On the Proper Care of Fujimiyas

Naturally it was raining. Aya sat in Yohji’s window seat and watched outside. He’d tried sitting in his own, but Yohji had followed him without an invitation and sprawled on the futon. The blonde, surprisingly, had not uttered a single complaint, but many a long-suffering sigh, and kept adjusting his position until Aya seriously considered how hard it would be to get the blood out if he stabbed the man.

He had been outside, but that damn Kudou had followed him there, too, and it was really hard to get a good mope going while watching the blonde shiver. Especially once he started with the fake cough, combined with the soulful “when I said anything, that included dying of pneumonia so I won’t complain” look.

Moping was all he’d accomplished, Aya acknowledged. He couldn’t seem to stop. He didn’t care to eat, he didn’t sleep, when he worked his katas he was as clumsy as Ken when he was being careful, and he didn’t have the energy or the will to continue with them until he improved. Going out looking for Aya-chan was the most he’d done in days, and even then he had ended just standing in the rain. Yohji had dragged them in.

The man was at it again, Aya reflected. Wasting time and effort and making himself miserable to keep the Ice Princess from freezing over. He wished Yohji would stop. It would be easier to do what he had to, if he could finally stop caring.

Swearing took too much energy, or Aya would have called himself names. What he needed to do was snap out of it. Not only was it right that Aya-chan was disgusted by him, it was good that she was. For her safety and her sanity and her right to live in the daylight world, she had to despise him for the murderer he was.

It was better this way. It would be easier to let her go.

As it always did, the thought sent panic clawing up his throat. Again he shoved it down. Once she was away from him, she would not need his protection. Normal girls did not need sword-wielding killers haunting their steps.

How many “normal girls” had he seen murdered over the years?

In Tokyo. If he got her out of Tokyo, somewhere safe–

Like Sendai?*

Around and around he chased it, and again and again he found no answers. Aya-chan had to be safe. She was safer away from him–but not safe enough, not alone. He needed someone he could trust to protect her, but Yohji could not do it.

The blonde had meant it when he said Aya wasn’t leaving without him. He could understand that. He’d watched the man slowly self-destruct for years; he could see why Yohji wasn’t willing to go through it again. Though he couldn’t comprehend why he thought he would. Losing Aya would make Yohji fall apart?

It was dark outside, not because night had fallen, but because of the rain. The light turned the glass into a mirror, Aya let his eyes be drawn to the reflection of his lover.

Yohji. His lover. The great Kudou Yohji had said he would stay. And so far he had.

Everyone’s favorite Kudou Yohji sat on his bed, long legs stretched before him and his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he drew in a large sketch pad. Aya’s gift, he’d noticed that while there were many full sketchbooks on Yohji’s shelves, there didn’t seem to be any current ones.

Yohji glanced up. Aya jerked his eyes back outside.

“Sweetums,” the bastard drawled, grinning at the glare Aya directed, “that’s it, face me a bit. I’ve drawn enough of the back of your head.”

“Call me that again, Kudou, and I’ll be drawing my sword.”

“Sorry, kitten.”

That was his plan, wasn’t it? Irritate Aya with “sweetums” so he’d accept “kitten.” It wasn’t going to work. Damn him, anyway.

Yohji was drawing him?

“Beautiful,” the blonde muttered. “Come on, baby, give me that glare again.”

“Don’t call me that!” Hell, he’d responded just as Kudou wanted him to. Why was it so easy for Yohji to drag him out of his mopes?

Why couldn’t he just stay out, once Yohji rescued him?

Aya continued glaring. One of them might as well be happy, if that was all it took. And looking at Yohji was better than looking at his reflection.

Their vacation had lasted a grand total of four days, then Birman had called them back, to Omi’s thinly-disguised irritation. They had gone on one mission–only minor screw-ups this time, they were a little more in synch–and then Omi had gotten sick. Horribly, violently, sick. Aya didn’t doubt the illness–the most disgusting substances had come out of the boy at frequent intervals–but he had to wonder at the timing. Would Omi do that to himself? And when he was almost too sick to walk, would he leave his skateboard on the stairs? It was really a wonder Ken wasn’t dead.

Illness, injury, and Momoe-san taking a vacation of her own left only Yohji and Aya to run the shop, of course, and with that and the threat of contagion–Birman, it turned out, was very susceptible to germs–they’d gotten a little longer reprieve on the missions.

Aya-chan had done her best to look after Omi. And she was willing to fetch and carry for Ken, though she didn’t look either in the face if she could help it. Aya and Yohji she avoided as carefully as Aya avoided her. Though he still followed her. He just didn’t let her see.

Today he hadn’t managed to follow her. She had slipped out while Aya was occupied, cornered in the shower by a certain insatiable–due to that certain insatiable blonde, he did still do one thing. Aya not being in the mood never affected Yohji at all.

“Done!” Yohji called out, and grinned over the top of the pad. The sparkling-eyes, up-to-something grin. “Want to see?”

Not particularly, Aya thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t Yohji’s fault Aya didn’t give a damn.

It didn’t matter anyway; Yohji didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled Aya’s feet to get his knees down, and planted himself in the lap thus provided. And turned the sketchbook. Aya snorted.

“And you say I’m singleminded.”

Yohji had covered the page with sex. Chibis having sex. In bed, on the floor, chibi-Aya taking chibi-Yohji bent over the desk or up against the wall, chibi-Yohji riding chibi-Aya and squirting into the air, chibi-69, chibis jerking each other off–even, down in the corner and smaller than the others, chibi-Aya as bottom. Aya raised an eyebrow.

“I couldn’t think of anything else to fill the page,” Yohji said with a shrug. “Didn’t this one–“ he pointed at up-against-the-wall, “didn’t this one come out especially well? You have no idea how hard it is to make a sexy chibi, even if it’s you. Look at your ass in this one.”

The owner of that ass was looking at something else. Aya measured with a fingertip. “I think…your sense of proportion needs work.”

“Just ‘cause it’s bigger than yours, Fujimiya–“

”Kudou, I will not get in a pissing contest with you.”

“Good thing, too. I can write my name in English.”

Aya couldn’t help it, a burst of laughter welled up and poured out of him. The sparkle in Yohji’s eyes, the image of the blonde practicing, the silliness of the accomplishment–Yohji’s eyebrows shot up, and that made him laugh harder. Kami, it hurt, he wasn’t used to it–Aya wrapped his arms around his stomach and gasped a breath, Yohji made a face and set him off again. Damn Kudou, oh god, he couldn’t stop–

Yohji leaned over and pressed his lips to Aya’s. He kissed the blonde back, gasping out a few last chuckles before settling down to serious business. Impossible as it had seemed, kissing the man had gotten even better, now that he’d–mostly–quit smoking. The dizzying, undiluted, addictive taste that was Kudou Yohji…

His lung capacity, however, had not yet recovered. As always, Yohji pulled away to gasp air first.

“That,” he said, “was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

What?

“You should laugh more.”

“Why?”

“How the hell did you get this far without knowing how beautiful you are?”

“No,” Aya shook his head, “you’re–“

”Aya,” the blonde rolled his eyes and flipped the page on the sketchbook, “look at yourself.”

Yohji had drawn him. Naturally, not super-deformed. Again and again. Staring out the window, standing in the shop, doing his katas, glaring over his shoulder… “Yohji, these are incredible!”

“Because they’re you.” The blonde wiggled around in his lap until he and Aya both were facing the sketchbook. “Look at this one.” He tapped the sword-wielding figure, rough but energetic, motion captured. “Forget it’s you, and just try and tell me that perfect grace isn’t beautiful.”

“It’s just a kata.”

“Grrr,” Yohji growled, and bounced out of his lap, dragging Aya after him to stand in front of his mirror. “Look at yourself, damn it.”

Aya looked, and discovered he appeared just about the same as he had that morning. Yohji saw his incomprehension, he growled again and wrapped an eartail around his finger.

“Fine, then, we’ll start here. This is an astonishing shade, Aya, and it’s beautiful. Anywhere in the world it would be eye-catching. Here it’s a real head-turner.”

“It…makes people stare at me.” What the hell was Kudou up to? He was the beautiful one; he was the one who made Aya–

“Of course it does! And it makes them want to do this.” Yohji was standing behind him, he turned his face into Aya’s hair, closed his eyes and inhaled. Aya wanted to do his own growling, but the–bliss?–on Yohji’s face stopped him. He was serious, he really liked Aya’s hair?

Yohji opened his eyes, and smiled at Aya watching him. A small, sultry smile that poured fire into Aya’s blood. “You,” he breathed soft and sinful, “are a treat for all the senses, Fujimiya.” Green eyes held violet, as he trailed his hands from Aya’s shoulders slowly down over his chest. “The stunning hair, the incredible eyes, that face…” he caught the hem of Aya’s shirt and lifted, Aya let him peel it off, “the amazing skin…” He licked his lips, then ran his tongue slowly across the ridge of Aya’s shoulder, up his neck to behind his ear. Aya shivered, Yohji grinned at their reflection. “Sorry, we weren’t on taste yet, were we?”

Aya was starting to understand the fangirls. Yohji like this was just…mesmerizing.

Damn it, he was not some weakminded–

“Eye-candy,” Yohji muttered, running his hands over Aya’s chest again. “Pure sugar. Do you know what I thought, the first time I saw you?”

“What?” Aya breathed. Yohji shook his head.

“Not a damn thing. I was stunned, especially after you leaped. You could have gutted Ken, and I’d have just stood there gaping at how gorgeous you were doing it.” He chuckled. “That’s when I figured out maybe Omi wasn’t gay after all. Me and Ken were too busy staring to do anything, but Omittchi kept his head.”

“You think Ken is–“ Staring at him?

”Why do you think he was so pissed off the next day?” Yohji’s hands roamed his chest, Aya couldn’t focus on the conversation. “I figure our Kenken is neck-deep in denial, sweetums.”

“Don’t–!”

“Can’t help it.” Yohji licked him again, and Aya–damn it!–shivered again. “You’re just too delicious.”

This was stupid. He was no twit of a girl, to be flattered and–

“When I did manage to think,” Yohji breathed in his ear, “this is what I thought.”

“What?”

“About touching you.” Fingertips lightly trailed over his stomach, tracing muscles, scars, a brief dip into his navel made Aya twitch, “just touching you.” One arm was clasped across his chest, pulling Aya back against Yohji’s warmth. And hardness, the man was as aroused as Aya was. The other hand traced the waist of Aya’s pants. His breath caught, Yohji smirked at him in the mirror. “Touching all of you…” he drawled, as his hand slid inside. Supple fingers wrapped around Aya, he jolted into the touch.

“Yohji…”

“Do that again,” the blonde murmured, his hand warm and sure and strong. Kami-sama, he always knew exactly how to touch…

“N-Nani?”

“Say my name.”

“Bed, Yohji, let’s–” Aya tried to turn, Yohji held on.

“No,” the blonde said in his ear. “Do something for me.”

Aya tensed. He wanted–

“I’m not going to pull any surprises on you,” Yohji breathed. “I just want to watch you come.”

“What?” Aya gasped. Yohji’s hand, oh Kami, his breath in Aya’s ear and his voice and his body behind him–he could reach the blonde’s ass, spread his fingers across those sweet cheeks and felt them flex as his lover moved against him–

“Please, kitten. I want to see you come.” Yohji blew in his ear, then nibbled his way down as he jerked and rocked and Aya closed his eyes and let the feeling build, oh damn but Yohji was–

“Open your eyes, baby.”

Aya glared at Yohji’s reflection, the bastard just smirked. “Watch yourself,” he murmured, his voice pure sex. “See how beautiful you are. Your hair swaying, your eyes get darker when we’re fucking, your face is flushed we’re so damn hot, I want to taste–“ his tongue darted to Aya’s cheek, “–even your sweat tastes good, your cock–“ he tugged Aya’s pants down, so he could watch Yohji jerking him off, “–perfect, your ass–God, Aya, you have the most incredible ass!” He was speeding up, his grip tighter, with the little twist at the top–

“Yohji…” Aya panted.

“I love when you gasp my name. When you moan it, when you shout it, whisper it–“

”Yoh-ji–“

”Let it happen, baby. I won’t drop you. Let go.”

“YOHJI!” Aya stiffened, flung his head back, he was–he was flying, for an instant, he was–falling!

Warm arms tightened around him. “I’ve got you,” a soft voice said. “God, baby–thank you.”

“Crazy…” Aya murmured, it was all he could do. That, and pant. Nothing else.

“Magnificent,” Yohji corrected, wiping him off. “Even more beautiful than watching you laugh.”

Yohji was hard as a rock, behind him. Aya turned to shove him at the bed, he wanted to do that to Yohji, wanted to watch the blonde–

Somewhere a door slammed, a female voice shrieked.

“Get out!”

Aya-chan! Aya leaped for the door, his katana–

“Steady!” Yohji grabbed his arm. “That’s Sakura yelling back.”

“–until you listen!” He was right, that was Sakura, but even she didn’t get to yell at–

“You only care because you want–“

SMACK!

Aya saw red. But he couldn’t get to her, something was–

“–come on, kitten, deep breaths, I will not let you go until you can talk rationally and pull up your damn pants–“

Yohji was sitting on him. Aya-chan and Sakura were squalling like alley-cats in the hall, and Yohji was sitting on him.

“Calm down, baby, deep breaths, you don’t want to kill Sakura, Aya-chan would never get over it, talk rationally and I’ll let you up–“

“Kudou, get the fuck off me!”

“Close enough.” Yohji bounced up. And away. Far away. Aya tucked himself in his pants and yanked the door open.

Both girls rounded on him.

“Kudou!” Aya-chan snapped. “Where’s Kudou?”

“And you!” Sakura snarled. “How is keeping her ignorant protecting her?”

“Sakura-san–“ Aya growled. Aya-chan stomped past him.

“Kudou! Where–you!” And she poked the blonde with her umbrella! “It was you! He’s your friend, you told him–“

”Nani?” Yohji ducked a roundhouse blow. “Aya-chan–“

Aya snatched the umbrella from her. Aya-chan tried to kick Yohji’s shin. A hand imprint blazed on her cheek, freezing Aya’s thoughts and setting fire to his stomach.

“Nande?” Yohji yelped, dodging. “What did I do?”

“And just tolerating it!” Sakura snapped, poking Aya in his bare chest. “She’s a brat, Aya-kun, and you’re the one who spoiled her!” Aya-chan squealed and tried to return Sakura’s earlier slap. Yohji blocked the blow, and Aya-chan slapped him.

Aya slapped Aya-chan.

Everyone froze, silence fell. Aya felt the floor crumbling beneath him. He hadn’t–he couldn’t have–

“Finally!” Sakura crowed. “Now do you see how you’re acting, when you manage to push even him too far?”

”How about a cease-fire?” Yohji asked plaintively. “Can we stop with the slapping?”

“Ran-niisan?” Aya-chan’s eyes were wide, her chin wobbling, no, no, he couldn’t have made her cry, he’d spent his whole life–

“You’re disgusting!” Sakura snapped. “How dare you give him puppy-eyes?”

“Stop taunting me!” Aya-chan shrieked. She lunged. Aya grabbed her wrist.

“Aya! Stop–“

Aya-chan slapped him. Everyone froze again.

“Ran, I’m–” Aya-chan burst into tears. Aya pulled her into a hug, and only remembered she despised him when she didn’t pull away. He gathered enough wits to glare at Sakura.

“Leave,” he ordered. She glared back.

“I won’t. Someone has to do something, and that one,” she waved at Yohji, “is too afraid of getting kicked out of bed to try.”

“She thought [sob] it was [gasp] funny,” Aya-chan wailed against Aya’s chest. He handed her a tissue. She looked up at him. “Ran-niisan, he spanked me!”

“Who?” Name, address if she knew it, his katana was there, his mission clothes there, it was already dark, the man could be dead in ten minutes if he lived close–

“Schuldig,” Sakura answered. Behind Aya, Yohji choked. “I tried to call for help. You didn’t answer. I had thought I’d be important enough to answer when she’s with me, at least.”

“He didn’t know I was with you,” Aya-chan sniffled.

“That explains it.”

Somewhere behind the rage, a small, logical part of Aya’s mind made a note that no matter how she begged, Aya-chan was not going to France to study. Not if sweet Sakura came home like this.

Later. Right now he needed to kill–damn. He didn’t know where to find Schuldig.

“He–he said,” Aya-chan was still stuttering, but the anger was coming back, “he said he was doing a favor for a friend!”

As one Aya and his sister turned. Yohji stepped back, raising his hands in defense.

“Come on, Aya, I’m not that stupid! You know Schuldig, he’s just screwing with us!”

“I think we should be grateful,” Sakura put in. She didn’t step back from two Fujimiya glares. “Don’t blame me, Aya-kun; you’re the one who gave her just enough information to get in trouble. She walked right up to him before I could stop her.”

“She–“ Kami. Oh Kami, what could have happened to–Aya didn’t realize he was squeezing his sister until she poked him in the ribs and demanded air. He couldn’t get his brain to function past the image of his imouto walking up to Schuldig and–he set her away to look in her face.

“Why did you talk to Schuldig?”

“Because I wanted to know the truth!” Aya-chan crossed her arms and glared. “I could see Sakura was afraid, but I thought it was just because she didn’t know he was Yohji-kun’s friend now and–“

“We’re not friends!” Yohji protested. “Schu says all the time we’re not friends, we just–shutting up. Shutting up right now.” The blonde lit a cigarette. Aya rolled his eyes. What a mess, he still didn’t understand–

He didn’t need to. None of the hows or the whys mattered. He set Aya-chan away, overrode screaming instincts and let go of her.

“You know all the truth you need. I am a killer.”

“The hell that’s all I need!”

“Aya-chan! Watch your–“

”Shut up!” She glared at him, Yohji opened his mouth, she turned the glare on him and he shut it. She took a deep breath. “I don’t care about that,” she said. “Do you think I mind that you killed that pig Takatori? After what he took from us, what he did to you?”

To him? The universe and his heart leaped. Aya hated when they did that. But–she was angry for him?

“Or any of the others? I’m not going to cry over anyone you think belongs on a list with Takatori. We agreed I was sixteen, Ran, not six. Stop treating me like a child.”

“When you quit acting like one,” Yohji grumbled, rubbing his cheek. Aya-chan stuck out her tongue. Aya shook his head, he couldn’t quite catch up with–she had talked to Schuldig? She didn’t care he was a murderer?

She had to care!

“I still think you told him–“ Aya-chan began.

”Get it through your head,” Sakura growled. “Schuldig is a telepath. Yohji-kun thought–”

“Sakura!” Yohji yelped. Now it was her turn to stick her tongue out.

“Honestly. Chantal is right; men are idiots. Ask yourself, gentlemen, if she wasn’t safe when she was completely ignorant of everything, how can being only a little in the dark protect her?”

“So you just thought you’d go ahead and–“

“Well, stupid me, when I got the picture of Aya-kun handcuffed and struggling I jumped to the conclusion something was wrong! I tried to call. When I couldn’t reach him I called her.” She tossed her hair and glared at Aya. “Aya-chan tricked me, but she spent a month setting it up, and if you’d answered me once, it wouldn’t have happened.”

Well, he had been…busy. And…

“My phone only rings for Aya-chan and Yohji. I will…fix that.”

“Could be a good idea,” Sakura drawled. She sounded like Yohji! Aya didn’t think he could handle two sarcastic–

Aya-chan bowed. To him. “I’m sorry,” she said. No, she shouldn’t– “I’m–“

”Aya-chan, don’t–“

”Shut up!” she snapped again. “I’m sorry I was upset and stupid, and I’m sorry I let you think I hated you and I’m sorry I’m an idiot.” She shook her hair. “I’m so sorry I hit you, and sorry it took hitting you to make me see. I couldn’t quit being angry because I didn’t understand what I was angry about.” She reached to touch his face. “Ran…Aya….I don’t know you. I…was furious when I realized why. What you had done to yourself. For me.” She blinked, tears flowed again. “I want my brother back. I want Ran.”

Aya heard her real demand. He hadn’t fooled her, all the tenderness he had left hadn’t been enough–he shook his head. “Ran is gone, Aya-chan.”

“I. Want. Him. Back.”

He couldn’t–he didn’t want to make her see. Yohji slipped his arm around Aya’s waist.

“Can’t you see you’re hurting him?” he demanded. “Aya-chan–“

”Don’t!” Aya snapped. Damn it–

“I will. Aya-chan, this is your brother.”

“He is,” she agreed. “But he’s not.” No, there were tears in her eyes again. She shouldn’t– “I’m not blind. I know who and what you are, Ran. And I know why.” The tears ran down her cheeks. “And I can’t stand it. You have to stop.”

There. She did care he was a killer. That was the way it should be. But…

“That…isn’t possible, Aya-chan.”

“If you don’t make it possible, I will. I’ll find a way. If I have to talk to this Schuldig, if I have to tackle Birman on the street, if I–“

”Don’t touch Birman!” Aya snapped. “Aya-chan, she isn’t just some delivery-girl–“

”See?” Sakura snapped. “Tell her, Aya-kun. You have no choice now.”

“Can’t you just trust that everything I do is to keep you safe?”

“Well,” Sakura smirked at Yohji, “not everything.”

Aya-chan, thank God, ignored her. “To keep me safe, I can live with.” She reached into her pocket. “To buy me the best iPod made, I can’t.” She held out the device. “Take it! Sell it, smash it, I don’t care. I won’t use it, and I won’t take any more gifts. If you’re worried about supporting us, fine. Save. Until you find a way to get us out.”

“Have you been in his room lately?” Yohji grumbled. “He’s been saving. You’re the only one he spends money on.”

“Then,” his imouto took his hand, put the iPod in it, “sell this and take Yohji out.” She wrapped his fingers around the device. “Now. If we can focus on the matter at hand,” she growled. What? This was just too– “Tell me all of it,” she demanded.

“Yes.” Sakura folded her arms and stood with Aya-chan. “Tell us all of it.”

“Now,” they said together.

It was–this was–

“It’s the Twilight Zone,” Yohji muttered. “We fell into the goddamn Twilight Zone.”

Time. He needed time. Aya shook his head. Aya-chan started to argue, he talked over her.

“Go make tea. I will be down in five minutes, and we will talk.”

“Fine,” Sakura said, turning away. Aya-chan shook her head.

“Sakura,” she bowed, “I’m sorry.”

“I know, kiddo.” The woman Aya had known as a frightened but determined girl looked from his imouto to him and sighed. “Fujimiyas are just high-maintenance.”

“You can say that again,” Yohji avowed. Aya looked at him. Just…looked. Sakura chuckled.

“But worth the effort. Come on, Aya-chan, tea and answers await. Yohji-kun,” she turned back at the door. “Take care of him. Or I’ll deal with you.”

“Like he was my own,” Yohji promised.

God. There were two of them.

******

*Sendai was where Aya trained with Shion, according to the drama CD Tearless Dolls (thanks again for the link to Hope Forsaken, hersnow!) While there he came up against a–kill club, I think it was called. Lots of people murdered for nothing.

Yeah, you know iPod doesn’t belong to me, now don’t you?