Notes: okay, this is a little ficclet written in law class.
Pairing: hints of Aya/Brad
Warnings: comedy
Rating: PG
Title: Who knew?
It was you typical white on black struggle, Nagi who was barely lifting a finger in effort was flinging around Omi like a rag doll. Schuldig was smirking in that infuriating way, while Youji was desperately trying to wrap his wire around the lightning German. The sharp ring of metal on metal came from the area occupied by the former soccer star –Ken- and Shwartz's berserker – Farfello. In the centre Aya and Crawford circled each other; weary purple eyes never once left their smirking melted gold counter part.
"Shi-ne!" Aya yelled and leapt into the air in his signature move, Katana raised ready to slice open their opponent. Brad –obviously- knew this was coming and had prepared for the attack, side stepping the charging red-head at the last possible moment; still he could feel the displaced air from the Katana swish. Reaching out while he opponent was still off balance from the attack, he hooked his arm around the other leader's slim waist; he slammed the other leader to the concrete floor of the warehouse they were fighting in -again.
Brad smirked down at Abyssinian; he had followed Aya in the fall, easily lading on top of the white assassin, kneeling above the other in a position of power. Aya growled deep in his throat, he didn't like the look in the other man's eyes. Of course he never liked the other man, but he didn't really like anything so that doesn't count.
Locked in their grappling match they rolled around on the floor a bit, long black trench coat was discarded leaving the owner only in his small cropped sleeveless back shirt and his black leather gloves. Long pale arms and taught pale stomach were flashed, a spot of white on pure black.
Cream coat was also lost in the fray, leaving him in a perfectly pressed, spotless white business shirt. Crawford grinned, it was time to use his 'ultimate-super-shwartz-weapon-of-doom' there was no way he could lose with this. He caught both pale wrists in one of his own larger tanned hands. The other hand slowly crept down over black shirt, to rake over pale sides.
Momentarily violet eyes flew wide open, not a sound passed between them for a second, it seemed to drag on and on spiralling off into eternity. Then jewelled eyes squeezed closed and sound never previously heard before rang out through the room freezing everyone in their tracks.
Everyone stopped and stared, no one moved in the room save for Aya who was laughing and trying to squirm away from Brad's hands, and Brad who was having to much fun to notice that everyone else was staring. The sound was rich and deep and soothing, everyone sweat-dropped, and six sets of wide eyes fixed on the weird sight. Who knew?
Aya was ticklish.