A Sense for Timing
Summary: Side B. Aya has an unfailing sense for timing. Drabble- Aya, Ken and an innocent cup of tea.
Warning: Drabble. No fights. No plot. No pairing. Side B everyday scene. Also. I was waiting to see whether I would be able to better this here and there. Since I finally realized this won't happen too soon, I'll just go ahead, post it and hope for your understanding.
Also, laurose pointed out correctly that drabbles usually are very short stories... I use the definition to describe stories below the 1000 word count. I apologize if there were misunderstandings!^^
Set: Story-unrelated.
Disclaimer: Standards apply.
Aya, Ken thinks, has an unfailing sense for timing.
It shows in many different ways. When they're on a mission, for example. When Aya reacts just in time to keep them out of trouble, or when he steps into a fight just the second Ken's really starting to lose it. His timing probably is the reason Ken is still alive, even though he'd like to think his skills and his ability have some say in the matter, as well.
On hot summer afternoons, when no one wants to sit in the hot, stuffy shop and lounges in the air-conditioned living room instead, it is Aya who knows when to step through the door that leads to the shop. And every time he does so, someone is there to buy something or deliver another order. It is not like he simply hears them – every single one of them can tell when someone enters. But Aya has the knack of knowing when someone wants him to be somewhere.
Ant not only in the shop, for that matter. Aya is the one who knows on which day Michel has which classes and will return home when. Aya is the one who walks into Yuki's room late at night to find the brat wide awake and surfing the internet. Aya is the one who tells Kurumi to take a break and go for a walk and who even accompanies her – but only when she wants company. Aya is the one who remembers birthdays and places orders and buys toilet paper just in time before it is finished completely. How he does it remains a miracle. But he does it.
Whether it comes down to intuition, skill or actual knowledge, nobody can say. It's an Aya-thing, impossible to explain. As inexplicable as Aya himself is.
Aya with his unfailable sense for about everyone knows exactly when Ken feels sick of everything – sick of the world, sick of his job. Sick of himself. Those are the days when he just wants to bury himself in his bed and not get up, when even the prospect of a morning jog and training with the kids cannot rouse him. When the sunshine and the birds' song outside seem to mock him. Seven years and two months have passed since he killed Kase and not even three years have slipped by since David O'Brien died the same death.
By Ken's own hands.
Those are the days when Ken lies on his bed, dressed and unable to move, and stares out of the window without seeing anything. Those are the days when Aya enters without knocking and places a cup of tea and some cookies on the small, over-filled bedside table. They are mostly accompanied by a gruff face and the quiet reassurance than Ken isn't alone.
On those days, Ken loves his partner more than anything.
Spluttering.
"Oh God, Aya, what did you do to the tea? God! How long did you let it steep? You're Japanese, for Heaven's sake!"
A/N: Okay. Did the joke make it out alive? I certainly do hope so.