anything specific," Yohji asked, "or is it just in general this time?" He wasn't going to back down from this just because Aya was in a mood, no matter what any of the customers thought. Not that there were any at the moment. It was before the girls got out of school, but dammit, there could be.
Aya looked Yohji right in the eyes. "No. Nothing specific." That was all he offered.
"Fine," Yohji snarled, taking his apron off over his head and throwing it at Aya, where it hit him in the chest and then fell down to the floor. Aya kicked it away as he would any small annoyance. "I'm out of here." Yohji stomped out of the shop, ignoring Omi's pleading voice as the glass door slammed shut behind him. Damned if he was going to spend the rest of the day in the same room as Aya. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he made his way to the basement car park where the Seven was waiting. His friend. His best friend, when it came down to it. The Seven never had complaints. Well, other than the time he had crashed it into a store window, but he'd been shot at the time, and the car had forgiven him once he had thrown down a large amount of cash to get it fixed. The Seven purred to life as Yohji inserted the key and turned, and he gave it a reassuring pat on the dash. "Who loves you, baby?" he asked with a grin, and sped out into the streets of Tokyo.
Girls were right, Yohji thought, shopping was fantastic therapy. Two pairs of pants, three shirts, and one short leather jacket later, Yohji had had a large bowl of noodles followed by several drinks and was now rubbing up against a hot girl on the floor of the trendiest nightclub in Tokyo. Yohji no longer gave a fuck about Aya; he only cared about how soon he was going to be able to get into the girl's pants. Which was apparently soon, judging by the way she dragged him out of the club when the song was over. He managed to get her address in between some groping and heavy kissing in the Seven, and it wasn't long before he was between her thighs, making her come her brains out. It was a skill, after all. One Yohji was very, very good at.
It was 4:00am when Yohji finally stumbled into the Koneko, still buzzing pleasantly from alcohol and sex. What he hadn't counted on was Aya sitting on the couch with a bottle of sake, a large cup half full on the table in front of him. "Mmmph," Yohji got out drunkenly as his ass planted itself on the couch next to Aya. "I wasn't expecting you to still be up. I thought I'd keep out of your way, what with you hating the sight of me and all." He folded his arms over his chest defensively. His sunglasses slid down his nose, and he peered at Aya over the top of them.
"That wasn't what I meant, Yohji," Aya said softly, and Yohji was surprised to hear the effect of alcohol in his words, making them slow and sluggish. Or maybe that was just Yohji's brain being slow and sluggish; he wasn't quite sure.
"Well, what did you mean?" Yohji asked skeptically.
"It's just... hard," Aya said, looking down into his cup, avoiding Yohji's gaze.
"What's hard? Your head?" Yohji reached out and rapped his knuckles on Aya's head. "I could have told you that." Yohji sat back and frowned. "Listen, if I'm pissing you off, you could at least tell me how. I might actually be willing to knock it off, within reason."
Aya raised his eyes and looked at Yohji for several long minutes. "What?" Yohji prompted again, impatient with Aya's lack of communication and really wanting to take a shower and fall into bed. He needed to get some sleep before the opportunity to piss Aya off in all its mysterious ways presented itself again in a few hours.
Aya opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and closed it again. Yohji was just about to lose his patience and get up to leave when Aya leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Yohji's. Yohji's brain went blank with surprise, and it was a few seconds before Yohji came to his senses and realized that Aya was kissing him. No, really, Aya was kissing him. He pulled away quickly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as if wiping the taste of Aya from his lips.
"What the fuck, Aya; I'm not gay," Yohji said lamely, knowing as it came out of his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
Aya's eyes hardened. "Go to bed, Yohji."
"Yeah, okay," Yohji said, feeling suddenly stupid and not sure what he could say to Aya. What he should say. Oh, hell, why was it so much easier with girls? With girls it was an easy, "Sorry, baby, I can't get attached, you know?" with a wink before heading on his way, leaving behind promises to call them later on -- which he sometimes did and sometimes didn't. Aya wasn't the "Sorry, baby," type. What type he was exactly, Yohji didn't know, but he certainly wasn't that.
Deciding that maybe it was better to say nothing else at all in case he put his foot further into his mouth, Yohji did as he was told and went to bed.
The next day was surreal. Neither he nor Aya said one word to each other the entire day, unless it was absolutely necessary. Yohji could see Omi and Ken exchange glances from time to time, but Yohji pretended not to notice. Or care. Which he didn't. He tried to keep busy and actually worked, sweeping the floors, watering plants, and organizing the back work room, all the while trying not to think about what had happened with Aya and failing miserably. He couldn't think about anything BUT that.
Aya had kissed him. Had actually put his mouth on Yohji's. It was the first time he'd been kissed by a guy, and quite honestly, it freaked him right the hell out. Yohji didn't do guys -- or get done by guys, for that matter. He had nothing against it; he just had nothing FOR it. Aya had fucking kissed him. The more Yohji thought about it, the more he couldn't believe that it had really happened. Aya. Had kissed him. On the mouth. AYA. The world had definitely gone mad.
Yohji now found that he had to go out more. He also had to drink more and to fuck more, and if he came home at all before his shift, it was to shower and change clothes. He wasn't avoiding Aya -- he was giving him space. Space he obviously needed to stop freaking Yohji out. Seriously, what had made Aya think that Yohji was anything other than straight? He brought women up to his apartment regularly, and an endless parade of women flocked by the shop to see him. He collected women's phone numbers like some people collected stamps or rare coins. Not to mention that the love of his life had been a woman. All road signs pointed to straight.
It wasn't until Omi came to him one day that Yohji realized he had been one hell of an ass.
Author: white_cross_b
Type: Fiction
Characters: Yohji & Aya
Rating: R
Beta:
whymzycal
Summary: Yohji didn't do guys -- or get done by guys, for that matter. He had nothing against it; he just had nothing FOR it.
SURPRISE
Yohji had had enough of Aya. Watching the red-head glare at him from across the shop was getting to be really annoying. Yohji had actually been working, for fuck‘s sake, helping a young woman pick out some flowers for her mother. Yeah, he might have flirted quite a bit and had gotten her phone number, thank you very much, but he'd also made a sale, and a damn good one at that. Aya had made the arrangement himself, 48 roses of different shades of pink, yellow, and peach, with a generous amount of baby's breath, boxed and tied with a thick satin ribbon. The woman had been more than willing to spend a large amount of money, especially once Yohji had winked at her over the top of his sunglasses, so what was Aya's problem anyway? He had been working.
"What the fuck is your problem?" Yohji demanded as he stalked over to where Aya was working. Aya had a pair of scissors in his hand and had been clipping the ends of the stems on an arrangement he was currently making. Aya pointed the scissors accusingly at Yohji.
"You. You're my problem," Aya said with a glare.
"Anything specific," Yohji asked, "or is it just in general this time?" He wasn't going to back down from this just because Aya was in a mood, no matter what any of the customers thought. Not that there were any at the moment. It was before the girls got out of school, but dammit, there could be.
Aya looked Yohji right in the eyes. "No. Nothing specific." That was all he offered.
"Fine," Yohji snarled, taking his apron off over his head and throwing it at Aya, where it hit him in the chest and then fell down to the floor. Aya kicked it away as he would any small annoyance. "I'm out of here." Yohji stomped out of the shop, ignoring Omi's pleading voice as the glass door slammed shut behind him. Damned if he was going to spend the rest of the day in the same room as Aya. Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he made his way to the basement car park where the Seven was waiting. His friend. His best friend, when it came down to it. The Seven never had complaints. Well, other than the time he had crashed it into a store window, but he'd been shot at the time, and the car had forgiven him once he had thrown down a large amount of cash to get it fixed. The Seven purred to life as Yohji inserted the key and turned, and he gave it a reassuring pat on the dash. "Who loves you, baby?" he asked with a grin, and sped out into the streets of Tokyo.
Girls were right, Yohji thought, shopping was fantastic therapy. Two pairs of pants, three shirts, and one short leather jacket later, Yohji had had a large bowl of noodles followed by several drinks and was now rubbing up against a hot girl on the floor of the trendiest nightclub in Tokyo. Yohji no longer gave a fuck about Aya; he only cared about how soon he was going to be able to get into the girl's pants. Which was apparently soon, judging by the way she dragged him out of the club when the song was over. He managed to get her address in between some groping and heavy kissing in the Seven, and it wasn't long before he was between her thighs, making her come her brains out. It was a skill, after all. One Yohji was very, very good at.
It was 4:00am when Yohji finally stumbled into the Koneko, still buzzing pleasantly from alcohol and sex. What he hadn't counted on was Aya sitting on the couch with a bottle of sake, a large cup half full on the table in front of him. "Mmmph," Yohji got out drunkenly as his ass planted itself on the couch next to Aya. "I wasn't expecting you to still be up. I thought I'd keep out of your way, what with you hating the sight of me and all." He folded his arms over his chest defensively. His sunglasses slid down his nose, and he peered at Aya over the top of them.
"That wasn't what I meant, Yohji," Aya said softly, and Yohji was surprised to hear the effect of alcohol in his words, making them slow and sluggish. Or maybe that was just Yohji's brain being slow and sluggish; he wasn't quite sure.
"Well, what did you mean?" Yohji asked skeptically.
"It's just... hard," Aya said, looking down into his cup, avoiding Yohji's gaze.
"What's hard? Your head?" Yohji reached out and rapped his knuckles on Aya's head. "I could have told you that." Yohji sat back and frowned. "Listen, if I'm pissing you off, you could at least tell me how. I might actually be willing to knock it off, within reason."
Aya raised his eyes and looked at Yohji for several long minutes. "What?" Yohji prompted again, impatient with Aya's lack of communication and really wanting to take a shower and fall into bed. He needed to get some sleep before the opportunity to piss Aya off in all its mysterious ways presented itself again in a few hours.
Aya opened his mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and closed it again. Yohji was just about to lose his patience and get up to leave when Aya leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Yohji's. Yohji's brain went blank with surprise, and it was a few seconds before Yohji came to his senses and realized that Aya was kissing him. No, really, Aya was kissing him. He pulled away quickly, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth as if wiping the taste of Aya from his lips.
"What the fuck, Aya; I'm not gay," Yohji said lamely, knowing as it came out of his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
Aya's eyes hardened. "Go to bed, Yohji."
"Yeah, okay," Yohji said, feeling suddenly stupid and not sure what he could say to Aya. What he should say. Oh, hell, why was it so much easier with girls? With girls it was an easy, "Sorry, baby, I can't get attached, you know?" with a wink before heading on his way, leaving behind promises to call them later on -- which he sometimes did and sometimes didn't. Aya wasn't the "Sorry, baby," type. What type he was exactly, Yohji didn't know, but he certainly wasn't that.
Deciding that maybe it was better to say nothing else at all in case he put his foot further into his mouth, Yohji did as he was told and went to bed.
The next day was surreal. Neither he nor Aya said one word to each other the entire day, unless it was absolutely necessary. Yohji could see Omi and Ken exchange glances from time to time, but Yohji pretended not to notice. Or care. Which he didn't. He tried to keep busy and actually worked, sweeping the floors, watering plants, and organizing the back work room, all the while trying not to think about what had happened with Aya and failing miserably. He couldn't think about anything BUT that.
Aya had kissed him. Had actually put his mouth on Yohji's. It was the first time he'd been kissed by a guy, and quite honestly, it freaked him right the hell out. Yohji didn't do guys -- or get done by guys, for that matter. He had nothing against it; he just had nothing FOR it. Aya had fucking kissed him. The more Yohji thought about it, the more he couldn't believe that it had really happened. Aya. Had kissed him. On the mouth. AYA. The world had definitely gone mad.
Yohji now found that he had to go out more. He also had to drink more and to fuck more, and if he came home at all before his shift, it was to shower and change clothes. He wasn't avoiding Aya -- he was giving him space. Space he obviously needed to stop freaking Yohji out. Seriously, what had made Aya think that Yohji was anything other than straight? He brought women up to his apartment regularly, and an endless parade of women flocked by the shop to see him. He collected women's phone numbers like some people collected stamps or rare coins. Not to mention that the love of his life had been a woman. All road signs pointed to straight.
It wasn't until Omi came to him one day that Yohji realized he had been one hell of an ass.