To those who know me from earlier fics: Hi! I missed you! It's been too long! To those who've never even heard of me before: Hi! Thanks for taking the time to give me a read – I hope I can entice you into sticking around!
This fic is set during the regular series, about middle point in the post-Taketori time period of the anime. This prologue has less to do with the plot than with the need to set up a part of the plot. I hope you enjoy it, anyway. As always, my writings usually tend to be very relationship-centric, but there is a definite plot this time - and not just one that shows up in the last three chapters. (I hope.) Fic idea came from a number of sources: reading "Universe" by Jade Cade made me start thinking about the characters again (I hope this prologue doesn't sound too close, but your oneshot did inspire me, so don't get mad!) re-watching the series and noting the change in Aya's character between the two arcs, and then realizing how very influential a certain character from a certain other series can be, and how changing one little thing could have completely change the course of the rest of the series.
Warnings: Yaoi. Strong language. Eventual violence. Possible eventual crossover. Weiss Kreuz and all associated characters and storylines do not belong to me.
Prologue: Shadowed Prelude
The room was dark, and silent but for the occasional click, click of an unresponsive lighter, and the soft, sated breathing of its two occupants. It was as if a spell had been cast, transforming the quiet space into a world in and of itself – a world that was fragile, and temporary, and unreal.
Click, click.
Click, click.
Fragile…and temporary…and unreal.
He liked that.
Click, click.
Click, click.
"You might as well give that up. I'm not going to let you light one, anyway."
He found himself grinning in the darkness. His companion's voice was soft and tired, and even a little amused, and he found that he liked that, too. It had been a long time since he had heard anything but blood and steel in that voice.
"International law, sweetheart," he answered with a quiet chuckle. "Great sex must always be followed by a good smoke."
Click, click.
"That's the law?" the mattress shifted beside him as the other body turned toward him.
Click, click.
Spark.
For just a moment, the light flared. For just a moment, he could see those eyes – dark, and warm, and liquid.
"And do you consider our recent activities to count as…'great sex'?" that voice asked quietly.
"Baby, that was so great that if I didn't have a cig, they'd be sending goons after me to confiscate my balls."
"How charming."
Click, click.
Click, click.
"Ah, well," Yohji sighed, giving it up as lost as the lighter refused to offer up a sufficient flame. "Serves me right for buying such a cheap one, I guess."
"And your balls?"
"Guess I'll have to take the risk."
A smoke would have been amazing right now, though. Damn near perfect.
He reached for the warm body beside him, and for a wonder, the lithe, supple form came into his arms easily, even willingly. Even now, no longer riding the waves of sex-charged emotions that had overtaken his mind only a short while ago, the man's skin was the softest he had ever touched.
"You should feel lucky, you know," he said, relishing in the feel of that skin beneath his hands.
"That's hardly a word I would choose."
"Oh, but you are lucky," he nuzzled that soft, warm neck, breathing in deeply of the scent of roses that seemed to always cling to the man in his arms. He wondered if either of them had the energy for another romp. "I don't let just anyone lure me into their beds."
"And by 'not just anyone', you mean 'almost everyone'. And this is your bed."
He laughed, and wondered how a request for another romp would be received.
"Well, in all fairness, talents like mine shouldn't be wasted."
"Talents. Yes."
His grin widened.
"We all have our gifts," he mumbled lazily, "And it would be downright selfish of me not to use mine when I see where they would benefit someone…though I never thought I'd get the opportunity to help you."
"You've certainly offered often enough."
"Well, of course. I take my responsibility to the world very seriously, you know. I mean, when you get right down to it, I'm just a kind-hearted humanitarian – not that I consider you charity, mind."
"No." abruptly, all softness fled that voice. It was suddenly steel again, a blade drawn in the night. "It is charity, so don't forget it."
"Aya…"
"I don't want you getting confused, Kudoh," jabbing him in the ribs, the smaller man scrambled from the bed. "I didn't come to you because I suddenly had some great awakening. I didn't let you fuck me because I cared about you."
"Well, I didn't say you did," Yohji said, feeling lost. Was he supposed to defend some mythical emotion, as most lovers seemed to expect, or did the man really want to be reassured that he was nothing more than a good time?
Aya flicked on one of the table lamps and began to gather up his discarded clothing, ignoring Yohji as if he had ceased to exist.
Aya Fujimiya had always been a difficult man to get along with, but until recent months, that had all been a part of his charm. From the day he had met the small, unfriendly man, Yohji Kudoh had taken perverse joy out of finding ways to get under his skin.
The man was just so damned blank most of the time – he was practically begging for Yohji to pick on him.
That had been before though.
Before the death of Reiji Taketori.
Before the kidnapping of the real Aya Fujimiya.
Yohji was of the personal opinion that Aya would have changed even if his sister hadn't gone missing. Yohji had seen his eyes the day after he had killed Taketori.
The day he had realized that revenge did not magically fix his life.
But losing his purpose was nothing compared to losing his sister. The Aya who had so reluctantly made his return to Weiss was a different man entirely than the one who had left it.
The old Aya had been quiet and motivated, but not silent, and never cruel. He'd been socially awkward, a little rude, but never deliberately harsh. His eyes had been filled with pain, whereas now there was nothing in them but death.
Yohji wondered if it had been their most recent mission that had caused the man to come to him, or if he had been on the verge of breaking already. According to Omi, he'd just recently rejected the affections of the cute and infatuated Sakura – and while Yohji seriously doubted someone like Aya would have any romantic inclination towards an underage minor who was nearly a mirror double to his sister, he had always felt that the man depended on her friendship.
She had picked the worst of times to decide to have a crush. With the real Aya-chan beyond his grasp, rejecting her substitute must have been truly difficult.
Aya had come to Yohji like a drowning man, and the blonde, although not usually the most insightful of men, had understood his motivation without the need for a single word.
Hungry hands and desperate kisses – that was a language Yohji spoke fluently. Aya had been insistent, almost brutal, in his demands, and Yohji, far from undamaged himself, had loved every minute of it. Aya had given him dominance, but that didn't mean he'd been some meek little lamb, and Yohji had loved that, too. Aya had been demanding, harsh, desperate, and Yohji was sure that he's be wearing the marks of the man's passion for weeks to come.
All in all, it had been the single most satisfying sexual experience Yohji's had the privilege to enjoy in a very long time.
Yohji used the advantage of having the light on to roll toward the nightstand and rummage through the drawer for a fresh lighter.
"What?" he asked, clutching a cigarette between his teeth. "You're pissed because I said you weren't a charity case? I'll have you know, I've been after your ass since day one."
A quiet yet rude grunt was his only response. Apparently, whatever lethargy sex had brought him had already worn off, for Aya was once again the cold, violent, dead-eyed creature he'd been since the day he had rejoined the Weiss.
Rolling his eyes, Yohji finally found a new, and much better-working lighter, and didn't waste any time in putting it to use.
"Well," he sighed, exhaling and taking comfort from the tobacco now filling his lungs, "Just so you know, the next time you find the pressure building and think you can come to me for relief…"
"I should remember that you aren't a whore and try to have more respect for your feelings?" he demanded, cold and impatient.
"Hell no! Will you stop putting words in my mouth?" Yohji grinned at the obvious surprise that overtook the stony look on the redhead's face.
Aya closed his eyes, making a very obvious effort to calm a temper that had become increasingly short since his sister's kidnapping.
"What, then?" he demanded at last. Though he'd been trying to dress himself, he'd only gotten so far as his briefs and his jeans, the latter of which weren't even zipped yet. He held his shirt clutched in both hands.
Yohji licked his lips, unconcerned with the fact his thoughts were probably showing on his face.
"What I was going to say," he drawled at last, "Is that the next time you feel the need for a little…release…my door is always open."
The small, fierce leader of Weiss stared at him, expression unreadable. Yohji inhaled deeply, then reached his long arm to casually flick ash into the tray near the lamp. He let his eyes travel Aya's body once more, let his mind remember the way the smaller man had felt, and made sure Aya could read his expression very clearly.
"I gotta get it from somewhere," he said at last, "And you've never approved of my wild ways, anyway. But you need a release for all this pain and fury you've been carrying around, and I'm still interested in your body. Way I see it, we both win."
"Kudoh…"
"Don't get me wrong. A relationship is the last thing I need – but you aren't some stupid bar skank that thinks she can have one drunken night turn into the arrival of Prince Charming. We both know what this is about, so there won't be any misunderstandings. What can I say? I'm your man, baby."
Aya continued to stare at him for a long moment. A cold, unreadable, potentially violent moment.
Then a small, dangerous smile turned up the corner of his mouth. Eyes dark, dangerous, and beautiful, he threw his shirt back to the floor, and Yohji laughed as he welcomed him back into bed.
tbc
So there's the prologue, plot to come later (then what's the point in even having a prologue? Shhh! It makes me happy, okay?). Hopefully we can see this as a relationship distinctly different from the Bridges fics. Those who are not fans of this pairing, while I appreciate your input, you will not be able to convince me that there's not something between these two.
I look forward to your thoughts. I answer all reviews, even if I have nothing more to say than a simple "thanks for reading." Chapter one to come soon.
And here's my attempt at a vague teaser- in the first chapter: Wickedness sulks, the Planner worries, and an Arrow jumps to conclusions.
Hope to see you soon.