Behold, the amazing plotless wonder!

>_

Written because I was having problems sleeping until I made myself some warm milk with honey mixed in... Yum! It really works, honest! (Although it makes thinking up a title for fics almost impossible. >_)

~silvershadeus~

Feedback, onegai! ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz; I'm just borrowing the characters for a little bit.

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Milk and Honey

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Covering a yawn with the back of his hand, Yohji peered around the edge of his front door, blinking blearily at the soft glow coming from the kitchen. Sticking his head out further, he looked up and down the hallway for a clue as to which one of his teammates might be rummaging around in the kitchen.

Frowning when he saw that the other doors were shut, he debated whether or not it was worth it to go investigate on his own when his stomach grumbled softly. Grimacing, his hand dropped to his stomach, rubbing little circles over it as it protested once more.

He hadn't gotten a chance to eat anything since breakfast that morning due to the shop being unusually busy, requiring even him to lend a helping hand despite the fact that the other others were working the same shift. Afterwards he'd taken a shower, grumbling over aches and pains that had made themselves known in muscles he hadn't even known he'd had.

Ken had ordered pizza for dinner for the four of them, but after one look at the oily, bubbling mass of animal fat and pureed tomatoes, Yohji had decided to pass on dinner. He'd been too tired to pick a name from his 'little black book', as Ken called it, to make a date for the night, which had amazed his teammates clear through. He was still a little shocked that he had chosen sleep over a date with one of the women who could never get enough of him himself, truth be told.

Strange, that.

When his stomach gurgled noisily once again, Yohji relented and slipped back into his apartment to grab his robe. While he had no problems wandering around half-naked around his teammates, they were the ones with the problem about seeing him bare-chested. And after having heard their cries of protest one too many times, he'd taken to respecting their wishes on the matter.

Tying the sash around his middle firmly, he absently ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to straighten it out. It was a losing battle, but at least he'd tried. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he opened his door and stepped out into the hall, immediately regretting that he'd neglected to put his slippers on.

Rolling his shoulders to settle his robe more comfortably, he padded down the hall, pausing opposite the hall mirror to see that he was mostly presentable. His hair was slightly flattened on one side, there were dark bags under his eyes, and everything looked fuzzy. Sighing, he knuckled his eyes once more, blinking rapidly a few times to get them focusing properly again.

Shaking his head, he realized there was no point in delaying any further and headed for the kitchen, where he could catch the soft clink of metal on metal every so often. Sniffing the air, one corner of his mouth quirked as he caught the unmistakable scent of chocolate. Moving silently, the better to sneak up on whoever was in the kitchen, Yohji stopped just outside of the doorway, green eyes taking in the scene before him. He was in the perfect position to admire the slender lines of Omi's body, the curve of his cheek as he turned to look at the bag of chocolate morsels sitting on the counter.

Omi, clad in his blue flannel pajamas stood at the stove, head bent over the pot as he stirred the contents with a large metal spoon. Smirking slightly at the sight, Yohji crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying the view as Omi reached over to the milk container on the counter next to him. The flannel pajama top rode up to reveal a swatch of lightly tanned skin and well-toned muscles that would have been the envy of men half again Omi's age.

He watched entranced as Omi murmured softly under his breath to himself while he added milk to the pot, oblivious to his audience of one. Lifting the spoon to his mouth, Omi blew gently on it to cool it, and then tipped it into his mouth with an almost delicate twist of his wrist. Lowering the spoon, he tilted his head to the side, as though trying to decide if he should add more milk to his concoction or not.

Apparently deciding not, he set the spoon aside and reached for one of the ceramic coffee mugs in the overhead cupboards, the edge of his sleeve catching on the pot's handle. Hissing softly as he accidentally overturned the pot and its contents, spilling the hot chocolate over the stove and himself, Omi stepped away from the stove, sucking absently on the fingers of his left hand. Shaking his head in irritation, Omi turned towards the kitchen table for the roll of napkins there, and froze when he found himself looking into a pair of cat-green eyes.

Still sucking on his burned fingers, Omi couldn't pull his gaze from Yohji's no matter how hard he tried. Wrinkling his nose as the stench of burned milk and chocolate reached him, Omi stretched out his hand for the napkins, only to have Yohji beat him to it.

"You shouldn't be so careless, Omittchi. You could have really hurt yourself."

Trapped by the look in Yohji's eyes, Omi couldn't even so much as move when the older man stepped closer to him, gently pulling his hand away from his mouth to examine it for injuries.

"You're lucky this wasn't worse, Omittchi. At any rate, you won't even be able to tell you burned it in the morning. Good news, eh?" Yohji asked, leading the younger man towards the sink.

Turning the tap, he adjusted the flow until it was no longer bitterly cold and placed Omi's hand under the steady stream, flexing his fingers carefully so that the water reached the burned areas. Finally able to look away now that Yohji wasn't staring into his eyes, Omi watched the older man's face, wondering at the worried expression he saw there.

"I'll take care of the mess, you just stay here and keep your hand under the faucet, okay?"

Nodding, Omi did as he was told, blue eyes automatically tracking the movements of the older man. It was unusual for Yohji to be so concerned over such a small thing as his clumsiness. Normally Yohji would have left Omi to his own devices, well aware that of all of them, Omi was the best suited to tend to the injury. After all, he was the one who patched up the slight wounds his teammates were likely to receive on their nightly missions.

Shrugging to himself, Omi decided to tune out the little voice of reason in his head and decided to give in to the moment. It was rare when Yohji showed his mother-hen side, and Omi wasn't one to miss the opportunity to appreciate it.

Despite appearances or claims otherwise, Yohji was a fairly neat and tidy person. And while he wasn't quite so fanatic or zealous in the level of order and cleanliness of his personal belongings as Aya, his apartment and car were kept in good order.

The stove and floor were near sparkling in a matter of mere minutes, and Omi had to smile as Yohji gave the countertop a final sweep. Dressed as he was, in his dark green bathrobe, he cut quite the dashing figure. Honey-gold hair tumbling loose around his shoulders, his cat-green eyes all but glowing in the soft light of the kitchen fixtures.

"Sorry about your hot chocolate, Omittchi. If you have anymore chocolate I'd be glad to make you some...?"

Touched by the older man's offer, Omi turned the sink faucet off, flicking his fingers a little to get the water off. Yohji watched him, one hip leaning against the cabinets beside the stove, head tipped to the side in a gesture that reminded Omi of a puzzled cat.

"Ah, no. That was the last of it." Omi said, carefully wiping the remaining water off his hand with the dishtowel Yohji tossed to him. "I was planning to buy some more on Sunday when I did the groceries."

"Hmm. Looks like you have some milk left over... Why don't you have a seat, I'll whip something up that I think you'll like."

Surprised by the older man's offer, Omi's first reaction was to refuse. Yohji looked exhausted, and Omi felt guilty for keeping him from his well-deserved sleep, but a second, closer look at him showed that Yohji honestly didn't mind. Smiling, Omi walked over to the table, pulling out a chair with his good hand and taking a seat.

"That sounds wonderful Yohji. Thank you."

Flashing Omi one of his infamous grins, Yohji pushed off from the counter and walked over to the fridge, where he promptly began rummaging through it, looking for what, Omi had no idea. Humming softly, Yohji made an incoherent noise that Omi correctly interpreted as being a triumphant sound when Yohji reappeared from behind the fridge door with a satisfied little smile.

"Got it!" He said, flashing Omi another grin as he moved back over to the stove.

Setting the small jar he'd retrieved form the fridge down next to the milk, Yohji took the pot that Omi had been using to make his hot chocolate and carried it over to the sink where he washed it out, taking extra care to scrub the burned milk and chocolate from the outer sides of the pot. When he was done, he held the newly cleaned pot out at arms length, shaking it a little to remove the water clinging to the sides. Making his way back to the stove, Yohji set the pot on the front burner, turning the knob to medium low as he poured the rest of the milk into the pot.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Omi was getting ready to get to his feet, when Yohji turned and pinned him to his chair with a look.

"I thought I told you to stay put, Omittchi." He said, mock warning in his voice.

Lifting an eyebrow at the playful tone in Yohji's voice, Omi sat back in his chair, a small smile gracing his lips. Yohji was definitely in a mood, and Omi couldn't help but be curious as to why now, and why him.

Although Yohji seemed to delight in specifically targeting him with his friendly teasing, somewhat like what Omi imagined an older brother would have, his current behavior was odd, even for him.

Well, an older brother who wasn't having problems confusing reality with fantasy, at any rate, Omi thought wryly. He doubted his family counted as 'normal' by any stretch of the word. And strangely enough, he was okay with that, because he didn't consider his blood relatives family. By any stretch of the word.

He'd learned enough by watching his schoolmates and the way they interacted with their families to know what a family was supposed to be. He'd watched enough young children playing with their older siblings at the park to know how things were supposed to be, and he knew that he had those things...in his teammates.

"Well, you never actually told me to, in so many words, Yohji." Omi returned, blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

Yohji noticed that, his grin widening slightly.

"You'd make a great lawyer, Omittchi. Always looking for loopholes and the like." Yohji commented dryly over his shoulder as he turned back to check on the milk. "I bet you'd have a practice of your own and a long list of clients begging for your services."

Laughing quietly, Omi glanced down at the reddened skin of his left hand, a small smile lingering on his lips.

"But then I wouldn't get the chance for you to make me whatever it is you're making right now." He said, amusement plain in his voice.

Yohji snorted gently, reaching for the jar he'd gotten from the fridge. Unscrewing the lid, he set that aside while he scooped some of the jar's contents into the milk warming on the stove. Unable to see exactly what it was Yohji was adding to the pot, Omi wriggled a little in his chair, debating whether or not he should get up to see for himself what Yohji was doing.

"Don't even think about it, Omittchi." Yohji warned, as though he was aware of the direction of Omi's thoughts just then. "And don't pout, either. I'm almost done."

Sighing, Omi rested his chin on his arms, which were folded on the kitchen table, blue eyes tracking Yohji's movements as the older man stirred the contents of the pot with the same spoon Omi had been using earlier. The dark green cloth of Yohji's robe extended to just above his ankles, which Omi's eyes seemed rather drawn to. They were oddly slender, the bones there strangely delicate seeming, and undoubtedly beautiful, in a way. Omi's eyes ventured higher, admiring the slim curve of one calf that could be glimpsed against the green cloth, and even higher to -

"There we go, it's done!" Yohji cried, turning to give Omi another one of his grins, clearly oblivious to the fact that his teammate had just been ogling him. "Let me get a couple of mugs to put this in and then..."

The rest of Yohji's words were lost as Omi stared transfixed at the open neck of Yohji's robe, and the honeyed skin beneath it. He caught his breath when Yohji reached for the mugs in the overhead cabinet, muscles shifting beneath the skin in a way that seemed made to make Omi's heart skip a beat.

"You're going to love this, Omi. My grandmother used to make this for me all the time when I was a kid. It worked wonders for me when I couldn't sleep." Yohji said, taking the pot off the heat and turning the stove off.

Still unaware of the fact that Omi was rather unabashedly staring at him and various parts of his body, Yohji crossed the room to the small kitchen table. Setting Omi's favorite mug down in front of him, Yohji took a seat opposite the younger man, a mug of his own cradled in his hands.

"Go on, try it." Yohji urged, leaning forward to watch Omi's reaction.

Blinking, Omi hid the blush rising on his cheeks by taking hold of the lightly steaming mug and its contents and holding it up to his face, hands cupped around the warm mug. Sniffing it cautiously, he lifted an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

"What is it?"

Yohji beamed, taking a sip of his own drink before answering.

"Milk and honey. Go ahead, try it. It's not like it'll kill you."

Ignoring the misgivings that Yohji had aroused with his unfortunate phrasing, Omi took a drink, and was pleasantly surprised at the honey-sweet taste.

"It's good." He admitted, taking a second drink. "You said your grandmother made this for you?"

Yohji nodded, smiling contentedly.

"Yeah. I had a lot of trouble falling asleep when I stayed with her in the summers, so she made this to help me fall asleep. She didn't like the taste of chocolate, and she always forgot to get some when I went to stay with her."

Omi smiled, surprised that Yohji was telling him so much while saying so little. And secretly relieved that he wasn't asking why Omi himself was having problems sleeping at the moment.

"So why are you awake, Yohji?"

Just because he was glad Yohji wasn't asking questions didn't mean that he wasn't curious.

Grimacing a little at Omi's question, Yohji took another sip and leaned back in his chair, hands wrapped firmly around his mug. Omi mirrored his pose, waiting patiently for Yohji's answer.

"Honestly?"

Omi nodded, his grip on his mug tightening slightly. The fact that Yohji had needed to ask that question stirred up his curiosity even further.

Sighing, Yohji shrugged, the movement inevitably drawing Omi's attention to elegant curve of Yohji's collarbone and the hollow of his throat.

"Honestly I don't know. I just woke up, heard you puttering around in the kitchen, and decided to check it out. Well, that and I was hungry."

"Hungry?"

For some reason, Omi was finding it hard to form simple sentences.

Unaware of Omi's predicament, Yohji nodded, pulling Omi's eyes from his throat to the line of his jaw.

"Yeah. Kenken's pizza didn't look all that appetizing earlier, and I was too tired to cook anything myself. You know how it is. You're starving, but you're too tired to do anything about it."

The wry tone of Yohji's voice finally got through to Omi, who knew only too well what the older man was referring to. He'd gone through that himself far too many times while staying up late to study for school or hunting down much needed clues for a mission they were working on. It was one of the reasons Ken had taking to mothering him almost to the point of distraction for both of them.

Omi was certain of one thing, should Ken ever have children, they couldn't be in better hands.

"I know what you mean."

Looking up, Yohji regarded Omi silently for a moment, green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Shifting nervously under the older man's unblinking gaze, he rubbed his thumb over the faded kanji on his mug absently.

"Heh. I guess you would, all those nights you stay up working on that computer of yours looking stuff up to help us with the missions. You shouldn't work yourself so hard, Omittchi, you'll burn yourself out like that."

Startled once again by the genuine concern he heard in Yohji's voice, Omi smiled. He would have liked to take Yohji's advice, but he knew that he couldn't. He knew lives relied upon his being able to ferret out vital bits of information that no one else was able to do. If he didn't do it, someone else would have to, and he would rather it be him. At least that way he would have something to do instead of twiddling his thumbs uselessly waiting for someone else to tell him what to do and where to go while innocents died.

"You're not going to do that though, are you."

Blinking at Yohji's words, Omi looked up to meet Yohji's eyes. There was understanding in the older man's eyes, and acceptance, something Omi hadn't really expected to see there. He knew that he'd always been somewhat of a puzzle to his teammates, reacting to situations in ways that they hadn't anticipated or expected. He knew that they were confused as to why he could still smile after everything they'd been through - after everything he'd been through. To have Yohji's understanding at last...it was like being given a rare and precious gift. One that he wouldn't have traded for the world.

"Probably not. It's just the way I am, I guess."

Yohji smiled a little sadly at that.

"I guess so, Omittchi. I guess so."

There was nothing to say to that, so they sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their drinks and enjoying the rare moment of peace they'd found themselves in. The kitchen wall-clock ticked away in the background, a soothing white noise that helped ease any tension that might have remained between them.

Setting his empty mug down on the table in front of him, Omi stretched, grimacing as his shoulders made little popping noises, the muscles of his back protesting the movement.

"Thanks for the drink, Yohji. I don't think I'll have trouble sleeping now." Omi said, getting to his feet with his mug in one hand.

Looking up, Yohji waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, finishing off the last of his drink.

"Eh, no problem, Omittchi. I haven't made this myself in ages, it was worth it."

Rinsing his mug out in the sink, Omi couldn't help but feel pleased that Yohji had decided to make one of his favorite drinks for him. It was a...nice feeling.

Drying his hands on the dishtowel, Omi walked back over to the table where Yohji was looking as though he might fall asleep at any moment. Admiring the way Yohji moved like a large cat, his movements slow and graceful in a way only cats managed to be, Omi helped him to stand, one arm around his slender waist for balance.

"You look like you're about to pass out, Yohji. Let me help you get to your apartment, at least."

For a moment, it looked as though Yohji was going to refuse his help, but then something in his eyes flickered and the frown on his face was replaced with an odd little smile. Had Omi been paying attention to it instead of the way Yohji felt pressed against his side, Omi would have been wary of it. And if Yohji leaned a little more on Omi than was actually necessary, neither of them commented on it.

They made their way without incident out of the kitchen and down the first few feet of the hallway, but when they were opposite Omi's door, Yohji tripped, sending them stumbling back against the wall. Omi grunted softly when his back made contact with the wall, Yohji falling against him, his hands grasping at Omi's shoulders for stability.

Blue eyes widening when Yohji turned to look at him, Omi froze at the look in the backs of those cat-green eyes. Muttering an indistinct apology for tripping them both up, Yohji straightened, placing his hands on the wall on either side of Omi while he tried to disentangle their legs.

Wondering why Yohji was acting as though he couldn't hear his heart slamming rather desperately at the walls of his chest, Omi brought up a hand to rest on one of Yohji's shoulders. His fingers bunching the soft material of his robe as Yohji leaned a little closer to him, bringing his chest inches away from Omi's face.

Nostrils flaring as the caught Yohji's scent, summer rain and stale cigarette smoke blended with something uniquely Yohji, Omi squeezed his eyes shut as the older man's proximity threatened to overload his senses.

"Omittchi?"

Slitting his eyes open, Omi looked up to see Yohji looking down at him, a concerned expression on his face and in his eyes.

"Are you all right? I didn't hurt you just now, did I? Omi?"

Noting the way Yohji's was beginning to sound a little desperate when he simply stared at him instead of responding, Omi let his eyes roam across the planes of Yohji's face. They lingered on the worried crease of his forehead, moving lower to the straight lines of his nose and still lower to the delicately shaped cheekbones and oh so kissable lips that were drawn into a thin line out of concern for him.

"Omi?"

Giving in to his impulses and throwing caution to the winds, Omi released his hold on Yohji's shoulder and grabbed the edges of his bathrobe's collar, tugging sharply to pull the older man's face level with his. Ignoring the startled look on Yohji's face and the stab of pain in his hand, Omi's eyes flitted over Yohji's face once more as though to memorize it.

And then he kissed him.

Yohji stiffened, green eyes flying wide in shock as Omi's warm lips pressed against his, and then he was a reacting, arm going around Omi's shoulders, pulling the younger blonde against him and away form the wall. Smirking into the kiss as he felt Omi's arms go around his shoulders, Yohji's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of Omi's bottom lip, requesting entrance. Omi hesitated, startled by the gesture, and then he relaxed into Yohji's arms, giving himself over to the moment and the feelings coursing through him so strongly that they almost hurt, his lips parting.

They could have gone on forever, with Omi tasting so sweetly of honey and cinnamon and something else distinctly Omi, if it hadn't been for the need to breathe. Breaking away from each other, they gasped for breath, smiling a little shyly at each other. Yohji licked his lips nervously, eyes drawn to Omi's.

"Heh. What was that all about, Omittchi?"

Smirking as the older man tried for a casual air, Omi's eyes narrowed, his hands sliding upwards to trace the cords of Yohji's neck that stood out as he breathed heavily, green eyes a little wild with need.

To his credit, Yohji managed to reign in his raging libido long enough to search Omi's eyes to see if he knew what he was asking for. To see if this was really what he wanted. As much as Yohji wanted it himself, he wasn't about to let his own desires take precedence over Omi's.

He felt something in his chest clench almost painfully when Omi gifted him with an utterly sweet smile full of love and absolute trust. He'd never seen anything remotely like it directed at him. And he doubted he ever would again.

"Hmmm...I'm not sure, Yohji. Maybe we should try again, just to figure it out?" Omi murmured, lips curving up into a wicked little smile, fingers playing with the front of Yohji's robe.

Nodding eagerly, Yohji lifted a hand to cup against Omi's cheek, mesmerized by the way Omi's eyes fluttered closed at his touch, the younger blonde leaning into the caress like a cat starved for attention.

"Just to figure it out." He agreed, bending to meet Omi's lips once more.

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