Look at Me - Part 1.
Disclaimer: No copyrights were harmed in the making of this fic...
Pairing: Yohji x Aya/Ran
Warnings: Yaoi, Shounen-ai, Language, Poetry, Donnie Danes cameo.
Three in the morning was not the time of day that Aya wanted to be woken because of someone honking a horn in the back alley behind the flower shop. Growling in the back of his throat, he tossed back his covers and jerked himself out of bed. It was bad enough he wasn't sleeping well… but to have this happen just as he was finally settling into a doze?
Angrily, he yanked on a robe and opened his door. Whoever had honked that horn was going to get a good portion of Fujimiya ire. Soft, but rapid steps on the stairs carried him down and he went out the back door of the shop without even closing it behind him. His violet eyes searched around until he saw Yohji's car in the alley. He could see what appeared to be struggling in the front seat and wondered if the horn might have had a different meaning.
What if it had been the only way for his blond team mate to cry for help? Aya rushed to the car and yanked the driver side door open. "Yohji!"
The blond looked up, his lips swollen from passionate kisses, his eyes glazed with lust. The button-up shirt Yohji was wearing had been opened to the waist and, even now, was threatening to fall off one shoulder. Pinned under the tall man was another beautiful man with long blue hair that spilled over the passenger seat. Both the assassin and the unknown looked in the direction of the interruption.
The emerald orbs focused on Aya, widening a little. "Hey… Something wrong?"
Aya couldn't move. Yohji was parked, in the back alley, with another guy in his car… and they were… kissing… and getting ready to do more by the looks of things. The redhead closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to dispel the image before him. This wasn't right. Yohji didn't bring young men home. There was no way he could be seeing what was right in front of him.
When he opened his eyes, the picture had remained the same. Now, though, Yohji's companion was sitting up, looking at him with passion dark blue eyes. "Do you mind," the young man asked breathlessly, "we were kind of busy."
Regaining control of his body, Aya slammed the door shut and turned on his heel. His knees were shaking, threatening to give out as the new knowledge of one of his partners hit him full force. Going back inside, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
Yohji… was out in the alley… with another guy… and they were going to… 'Oh, God…' Aya's slender hands covered his face, rubbing it to try and get his thoughts back in order. Like everyone else, he assumed that the blond assassin was only interested in women. Even the redhead had been fooled and he was one to notice such things as someone's sexual preferences.
The redhead closed his eyes, burying the new feelings that were working their way past his emotional armor. He'd been watching the other assassin for a long time now, burying the fact that he was attracted to the older man. It had been easier to do when he thought that Yohji was straight; when he thought he didn't have a snowball's prayer in hell.
This… this new knowledge just complicated matters. How could he even begin to keep the negative emotions in check now that he knew that his team mate wasn't just into girls? Aya bit his lower lip. He suddenly found that he was jealous… of the young blue haired man in the car with Yohji. *He* wanted to be the one under the lithe frame. *He* wanted to be the one sharing those intense kisses. *He* wanted to be on the receiving end of those hands ghosting over his skin.
Aya heard a soft cry from outside the door and closed his eyes tight. His imagination was giving him all kinds of images of what the two men were doing now. Was Yohji the type to enjoy sex face to face, or did he prefer to be bent over his lover's back, driving himself into the other body like an animal?
'Why am I even thinking about this,' Aya asked himself silently as another, slightly louder cry erupted from outside. He pushed away from the door and moved much more slowly up the stairs than when he'd come down earlier. His heart sank. 'It's not like I even have a chance now… All I've ever done is shown him how much of an utter bastard I can be. Besides… He only sees me as "Aya" and, if I were going to really mean something to him, I'd rather he call me by my real name.'
His hand gripped the rail as his mind decided to play with that thought. Over and over, he heard Yohji's smoky, sensual voice murmuring his birth name. 'Ran… Ran… Ran…' The sound, despite the fact that it wasn't real, was enough to make his manhood twitch.
'Even with all this… I wonder if it's possible to get him to look at me… for even a second… so I can tell him how I feel?' Aya wondered as his door closed behind him. 'I can't keep it bottled up anymore… I have to let it out… even if he tells me to go to hell…'
Aya sat awake, thinking through his options, trying to come up with an acceptable solution to his problem. He was aware of the sound of Yohji's boots on the stair outside his room. He listened for them, his breath hitching when they paused just beyond his door. Would the beautiful blond confront him about tonight? About what he'd seen?
After either heartbeats or hours, Aya wasn't sure which, the sounds moved away from his door and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He was safe for the moment. Quietly as he could, the redhead got out of his bed and walked over to his desk, opening a drawer near the bottom that held his paper and pens. He thought about things as he held the writing utensil poised over the paper.
Yohji would recognize his kanji in a heartbeat. He wanted to get his feelings aired in such a way that they wouldn't be colored by his predisposed opinions of the redhead. Aya considered. Ideas were contemplated and then tossed aside. He finally settled on one.
Both Aya and Yohji were fluent in English. While it wasn't the most poetic of languages, it would be enough for what he had planned. Since the blond had never seen his handwriting in English, Aya figured he was pretty safe from discovery. He put the point of the pen to the paper and started on his rough draft. He wouldn't go at this halfway… this was all or nothing now.
Yohji lay back in his bed, feeling very good about himself after the night's accomplishments. The blue haired guy… his name was Donnie? He'd been fun. A very accomplished lover and a very intense one to boot. That was something he didn't find too often. The blond assassin liked it when his choices for the night knew what they were doing. There were also fewer expectations and fewer headaches that way.
Virgins tended to be of the mindset that one night meant there would be some kind of lasting thing and Yohji Kudou was just not that kind of guy. It took someone special to make him stand up and take notice. Tonight's diversion was one of those. He had to admit… that list was incredibly short.
One of the other people on said list was probably not too happy with him right now, in fact. He glanced at the door, wondering if Aya was going to come barreling through it, screaming at him for waking him up in the middle of the night. He knew that the redhead didn't sleep enough as it was, but to wake him as he'd obviously done?
It wasn't really his fault that his hip had hit the horn accidentally. That blue haired guy really knew what he was doing with his hands. How could Yohji keep his body still when those long fingers were doing such delightfully evil things to his cock?
It was a real pity that the more interesting one wasn't interested in things like sex and relationships. Yohji found himself wondering what kind of lover Aya would be. Soft and quiet or loud and responsive and screaming? The world at large might think the first one, but the blond was certain that the second grouping was probably more the truth. Redheads were passionate creatures.
He rolled over and snagged his cigarettes off the nightstand. Lighting one, he looked out at the pre-dawn glow on the horizon. He considered watching the sunrise, like he and Asuka used to do some nights, then discarded the idea. That would be counter-productive. All this time trying to get over her would be wasted if he gave in just yet.
So, he lay against the pillows, smoking and thinking. He was pretty sure that he'd shocked the living shit out of the redhead. None of the others had known about his switch-hitting lifestyle. Yohji had always been very careful to never bring guys into the apartments. Girls were fine, but… never bring in the guys. No need to expose himself and the others to that kind of awkwardness.
He hoped that Aya had the good sense to keep his mouth shut on the topic. It wasn't anyone else's business if he screwed another man in the front of his car… or the back for that matter. They were his team mates, not his parents or siblings. They had no need to know what he did outside of the flower shop and while not on any missions.
But, his mind went back to the business of Aya knowing. Did the idea disgust the younger man? Yohji really didn't know what to think. He'd never really seen Aya take any interest in someone else. The boy was too tightly stitched together for that. If, and that was a very big if, he had any interests in the romance department, he was very good at not clueing anyone in on it. The blond had no real way of knowing the answer to his question. Aya was a mystery… Hell, for all Yohji knew, the other assassin was asexual.
That thought made him chuckle. Aya being asexual was probably so untrue. He just hadn't found the right person for him yet. Yohji took a drag from his smoke. Once, an eternity ago it seemed, the blond had found a right person. But she'd been taken from him too soon. He'd never even really had the chance to tell her how he felt. Everyday after that, the former private investigator had blamed God and himself for her demise. If only Yohji had not told her to go on without him… Maybe, just maybe, they might have had a chance. Those men might have passed by without seeing either of them.
Yohji stubbed out the cigarette in the nearby ashtray and rolled over, pulling the sheets over his shoulder. He would try and think the real problems through later, when he wasn't so tired and sated and inebriated.