Title: Three Little Words: Cause
Archive: If you want it, please do so, but let me know where, ne? I like to visit.
Pairing: Youji/Aya
Rating: Overall rating of NC-17 for the ending. R for the rest
Feedback: Yes please. Flames keep the bunnies warm.
Warnings: male/male sex. If you don’t like it, don’t read it.
Spoilers: This fic assumes general knowledge of the series. Asuka, mostly.
Disclaimer: being the horrible fan-girl that I am, I don’t know precisely who owns these boys, but I do know it’s not me. I mean them no harm, I just wanted to play with them for a while.

Summary: In the day or two surrounding a mission, Youji finds himself considering three little words.

A/N: This is my first fic in this fandom. I both blame and thank jambery for this. She made me watch the anime with her and I fell for it. And then she beta’d when I decided I needed to write.

*~*~*

The suppressed cough from behind Youji drew his attention for a brief moment. He’d been trying to ignore them all day, more to keep from fussing over the source than from any real irritation. He glanced back over his shoulder at the repeated sound and frowned slightly. Aya stood against the wall as he normally did for mission briefings. Unlike normal, he was almost huddling in the oversized forest green sweater than had come out of Youji’s closet, the reading glasses he loathed hanging from his left hand, wrapped around his middle, his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. To Youji’s attentive eyes, Aya’s pale white skin had less of its usual luster, his violet eyes gone a shade closer to gray with fatigue.

Youji’s attention was diverted from his covert inspection of his lover as the big screen flickered to life after Manx popped the in the videocassette.

Static faded into black, and then the dark figure known only as Persia appeared against a bright window, obscuring his face. His deep voice reverberated around whatever space he was in, detectable even with the bad audio of videocassettes.

“I have a mission for you.”

Persia’s image was replaced by a series of pictures. “These men are Watanabe Yuuki, Toruumi Tatsuya, and Iizuka Kouhei. All are prominent politicians on a local level who have been linked to various underworld gangs. Their campaigns for the national elections have been funded with money made from prostitution, drugs, gambling, and the selling of child pornography. Their power hungry ways have caused the deaths of hundreds. If they are voted into the national government, a formal alliance between the three would be devastating. White hunters of the light, hunt the tomorrow of these dark beasts.”

The screen went back to static, then nothing as Omi switched off the monitor.

They all blinked when the lights came back up, their eyes adjusting to the brightness.

“You will have to act quickly,” Manx advised, handing Aya the inevitable folder containing more information. “We have learned that all three men will be meeting tomorrow night. That will be your only chance before the elections.”

“I’ll have to cancel all my dates for the few nights,” Youji groused. Omi rolled his eyes.

Aya didn’t verbally reply, merely taking the briefing folder and slipping the black reading glasses back on to glance through the material.

“All in?” Manx took the silence in the room as consent. Without another word she showed herself out.

With their shepherd gone, the four young men fell into their normal post briefing mode; Omi got the computer booted up and ready to go, Ken headed for the kitchen to grab whatever sounded appetizing and to start coffee and tea while Youji took the time to be generally annoying to Aya by reading over his shoulder or otherwise invading the red-head’s personal space while Aya did his best to ignore the blonde hanging over him.

They all reassembled around the square table in the middle of the room, the papers in the folder having been spread out for all to see. For hours they sat, working out details, entrances and exits, who went where, where security would be the weakest and strongest.

Ken faded out first, quietly slumping over till his forehead hit the low table and stayed there. Youji grinned and nudged Aya, who looked up tiredly from the papers he was studying and rolled his eyes. Aya seemed not to notice how late it was.

“Omittchi,” Youji called out softly.

The youngest of the four started at the sound of his nickname. Working at the computer, his back was to the other three and no one had noticed his head start to droop. “Youji-kun?” he turned, blinking wide blue eyes.

Youji grinned and nodded toward the slumped form of the soccer player. “Take Ken to bed. You too.”

Omi yawned hugely, nodding. He left the computer to continue chewing on whatever he’d fed it and nudged Ken, waking him enough to point him in the direction of his bedroom.

Youji busied himself for a few moments cleaning up the cups and plates. He paused in the doorway as he returned from depositing the dirty dishes in the sink; he caught sight of Aya slumped forward, the glasses Youji found incredibly sexy dangling from one hand while he pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. Definitely a headache then. They happened every once in awhile, when Aya pushed himself too hard, his body protested in the form of his brain trying to force its way out of his ears and eyes. The migraines made Aya withdraw even farther from his teammates, seeking solace in the dark quiet places, the rare occasions when unspoken, the other three would pick up as much of the day’s orders as they could, though Aya would insist on working his shift.

And the last few times they’d happened, when the koneko was closed, and Kritiker decided that the evil could run free for another night, Youji would take him upstairs and hold him and talk to him until he fell asleep, usually exhausted from fighting the pain all day, not allowing himself to show even the weakness of giving in to the demands of his body. Youji wasn’t sure how Aya had coped before, but he got the distinct impression that he appreciated Youji’s comfort on those nights.

The soft, muffled coughs and occasional shiver weren’t as easy for Youji to explain away. He’d restrained himself from saying anything when the others were around; Aya hated showing any weakness, even just with Youji, so the older man had kept his concern to himself.

With another soft cough, Aya straightened, slipping the glasses back on and shuffling through the papers, like he was getting ready to go through them again.

Unnoticed in the doorway, Youji silently stepped back into the kitchen before reemerging less quietly, not wanting to startle Aya, or give away that he had been watching. The swordsman didn’t react at his approach, and when Youji sidled up behind him and wrapped his arms around Aya’s waist, he stiffened for only a moment before allowing the touch and accepting it, relaxing against Youji’s chest.

“You’ve been through those three times already,” Youji said softly, nuzzling the redhead’s neck. “It’s late, Aya. Call it a night.” There would be time enough in the morning to go back over things. The plan was a good one, Youji knew, but it was typically Aya to keep reviewing them until there was absolutely no flaw.

“I’m not done yet.” Aya’s deep voice was almost a growl, but that also was just Aya being Aya. He pulled away from Youji slightly, though still maintaining a bit of physical contact. He picked up the building schematic Omi had filched and studied it, glancing back and forth between it and the and information they had pieced together, going over the mission one more time in his head.

Youji sat behind him for close to another hour as Aya continued to go back over things with his usual thoroughness. Youji supposed he should have been glad for his lover’s attention to detail; more often than not it was that attention that kept them all from getting killed. But concern was slowly starting to override whatever gratitude he carried for Aya’s preparations. The redhead hadn’t been sleeping much recently, and it was starting to show, and not just in the headache that Aya seemed determined to ignore and hide from his teammates. Small pain lines were beginning to form at the corners of Aya’s uniquely violet eyes, likewise around his mouth. Youji fought the urge to turn the redhead around and kiss the lines away.

Youji was brought out of his musings by the muted click of Aya’s glasses being set on the paper-strewn table and a shiver running through the slim body in his arms. The younger man settled back against Youji’s chest, absently raising a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose and rub at his eyes.

“Done?”

“Hn.”

“Good. Go to bed. I’ll clean up.”

“Aa.” Aya stayed where he was for a long moment before unfolding himself and climbing gracefully to his feet. Youji, somewhat more clumsily, got to his feet behind him.

Without looking back, Aya headed slowly up the stairs. Youji watched him go, then spent a few minutes gathering up the papers and putting them in their usual concealed spot before turning out the lights and taking himself upstairs.

Aya was already asleep under the blankets, his clothes in a heap on the floor instead of put away or in the hamper like usual. Youji stripped, kicking his clothes into the corner and crawling into bed. He curled up against Aya, who, to Youji’s relief, murmured something, almost sounding content, and snuggled back into the warm body. Youji dropped a kiss to the bare shoulder in front of him and wrapped his arms around the thin body, letting the gentle breathing of his lover lull him to sleep.

*~*~*

Youji woke up with cold toes. Hell, his whole body was cold. Where were all the blankets? Without opening his eyes he fumbled with a hand, groping for covers. He found the edge of a blanket with his fingertips, but when he tried to pull it free it wouldn’t budge.

Finally giving in and opening his eyes, Youji turned to see his lover huddled within all the blankets, somehow making his lanky frame a tight ball. The blonde grinned. This was something new. Aya normally sprawled out, taking up as much space as humanly possible. The fact that the red head wasn’t up with the sun was something that didn’t escape Youji’s attention.

Sparing a glance at the seldom-used alarm clock on the bedside table, Youji’s brow furrowed. It was almost 7. Aya should have been downstairs an hour ago, even if the Koneko was just set to open. Well, sort of open. Someone, usually Aya, was downstairs early for pick-ups, and maybe to get a head start on the day’s orders. The shop didn’t officially open for another hour.

”Oi, Aya,” Youji said softly, sitting up and reaching over and shaking what he thought was the other man’s shoulder. Concern started to mount when no reaction came from the heap of covers. “Aya?” he tried again, his hand seeking the soft read hair just peeking out from under the covers.

A small stirring, a cough, but nothing that could be considered waking. When the red head moved, Youji’s fingers brushed Aya’s forehead and he frowned at the heat emanating from the younger man. That warm, he shouldn’t have been bundled up like that.

“Aya, you’re late,” Youji tried again, running his fingers through the strikingly colored hair, hoping for a glimpse of the equally stunning violet eyes. “Aya, wake up,” he all but ordered after again receiving no response.

This time Aya stirred and cracked his eyes open briefly. “Go ‘way,” he murmured, burrowing back into the blankets.

“Aya, you’re late,” Youji repeated.

“Fuck off,” came the mumbled reply before the body shifted again and went silent.

That wasn’t normal, Youji thought. Frowning, he layed the back of his hand against Aya’s forehead, then upturned cheek, finally seeing the faint flush on the normally pale skin.

Well, a fever explained a few things, Youji thought as he pulled himself out of bed, searching for the clothes he’d shed the night before. It explained, for one thing, why his lover was still curled up under a heaping pile of blankets instead of screaming at him to get out of bed or bribing him with coffee and something more, depending on the red-head’s mood. He played the part of the Ice King, but Youji knew that Aya was just as passionate as anyone, once you managed to get past the shields he’d erected around his heart.

It really didn’t surprise the blonde that Aya was ill; really, it was only a matter of time before his tendency to wander out at night in the dead of winter, the random missions alone, and his nasty habit of not sleeping caught up with the swordsman. And Omi had just been talking earlier in the week about the bug going around at school. That explained the previous day’s headache, then. It also explained the several cups of tea and lack of food that he’d seen go into Aya’s body the night before.

Sighing softly, Youji gave Aya one last look. The lump shook a little with a couple of coughs that the unconscious man couldn’t suppress but otherwise Aya still hadn’t moved much. He’d come check on him later, Youji decided, heading for the bathroom to quickly freshen up before heading downstairs and covering Aya’s shift. Wake him and force him to take an aspirin or something if he was still sleeping in an hour or two.

*~*~*

Youji stood with his back to the kitchen doorway, patiently watching the tea steep as he munched a piece of toast. The morning was growing old and Aya hadn’t yet appeared. Given the redhead’s stubbornness, Youji wouldn’t put it past him to try to get up and come to work. But knowing that it was well past the time that Aya considered sleeping in, the older man was ready to go check on the redhead.

The blonde was adding honey to the tea when a soft cough behind him made him turn. Aya slumped in the doorway, looking even paler than normal in the oversized charcoal gray sweater. His eyes were hooded and he shivered tightly, like he was trying to suppress the shudders.

“You’re up?” Youji turned, offering up the tea.

Aya nodded, moving slowly into the kitchen, taking the proffered cup. He took a few sips before speaking. “I have work to do.” His deep voice was raspy, and not at all convincing.

Youji raised an eyebrow but held his tongue. He wasn’t Aya’s mother, though occasionally he felt like he needed to be. The man had absolutely no idea how to take care of himself sometimes. Like this, he thought. “You look like hell,” he offered simply, hoping that maybe his lover would take the subtle hint.

“And you’re a fucking beauty queen?” Aya growled back, the words shaking loose a few dry painful-sounding coughs that Youji guessed had been held back by pure force of will.

The blonde fought a smile at the caustic reply. Apparently, an ill Aya was a grumpy Aya, although how that was different from most of the time was unclear at the moment. Youji took a few steps forward. “Compared to you?” he asked softly with a teasing grin. He brought a hand up and touched Aya’s cheek lightly. “Or just in general?”

The red head jerked away from the touch, turning to cough into his shoulder. Youji took a step back, giving Aya some space.

“You have a fever,” Youji said seriously when Aya recovered his breathing. Even the brief touch had left Youji with the impression that it was a high one.

“I’m fine,” the redhead growled, stepping around Youji to fall into a chair at the table.

Youji raised an eyebrow again, taking in the way Aya was clutching the half empty teacup and trying to burrow into the borrowed sweater. The redhead looked like he was trying very hard not to look miserable.

“Go back to bed,” Youji prompted softly.

“I’m fine,” Aya growled again.

“You’re not fine!” Youji snapped. Frustrated, he ran his hands though his longish hair, twisting it into a low tail at the base of his neck of lack of anything to tie it back with. With a sigh, he dropped into the chair next to Aya. “You have a fever,” he repeated, “and unless I miss my guess, you feel like shit but are too stubborn to admit it.”

Youji sighed at the lack of response. “I worry about you, Aya. You sneak off into the night, you don’t sleep, you barely eat; you push too hard and one of these days it’s going to kill you.”

“Fuck off, Youji.” Aya rasped.

“Fine,” Youji snarled. “See if I care. But don’t forget we have a job to do tonight. And don’t think I won’t hesitate to leave your ass behind if I don’t think you’re up for it. I’m not risking three lives because you’re being a stubborn asshole.”

Youji rose and stormed out of the kitchen, taking the stairs to the roof access two at a time. Idiot, he cursed himself as he dug his cigarettes out of a pocket. He tapped one out of the pack and lit it, taking a long drag. He should have known better. Aya hated being “cared for” or “worried about”. Admitting that he was worried for the redhead hadn’t helped Youji improve the situation, not when Aya refused to show weakness of any kind, be it physical or emotional.

And Youji had no doubts that Aya considered any kind of emotional attachment a weakness. Youji agreed that emotional entanglements with his teammate could cause problems; they not only lived together, they fought together and killed together. They faced death at least on a weekly basis. And it could be disastrous for the team if they let themselves get emotionally involved with each other and it didn’t work out.

“And I had to go and fall in love with the man,” Youji spat at the thick storm clouds overhead. He wasn’t sure when the shift had happened, when the worry had gone from the idle concern for a brother and a teammate, to that of a dull ache in his belly when Aya left the house at night not to return until well after dawn. When had Youji stopped worrying that he was going to have to cover an extra shift in the koneko and started to wonder whether Aya was going to come home wearing his own blood or someone else’s, or if he was coming home at all?

When had the endless thoughts of Asuka stopped? When had nightmares of her disappearance ceased to wake him up bathed in sweat?

Youji sighed, not finding answers. He flicked the butt to the tar roof and ground it out with his heel. Lost in his thoughts, he’d not noticed the rain begin again until he was soaked through. How fucking perfect, he thought, ducking back through the access door. With the weather being miserable, there wouldn’t be a whole lot going on in the flower shop, nothing to keep him from brooding over things he couldn’t change, like a stubborn lover who wouldn’t let himself be loved and cared for every once in awhile.

Soaking and chilled, Youji dripped his way down the hall to his room; he needed to change. The fifteen minutes he’d promised Omi were long gone, but Youji refused to stand around in wet clothes when the man he shared a bed with was ill. He didn’t consider himself stupid.

The blonde stopped in the doorway. Said bed was occupied. Maybe Aya isn’t stupid either, he thought, quietly entering the room. A half empty glass sat on the bedside table, a bottle of aspirin next to it.

Silently, Youji changed out of his sopping clothing, laying them out over a chair to dry. He hovered over the bed for a moment before bending down. “Thank you,” he whispered, the English words falling easily from his lips. He kissed the upturned cheek softly, then turned and closed the door faintly behind him, going back down to work.

*~*~*

“Youji-kun,” Omi greeted when he emerged back in the shop. “Where’s Aya-kun?”

“Sleeping,” Youji explained simply.

“But Youji-kun, it’s-” Omi said with wide eyes, gesturing to the clock.

“Aa,” was all the reply the older blonde gave as he moved behind one of the counters to work on one of the arrangements to be delivered that day. They were all pretty much done. “He was up almost all night, let him sleep.” It wasn’t that much of a lie, really. Aya would kill him if he went around telling the other two that he was ill after all the redhead did to try to hide it the day before. They’d find out soon enough.

Adding the finishing touches to an arrangement, Youji considered how exactly he was going to deal with the mission. His earlier threat had been an idle one; they needed a full team for this mission, even if one was at slightly less than peak performance. But Youji couldn’t let Aya lead them into the building; he looked as if he could barely balance himself, let alone lift, swing, and connect with his katana while managing to stay upright.

Not getting anywhere with reorganizing the mission and with all the arrangements ready and put in the case, Youji decided it was time for another break. Omi had already set up the laptop on one of the counters and was pouring over something with great interest. Youji was sure he didn’t want to know.

“Yell if you need me, Omittchi.” Youji highly doubted he would. Rain was coming down in sheets outside and Momoe-san was sitting as ever, curled into her chair in the corner with one of the cats in her lap.

“Where are you going, Youji-kun?” Omi didn’t even look up.

“Outside, then I’ll probably just be in back,” Youji didn’t elaborate, trusting Omi to pick up on his meaning. He wanted to review the mission notes from the night before.

The only response he got was a remarkably Aya-like grunt from the youngest member of the team. Grinning, Youji let himself out the side door to the alley, leaning against the wall under the overhang to enjoy another hit of tar and nicotine. Ken kept getting on his case to quit, that he was going to get cancer and die. Youji didn’t have the heart to tell the honest young man that on his best days he never thought he was going to live long enough for his pack a week habit to kill him.

He dropped the butt into a puddle as he headed back inside. Youji needed something to eat and do a quick check of his sleeping beauty before settling down to pour over Aya’s notes.

*~*~*

The bells on the door rang as Ken dashed in, pausing just inside to shake water out of his hair. Youji smothered a yawn with one hand and waved a greeting with the other. Despite two cups of coffee while rearranging the mission plans, he was dropping fast. He’d gotten to bed late and risen early, something the blonde wasn’t used to.

“Youji, you look tired,” Ken greeted.

“Thanks,” Youji answered dryly.

Ken grinned sheepishly. “Well, I’m here now. I’ll stick around down here if you wanna catch a nap, or something,” he offered.

“Aa,” Youji nodded, sliding off the stool he’d perched himself on where he’d been idly playing with a discarded piece of garnish. He clapped Ken on the shoulder as he passed. “I owe you one.”

“One more,” Ken shot back with a grin before Youji passed out of earshot.

The blonde chuckled lightly under his breath as he climbed the stairs to the residential part of the building. They really had become a family, the four young men thrown together by circumstance. Things were interesting at first, adjusting to living together, Youji remembered as he passed the one bathroom for the four of them. None of them had thought that the others might have particular quirks, like Ken’s love of hot bubble baths after a workout, or Omi’s penchant for primping almost as much as “playboy Yo-tan”. And then there were Aya’s half-hour long showers to contend with. Youji smiled. At least none of them sang in the shower.

Youji paused just inside his bedroom, silently closing the door behind him. Aya was reclined against the headboard, a book open on his lap, pale hands still curled around the edges. Youji read enough English to recognize the language when he sat on the edge of the bed, but not enough to make any sense of it. Not that he wanted to; it was probably one of Aya’s boring history books. The redhead’s black glasses were still perched on his nose, though lower than he normally wore them.

Carefully, Youji toed off his shoes, trying not to jostle the bed too much. He slowly eased himself back into the mattress, gently slipping the glasses off his lover’s face before tugging Aya down with him. The book was lifted out of hands that relaxed when the weight was removed from them. The smaller man coughed lightly in his sleep, instinctively snuggling back into the warm body behind him.

Youji pulled Aya closer, dropping a kiss to the top of the red hair. Aya murmured something, maybe a name, maybe just a sigh, but Youji was already drifting off to sleep.

*~*~*

Youji woke up, alone. Very little light filtered in through the curtains, but there was just enough for Youji to tell that the space next to him did not hold the redhead assassin he’d bedded down with. The numbers on the alarm clock glowed just after six.

He scrubbed at his face as he sat up. Youji wasn’t sure if the few hours of sleep had done him any good, or just made him more tired. He rose, ignoring his shoes and padding downstairs barefoot. He needed to find Aya, get him to go along with the revised mission plan, and then get rolling.

He passed Ken and Omi in the main room downstairs, double checking their equipment. He walked past them, not slowing, determined to find Aya. There wasn’t a lot of time, if Youji’s revised plan was going to work. Omi would need time to remotely hack into the building’s security so they could set Aya up nearby to play tour guide.

Youji found his quarry sitting hunched over a cup at the kitchen table. It was an odd sight, seeing Aya huddled in on himself, looking miserable and pathetic and lost. And yet Youji knew that the instant Aya thought Omi or Ken would stumble into the room, Aya would force himself upright and pretend that nothing was wrong. And that was why Youji had spent his afternoon trying to figure out a way to make something work. Because if he didn’t, Aya would insist on taking point like always, and in his current state, could possibly get them all killed.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked softly, filling a cup with cold coffee and popping it in the microwave.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Aya’s naturally deep voice was deeper still, and scratchy. His eyes were dark with fatigue and fever, and only half open.

“You could have woken me,” Youji offered, crossing to the fridge and grabbing the milk to doctor his coffee.

“You needed to rest.” The irony of the redhead’s statement was punctuated by a few coughs, choked off with a swallow of tea and the will power of the de facto team leader.

Youji pounced on the opening. “So do you. Aya,” he said gently, “maybe you should pass tonight.”

The glare Youji was shot, though withering, was somewhat weaker than normal. “I’m fine.”

The blonde retrieved his coffee and stirred in the milk, leaving the carton on the counter and taking the chair next to the shorter man. “Aya, you can barely sit up,” Youji said softly, and promptly got the response he expected. Aya drew himself up straight, glaring at Youji with all of his might. Youji felt a stab of guilt, knowing he was manipulating his lover, but also knowing there was no way around it.

“I’m going,” Aya growled. “This mission needs all four of us.”

Youji would concede that point. “And if you rush in, what’s to stop us all from getting killed?” Even after the argument earlier, Youji hated working Aya this way. Six months ago he would have gotten perverse pleasure out of the manipulation, but this felt so wrong. But because it was Aya, that’s how it had to work. “You may have a death wish, Aya, but you’ll endanger more than just yourself if you can’t stand up, let alone be able to defend yourself.” He dropped his voice. “Do Ken and Omi mean less to you than your damnable pride?”

Aya’s shoulders drooped minutely, shaking with the coughs he was trying to stifle. Youji hated having to use the honest affection Aya held for the younger two against him, but Youji had no real other option. Trying to tell Aya that he would get himself killed wasn’t likely to work; telling him he’d have the blood of his friends on his hands might get through to him. The blonde knew that Ken and Omi were more than capable of taking care of themselves in a battle situation, but that wasn’t his point at the moment.

“You need me,” Aya said softly, his voice raspy and modulating badly, like it was ready to give out. He took another sip of tea and cleared his throat.

Youji nodded, sipping his coffee. “Switch places with Omi,” he suggested, inwardly sighing with relief. So far, much less painless than he had thought. “It would work better that way anyway. We can have Omi hack into the security system and get you set up with the laptop in that abandoned building nearby. You can guide us through the building and keep tabs on us, and that will let Omi be in the building to get the info we need out of the computers. It’ll take him half the time it would take you or me to fish out the data.”

Youji watched Aya carefully over the top of his reheated coffee, though trying not to look like he was doing so. He truly looked miserable and sitting around in a dark damp building probably wasn’t going to make him feel any better, but Youji had no other choice. Aya would still be close enough by that he could jump in to help if they needed it, and he could at least bring the car around once the charges were set and they were done. And that would keep him out of harms way.

“Aa,” Aya whispered after a moment, shivering slightly.

Youji tentatively reached out; after Aya’s reaction earlier he wasn’t sure. The redhead closed his eyes, which Youji took for acceptance and cupped a cheek, meeting the hazy violet eyes when they reopened at the light touch. “You’re sure? You could stay here,” he tried one last time. The skin under his hand was still overly warm. Damn the man and his stubbornness.

Aya pulled away from Youji’s hand and shook his head. “I’m going.”

Youji sat back and nodded, trying not to feel like he’d scored some victory over the redhead. He’d had to do it, for all their sakes, but that’s not how you treated someone you loved, was it?

Before Youji had time to react to that thought, Omi trooped into the kitchen, and sure enough, Aya pulled himself upright, forced his head up and drew his hands out of the long sleeves of the borrowed dark gray sweater, all in one smooth motion.

“Aya-kun? You look terrible,” Omi said without preamble.

“I’m fine,” Aya growled, glaring first at Omi, then at Youji. Youji just grinned, falling easily into their established roles. They weren’t officially “out” as a couple, though if Aya kept wearing Youji’s clothes it wouldn’t be long before the younger two caught on.

“Boy had a rough night,” Youji winked at Omi over his coffee cup. “Staggered in after dawn.”

Aya’s next glare had a bit of a softer edge to it, for Youji’s eyes only. At least the blonde knew that Aya appreciated the somewhat flimsy cover Youji was concocting. They could all count on one hand the number of times Aya had “gone out” since joining the team, and still have several fingers left over.

“But Youji-kun, you said-”

Youji cut Omi off with a glare of his own. Omi looked at him funny, but took the hint.

Aya rose gracefully, though a little stiff and took his cup to the sink. Youji had to wonder if the man did anything that couldn’t be called graceful. Even that last time he’d gotten Aya fall down drunk, there was such eloquence to it. Aya didn’t stumble; he floated. And got more clingy, but that was a whole other matter. There was something almost feline about the way Aya moved sometimes.

Youji watched Aya go, probably going upstairs to get ready. They would have to move fast.

“Okay, Omittchi, new plan,” Youji said softly, just in case Aya wasn’t quite out of earshot. “That abandoned building next door?” Omi nodded. “We’re going to set Aya up in there with the laptop. Can you hack into the security system so we can have live feed?”

Omi thought for a moment. “Hai. It may take a few minutes longer than if I was in the building, but I can do it. What’s happening?”

Youji paused, listening. He heard the floorboards creak overhead and knew he was safe. “Aya has the flu,” he said still softly. “You’ll switch places with him so he can guide us through the building. It’ll be easier for you to get the data out of the computer anyway.”

Omi nodded. “Should he being going? He really looks bad.”

“You know Aya,” Youji shrugged, trying to appear flippant about the whole thing.

“Yeah,” Omi agreed.

Youji finished off his coffee in one gulp. “We need to get going,” he said as he rose. “It’s already getting late.”

Omi nodded, and he followed Youji upstairs, each going to their own rooms to transform themselves into their assassin personas.

*~*~*

It had been almost ridiculously easy to get to the first two targets. Aya had used the surveillance cameras to track the two men to a bathroom on the second floor. Literally, they’d been caught with their pants down.

Youji strung one man up with his wire while Ken drove home a punch to his sternum, his six-inch blades ripping quite efficiently through heart and lungs. Omi cleanly shot a dart into the other target’s chest from the doorway.

“Where’s the third, Abyssinian?” Youji grunted as he let the body fall.

“Fourth floor,” Aya whispered, his voice pretty much gone. It had been progressively fading since the mission began. “That’s where most of the guards are swarming to now.”

“Bombay, take Siberian and go find the computer. Draw as much attention to yourselves as you can handle. I’ll get the third target.”

Omi nodded. “Be careful.” The two youngest team members slipped out the door, running not so quietly back down the hallway they’d just traversed.

Youji wound his wire back into his watch quickly, counting to sixty before slipping out and heading back toward the stairwell they’d used earlier to get to the fourth floor.

“No cameras past the door to the stairs on the fourth floor,” Aya warned. That would be as far as Youji was going to get any help. “The guards are heading for Siberian and Bombay. Taking the elevator. Go now.”

Youji took the stairs two at a time, up two floors. He paused at the door, knowing Aya was watching from the cameras in the corners.

There was a moment of soft noise over the headset before Aya’s barely audible whisper could be heard. “No one in camera range.”

Youji cracked the door open and peered around the frame, trying to push thoughts of his lover’s well being out of his head to focus on the mission. The hallway was clear. He slipped out the stairwell, feeling as if he was cutting off a lifeline as he stepped out of range of the small camera hanging just above the door.

“Any idea which room?” Youji murmured, trying to snake along the edges of the corridor and sticking to the shadows.

“Iie.” The sound was little more than a puff of air.

Youji cursed mentally, for several reasons. He’d left Aya in a cold drafty wet room when the man was already ill. Should have tried harder to leave him at home, Youji chastised himself.

“We’re at the computer room,” Ken’s voice came over the open channel, pulling Youji from his thoughts.

Focus, Kudou, Youji told himself. Get the job done and you can get him out of there. He tested a doorknob as he slid past. Locked. He tried the next one. Also locked. And then three guards stepped out of the room at the very end of the hall.

Youji had nowhere to go. He took one out before he had a chance to react, before he found himself staring up at the ceiling with two guns in his face. Fuck.

“We’ve got one,” one of the guards reported over a much more obvious headset that Youji’s own. The blonde assassin hoped that they wouldn’t notice his. The other guard, barrel chested with arms that looked like they could tear a man in two, easily flipped Youji onto his belly and pulled his hands behind his back, slapping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, divesting him of his watch as he did so. Fuck, Youji swore again.

The oversized man pulled him to his feet by the handcuffs, pulling Youji’s left shoulder out of its socket with the force of it. The blonde stumbled upright, only to have his upper arms pinned to his body by the hulk’s enormous hands. The grip combined with the dislocated shoulder made Youji bury a whimper in his throat.

He was guided into the room the guards had stepped out of. It was dim, but Youji could make out a form at the back of the room, standing out of the light.

“Wait outside,” the man ordered, and the smaller of the two guards did so. “String him up.”

The guard punched him in the chest, enough to knock Youji backwards and leave him gasping for breath as he threw a piece of thick rope over a hook set in the ceiling. He was hauled to his roughly to his feet again, and this time Youji didn’t have the breath to complain as his shoulder protested. The handcuffs were removed long enough for him to be stripped of coat, glasses, boots, and headset, the items tossed into a corner, his watch joining the pile after a cool once over by huge man. Youji’s wrists were bound again in front.

The rope was tied in a secure knot around the chain of the handcuffs, and then Youji was pulled to his tiptoes, the other end of the rope secured to another bolt anchored in the wall. Youji’s shoulder screamed in protest, but he bit his lip, trying not to call out as he was strung up. The sharp pain transformed into a steady throb, each beat of his heart sending pain shooting down his arm.

The man in shadows stepped into the light. The third target. Youji cursed. Things had just gotten very much worse.

*~*~*

The first strike hit Youji in the mouth. “Who do you work for?”

Youji was too busy ridding his mouth of blood to answer, even if he’d wanted to. He spat a mouthful at the burly guard, earning him a punch to the stomach that set him swinging, his toes scraping the floor for purchase.

“Who do you work for?” the target was more insistent this time.

“Go to hell,” Youji spat.

The resulting blow caught his cheekbone, and Youji could immediately feel the flesh start to swell around his eye, his vision becoming limited as it did so. The guard drew back to strike again, but a gunshot and subsequent thud against the door prevented the guard’s fat fist from connecting with Youji’s face.

“Go check,” the target ordered.

The guard turned toward the door, but he only took one step before the door flew open.

Aya stood in the doorway, katana at the ready. The bright lights in the hallway silhouetted the slim swordsman, making him appear as the specter of death come calling.

The guard didn’t have time to go for his gun; with a quick thrust, Aya ran the blade unerringly into the man’s chest. The guard fell to the floor as Aya drew the blade out of the guard’s chest with a backwards step, the blade coming to rest at a downward angle, tip almost piercing the floor.

Youji tried not to notice how badly Aya’s hands shook as he withdrew the blade, or how quickly the point of the sword seemed to touch the floor. The third target shifted the grip of his knife and positioned himself behind Youji, his knife pressed to the blonde’s carotid artery.

“One more step and I slit his throat,” the target growled.

Youji watched as Aya took one more lurching step forward. Something was wrong, Youji thought, suddenly not worried about himself but terrified for his lover, even as the knife was pressed closer, enough to draw a trickle of blood. Aya was barely upright, his face a deathly pallor of gray instead of the pale white Youji was used to. His katana dragged on the floor.

But the burning violet eyes gave Youji hope that maybe not was all as it seemed. Aya stumbled, his left right foot sliding violently out from behind him at an angle before he caught himself and used his blade negligently to pull himself upright, his gaze locked on Youji’s the whole time.

“How pathetic,” the target sneered, peeking out from behind Youji’s strung up length, taking in the visage of the swordsman in front of him.

Unable to even nod for the knife still pressed to his neck Youji caught Aya’s eye and mouthed a ‘yes in five’.

When he mentally reached five, Youji kicked back with his right foot, catching the target in the side of the knee as intended; that joint was not meant to bend that way and the target crumpled with a cry. In a blur of motion, Aya was standing over the target, blade in hand.

“Who are you?” the target stuttered.

“Weiss,” Aya managed to say full voice before driving his katana into the man’s chest, severing his beating heart. He stumbled back when he pulled the blade out of the man, off balance. Aya hefted the sword and severed the rope that was stringing Youji up, the blade going through the rope like a hot knife through butter.

The katana had hardly gone full circle before the wielder crumpled gracefully to the floor.

*~*~*

“Aya!” Youji cried as the redhead crumpled. Youji found his feet and scrabbled over the cold metal floor to crouch at his lover’s side. Aya was shivering though there was tremendous heat emanating from his body. “Fuck, Aya,” Youji breathed, closing his eyes briefly before pulling the headset off the unconscious man. He wasn’t sure where his was at the moment and he needed to be in contact with the rest of the team.

But with his shoulder mangled and his hands still shackled, Youji couldn’t get the headset on. He looked around and saw the keys hanging from the fallen guard’s belt. He walked on his knees over to the dead man and spent several minutes fumbling one handed for the key that would set him free. His left had was numb from the restricted blood flow of the dislocated shoulder and having been hung up by his wrists, and his right was tingling, that pins and needles sensation of feeling returning to the extremity, but he finally found the small key to the cuffs and managed to get them off, throwing them across the room before awkwardly sliding the headset on and getting the earpiece in.

“Bombay?” Youji whispered over the commset, peering around the room and finally spying the pile of his belongings tossed in a corner. He pushed himself to unsteady feet and crossed the room to them.

“Balinese?” Omi spoke up, relief evident in his young voice, even as tinny as it was coming over the headset.

“Abyssinian is down,” Youji said brusquely, stamping into his boots. He didn’t take the time to lace them up, just tucked the ends of the ties inside the leather. “Hold on.” He switched off the headset and braced himself. He was going to have to reset his shoulder if he was going to get Aya out. Sucking in a breath, Youji slammed his dislocated left shoulder against the corner several times until he both felt and heard the joint slide back into place.

The pain of it drove him to his knees. Gasping for air, he turned the commset back on as he grabbed his coat and slipped on his watch after pulling it from the pile of his belongings, still on his knees, made it back to Aya’s side. He felt around on the floor for Aya’s katana. He gently maneuvered the smaller man so that he could put the sword back in it’s sheath, still in hiding place sewn into the lining along the spine of the black leather trench coat. “Balinese back,” he said, shivering. “Get me out of here, Bombay.”

“Okay,” Omi’s tinny voice came over the earpiece. The comm was left active and Youji could faintly hear typing. “Are you wearing your watch?”

“Aa,” Youji answered shortly. Of course, that’s how they would have tracked him down in the first place. There weren’t any cameras in this area of the building so Aya would have used the signal from the locator in his watch to trace him. They all wore one, and most of the time they forgot about them.

“Okay,” Omi said again. “I’ll bring you to me. Go right down the hallway.”

This is going to be painful, Youji thought as he pulled Aya to him. His whole left arm hurt and his shoulder throbbed, and Youji was certain he couldn’t carry Aya. Sure, the man was slender, but it was all muscle. “Gimme a second,” he told the voice in his ear.

Aya was soaking wet, but mixed with the water was something thicker, stickier. Blood. Even in the dimly lit room, Youji could see a pool forming under the unconscious man he knelt next to. He slid practiced hands over the redhead’s extremities before he found the source. A bullet wound to Aya’s left thigh; no wonder there was so much blood. Youji stripped off his belly-revealing sleeveless t-shirt, biting back a groan at the pain the movement caused his shoulder. He didn’t have the time or equipment to dig the bullet out there; it would have to wait until they got back to the shop. The blond wound the t-shirt around into a rope; hopefully it would keep the bleeding slowed and prevent the wound from opening up.

As Youji tightened the makeshift bandage around his thigh, Aya came around with a hoarse cry, sitting straight up. His hands groped at his sides for his katana.

“Aya, it’s me,” Youji said softly, drawing the redhead’s attention to his face. He waited until he had eye contact before continuing. “We need to get out of here. Can you stand?” He highly doubted that he could, but knowing Aya nothing much would slow him down until he was unconscious.

“Aa,” the shorter man whispered, already shifting.

Youji rocked back, shifting his weight from his knees to the balls of his feet, using his right hand on his right knee to push himself standing. His left hand wasn’t working quite right as he used it to grab his coat off the floor and hastily put it on, extending a hand to help a quite shaky Aya up off the floor.

When they were both upright, Youji wrapped his good arm around Aya’s waist to keep the smaller man standing. Aya’s left leg wouldn’t hold his weight, but the redhead wouldn’t let it show.

“Okay, Bombay,” Youji said, toggling the headset back on. “Find us the quickest way out, ne? We’re both injured,” he briefly expounded, knowing that Omi knew better than to inquire further at the moment.

“Hai,” Omi answered. “Go right down the hallway,” he repeated. “There’s an elevator at the end of the hall.”

“Okay.” The first few steps were awkward. Aya was shivering violently, every other breath punctuated with a wheeze or cough, and his leg wouldn’t support him. Youji only had one hand to help hold him up, and he was beginning to feel the telltale chill of shock seep into his limbs.

Halfway down the hall, Aya went limp, causing Youji to stumble and almost dropped them both. The taller man grunted in pain as he used his injured left hand to brace himself against the wall and tightened his grip around Aya’s waist. He paused for a minute, gently shifting the deadweight in his arms so he could easier drag Aya through the hall.

Step by step, Youji half carried half dragged Aya through the empty hall toward the elevator, not taking the time or wasting the precious breath to update Omi. He had to wait for the lift to come back up to their floor and he didn’t dare set his burden down. If he did, Youji was afraid he’d never be able to lift Aya back up off the floor.

What seemed an eternity later, the doors opened and Youji lurched forward, Aya’s feet dragging on the floor. As the doors slid shut, Youji noticed the red smear left behind on the floor. Aya’s blood.

“We’re on the way down,” Youji said over the comm. “Ready to roll?”

“Aa,” Omi came back. “Charges set and we’ve got our stuff. Siberian has the car running outside. Just waiting for you.”

Great, Youji thought. He shifted Aya’s weight once more as the lift hit the ground the floor. The blonde sent up a brief prayer to whatever deity was listening that all the guards had been taken care of.

Youji stumbled out of the doors as they opened, pulling Aya along with him. The taller man wasn’t sure if Aya was easier to handle unconscious or stumbling along getting in his way, but he was sure he preferred him getting in the way.

They left a trail of blood to the car, most of it washed away by the driving rain. Omi hopped out of the car when Youji appeared soaked through with Aya just as sodden. The youngest held Aya up as Youji climbed in the back seat, pulling the redhead with him. Omi helped maneuver the unconscious man in, then jumped back in the shotgun seat as Ken pulled away, driving one handed.

Youji caught the flash of the exploding building out of the corner of his eye as he turned his attention to Aya, sprawled across the backseat. He grunted as he stripped out of his coat; Aya’s thigh was bleeding again, bright red arterial blood against the white seats of the untraceable “borrowed” car. “Ch’. Ken, we need a hospital.” Awkwardly, Youji dug a small knife out of Aya’s boot and used it to cut strips from his coat to bind the injury again.

He shivered as cold water dripped from his hair down his bare back and chest. Youji was chilled through and he ignored the slight tremble to his tingling hands as he tied strips of his coat around Aya’s leg. He was distantly aware of the sound of the fans kicking on and hot air washing over his skin. He could hear Omi talking, but wasn’t processing the words, the sound of his heartbeat and the fading rush of adrenaline filling his ears.

The car stopped abruptly, slamming Youji’s injured shoulder into the back of the driver’s seat before he could brace himself. Liquid pain poured through his arm at the impact, sending a wave of nausea through the blonde.

There were people waiting for them when the car door opened. Youji let go of Aya and allowed him to be pulled out much more gently than he’d been loaded into the car. The redhead was out of sight before Youji could extract himself.

Youji recognized the hospital. It fronted as a high end clinic and trauma center for Tokyo’s affluent, but one of it’s major supporters was Kritiker, and for that, Weiss had 24/7 access to medical support when they couldn’t handle their injuries themselves. For the most part, the team avoided the hospital when they could.

Youji slid out of the car and into the freezing rain once more. He was drenched once again by the time he reached the small lobby. At least the rain washed away some of the blood, he thought grimly. He shivered, at the thought and the cold, and promptly found himself seated on a bed, being asked to track a finger with his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he growled at the doctor. “I didn’t hit my head, I almost had my arm ripped off.” He was being grouchy and he knew it.

The doctor grunted and continued the cursory exam before probing at Youji’s cheekbone where the dark bruise was becoming quite vivid. He hissed in pain as the gently fingers brushed tender flesh.

“You set it yourself?” the doctor asked, turning his attention to Youji’s shoulder and waving a nurse over.

“Aa,” Youji replied, steeling himself.

The doctor grunted again in acknowledgement, the nurse going to Youji’s other side to help brace him as the physician finished sliding the joint back into place. Clenching his jaw, Youji managed to not make a sound, but he was shaking when they finished.

“You do have a minor concussion,” the doctor reported as he gently laid Youji’s arm against his side. “I want to keep you here overnight, for observation.”

“My friend?” Youji asked, accepting the clothes the nurse placed in his lap.

“The red haired one?” He continued at Youji’s nod. “They took him up to surgery. He’s lost a lot of blood, but the procedure itself is straightforward. I don't have any details.”

Youji nodded his thanks and sighed in relief as the injected painkiller took effect. The nurse drew a privacy curtain as she stepped away so Youji could change. Fishing his cigarettes out of his pants pocket, Youji dumped his clothes, what was left of them, into the hazardous waste bin nearby, covered as they were in blood and also so they’d be destroyed. Dressed in scrubs with a long sleeved shirt underneath, Youji tugged his boots back on and went in search of the others.

*~*~*

Youji paced the balcony of Aya’s room, watching through the opened curtains as the redhead slept. He was out of cigarettes, and didn’t have any gum, so pacing seemed a viable alternative to fidgeting inside.

Aya had been brought into his private room several hours before, as white as the sheets draped over him. “It was touch and go,” the surgeon had explained, bumming a smoke on the balcony. “The bulled just missed his femoral artery. We couldn’t wait to lower his fever and he’d already lost a lot of blood. We’ve put him on high dose antibiotics to help prevent infection, but with the virus already in his system, I’m not sure how much good it will do. We’ll keep him at least through the day, and see how he’s doing tomorrow evening.”

The sky was beginning to lighten as dawn approached. Ken had been released after having his wound patched up and Omi had gone with him, both of them probably getting some much needed rest and manning the shop for the day before coming back in the afternoon to check on their cohorts.

Youji had paced and smoked much of the night away. He was still rather buzzed and slightly dizzy after chain smoking his mostly full pack shortly after Aya was let out of recovery. It had been a long time since he’d gone a binge like that, sometime before he and Aya had started sharing a bed, but he’d really only started to make an effort to cut back how much he smoked after they’d begun sleeping together. Aya didn’t like the smoke; Youji thought that maybe there was more to the dislike than Aya was willing to let on, but he let it slide. Youji did, however, quit smoking in his bedroom.

With a sigh, Youji slid the door open and resumed his position in the chair near Aya’s bed. He longed to reach out and comfort both himself and his lover with a touch, but was wary of doing so. They were in a Kritiker hospital, and surely they were being watched.

They had talked about it, a couple days after that first night together. It had been something of an awkward conversation. Aya hadn’t talked much in those days, not that he talked much more now, Youji mused. They decided to keep their affair quiet; Kritiker could be manipulative and the last thing either of them wanted was to have their lover used against them by their employer.

“Especially now,” Youji whispered. Especially now that Youji’s heart was so bound up in the life of the man laid out before him. He wanted to hold Aya’s hand, brush his hair out of his face, something, anything to give both of them comfort. Youji needed the confirmation that Aya was real and alive there in front of him. He wanted to let Aya know that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but he couldn’t risk it. He didn’t even talk for fear of monitors that would pick him up.

Youji forced himself to stop fidgeting. Out of cigarettes and not wanting to stray too far, Youji considered the balcony again. It wasn't warm enough to stay out there without a reason and Aya's hospital room wasn't really big enough to pace.

As his fingers twitched again, needing to bleed off excess energy built up during forced stillness a forgotten diversion came back to him. Quietly, he let himself out of the small room and wandered down to the nurses’ station.

A short time later, he had charmed his way out of a cup of coffee, a few sheets of paper from the printer and two freshly sharpened pencils. He had also lined up a few dates, which he would quietly cancel within a few days. It just went to show that Kudou Youji hadn't lost his touch, despite finding himself in a more or less monogamous relationship.

He and Aya had never made any promises to each other, but Youji knew that to step out on the redhead would irreparably damage their relationship. He hadn't been out to a club in over a month, and the last time he had, it just hadn't held his interest. With the promise of someone at home, the need to drown himself in alcohol and find a hotel room with a woman he'd call by a name different than the one she gave him just didn't seem necessary anymore.

Youji settled himself into the chair after pulling it around to a different angle and where he hoped any cameras wouldn't pick up what he was doing. Slowly at first, he began to sketch the man lying in the bed before him. It had been a long time since he'd indulged in what Asuka had called a pointless waste of time, but his fingers remembered how to interpret the images he was seeing and put them down on paper. Aya’s face began to take shape on the paper, but not as he was at the moment, but rather how Youji preferred to see him, relaxed, at ease, a smile in his eyes but only barely tugging at the corners of his mouth. Youji had learned long ago that the key to reading Aya's emotions was his violet eyes. Darker purple with rage or passion, lighter with mirth, fading almost to gray with exhaustion or pain.

The strokes across the paper grew more confident as he continued, filling in details, eventually adding the glasses Aya disliked so much and beginning to trace out the back of an oversized chair, a body to support the face already etched onto the page. With something to distract him and keep his hands busy, Youji didn’t notice the passing of time as the single sheet became filled with a serene image, of his lover curled up in a chair, a book in his lap, looking out over the top of his glasses and smiling at something off the page. If Youji positioned the paper just right, the image smiled out at him.

When the door opened, Youji tucked the papers behind his back, out of sight of whomever might be checking in on them. Youji sighed when Omi stepped in with a paper grocery bag, but didn’t move the papers.

“Youji-kun. Did you sleep?” Omi handed over his parcel.

“Iie.” Youji opened the packet and almost stood to embrace the younger man. “Omittichi, anything you want, just ask.” Inside the bag atop some clothes were two packs of cigarettes and a book of matches.

Omi nodded, watching Aya. “How is he?”

Youji shrugged. “Sleeping. He hasn’t woken up yet.” He extracted a pack from the paper bag and began trying to peel the cellophane off.

“Okay,” Omi said softly. “I’m on deliveries and I need to head back. Call us, when they let you go?”

“Aa,” Youji answered, winning his battle with the plastic.

Omi gripped Youji’s forearm lightly before he turned to go. “Get some rest, Youji.” The blue eyes held knowledge there that Youji wasn’t sure he wanted to contemplate.

“Hai,” he said simply.

Omi watched him for a moment more before turning to go. Youji had a cigarette out of the package before the door had closed behind the blonde teen. He stepped out onto the balcony and lit it with the lighter from his pocket, taking a deep drag, closing his eyes and savoring the taste of tar and nicotine.

He only smoked two before ducking back inside, and changing into the clothes that Omi had thoughtfully brought along for them. The sketch was gently folded and slipped into the back pocket of his worn jeans. Youji all but collapsed into the small chair and dozed lightly, watching his lover through half lidded eyes.

*~*~*

Omi tossed Youji an odd look as the taller man passed Aya’s bedroom door and headed straight for his own. Omi hustled to pass him up and held the door to Youji’s room open so the blonde could pass through, Aya held in his arms. His shoulder ached from carrying the only slightly smaller man from the car, but it wasn’t anything that an aspirin or two wouldn’t take care of. Aya’s breath on the side of Youji’s neck was steady and comforting, as was the way the redhead had relaxed after Youji had lifted him from the hospital bed and placed him in the car, holding him the whole way home.

The blonde was still trying to sort through the emotions rolling through him as he settled Aya in the large bed they shared, propping up the injured thigh as he’d been instructed. Aya wouldn’t be moving much in his sleep; the cough suppressant and painkillers had effectively knocked him out not long after he’d come around for the first time after the surgery.

Youji brushed long bangs off the warm forehead. Aya’s fever was down, Youji had to hope that maybe it was being helped by the antibiotics that he had been instructed to see that the redhead took three times a day after his release from the hospital, though he knew better than that. With a few more hours to go until he needed to wake him for the first dose, Youji kissed Aya softly on the cheek, smiling when the younger man shifted towards him in his sleep.

Quietly, Youji left the room, leaving the door open a crack. He made his way down to the kitchen, finding a note from Ken and Omi. They’d gone out for supplies, the note said, and would bring home take away for dinner. Aya’s antibiotics and painkillers sat next to the message, a note slipped under Aya’s pills with brief instructions. A small bottle of generic cough suppressant sat just behind it with a note of its own. The redhead could take it as needed, but it came with a warning that it could cause drowsiness. Youji considered taking some himself, but settled for another cigarette to help him calm down and relax.

Youji couldn’t remember being as worried about his lover as he had been the previous night. Even before they’d been lovers he’d been concerned over injuries as a friend and teammate, but not like he had been on the way to the hospital. He knew in his mind that the younger man would be all right, with time to heal. But his heart had protested that knowledge, even as he sat through the night and most of the day, watching Aya sleep. They had all sustained much more severe injuries at one time or another, but this time, there was something else to it, something more than just the fear of injury or death.

The fear that he had been responsible.

Youji lit a cigarette and settled into the couch, pulling the ashtray on the table closer. It wasn’t just that Aya had come after him, that he’d been injured rescuing a teammate that also happened to be his lover, but that Youji hadn’t tried harder to make the man stay out of harm’s way.

Why was it different this time? Why was the fear of death, something he hadn’t feared for a very long time, suddenly such a motivation for him? Why was Aya’s injury shaking him more than any other?

Because this was the first time since Youji had sorted out his own feelings that Aya had been seriously injured. The first time since Youji had truly understood that he loved the redhead. And he didn’t want anything to happen to either of them with the words unsaid.

Youji began to relax as the nicotine coursed through his system and his eyelids grew heavy as his thoughts chased themselves through his head. He knew that the words that weighed on his heart would not sit well with Aya; the younger man wasn’t ready for them. But Youji was ready to say them, for his own sake. He could deal with the rejection, with the pain if Aya denied him, but he needed to let him know, before something serious happened, before the next mission came up and could threaten their lives.

He flicked the TV on, keeping the volume down. He would just sit for a while, maybe smoke another cigarette before going back up to sit with Aya. His hand never made it to his pocket for the pack of smokes before his eyes drifted closed.

*~*~*

“Youji-kun?”

The soft voice and gentle shake of his shoulder roused Youji from a restful sleep. His eyes cracked open to see Omi’s concerned face hovering above him, bright blue eyes reflecting the light coming in from the kitchen.

“Omittichi? What time is it?” Youji asked, sitting up.

“Late,” the smaller blonde answered. “Ken found you here fast asleep when we got back from the store. We decided to let you sleep.”

“Thanks,” Youji said sincerely, scrubbing his hands over his face. He shifted on the couch so Omi could get up off the floor.

The younger one did so, handing Youji a steaming bowl of noodles as he did so.

“I’m not hungry,” Youji replied, but his stomach chose that moment to protest loudly.

Omi raised an eyebrow and handed over the bowl and a pair of chopsticks, which Youji took and slowly started to eat. He hadn’t eaten anything substantial in, what, he thought, a day and a half?

“Aya woke up, a couple hours ago,” Omi started softly. “I caught him trying to get out of bed.”

Youji snorted a reply around a mouthful of noodles. Typical Aya.

“He wanted to know if you were okay,” Omi elaborated. “And then demanded I help him change into one of your sweaters.”

Youji looked up from the bowl into Omi’s knowing eyes. He swallowed hard, the mouthful of noodles gone suddenly dry. He set the bowl aside, appetite gone.

Omi smiled a little. “Don’t worry, Youji-kun. You know I wouldn’t tell anyone. It hurts a little to think you couldn’t trust Ken and me, but we figured it out on our own. You don’t go out anymore, Aya seems almost pleasant to be around sometimes, and he’s wearing your clothes.” Omi dropped his voice. “The way you stayed in his room at the hospital clenched it, though. You need to be more careful, Youji-kun. Kritiker is going to notice small things like that.”

“I was careful,” Youji said softly. He hadn’t uttered an unnecessary word the whole time he’d been in the room, hadn’t so much as touched Aya save for helping him sit up when he’d first woken up and helping him change clothes before the drugs took effect again and knocked him out for the ride home. But then, he hadn’t thought about it when they’d brought Aya home, just automatically taken him to the room they shared more often than not.

“Youji-kun,” Omi admonished gently. “You don’t think they haven’t noticed that you don’t go out anymore? Don’t you think Manx is smart enough to realize that you’re home every night and not out being the playboy that you used to be?”

The kid had a point, Youji thought. Even the last few times he had been out, it had been for surveillance or reconnaissance. “Can we do something about that?”

“Hai,” Omi answered. “I can drop something into one of my reports. That you’re trying to get clean and grow up?”

Youji shrugged. “I’ll let you pick something. You’re better at that stuff than I am.” Omi often concocted their cover stories when they had need of them. For his part, Youji really was trying to clean himself up, to cut back on the alcohol. Part of him felt like he had something to live for now, and a slow death by alcohol no longer fit his plans. Smoking wasn’t something he could give up as easily, but Aya hadn’t complained about that the way he had about Youji’s drunken stupors, so he cut back how much he smoked, but couldn’t convince himself to give it up completely.

Omi nodded. “I’ll figure something out, then. Youji,” Omi paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I just want you to know. Ken and I, well, we’re glad that you two found each other. Even Aya-kun seems happier than he has in a long time. We don’t want you to think that anything’s going to change.”

Youji wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he nodded, murmuring his thanks.

“You are my family, Youji,” Omi said softly as he shifted to rise. “We all look out for each other, ne?” He stood and took the half full empty bowl from the table. “Go get some sleep, Youji-kun. Aya-kun’s going to need your help getting around for the next few days.”

“Aa,” Youji answered, also rising. Omi headed for the kitchen to clean up and Youji went upstairs, not bothering to switch off the TV.

Aya was asleep again in Youji’s large bed, securely tucked under the comforter that generally ended up on the floor when the two men slept together, their own body heat enough to keep them warm except for in the dead of winter. Youji turned on the small lamp on the bedside table, casting a pale yellow glow over the bedroom, just enough for him to find his way to his dresser and search out a pair of sweatpants.

Before he changed, he emptied his pockets onto the table, the sketch from the hospital ending up under a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Silently, he slipped out of the clothes Omi had brought to the hospital and tugged the gray pants on. Switching off the light, he slid under the covers, turning onto his side and curling himself as close to his lover as possible, letting sleep claim him once more.

*~*~*

A tug on his hair brought Youji awake. He felt nimble fingers patiently work at a tangle and then resume their combing. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness from his vision. Red hair that wasn’t his hung across his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Aya whispered from above him.

Youji turned slightly. His head was pillowed on Aya’s shoulder, arms tucked between their bodies. Even from where he lay he could hear a slight wheeze to Aya’s breath, the coughs that the redhead was trying to contain.

“S’okay,” Youji answered, his breath stirring the hair hanging across his face.

The fingers of one hand continued to stoke through his hair, something Youji found soothing and comforting. “Are you okay?” the redhead whispered, the other set of pale digits appearing just in Youji’s peripheral vision, hovering over but not touching the brilliant bruise around his eye.

“I’m fine,” Youji answered, shifting to sit up and pull Aya to him. “How’re you feeling?”

The reply he got was a series of dry coughs that by the force of them against Youji’s chest felt like they had been held back for a while. The blonde tightened his arms around the younger man until they passed. “That wasn’t quite the answer I was looking for,” he said with a small smile, reaching for the glass of water on the table. His fingertips brushed the sketch from the hospital and Youji noticed it was unfolded; the creases appeared to have been smoothed out.

Aya took the glass and drank from it slowly, handing it back when he was done and shifting in Youji’s arms so he was a little more comfortable. “I’ve felt better,” he whispered, almost snuggling against the taller man.

Youji kissed his cheek and they lazed comfortably for a time, only the occasional cough breaking the easy silence until Youji started to speak.

“Aya, I’m sorry,” he began softly. He tightened his arms around the redhead when he shifted to meet Youji’s gaze. “I should have tried harder to make you stay here. I should have tried harder to get out of there on my own. You never should have had to come after me.”

“Youji-” Aya started but Youji talked over the top of his soft whisper.

“You were so pale when we finally got you to the hospital, I thought you had bled out. You almost stopped breathing in the car and you were shaking so hard,” Youji’s voice was distant as all the words he’d kept bottled up in the hospital came pouring out.

“I was so worried about you, Aya. You collapsed twice and I couldn’t bring you around the second time. I tried, but I couldn’t. I’ve never been as frightened as I was when you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Youji-” Aya tried again, a bit more insistent but Youji kept speaking.

“I knew you’d be okay, once we got you to the hospital, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw you after the surgery. The doctors told me how close it was, your fever was so high, but you’d lost too much blood for them to try to lower it. I wasn’t there when they took you into surgery, they had to fix my shoulder and I think they thought I was going into shock and they were trying to keep me calm and Aya, I was so scared that something was going to happen and I wouldn’t get to say-”

Youji’s words were cut off by a pair of warm lips pressed against his own, and a determined tongue seeking entrance to his mouth. Youji opened his mouth to give Aya the access he wanted and he pulled the smaller man closer as the kiss deepened and became more passionate.

Familiar heat spread through Youji’s body as Aya’s hands began to wander over his bare chest. The kiss broke off suddenly and Aya turned to cough into his shoulder.

“Aya,” Youji started, not wanting to continue anything that was going to hurt his lover, or make him uncomfortable.

The redhead responded by kissing him again, shorter, though no less passionate. Youji got the hint and slowly repositioned them so Aya was lying against the pillows and Youji was kneeling over him. “You’re sure?” he whispered against slightly swollen lips.

Aya nodded, craning his neck to capture Youji’s lips again.

Youji leaned into the kiss, sliding his hands under the dark sweater Aya had appropriated from his closet. The pale skin was taught over ribs easily felt and hardened abs, warm to the touch and as smooth as anything Youji had ever touched. He eased the sweater up, breaking the languid kiss long enough to pull the garment over Aya’s head and toss it aside.

Aya shivered as Youji’s lips migrated from mouth to throat, dropping feather light kisses over pulse points and Adam’s apple, the blonde knowing exactly where his lover was the most sensitive. While his lips were busy, Youji’s hands traced the honed contours of Aya’s stomach and chest. The younger man was all hard muscle and sleek lines, not curvy like so many of the women he’d been with over the years, but the angles that were uniquely male and something special in and of themselves.

Youji felt Aya grow hard beneath him as he lavished attention on a particular spot on Aya’s neck, close enough to his most erogenous spot to draw the most interesting sounds from his lover, yet far enough down the man’s neck to let the resulting mark be mostly hidden by clothing. The practiced hands of the blonde made their way up to Aya’s chest, thumbs seeking nipples and teasing them to peaks.

Aya’s hands did not remain idle as he was slowly driven higher by his lover. Long white fingers trailed up and down the tanned flanks, a ghosting touch that raised goose bumps in their wake. He couldn’t reach far enough to start working the older man’s sweatpants off, but he could just slip his fingers under the waistband, teasing with a promise of more.

Youji smiled down at Aya before kissing him soundly. Aya’s hands tangled in the longish blonde hair, urging Youji closer, deeper. Youji gently cupped Aya’s face in his hands and pulled away. He moved aside, reaching for the top drawer of the nightstand and the supplies contained within. Unnoticed, the sketch Youji had drawn the day before fluttered, unfolded, to the floor as the tube of lube was extracted and tossed within easy reach on the bed. Youji shimmied out of his sweatpants, kicking them aside before returning to the passion-flushed body of his lover.

Youji had taken delight in discovering that when Aya blushed, it went all the way down. He followed that scarlet pattern down the thin man’s body with his lips, dropping wet, opened mouthed kisses the whole way down to his belly button. Youji nuzzled at the light smattering of hair that started just below Aya’s navel while his fingers worked their way under the waistband of Aya’s sweats, easing them over bony hips and a growing erection.

The noises that Aya made, and the gentle encouragement conveyed through touch was enough for Youji to be aware of his own erection firming between his legs. Youji shifted so he was kneeling over the redhead and moaned softly as pale hands encouraged his arousal. Youji continued to worship Aya’s body until the man was practically whimpering under him, his erection pressing into Youji’s backside.

Aya stared up at Youji with purple eyes so dark it was near impossible to distinguish iris from pupil. He tried to growl at Youji when he rocked back against his length, but the sound emerged instead a strangled whimper.

Youji took the hint and reached for the lube as he rose to his knees and settled himself over the smaller man’s thighs without actually touching the bandages around the fresh wound. Aya’s hands continued to aimlessly roam Youji’s body as the blonde worked the cap off the tube, spreading a liberal amount onto his hand and working it over both his palms.

When his slicked hands gently gripped Aya’s length, the man arched up, making a delicious noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Youji worked the lube around with slow, agonizing, teasing strokes, enjoying the small tortures he was bestowing on his lover.

Youji shifted again, repositioning himself over Aya. He leaned forward and claimed the kiss-swollen lips again, joining their hands together as he eased himself down onto Aya. He went slow, again teasing his lover, but also because he hadn’t been able to prepare himself. And he hadn’t wanted to. Slowly, the pain rose and mingled with pleasure as he took Aya deeper inside, the younger man almost shaking as he tried not to thrust up all at once into the tight passage that just barely enveloped him. Ever so slowly, Youji lowered himself, careful to keep his weight forward and off Aya’s injured thighs.

He shifted once more and paused to gaze into Aya’s eyes when he’d taken him all the way. The moment was one Youji savored, no matter which of them was being seme. The moment of connection, the utter surrender of trust and love, the intimacy of the act was something Youji never took for granted, not with this man. He stretched forward again to claim Aya’s lips as he rose up slowly then settled back down, gradually establishing a slow pace that was probably frustrating to the redhead.

Youji gradually sped up the rhythm, meeting Aya’s thrusts as the heat grew between them. The ache in his shoulder and knees faded as his world became focused on a pair of dark purple eyes staring up at him, the gaze never breaking once it was established. Aya’s hand wrapped around Youji’s erection, pumping in time with their already established beat. He had a breath of warning before Aya arched up and stiffened against him, the sudden tightening of the hand around him being enough to trigger his own release.

When he had enough motor control to do so, Youji shifted off Aya, removing the weight of his body from the slim red chest. He drew Aya close, the thin body still trembling slightly from his release. Aya settled against him easily, folding himself around Youji’s warm body.

“Aya, I-” Youji started, not wanting to let the moment pass.

“Youji, please, don’t,” Aya whispered, the words tinged with desperation.

Youji closed his eyes, ignoring the pleading look on the face that buried itself in his neck as he took a breath. “I love you.”

Aya turned slowly in Youji’s arms, stopping when his back was pressed to the taller man’s chest. His hands covered Youji’s, resting lightly on his belly. “I know,” he sighed.

End.



Back