Piece on Earth

In the spirit of the season, a gift to my fellow kitty lovers…

*********

Yohji groaned a heartfelt, “Shit!” and flopped backward over the arm of the couch. “Ow!”

“Ow yourself!” Ken shoved him off; Yohji barely avoided hitting the floor. Yep, that was Ken. Feel guilty, get angry.

“But, Yohji-kun,” Omi stopped the brewing fight with a pair of big blue about-to-cry eyes, “what do we do?”

Mr. I Make All the Plans and Stay at the Top of My Class and Run the Household was asking him?

The chibi turned great watery eyes on the Christmas tree, blinking cheerily in the corner, all the presents still intact under it. “I never thought…” he said softly. “Aya-kun is so traditional, why didn’t I realize he wouldn’t know about Christmas?”

“How can he not know about Christmas? Has he been living under a rock?” Ken demanded.

“No, in a book,” Yohji answered. Damn. He’d really looked forward to seeing Aya open his present, too. Planned on running for his life immediately after, but still looked forward to it. And he’d hung a whole tree-worth of mistletoe all over the house just on the off chance–

Suicidal much, Kudou?

“He knew about Christmas,” Omi said, sniffling. “He didn’t know we were going to exchange presents. How could he, none of us talked to him about it. We hardly talk to him at all.”

With good reason. But damn. Let this go on and the chibi–who was also a killer many times over, but he wasn’t going to think about that on Christmas–the chibi would cry. And then Ken would break something, that was damn sure. Probably something of Yohji’s, for not protecting Omi somehow.

“Hey, it’s not like we left him out on purpose,” Yohji pointed out. “He has to see that. Let’s just get him back down here. I mean, does anyone really care he didn’t get us anything?”

“Yeah,” Ken growled. “He does. Didn’t you see how fast he beat it? He’s not going to come back.”

“Then let him be. If he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, he won’t mind being alone.”

*****

Great, Kudou, Yohji thought five minutes later. ‘Famous last words’ mean anything to you? He stood outside Aya’s door, their various hopefully-Aya-pleasing gifts in his hands. Rather, on the floor, while he smoked a cigarette and wondered why he was elected to risk death. Ken could defend himself without killing Aya, if it came to it. And Omi had his tranq darts–

And wouldn’t even loan Yohji one. As soon as he was done here–assuming he was able–Yohji was going down there and taking back the leather jacket he’d gotten the boy.

He shouldn’t have said “alone.” Omi couldn’t stand the thought of anyone alone on any holiday. Especially someone he’d adopted as part of his family, though how the hell the chibi extended that to the icy, pissy bastard they’d known a couple months and none of them actually liked…

“Kudou!” came a roar from behind the door. “Smoke outside!”

Che. Yohji went on down the hall and opened the window, stood by it smoking until he was shivering and the air in the hall was definitely fresh. Then he went and picked up the presents, pasted a smile on his face and knocked on that damn door.

He was taking the autographed soccer jersey back too.

Not a sound, he wondered if Aya would just ignore him all day. Damn it, he’d been forbidden to rejoin the unwrapping until–hell. Yohji raised his hand to knock again, and the door cracked open. Duh, Kudou, moves silently…

One beautiful violet eye peered around the door, blinked to convey “kami-sama, what the hell do you want now?” then the door opened a little more, to frame that gorgeous face.

“Yes?”

“We…wanted to apologize. It never occurred to any of us to tell you we were going to exchange gifts. We just always have. We didn’t know you didn’t know that a Christmas tree meant…” Great, how many times had he just insulted the man? He hefted the presents. “These are…what we got you. We don’t care that you–I mean, we don’t want them to go to waste.” Nice, Kudou. Smooth. Damn, think you were talking to a woman, you’re so smooth.

“Return them.” The door snicked shut.

Hell.

Fuck it. Breaking the door down and shoving the packages up that hot ass wasn’t in his mission parameters. Yohji set the packages against the door and went downstairs. If either of the others wanted to try, they were welcome to it. He had presents to open.

**********

Rain, Yohji reflected hours later, staring out his window at the weather, was just dreary. There was something about it that made a man sit and think sad thoughts, no matter how you tried not to.

It was Christmas. Christmas should be white, he’d been brainwashed to believe. So if it wasn’t–it wasn’t Christmas. Never mind that it hadn’t snowed in Tokyo on Christmas once in his entire lifetime. It was supposed to. Like the Christmas tree was supposed to look a certain way, and everything was supposed to be perfect, a Norman fucking Rockwell holiday and never mind that the bastard had taken a Japanese wife who didn’t know who Norman Rockwell was…

Che. There he went again. Yohji sipped his brandied coffee and tried to think of something else.

Omi loved the jacket. Yohji had taken a chance on the fringe, but the chibi had adored hearing it slap against the sleeves as he bounced around the room, trying it out. Some of that had been the candy, no doubt, but the kid did like the jacket.

Ken, of course, had gone into spasms about the jersey.

Aya’s presents still sat in the hall, the last time Yohji made a trip to the bathroom. Pissy bastard, Yohji thought for the however-many-eth time that day. He hadn’t come out once. Yohji had convinced Omi he had food in there, or the boy would have planned out Mission: Feed Aya.

Hee. Was the pissy bastard whizzing out the window to avoid coming out?

If it weren’t raining, Yohji would have staged a stakeout.

Okay, that was just sad. Thoughts like that were going to knock down his lovely little construct, that it wasn’t because he was dying to fuck Aya–really it was just that he could see that Aya needed a good fucking. Yeah. For the good of the team. For the good of Aya. For the good of Yohji’s fantasy life, since a hot and needy, naked and sweaty Aya could not possibly be as good as he imagined, and–

Yeah. Yohji adjusted his pants. Damn it.

One good thing about Aya–he sure got a man’s mind off rain and stupid holiday customs.

Someone knocked. Yohji jumped, and licked overflow off the side of his mug. Who the hell–Ken had dragged Omi out, since the longer Aya isolated himself, the more personally the chibi took it. So it must be Aya at his door.

Couldn’t be.

“It’s open,” he called, and it was Aya. The redhead stalked into the room and around the bed with Yohji’s present in his hand. Oh, finally, some joy this dreary Christmas!

“Kudou,” that deep voice snarled, “what the hell is this?” He shoved the thing at Yohji, who reminded himself he was armed, and Aya wasn’t. By the time Aya got his sword and got back, Yohji would be dressed and gone. So he smiled slowly as he looked from the scowling toy to the scowling assassin.

“That,” he answered, “is Grumpy Bear, and he wants to be your friend.”

Long white fingers flexed on the toy’s neck. Yohji fought a grin. Oh, this was better than he’d hoped, with no chibi around to make Aya try to be nice.

But Aya didn’t call him names; he simply dropped the toy and turned away. Yohji blinked at the rapidly-moving back for a moment, then went after him. He didn’t think, just bounded across the bed to block the door.

“Kudou–“ Aya snarled, and whatever that had been in his eyes was gone, replaced by the usual icy rage. But Yohji had seen something else for the first time, and he wasn’t letting it go.

“Look, I’m sorry. It was stupid. I thought it would be funny, but it’s not. Come on, I’ll take it back and get you a real present. Stay. Have some cookies. Have some coffee. Tell me what an idiot I am.”

“You are,” his teammate growled, crossing his arms. “Did you forget when you left windows open that the heater isn’t working right?”

Yohji groaned. He had forgotten. Between the hot plate, the candles, the space heater, his battery-operated Toasty-Toes slippers and the electric blanket, his room was plenty warm enough for his usual naked-chest moping. Aya, however, was obviously cold despite the hideous orangeness of his sweater.

Damn. A color that bad ought to at least keep him warm.

“It’s chocolate coffee,” he babbled on. “I mean, mocha. It’s good. It’ll warm you up.”

The redhead raised one eyebrow. Yohji took that as encouragement–knowing full well he wouldn’t get anything more than that–and grabbed a mug, filled it and handed it over. All while still somewhat blocking the door.

“Arigatou,” Aya said as if he’d rather not, and wrapped both hands around the mug. Both long, graceful–

“Have a seat,” Yohji offered, and realized the bed was the only place clear. He risked leaving the door unguarded to clear off a chair–but Aya moved past him to sit on the bed, curling his legs under him.

“It’s warm,” the redhead said, running a hand along the comforter. Yohji sat abruptly in the chair and stared at Aya exploring his bed, the exact beginning of one of his fantasies, except for the damn sweater. Aya should be wearing–

“Lie down,” he blurted. “I mean–it’s an electric blanket. Get under if you want, I don’t mind.” Not at all, nope, he didn’t mind…

Aya tilted his head in his suspicious “what are you up to now” look, but he scooted up the bed and leaned back against Yohji’s pillows, stretching those long awesome legs before him. Yohji thanked any and all gods he’d bought himself a Christmas present of a peacock-tail print bedding set, because stunning redhead on jewel green and blue–Yohji took a hurried sip of coffee. Down boy. No pouncing.

“You, uh, did you unwrap the other presents? Did the others do better?” Good one, remind him of that stupid bear…Aya leaned over and picked the toy off the floor, affording a brief and shining view of hot ass in tight jeans. He sat back and set the thing on his knee. Damn it. Kudou Yohji was no cheapskate, he’d gotten the biggest, bluest, grumpiest Grumpy Bear he could locate.

“Why, Kudou?”

Family resemblance, Yohji did not say. “It, uh–I thought it was cute.”

The redhead snorted, but didn’t snarl. He toyed with the little tuft of hair on the bear’s head as he sipped the coffee. Yohji remembered something a little late.

“Um…that doesn’t just have chocolate in it, Aya. There’s brandy, too.”

Aya gave him the “am I an idiot?” look. “I noticed.”

“Just, you know, didn’t want you thinking I was trying to get you drunk.” Oh, god, what the hell was wrong with him? Aya was not that beautiful!

Sure he was.

The swordsman just stared at him, over the rim of the mug as he sipped some more. Aya was drinking? For Yohji it could barely be considered alcoholic, but for the slender man who never drank–

As far as he knew. Yohji realized he didn’t know a damn thing about the man, except that Aya wasn’t his name, he practiced kendo, he was beautiful and he was a good tactician.

Oh, and a lousy dresser. He knew Aya was a lousy dresser.

Well, not really. It was just that sweater. That he wore all the time. He had an orange jacket, too, not as bad as the sweater. But it was one or the other, all the damn time.

Maybe Aya was just cold? Beyond his attitude. Because of his attitude? Or was his attitude cold because his feet were?

One had to wonder what would happen if Aya ever got warm.

“Kudou, what are you staring at?”

“Are you warming up?”

“Hn.” Typical Aya, he wasn’t saying thank you twice in one day. Yohji realized the redhead was trying not to look at the cookie tray on the dresser. That settled that; the proud bastard didn’t have food in his room. Yohji considered making the redhead ask–but more likely he’d just leave. He reached for it, then changed his mind and stood to get it. When he came back he sat on the bed to offer it.

Aya pulled his feet up, maintaining his nearly-a-meter of personal space, but he also leaned forward to survey the cookies. Yohji carefully did not smile.

Like a wild animal, he thought. Warmth, safety, food–that’s the way to Fujimiya.

Hell, it was as good a tactic as any. “The brown and white ones,” he said softly so as not to spook the beautiful wild creature, “are called double-chocolate bliss bars.” He didn’t laugh at how quickly those long fingers snatched one and retreated; he just set the tray on the bed between them and reminded himself that smoke would drive the mysterious redhead away. He took one of the shortbread while he watched Aya nibble neatly but quickly, as if it would be snatched away. Like feeding pigeons in the park, the deer at–no, not like the deer. The deer would crawl into your pocket if you didn’t feed fast enough to suit them.

Well, the pigeons were pretty bold, too. No, Aya was like a cat. Not Momoe-san’s fat lazy thing. Like that back-alley cat none of them could get within three meters of.

Heh, the cat that was as orange as Aya’s sweater.

“This is…good,” that rich voice rumbled. Yohji smiled.

“Have another. They’re too sweet for me, make my teeth hurt.” He got up, walked away and watched Fujimiya snatch another in the mirror. He came back with the coffee, refilled Aya’s mug without asking. The man probably would have said no, and Yohji wasn’t ready to let him go yet. He took his own mug back to the hotplate to pour the last, and start another pot.

The heat had relaxed Aya, he saw when he turned back; the redhead had stretched his legs out. The heat and the safety margin increasing when Yohji moved away. No pouncing, he reminded himself again, remembering Ken’s bloody gashes after he’d rescued the alley-cat from a trap. Ungrateful beast. Yohji sat in the chair.

Incredible, really, the way the heat was affecting the swordsman. Aya looked almost–drowsy. Like that same alley-cat, not knowing he was observed, curled up in a safe sunny spot. Neatly licking his fingers, eyes at half-mast and satisfied–

He ought to be satisfied. While Yohji dealt with the coffee, he’d eaten at least four of the bars.

Probably ought to say something, before the man fell asleep. Yohji had no doubt he’d be made to pay if Fujimiya let his dignity slide so far. Besides, he was not enduring another night of the man in his bed and untouchable.

“Do you think,” Aya spoke before he could, soft and low and oh-so-sexy, “the others will mind if I get them something tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to–“ Yohji stopped at the flash of violet eyes; the kitty wasn’t quite so asleep as he looked. “They won’t mind. Extend the holiday, and all that.”

“And you?”

Yohji forced a chuckle. “I never turn down presents.”

Those eyes flashed again. “You don’t like Christmas.”

Damn, how did he do that? Every once in a while, out of the blue, the man made a mental leap that would have left Omi goggling. He had a way of putting things together–hell, now he was going to ask.

Only he wasn’t, Yohji realized as the silence stretched. Well, that made sense. Fujimiya hated anyone prying into his past. He wouldn’t turn around and do it to someone else.

Integrity, that was called. Or maybe honor. He was beginning to see Aya-who-was-not-Aya had both.

“I…do not know what to get them,” Aya said slowly. Yohji reminded himself not to laugh. Don’t scare the wild creature. He thought for a minute.

“Soccer seems like the safe bet with Ken,” he answered. “But if you haven’t understood his babble, it’s actually very easy to go wrong.” Like the time he got Ken tickets to see his two most-hated teams battling for the championship Ken had been sure his team deserved that year. “Something for those kids he coaches would be a safer bet. And the chibi…” Omi was harder. A lot harder. Gadgets and gizmos, only he could make something better than most of the stuff on the market… “Teen stuff,” he said finally. “Give him an excuse to be with kids his age, outside of school. A gift certificate to the arcade, or something.”

“And you?”

“Me?” This time Yohji did laugh, softly. “Tell you what, give me that bear back and I’ll get you something decent.” His own pair of Toasty-Toes battery-operated slippers, maybe. Ooh, or a thick and warm deep blue cashmere sweater, V-neck and oversized… “Then you can surprise me.”

“No.” Aya’s hand wrapped around the toy’s neck again.

“You’re–“ Yohji shut his mouth and wondered silently. Why was he keeping it? To be brought out later for a mocking of Yohji’s gift-giving? As a personal reminder of how Yohji saw him? Or because what was his, was his, no matter how useless or unwanted by anyone else?

Like that alley-cat with a three-day-old bony remnant of a fish tail. Shit, that comparison was starting to bother him. When it first appeared, the cat had had a collar, but not even Omi had been able to get near enough to see if it had tags. Yohji had once rescued it from a group of psychos-in-training, but the beast had fled before he could see to its wounds. Its fear wasn’t instinctive, it was learned. Like Fujimiya’s. Through abuse and neglect and simply being lost, both creatures had learned humans could not be trusted.

Feral animals, anyone could tell you, were far more dangerous than wild ones.

Well, this feral alley-cat needed to learn to trust his fellow kitties. And Yohji knew just the kitty to teach him. Especially as he’d already made such progress; Mr.Yes-they-ARE-out-to-get-me was sprawled out on his bed, lulled by heat and sweets and brandy into an almost-purring sprawl of relaxed feline.

Just for good measure, Yohji refilled the kitty’s mug of holiday cheer. The legs did not withdraw when he sat on his new comforter.

“Ne, Yohji,” and that voice was even softer and sexier, “this is…nice.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” Yohji picked out a small, brown, innocuous cookie. “Try this one.”

Flash of violet suspicion, but the swordsman took it from his hand.

“Mmmm!” he murmured around the burst of chocolate cream. Then his tongue darted out to catch an escapee and Yohji set his mug on the chair and clenched his hands together to keep from grabbing. Aya laughed and caught the dribble with a finger, which he promptly licked.

Do not pounce. Do not pounce. Do not–

Aya looked up at him through those impossible lashes, and Yohji slapped on a blank smile. Do not spook the kitty, do not spook the kitty, oh please do not spook the feral beautiful trust-is-for-the-dead kitty… Damn!

The redhead set his mug on the nightstand and rolled to his feet, the bear in his hand. “Thank you,” he said, heading for the door, “for the cookies.”

Damn, k’so, shimatta. Hell, shit and chikusho. Had he been drooling? Couldn’t control yourself just once, Kudou?

“Yohji,” that voice said from the door, “come here.”

The redhead had turned back, but the perfect face had gone Abyssinian-unreadable. Now he had his escape ready he wanted to give Yohji a bash for noticing how beautiful he was? Fine, if it would make him happy. Somebody ought to be, it was fucking Christmas. Yohji went.

As he’d half-expected, as soon as he got in reach, Aya’s hands wrapped in Yohji’s collar, and he was spun and thumped against the door.

Then kissed.

“Urrr?” he managed, then decided he didn’t care and kissed back. Ooh, damn, who would have guessed Aya was so talented–soft, supple lips on his, sure hands stroked his sides, his back, one cupped his ass while the other went to his face and a strong thumb lowered his jaw, sweet pointy tongue in his mouth, oh, wow…

Yohji slid his hands under that sweater and decided he could happily die now. Though he’d really rather not…smooth skin over taut muscles, he could feel every movement, his fingertips and his body both reporting on what Aya’s hands were doing…

Too soon those lips pulled away, a hand tightened in his hair to keep him from following. Yohji reluctantly opened his eyes.

Kami-sama. Violet eyes had darkened, a slight flush stained pale cheeks. Yohji’s breath caught. God, a hot and needy Aya was even better than he’d dreamed.

Needy? Oh please?

“I thought it was a joke,” Aya breathed. “I thought you were mocking me.”

God, he couldn’t have any doubt now, could he? Considering they both still had handfuls of the other, and Yohji at least was out of breath and already in a sweat.

Say something! The great Kudou Yohji should not be standing there gaping like a fish.

Ooh, cats eat fish…focus, Kudou!

“Aya,” he whispered, “don’t you know how beautiful you are?”

The redhead launched at him, kissing fiercely. Yohji’s head rebounded off the door and he didn’t care. Holy shit, here was the passion never seen without the sword in hand, oh damn merry Christmas…

Moving, the lips and hands were moving, follow the lips and hands and oh that chiseled sexy body–

Yohji gasped as he landed on the bed, Aya on top of him. Those lips never paused, swallowing his gasp before moving to his ear, damn, Aya couldn’t know what that did to him…

Remove. The. Sweater.

Gone, and smooth heated skin slid over his, as Aya took those talented lips to his chest. Yohji moaned and let him. If Aya wanted to be in charge he could just go ahead and do anything that popped into that pretty head of his…and if he ran out of ideas, Yohji was prepared with suggestions.

Right now the jeans had to go. Both pairs. Aya let him do the maneuvering, while those strong sword-wielding hands robbed him of brain and breath and those lips–

Kami-sama, those lips…!

“Yohji,” that voice on his neck made everything south of his navel quiver, “want you…”

Naked and panting and hanging on for dear life, and Aya thought he had to ask?

“Lube in the…drawer…”

Crimson hair tossed as Aya jerked up to look at him. “You’d let me–“

”Baka,” Yohji growled, and grabbed for the tube himself. He offered it to the redhead, who smiled slowly. “Beautiful…”

“You,” Aya said, taking it and bending to Yohji’s lips, “are the beautiful one.”

Mmm, yes, he could keep right on talking like that–only he didn’t, he started kissing instead, and that was even better. Yohji opened his legs, letting that sexy body settle right where he wanted it. Aya moaned in his mouth and thrust against him. Yohji’s eyes rolled back, he let them close.

“Aya…” He jolted into the grip when graceful fingers wrapped around his cock. “Ayy-aaa…” Long perfect strokes, shit he was going to lose his mind and he didn’t care… “Aya, hurry!”

“Relax,” that voice warned, and a warm hand lifted one knee. “Yes,” Yohji encouraged, don’t let the damn man stop to ask again…warm and wriggling slid inside him, oh yes…

“Shit! Condom, I need–“

”Test us…all the damn time…will you just fuck me?”

“If you insist,” Aya said with a chuckle, and another finger slid in. “God…Yohji…”

“Come on!”

“Hai, hai.” Aya draped Yohji’s legs over his arms. “Ready?”

“Hai!”

Aya gripped Yohji’s hips and moved slowly. Yohji gripped Aya with legs and arms and yanked. Both groaned. Yohji forced his eyes open.

Hot and needy, naked and sweaty and better than he’d imagined. Even already inside him, Aya was so beautiful he made Yohji hurt.

“Baka…” the redhead growled. “Don’t–“

”Will you fuck? Please?”

Aya snorted, set his hands by Yohji’s head and fucked. Yohji grabbed his biceps and rocked to meet him, grunts and moans and the slap of their bodies filled his ears, expanding the passion. Aya pushed his legs up and drove harder, Yohji braced his arms on the bed and met him. Folded almost in half, his rock-hard cock bouncing against his stomach–when Aya balanced himself and grabbed it and squeezed, Yohji shouted and his mind exploded. Aya groaned and swore and came, and the feel of that sent Yohji higher.

The redhead collapsed to Yohji’s chest. He cradled that sexy body and whispered sweet anythings in that pretty ear.

After a long moment Aya’s arms went around him–and tugged at the shirt he was somehow still wearing. Yohji chuckled and wriggled out of it and let Aya clean things up. Two days old, and he’d have to get the comforter dry-cleaned…

Worth it. Oh yeah.

“Fujimiya,” he whispered, wrapping around before Aya could get the idea to leave, “you are one spectacular fuck. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Hn,” Aya answered, lifting the edge of the comforter.

“Eloquent bastard.” Yohji scooted under, and pulled the sexy one after.

“Hn.” Aya tucked him under his arm. Yohji chuckled and nuzzled that pale chest.

“You fooled me,” he admitted. “I totally thought you were leaving.”

“Was.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Mistletoe.”

Yohji jolted up to stare at the tiny sprig of plant he’d had left over when he was done with the rest of the house. He’d never dreamed Aya would be in his room, but even he hadn’t dared hang it in the shop. “Seriously?”

“I thought if I kissed you, that would put an end to it.”

Yohji smiled down at the redhead on his sheets. Might have picked them out just to make Aya glow… “Don’t know me at all, do you, Fujimiya?”

“Hn.”

“Stay right there.” Yohji stretched and wiggled and got his fingertips on the hotplate’s plug and maneuvered it out of the wall. “Okay. Continue staying.”

“Hn.”

Yohji refused to waste time marveling that the redhead was indeed staying, he settled against the solid warm body and yawned.

“Merry Christmas, Ayan.”

Soft lips pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Ne, Ayan?” he said as a thought occurred to him.

“What, Kudou?”

“I loved my present. And I’ve got a birthday coming u–ow!” Yohji rubbed the back of his head. “Hidoi…”

“Still,” Aya said slowly, “you are hard to buy for…”

“March third.” Yohji told him.

“I am aware of that, Kudou.”

Yohji let silence fall, broken only by the hiss of the space heater and the quiet piano CD he’d put on repeat. The thud of Aya’s heart in his chest, the soft and lengthening breathing of the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. He smirked. Of course. Warm and fed and fucked, the kitty was drifting off to sleep.
What he didn’t hear, Yohji realized, was rain. He raised his head to see if every cliched Christmas movie had happened outside his window.

Nope. No snow. The rain had just slacked enough he couldn’t hear it.

Fuck the snow anyway. Christmas was what made you happy. He laid his cheek on that gorgeous chest and let his eyes drift closed.

************

Sorry for yet another story comparing Aya to a cat. Unfortunately (or fortunately, me love kitties) it fits.

Hmm, maybe I should have written them celebrating Hannukah. It’s what, eight nights?