© 2005 Jet Mykles for the story. The characters however are not mine. Click here for more info on these beautiful kitties. Or check out the Bishonenworks WK gallery, which is where my obsession began.
Authors note: This is a work of love. Pure fan fiction. I get no payment or kickback out of this except pure enjoyment and a wish to share the image of Aya, Yohji, Ken and Omi in my head.
– INEVITABLE COINCIDENCES –
Omi had never spent a more frustrating time in his life! Well, that wasn’t true. There were some pretty frustrating days back before the fall of Esset. And then before that, the memories he’d suppressed of the time he was kidnapped…
OK, he hadn’t spent a more sexually frustrating time in his life. Yes! That was it.
He stared out the passenger side window, not seeing anything that passed. His attention was equally divided between his depressing thoughts and every little movement of the dumb-ass driving the car.
Ken didn’t even know. He didn’t see. Omi was blindly, incredibly in love with him and Ken was clueless.
He’d had grand hopes for last night. He’d packed lube and everything. But, in the end, he’d chickened out. He hadn’t made a move and Ken hadn’t picked up on his way-too-subtle-for-that-hard-head clues. They’d gone to the game, ate dinner, watched a few movies in their hotel room and fell asleep. Well, Ken had fallen like a rock. Omi had spent much of the night in agony since they’d only gotten a room with one bed. Sleeping beside the object of his fantasies was simply torture!
It was Aya’s fault, Omi decided, chewing on his thumbnail. If Aya hadn’t come out so damn spectacularly a week ago, Omi’s suppressed desires would have stayed suppressed. But when he’d seen Aya on the dance floor, when Aya hadn’t come home that night, when he’d seen Ken and Yohji’s reactions to Aya, Omi’s hopes had started to grow. Omi didn’t know if Ken even realized it, but he’d been watching Aya differently for the past week. And it wasn’t revulsion or confusion. It was desire. He saw him differently. He may not know it, but he was intrigued. In the past few years, Omi had grown to know his teammates better than they knew themselves sometimes. The only one who could still take him by surprise was Aya—a la last week at Outkast. But Ken and Yohji were easy. Well, they were easy to read at least.
Omi thudded his head back on the headrest, sighing.
“What’s wrong, Omi-kun?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing. Just wondering.”
Omi glanced at Ken. Admired the darkly tanned arm that propped casually on the top of the steering wheel. Wished he could give those strong fingers gripping the steering wheel something else to grip. Ken’s other arm was bent in the open window, elbow bent and head propped on his hand. His chocolate brown hair tousled in the wind, tangling over the earpieces of his sunglasses.
Did he dare?
“Oh, just wondering if they did it.”
“If who did what?”
“Aya and Yohji. If they slept together.”
The car swerved and Omi had to clutch the dashboard. He hid a grin behind apparent fear. Aha! That got you!
“What?! What are you talking about?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?”
Omi sighed, rolling his head to gaze at Ken as he tried to calm down and drive. “Why do you think Aya came out like he did?”
“You mean last week?”
Ken frowned. God, his lips were so beautiful, even when he frowned like that. “I don’t get it.”
Omi chuckled. “Oh, Kenkun. Aya came out like that to make sure that Yohji noticed him.”
“What? Yohji’s not gay.”
Omi rolled his eyes and snorted. “He’s at the very least bi-sexual.”
Again the car swerved. Ken was starting to get a decidedly panicky look. “What?”
“You didn’t know?”
“Well, he is.”
“But all the women! He’s never said anything.”
“Well of course he hasn’t. Except for him going out with nameless girls, none of us have really expressed our sexuality have we? When was the last time you were out? Yuriko?”
He’d hated to mention the name, but it was inevitable. Omi was pretty sure that Ken still believed she was the love of his life. He lived in fear of the time that Ken decided to pack up and head off to Australia to join her.
“I haven’t really… There hasn’t been a good time…”
“I know, Ken, I know. Heck, I’ve never had sex.” He laughed. “The closest I got was with my own sister.”
“Hey! You didn’t know that!”
He sighed. It didn’t upset him so much. Not anymore. Nothing he’d ever felt for Ouka had ever come close to what he felt these days when he was around Ken. For instance, he kept his socked feet propped up on the dashboard and the hem of his t-shirt pulled low to cover his half-erection just from being in the same car with Ken.
They were quiet for a time. Omi dearly wanted to ask Ken what he was thinking, but was kind of scared to find out. Just in case he was thinking of Yuriko again.
“Omi, you’ve never had sex?”
He grinned. Well, that was a pleasant topic. “Not with another person, no.”
Ken blushed. How sweet! “Not ever?”
“Ken, you’ve known me since I was fifteen. When have I had the chance to have sex?”
“During that time right after Takatori. When we went our separate ways? You were really popular at school, weren’t you?”
“Only as one of the best people to copy homework from.”
“But you had, you have tons of friends.”
“How often do you sleep with friends?”
Ooops! Wrong words! Damn it! Why had he said that?!
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Omi desperately tried to triage. “Of course, I guess that doesn’t always apply. Aya and Yohji, for instance.”
Ah good. That seemed to get Ken back on track. He looked positively poleaxed. “Do you really think they did it?”
“Why didn’t Yohji come with us?”
“He’s not all that into soccer.”
“Yet it gave him a whole night alone with Aya.”
Ken gulped. “They’ve been alone together before.”
“Not since that night.”
“So we’ve just been in the way?”
Omi giggled. “Don’t be silly. I doubt Yotan even realizes what’s happening.”
Ken scowled. “How do you know all this?”
Ken glanced at Omi. Unfortunately, sunglasses hid those amazing brown eyes. He grinned. “You scare me sometimes, Omi-kun.”
“Makes me wonder what you know about me that I don’t.”
Omi just smiled. More than your realize, my love.
Omi went back to staring out the window. Maybe he should just talk to Aya and see if he could get some pointers.
“Get off me, baka.”
Yohji decided Aya’s growl was not convincing and ignored the words in favor of keeping his chest firmly planted against Aya’s back as he nuzzled Aya’s ear. He rocked his hips against Aya’s tight ass just because.
He nipped Aya’s shoulder. “So am I.”
“For food, moron,” Aya laughed. Oh yes, he laughed! He shrugged, trying to step out of Yohji’s embrace and get back to the stir fry. “Let me do this.”
Yohji sighed and backed off. But he didn’t go far. He twisted and leaned his butt up against the counter, reaching out to swipe a strip of pork form the wok. “I just can’t keep my hands off you, Aya.”
Aya smiled. “Good. Just let me eat before you ravish me again.”
Yohji squirmed, purring. “Oh, I like that word. ‘Ravish’.”
Aya turned of the flame. “No. Not really. Go get the rice.”
Humming happily, Yohji obeyed, fetching bowls to fill from the rice cooker. All was right with the world, he decided. After waking up blessedly late—much to Mr. Early-riser Fujimiya’s disgust—they’d shared an amazing, leisurely fuck in the shower before Aya declared himself half-dead from starvation. As it was after noon, Yohji kind of had to agree. So here they stood, clean, Aya in drawstring pants and Yohji in jeans, waiting on Aya’s quick and filling stir-fry. It was amazingly comfortable. So much so that Yohji fought the darker thoughts that wanted to spring to mind.
How long is this likely to last?
What will Ken and Omi think?
He said he’s wanted me a long time. Has he changed his mind now that he’s had me?
What happens when Weiß is reinstated?
Nope. With a talent he’d honed to perfection, Yohji put the thoughts aside and let his mind go blissfully blank.
Aya dished out the stir fry then joined him at the table. He must not have been kidding when he said he was hungry, because he ate like a fiend. Yohji, however, couldn’t throw stones because as soon as the rice hit his mouth, he lost most of his other desires to hunger.
But the hunger for food was soon sated and other hungers arose. He scooped the last bit of rice into his mouth and chewed speculatively as Aya rose from the table with his own empty bowl. He leapt up when it looked like Aya was actually going to wash it.
He pressed his chest against Aya’s back again, dumping his own bowl into the sink. He took his lover’s hands from the faucet and turned off the water. “Oh no you don’t.”
“To have you back in bed again? Oh yeah.”
“Do we need a bed?”
He spun Aya around but kept him trapped between the sink and himself. “I’m happy to do you right here.” He cradled Aya’s face in his hands, gazing into those violet eyes. “Or maybe you could…”
As one, they jumped at the sound of the car door.
“Shit! Are they back already?”
Aya pushed him away and hurried to the main room of the house. They could both plainly see Ken and Omi exiting the car through the window that opened to the carport.
Yohji was glad to hear it come from Aya. At least he’d wanted some more time together too. “You and your eating,” he grumbled.
“Fuck you, Kudoh.”
“I’m game, but…” he gestured toward the window.
Aya sighed, scraping a hand through his hair. “No.” He turned a wicked gaze on Yohji. “I’ll meet you in your room tonight?”
It was a question. One Yohji was more than happy to answer with a “You’d better!”
Ken banged the door open a little harder than necessary. “We’re home!”
Omi followed behind him, muttering something Ken couldn’t make out. He ignored it, scanning the kitchen then the main room. Ah, there was Aya. Reading. Alone.
“Where’s Yohji?” Ken asked from the doorway.
Aya barely glanced up. “Hell if I know.”
Ken grinned. Omi was definitely making things up.
Ken spun from the doorway and sprinted up the stairs, pounding open Yohji’s door. “Man! You so shoulda come with us!”
Yohji was in his accustomed spot, smoking while sitting on the windowsill. Soft jazz was playing from his CD player and a magazine was splayed open on his lap. He turned and smiled. “Good game?”
Omi took his bag to his room. He heard Ken loud and clear in Yohji’s room, filling him in about the game. Well, it had been a good game. But Ken liked to fill Yohji in on these things.
Omi left them to it, going back downstairs. He wandered into the main room and sat on the couch across from Aya.
“You may turn the television on.”
Omi looked up at Aya. “Huh?”
Aya glanced at the television remote in Omi’s hands, then at the set itself. “You may turn it on, if you like.”
Omi sighed. “Oh no thanks, Aya-kun.”
“Omi, what’s wrong?”
Sound erupted as Ken loudly led Yohji down the stairs into the kitchen, still going on his play-by-play. Obviously, it was beer time. Omi glanced longingly toward the kitchen, then turned back to see Aya gazing thoughtfully at him.
Slowly, Aya placed a mark in his book and closed it. “Do we need to talk?”
Omi bit his lip and nodded.
Aya nodded and stood. “Let’s go up to my room. It won’t be so…” He cut off with a frown.
Omi sat up, twisting to look out the window to see what Aya saw. “Oh no.”
It was Birman and Manx.
“You boys don’t look happy to see us,” Manx drawled, setting down the tea Omi had hastily provided.
They sat in the main room of the house since there was no “mission room.” Manx and Birman sat on the couch. Yohji slouched in the one big chair with Aya leaning against the wall, arms crossed, behind him. Ken had brought in a chair from the kitchen and straddled it backwards. Omi knelt on the floor across from the women.
“Of course we’re happy to see you,” Omi chirped.
Yohji fought a grimace. Knew he was pouting. Of all the rotten timing! Couldn’t Krittiker have waited another month? Another week?! Why the hell did they show up the day after he finally got Aya in his bed?
Manx slanted a glance his way. “Are you happy to see us, Balinese?”
He manufactured the patented Kudoh smirk for her. He’d slept with her once and she firmly believed he pined for her. No sense in disabusing her of that yet. “Wanna go upstairs and find out?”
She chuckled, happy. “In your dreams, Balinese.”
“What does Krittiker want?” Aya finally spoke up.
Yohji wanted to turn and assure Aya that he was kidding, but he didn’t dare. He could only hope that Aya saw through where Manx didn’t.
“Actually, it’s a little thing,” Birman spoke up, tearing her eyes from Ken. She had a thing for him. Yohji wondered now if Ken even noticed. “And we only need Bombay and Abyssinian.”
Yohji barely beat down a snarl.
“Why just them?” Ken asked.
Birman gazed fondly at him. “So eager to get back to work, Siberian?”
“No. But we’re a team. If it’s dangerous, we should all go.”
“It’s not that dangerous,” Manx declared. “At least, not for Weiss. We only need you to retrieve some information. That’s why Bombay is needed.” She looked at him with a smile. “You should be able to crack into their system easily, but the information is on an intranet that’s completely secure.”
“And Aya?” Yohji asked, struggling for his accustomed drawl.
“Isn’t he the best suited for Bombay’s protection?”
She was watching them too closely. Yohji kept his eyes averted, wishing he had his sunglasses. Where were his sunglasses?
“It’s a simple thing. Two days tops.” Birman dropped a folder on the table before Omi. “All the information is there.”
“When?” Aya asked. Yohji’s heart fell to hear that emotionless voice again. After they’d come so far, he wasn’t ready for Abyssinian’s return.
“You’ll need to leave within the hour. Your hideout is time-sensitive.”
Omi slid the folder across the table toward him and opened it, bending his head over the papers. They waited a moment.
“Bombay?” Aya asked.
“We can do this,” Omi said and Yohji heard his voice changed too. Full Bombay mode, mind like a computer.
The women must have heard it too. As one they rose.
“We’ll leave you to your preparations then. Instructions for reporting back are in the folder, Bombay. We’ll leave a car for you in the carport.”
Omi nodded, not even glancing up. Manx raised her eyebrows at his unaccustomed rudeness, but said nothing. Yohji sighed and unfolded himself from the chair to see them out.
Manx paused in the open door of the car to look up at him. All mirth was gone from her pretty face. “We’re well aware of the debt we owe you, Balinese. The debt we owe all of you. You’ve put your life on the line countless times and you’ve quite literally saved the world.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. So?”
She grimaced. “We’re avoiding using you. We want to give you space. Allow you to live. But… Damn it, the four of you are the best that we have.”
He squinted at her, again wishing he had his sunglasses. “Trouble brewing?”
“Maybe. We can’t tell. Were hoping the information Abyssinian and Bombay retrieve will prove us wrong.”
He nodded. “They’ll get it.”
She smiled. “We know they will.” She paused, studying him. “Be well, Kudoh.”
He stood in the carport and watched them go. He snarled and spun, racing back into the house. Up the stairs, down the hall, into Aya’s open doorway.
The redhead had a bag open and half packed already. The wrapped katana lay on the dresser. Jeans had replaced the drawstring pants and a loose, sleeveless t-shirt covered that pale chest.
Yohji stood in the doorway, mourning the loss of the warm lover he’d enjoyed just a few hours ago. He glanced back into the hallway. Ken was nowhere in sight or sound and Omi would be in his own room, getting packed. He stepped into Aya’s room and closed the door.
Aya didn’t even look up from his packing. “Yohji, don’t.”
He stepped toward Aya as the swordsman shoved more stuff into the bag and zipped it shut. “What?”
“I don’t have time…” He froze, bent over the bag.
Yohji crossed the room and stopped beside him. He reached out to smooth red hair back from that perfect face. “Aya, look at me.”
Aya took a deep breath, then did that. The cold mask was back, that icy demeanor chilling in those violet eyes. Yohji reached up to cup his face and was thrilled to see him start to melt. “Yotan.”
“I know you don’t have time for much, but kiss me once more, huh? Give me something to keep me warm until you come back?”
A smile fought at the corners of Aya’s mouth. One long fingered hand reached up to enclose Yohji’s wrist. “Didn’t I give you enough last night, baka?”
Yohji leaned in to nuzzle Aya’s cheek. “No, Ayan. It wasn’t enough.” He kissed the beginning of the smile at the edge of Aya’s mouth. “I’m not sure if there’ll ever be enough.”
Aya groaned as Yohji started to nibble at his lips. Strong arms slid around Yohji’s waist, pulling him close. Aya opened his mouth and quested forward with his tongue, finding Yohji’s and chasing it into his mouth.
“Make it fast, huh Ayan?” Yohji breathed when he pulled back. “Come back soon. ‘Cos I dearly want you to fuck me.”
Aya’s eyes opened and met his. “You mean that?”
They kissed again. Briefly, but only because Aya had more willpower than Yohji. He pushed away from the embrace and grabbed his bag. “I’m going to hold you to that, Yohji.” He said as he grabbed his katana and left the room.