Disclaimer: All characters of Gundam Wing are owned by Yoshiyuki Tomino and Bandai Entertainment. All characters of Yu Yu Hakusho are owned by Yoshihiro Togashi and Viz Media/Funimation. Anything you recognize is either not mine or is pure coincidence. I am not making any money from this fiction.
Rating: T for a few swear words, mild situations, nothing graphic.
Author's Note: Again, in case you did not read the summary, this story is SLASH, YAOI, a MALE/MALE relationship! There will not be anything too graphic in this story, but the relationship is still there. If you do not like reading slash pairings, you HAVE BEEN WARNED! On a further note, this story was written on request of my roommate, who supplied the pairing, told me "they're both thieves, figure out how to get them together" and left me with that. Hopefully, someone else will enjoy this as much as she did. Constructive criticism and comments are welcome, as are rave reviews! Flames will be used to light my grill and cook some steaks.
Stolen Desires
Chapter 1
Bright rays of moonlight cut into the floor of the otherwise black void of the expansive rooms, shedding little illumination in the lifeless building. Tall, narrow glass windows rose ominously along the long-reaching rooms, giving a checkerboard-like design displayed upon the countless artifacts housed within the massive structure.
Large, imposing statues stood about as silent guardians along the room, each one depicting a man with some type of weapon raised in a glorious salute to his stalwart duty. A heavy silence hung about the great, tomb-like rooms of the expansive museum, and any living creature within would be chilled to the bone from the bleak atmosphere within.
But a small shadow darted across the brief beams of light as if intently searching for something that lay hidden within the catacombs of rooms. The briefest flash of red danced from window to window as a tall, nimble male dashed from statue to statue as if using the silent structures for cover against their very own haunting gaze.
His name was Yoko Kurama and his intent was anything but guiltless as his dark, forest-like eyes scanned the hundreds upon hundreds of glass cases littered about the museum. Slender fingers tugged down against the tight sleeve-less vest of the black suit he wore, allowing his form to blend more easily with the shadows that haunted the peaceful exhibits. He had almost found it insulting how easily he was able to sneak past the single stationed guard and avoid the simplistic security system, almost regretting donning his favorite stealth outfit.
The deep green of his eyes flickered back and forth intently as he scanned the darkness before him, his blood-line easily giving him access to sight in the blackness of night that concealed many of the smaller tables. He felt his pride as a thief begin to burn as his gaze fell upon his target: a small, unattended display case housing a big poofy pink cushion.
Resting atop the pillow in the case was the target of his desire, the one thing that would make him resort to breaking into such a simplistic storage facility as this. The Kitsune's Eye shimmered silently atop the cushion, almost begging and pleading for the demonic thief to steal it. A crystal-clear stone with a dark red slit-like impurity racing down the middle of it, giving the faintest illusion of being an animalistic eye, rested comfortably atop the stand.
The tip of his tongue slid out to moisten the quickly drying flesh of his lips, his heartbeat beginning to race against his chest as he gazed longingly at the gemstone. Any other target would have been simple and unappealing, but this jewel had haunted his mind for centuries upon centuries of eluding his capture. It had begun years ago, when he was still a high-ranking demon in the other world, when he had first heard of it. The gem with the power to grant any spirit its truest desire, but could never be stolen due to a curse that haunted it.
Anything else was child's play to him; he wouldn't even so much as bat an eyelash at another prospective target, but this gem had slipped from his grasp so many times that he almost longed to simply bowl the stand over and grab the stone. But the last time he had tried that, a terrible thing had happened and he had become injured, forcing his spirit to find sanctuary within a newborn's body to regenerate itself. He knew now, that if he rushed the rest of his mission, the unforeseen could happen and then he would really never reach his dream.
Slowly, he crept toward the towering stand, making note to lift his legs high enough to step over an invisible laser or duck his shoulders down below a motion sensor. He shifted and contorted his slim body about, maneuvering around the simple human protection that hindered his direct approach to his target. He had to stop several times to reach his hands back and draw the thick mane of his fiery-red hair about before it threatened to shift beyond his control and give away his presence.
The inviting gem began to draw ever closer as he took careful steps to avoid alerting anyone, his goal mere moments from being within his grasp. His last obstacle would be to remove the fragile glass case surrounding the gem without setting off what he assumed to be a multitude of alarms and sirens.
The faint reflection of the Kitsune's Eye shimmered across the green spheres of Kurama's own eyes as he drew himself up before the case, his target just a few seconds away from being in his possession. His legs bent as he crouched over the simple glass case, almost amazed at how utterly useless the defenses had been in the building. So intent he was, on his target, he never heard the other shadow in the room.
A soft click echoed against the side of Kurama's ear, causing the startled thief to spin around with his fingers snapping a crimson-red rose to his palm. The dark black metal of a gun barrel hung less than an inch from his face as his hand drew back; ready to summon his Rose Whip if he needed to.
"Ah, ah, babe," a voice warned him in the darkness, his eyes falling upon the faint outline of a slender figure standing before him. A long brown braid hung lazily over the figure's shoulder, reaching down to hang just above the narrow waist of his surprising menace. "Drop whatever ya got in your pretty little hand and maybe you walk away without a bullet in your think-tank," the figure ordered, obviously unable to distinguish shapes as well as Kurama could in the darkness.
Kurama narrowed his eyes as he stared up at the male. Yes, his mind registered it as a male, despite the long braid, debating whether or not it was worth it to harm a human in the completion of his goal. With a sigh of resolve, the red-haired thief allowed his fingers to drop the stem of the dangerous flower, the petals bouncing against the ground gingerly as it fell.
"Good girl," the gun-wielding man said, shaking the barrel a bit as if to move Kurama aside. Kurama noted the equally dark outfit of the man holding the gun, almost marveling at the mirror of his own clothing before his eyes fell upon the simple white collar wrapped around the man's neck.
Did priests in the human world always carry guns and break into museums? Kurama couldn't recall, noting he'd seen stranger things since his revival here.
At the gunman's request, Kurama stood upright and nearly choked on his own tongue at the realization. He stood a good distance taller than the other man, perhaps a foot or so more, and he was amazed at how easily someone so small had been able to possess the skills needed to sneak up on a well-trained thief such as himself. He also noted, much to his diminishing pride, the man holding the gun was much younger than he, perhaps just shy of sixteen years of age.
In all my years alive, never have I met someone so…sneaky, Kurama mused to himself, lifting his arms in defeat at the gunman's insistent waving.
"Now be a doll and stand aside, I need that little stone for a friend of mine," the younger man ordered, the gun still trained on the tip of Kurama's chin. He had never found it insulting when people would confuse him with the opposite gender, knowing that would be the case because of his flowing long hair and slender frame, but for someone several centuries his minor, he was almost ashamed to be at such mercy.
The taller man opened his mouth as if to defend his own case when a loud crash behind him drew both of their attention away, snapping around to look at the now destroyed table. Three glowing green dots hung above the air, the lenses of night vision goggles, staring back at the two men that stood dumbfounded at the sight.
For the second time tonight, Kurama had found himself at a disadvantage in stealth, noting that he was growing careless in his age. Although the smooth-skinned demon looked to be no more than seventeen years old, deep within him housed a force that was several millennia older. But it was only in times of dire need in which that inner being rose up, revealing the hidden power that slept dormant within Kurama's soul.
"Well, well, now ain't this a sight?" An obviously feminine voice mocked beneath the glowing orbs of the goggles. "Three thieves, one target. Imagine my surprise, neh?" There was a thick accent when she spoke, as if she hailed from places more south than they currently stood. Probably from the southern region of the States, Kurama remembered.
"The hell!" the braid-sporting gunman yelled, aiming the barrel away from Kurama's bemused expression towards the woman that now towered over the two young men. "Give that back!" He yelled, pointing his free hand to the Kitsune's Eye that was gripped firmly in the woman's gloved-fist.
"Oh? Why don't you make me, little boy?" she teased back, slipping the gem into a dark leather pouch hanging against her well-rounded hip.
Kurama felt a slight jump in his heart rate as he noticed, like himself and his gunman assailant, that the woman wore black. But she wore much more black than the both of them, a tight form-fitting suit of black leather hugging against every sensual curve of the thief-woman. If the situation were different, Kurama feared that he would feel his throat grow dry at the secrets that the outfit did little to conceal on the woman's frame.
"Oh yeah? I will!" the brown-haired man said, squeezing his finger around the trigger a split-second too late. Already the woman was flipping backwards away from the assault, the bullets whizzing passed her harmlessly as she dodged his attacks. "Dammit! Hold still!" he ordered, emptying an entire clip into the darkness as his eyes lost visibility after so many yards into the room.
"Tsk, tsk, Darlin'. You shoulda kept a few rounds handy, how else do you plan to get out?" The woman's voice teased from the darkness that obviously hid her from the gunman's eyes; however Kurama kept his cold gaze locked on her retreating silhouette. He could see her as if it were as bright as daylight in the large museum, yet he stood numbly by as the loud cracking of the gun burst against the side of his ear and temporarily deafened him.
"What're you talkin' about?" The braided man called back. Before she could respond, the familiar wail of sirens began to sound outside of the windows of the building, signaling the arrival of whatever meager law enforcement the town had.
"Crap! Let's go!" The young man's voice ordered as his fingers reached out to grasp Kurama's thin wrist. Before he could protest, the red-headed man found himself being dragged behind the shorter man as if a dog was being pulled behind his owner's leash. Kurama felt a small flush grow against his cheeks at the surprisingly warm feeling of the other man's skin wrapped around his, wondering if it were a result from the heat generated by the firearm's discharges.
"Sorry about that," the shorter man offered over his shoulder as he lead Kurama down a long hallway of the museum, obviously retracing the steps that he had used to break into the building in the first place. "It's my fault. They probably heard me fire the gun," he explained as his other hand slipped the mentioned firearm into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back.
It didn't take them long to slip out the small, broken window that had been used by the brown-haired man to get in, but they didn't slow their flight away as they heard more and more of the sirens draw near. Much to Kurama's growing annoyance, the shorter young man held a firm grip around his wrist, as if he were actually helping him to escape.
The crimson-haired man opened his mouth to protest when he heard the familiar sound of thunder overhead, causing him to snap his jaw shut tensely. He hated when it stormed and he didn't have shelter, his more primal nature filling him with dread at the thought of being caught in a torrent of rain and wind. He couldn't tell where his hotel was from there, the brunette man leading him down several small alleyways and causing Kurama's sense of direction to explode trying to remember where they were.
"Come on, I feel kinda guilty about it so I'll let ya crash at my place," the shorter male said before several cold slashes of rain dropped against the exposed arm of Kurama, sending a cold chill racing down his spine. If it weren't for the rolling crash of thunder, Kurama may have been able to pry himself away from the tight grip of the other man's fingers, but each time he saw the flicker of lightning in the distance his animal-like nature forced him to timidly follow behind the racing man.
Before long, they had arrived at the younger man's home, a tall collection of apartment rooms that towered high above the streets. It stood many stories taller than any other building around, giving Kurama a sense that the man who had lead him here had a great wealth of money behind him, that may actually prove useful in the future.
By the time the two stepped into the doorway of the shorter man's apartment, both were soaking wet with heavy rivers of water dripping down the suddenly heavy mass of hair both were sporting. A light flicked on almost instantly, allowing Kurama to see into the room far easier than his demonic eye-sight could allow him to.
It was rather untidy, but not altogether messy. Unfolded clothes hung lazily about like deflated balloons along the floor, a small trail leading towards a room that Kurama could only assume was the bathroom from the musty smell that assaulted his demonic senses. Empty pizza boxes were scattered about several tables, with a small black laptop resting in front of a couch that looked like it had constant use. The kitchen wasn't disgusting by any means, but there were unwashed dishes and discarded take-out boxes piling up along the counter.
"Go ahead and make yourself at home," the voice called beneath a mass of brown tendrils as he undid his braid and whipped it about to squeeze water from his hair. "It ain't much, but it's cozy." The young man disappeared into the dark room that Kurama had guessed correctly as the bathroom before returning, shirt removed, with two big fluffy towels. He threw one around his narrow shoulders and held the other out to Kurama, a small smirk across his face.
"Thank you," Kurama finally managed to say, accepting the towel. His fingers reached up to undo the fabric straps of his vest when he noticed the other man spinning around quickly, turning his gaze away.
"Wh-What are you doing?!" The shirtless man sputtered, a hot blush dancing onto his cheeks as he gripped his fingers tight against either side of his towel. His hands drew the fluffy fabric up to dabble against his soaking hair as he tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes from bursting from their sockets.
"I am simply removing my shirt to dry off," Kurama informed him with a slight raise of his eyebrow. He hadn't been aware that what he was doing was wrong, but then, some human cultures were still weird and alien to him, so he guessed it was polite not to stare at another man.
"Well, can't ya do that in the bathroom?" The brunette whined, lowering the towel to dab into his ears as if he had gotten moisture into it.
"I'm sorry, I was unaware that it was improper in this country," the redhead offered with a small shrug, finishing the unfastening of his vest and shucking it off, allowing it to drop to the ground with a wet splat around his feet. His hands reached up to quickly encircle the soaking mane of his hair, shaking his fingers quickly to dry off the back of his neck least he come down with some kind of illness.
"Well, of course it is!" The younger man said, wheeling around to address Kurama. It hadn't occurred to him that maybe the red-haired person wouldn't stop undressing, despite his warning. His jaw hung slack at the bare sight of a well-toned slender man standing before him. "Oh. You're…You're a dude."
Kurama blinked the dark emerald of his eyes in confusion as he stared back at the startled blue orbs of the other man. "Why, yes. Yes, I am. I apologize; I did not know you didn't realize it." It suddenly raced into his mind why the other gentleman was being so polite and a knowing smile had forced itself onto Kurama's pale lips, having thought that the other man had realized it sometime during their exodus.
"Well, damn, didn't know that," The brunette said, scratching the towel against the back of his neck as he mumbled something else under his breath. He chewed against his tongue for several seconds as if looking for the words to voice his thoughts, unsure of if he was happy or not about the sudden revelation.
With a simple shrug, the shorter man took a step forward and held his hand out in greeting, a joyful smile replacing the grim stare from moments before. "Oh, well. The name's Duo. Duo Maxwell."
Kurama offered a small nod in return, his own hand reaching out to grasp the one offered to him. "A pleasure, Duo. My name is Yo…Shuichi. Shuichi Minamino," Kurama instantly caught himself before revealing his true name, unaware of the reputation that may precede him. He was never a well-known demon in his former life, but he'd encountered enough people to know that the name of 'Kurama' could still make or break a friendship.
"Shuichi, eh?" Duo said, drawing his hand back after the brief shake. The short man offered a simple shrug before he turned and walked towards another room beside the bathroom. As far as Kurama could see, a big mattress lay in the darkness of the room just beyond the doorway. "You can take the couch, Shuichi, it's pretty comfortable. I'm beat so I'ma hit the hay. We'll talk in the morning about what happened tonight, if that's okay?"
"Thank you, Duo," Kurama called after the retreating man, the towel wrapping tight around the shivering neck of the demon-thief. Duo gave a small shrug of his shoulders before he kicked the door closed behind him, the faint sound of snoring quickly following suite as the man had succumbed to sleep before he even reached the bed.
A soft sigh escaped the red-haired man's throat as he made his way towards the couch and fell face first against the lumpy cushions. Kurama groaned as he buried his still wet face against the single pillow left on the furniture for him, the night's events weighing heavily on his mind. He had been so close to his goal, and it had been snatched out from beneath his grasp.
End Chapter 1