"It's No Good"
by Beth Gulla
/.../ represents thoughts
~...~ represents telepathy
3
Yohji slipped away from his current dance partner with a regretful smile and headed towards the bar, easily making his way through the crowd. He reached the counter and managed to signal the tender for a beer, then turned to survey the club while he waited for his order. A slow grin spread across his face.
This was heaven. Sitting in his room, smoking and mulling over his predicament with Ken was only driving him mad, but here, he was in his element. He could relax, flirt with the ladies, maybe try to figure out what he was going to do about Ken. His drink arrived and he took a large swallow, letting his gaze drift across the dance floor lit by flashing colored lights.
Matters had not beenweird, per se, since that morning when he woke up and realized who his dream lover was, but they hadn't been exactly normal either. Yohji often found himself staring at Ken and wondering what it would be like to actually lay him out on a bed and do the things he dreamed about. His body--or a certain part of it, anyway--seemed to be in perfect agreement with this idea, but his conscience had other ideas.
Yohji was worried about how Ken would react if he approached him. For all intents and purposes, Ken seemed to be your average boy-next-door, with the cute, easy smile, a ready laugh and innocent mind. Innocent to a point, obviously, because Ken had shed just as much blood as any of them and did so a lot closer to the target than Yohji preferred. As for sexual orientation, the only evidence of which team Ken batted for was the Yuriko girl, whom Ken had been absolutely smitten with. Yohji had been the one to give Ken the lecture, and he had been furious with Aya and Omi for forcing him to. He wished nothing more than to save Ken from this mess. Omi had been practically born into it, Aya and himself had stained their souls with time, but Ken still maintained a bit of light and hope. Yohji had a feeling it had to do with the kids he coached, and he was happy that Ken had found something to take his mind off the guilt that seemed to swallow all of them so often.
Yohji downed another swig of beer, thinking of the tattoo on his arm and the constant guilt that plagued him. He didn't want to ruin the friendship he had with Ken by attempting to bed him. He was terrified of the possibility that Ken might be one of those guys who couldn't accept the thought of two men together and wouldn't have anything to do with him anymore. It would tear Weiss apart and Yohji couldn't risk that. Kritiker was a tricky employer and if one of their best assassin groups suddenly split, they might just decide they didn't want rogue members wandering the streets with Kritiker information.
Of course, there was always the chance that Ken might be open to such an idea and might reciprocate the feelings Yohji had for him
Shaking his head, Yohji set the empty beer bottle on the counter and slipped away from the bar, moving back into the crowd. The woman he had been dancing with before was gone, probably off with some other man, but he wasn't too concerned. He hadn't come here to pick up a date, he had just come to enjoy himself and hopefully sort out some of the mess in his head. The swaying mass of bodies welcomed him eagerly, sorting him towards the middle somewhere before he found enough space to actually move. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, moving lithely to the beat.
"This must be my lucky night," a nasal voice purred in his ear as a body suddenly materialized behind him. Arms snaked around his waist and teeth nipped at his neck while Yohji put two and two together.
"Schuldich!" he growled, struggling to break out of the man's hold. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the smirk plastered across his stalker's face.
"Happy to see me?" Schuldich doubled over with a soft grunt when Yohji elbowed him in the stomach, freeing himself. The Weiss assassin put a few feet of space between them while Schuldich recovered. When he finally straightened, the redhead looked less than pleased.
"I thought I told you to leave me the hell alone," Yohji said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the bass. Like oil, Schuldich's smirk oozed back into his expression.
"I don't take no' very well as an answer," he replied.
"Well get used to it," Yohji stated flatly. "I'm not interested." He turned to leave.
"Afraid of being sexually attracted to a man, Kudou? I think it's a little late for that." Yohji could practically hear the sneer in Schuldich's tone, but he forced himself to keep walking. He could feel Schuldich's presence behind him, dogging his footsteps.
"Are you even aware that we're enemies?" Yohji suddenly hissed, rounding on his follower. "You were protecting our target!"
"And now he's dead, so what's the problem?"
"We're still on opposite sides, Schuldich. I'm not going to sleep you when you could just be trying to find out about Weiss."
~I could find out whatever I wanted to know without fucking you, Kudou. This has nothing to do with Weiss and Schwarz.~ Yohji recoiled a step, uncomfortable at how easily Schuldich could sneak into his mind, how close he could get to Yohji's secrets. He blinked as Schuldich's form blurred--a sign that he was moving with that unnatural speed of his--and then he was pressed up against Yohji, lips tantalizingly close to the corner of Yohji's mouth.
"Just admit it; you want to get laid." His words vibrated across Yohji's lips and straight down to his groin. Schuldich's hand was at his lower back, holding their bodies tightly together, and when Schuldich turned his head, their lips brushed; Yohji shivered unwillingly. ~Shiest, you're easy~ Despite the flash of outrage this provoked, the hand at his back slid lower.
"Damnit!" Yohji tore himself away, furious at the bulge he could feel hardening in his leather pants, but unwilling to give in to Schuldich. He was especially irritated by the comment about being easy.
~Don't tell me you've never treated women this way, Kudou,~ Schuldich mocked. ~You're a playboy. Your only problem is, you won't let yourself get played.~ Yohji's eyes flashed dangerously.
"I am not interested in you." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the club.
He tried to slam the door behind him, but at the last second he heard it bang open again. A hand grabbed his arm but as he was spun around, he swung his fist. Schuldich caught it, used it to yank Yohji forward, and then their mouths were crashing together, Schuldich's tongue sweeping past Yohji's snarl of surprise and invading far too easily. Schuldich's momentum sent them slamming into something hard and metal that Yohji realized was a car when he was bent back over the hood. He continued to struggle, breaking the kiss when he turned his head and growling when Schuldich bent to nip at his collarbone.
"Why do you lie to yourself, Kudou?" Schuldich taunted. His hand cupped Yohji's crotch, giving a light squeeze and Yohji gasped, eyes falling closed involuntarily. "Your body wants this, you can't deny that." Yohji bit his lip to stifle a moan when the squeeze became a massage. A thousands reasons why he should be fighting raced through his mind.
/enemyassholehateyoumanSchwarzdangerous--Ken!/
"Still thinking you want only one man?" Yohji's patience finally cracked.
"You may think you can man-handle me into sleeping with you, but you're the last person on earth I'd pick if I chose to fuck a man," he snarled. A nasty look of jealousy crossed Schuldich's expression.
"Well it's not like you'll ever have him, so why bother?" he snapped. A thought flashed in Yohji's head before he had a chance to stop it, but Schuldich caught it and actually looked surprised. "You think he's straight? You think that's it?" He chuckled: a low, cruel sound. "You have no idea, Kudou." He pushed his way into Yohji's mind again, ignoring the outraged cry, and then Yohji's world tilted sideways. He blinked and his vision changed, for he was no longer looking up at Schuldich outside the club. In fact, he couldn't even feel the car underneath him or his enemy pressed against him.
He was looking out of someone else's eyes: Ken's eyes. Was this a memory? It was daytime in the Koneko; Ken was sweeping up some cut flower petals and leaves, oblivious to Yohji suddenly sharing his head. With a start, Yohji saw himself, through Ken's eyes, flirting with a small group of older high school girls. It was a memory, then, because he recognized the trio from two days ago. Still confused, Yohji shared Ken's gaze as it drifted around the flower shop, finally landing on their eternally scowling leader. Aya had his hands buried potting soil as he attempted to repot a small flower bush. The sleeves of that hideous orange sweater were pushed up to his elbows so they wouldn't get dirty, and he had a fearsome look of concentration on his face. Briefly, those violet eyes flashed up once to lock onto the memory of Yohji, a frown appearing when he saw he was flirting.
Then Ken dropped his eyes to his sweeping with a sigh.
"Forget it, Hidaka," he muttered, so softly even Yohji had trouble hearing him. "Aya'd probably shun a guy like you if you told him you loved him."
There was a heartbeat of utter silence and then the memory cracked and dissolved, leaving Yohji blinking stupidly up at Schuldich. The telepath frowned, staring hard at Yohji, then realized that his little trick had killed any bit of fun left in him. With a frustrated growl he shoved away from the car and stalked off, while Yohji just sagged against the hood, still in shock at what he had seen.
Ken...lovedAya? Butbut he wasn't even supposed to like men! And now be did but of course, the one Ken wanted was their icy leader who forever had a stick up his ass. Yohji started down the street towards the Koneko in a daze, still turning these thoughts over and over in his head.
By the time he reached home, he was well on his way into a smoldering anger. He had been frustrated for countless nights by dreams of an unknown male lover, who then turned out to be one of his close friends, who then turned out to be in love with their asshole of a leader. It was so fucking unfair, Yohji wanted to hit something. On top of all of that, he was being stalked by a bastard from a rival assassin group who treated Yohji like he was some slut, willing to jump into bed with anyone. He banged his way into the Koneko, not caring who might be sleeping at this hour, and stalked through the hall towards the stairs leading to top two floors.
"Yohji?"
Ken stood on the spiral staircase coming up from the basement, peering over the last few steps in concern. He had been downstairs on the mission room couch, watching a game, when the racket from the Koneko's metal shutters roused him to see what was going on. He frowned worriedly at Yohji's back when the man didn't say anything, then continued up the stairs until he was also on the landing.
"What's wrong? Bad night at the club?"
Yohji half-turned back, his expression masked by the shadows falling across his face. He could see Ken just fine, though, and the heartfelt concern in those puppy-brown eyes made him pause. What if Schuldich had simply created that memory out of jealous? How could he really know Ken? Yohji worked with him every day; certainly he would have noticed Ken eyeing Aya if that was really true.
/God, he looks so good,/ Yohji thought and then he was bending his head to bring their mouths together clumsily. For a first kiss, there was surprisingly little reaction, which worried Yohji, but he raised a hand to Ken's cheek and tried to coax a response out of him. Ken abruptly jerked away, hand automatically rising to wipe at his mouth.
"Yohji! I'm a man!" He had tasted beer on Yohji's breath and wondered if maybe his friend was drunk. Yohji had never been known to come home in such a state before, but it was the only logical explanation Ken could come up with.
"It wouldn't matter if it was Aya, though, would it?" Yohji snapped and silence fell between them. Ken's eyes were wide, not with confusion anymore, but fear. His jaw worked for a moment but no sound came out and Yohji just stared at him, his worst fears coming true.
Schuldich hadn't lied. It hadn't been some trick to make Yohji sleep with him. What he had seen, the telepath had actually pulled from Ken's head. Yohji suddenly thought he would be sick and turned to go, one hand on the railing.
"Wait! Yohji-" Ken broke off again, struggling to find the right words.
"Just forget it, Ken," Yohji replied wearily. "Go back to your game."
"Youyou won't tell him, will you?"
Yohji closed his eyes, grateful that his back was to Ken so he couldn't see the pain that crossed Yohji's expression. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice before he spoke, so it wouldn't betray any emotion.
"No, I won't say anything." He raised a foot that felt like lead and slowly started up the stairs.
"How did-"
"You're missing the game," Yohji said shortly and didn't look back even when he had reached the top of the stairs and was out of Ken's sight. He sagged against his door, pausing with his hand on the knob, and squeezed his eyes shut against frustrated tears. He prayed Ken would just turn around, go back down that spiral staircase, and finish watching the soccer match because if he followed Yohji up here and tried to talk things out, Yohji wasn't sure what he would do. He let himself into his room, then closed the door and leaned against it, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling.
Ken's room was above his. Yohji's lips curled in a soundless snarl and he crossed briskly to the window, looking out at the city. His right hand rose of its own accord to trace the tattoo inked into his arm.
When you gonna learn?
"Never."
* * *
Schuldich was a confident man. Actually, Schuldich was an extremely arrogant man who, due in some part to his natural ability to read and control minds, always felt in command of whatever situation he was in. When Schuldich developed one of his intricate plans for mischief and mayhem, it was certain not to fail, and in the end, Schuldich always got what he wanted. Which was why when things turned out contrary to the norm--and thus, contrary to Schudich's plans and wishes--Schuldich was understandably upset. That mess with Takatori's daughter Ouka was a perfect example. Furious that his little game with Weiss had been destroyed and then humiliated by having to accept a beating from a mundane lowlife like Takatori, Schuldich had nursed his bruises in dark solitude.
He had stalked around the mansion Schwarz owned like a caged tiger, lashing out at anyone who tried to talk to him. Crawford, of course, paid no mind to it and reminded Schuldich of his place with the usual bland indifference. Farfarello had been apathetic until Schuldich deliberately provoked him one time when he was free of his restraints. Schwarz nearly lost two of its members in that fight: Schuldich to a knife through his throat and Farfarello to a shattered, irreparable mind. But Nagi and Crawford had been there to break it up, Nagi hauling the two apart physically while Crawford's reprimanding shouts echoed off the walls. Afterwards, Schuldich had disappeared for a day and when he returned, he had his usual smirk in place, with only a touch of lingering violence in his eyes. He had taken Farfarello out in a tense silence, slipping out the door while Crawford was speaking on the phone with Takatori. Crawford was furious when he found out the two had disappeared, of course, but they returned later that night, appearing no different than usual. But Nagi had seen the news; he knew what they'd been up to. A sick way of apologizing in Nagi's opinion, but then, Schuldich wasn't the type of man who apologized at all.
Because of all of this, Nagi had come to recognize when Schuldich had something up his sleeve and, consequently, when that something was not going as planned. So when he raised his eyes from the laptop in his lap to the figure who had been radiating irritation on the sofa for the last four hours, he was relatively certain that this was a case of the latter situation.
Normally, Nagi would leave well enough alone. He wasn't stupid and he had seen what Schuldich could do when in a foul mood, without the slightest bit of provocation. But a persistent curiosity had been building in him ever since Omi had fully explained how Yohji Kudou had come to know of their relationship. He was especially interested in what Schuldich had been doing to that particular member of Weiss before Omi interrupted. Schuldich was known for his games and that bit of information, combined with his odd behavior now, brought Nagi to the only conclusion he could think of: Schuldich was involved in something with Kudou, but whatever plans he had had were not working as he thought they should.
Of course, Nagi made sure that all of these contemplations took place behind his sturdy mental shield. The last thing he would need was Schuldich overhearing him and using that as an excuse to vent his frustrations. But despite efforts to ignore that curious, nagging voice in the back of his head, Nagi could no longer sit still with Schuldich's silent but increasingly stormy presence in the room and not know what was going on.
"What's wrong?" he finally said, the words almost strained as they attempted to breech the tense silence. Schuldich's reply was something nasty in German. Nagi didn't know that much German, so he wasn't quite sure what the implications were and what Schuldich was suggesting he go do, but he recognized the tone; he struggled on. "You've been sulking on that couch for four hours, Schuldich."
"Keep pushing and I'll let Crawford in on your little affair with the kitten," Schuldich snarled, looking away from the wall he'd been glaring at for the first time since Nagi had found him here. The remark struck Nagi like a physical blow, a painful reminder that the secret of his relationship with Omi rested in treacherous hands. But the attack to something that close to him didn't frighten him off, as Schuldich had intended; instead, it sparked Nagi's wrath. Normally a quiet boy who seemed apathetic and cold to the world, Nagi had a temper that could rival Schuldich's viciousness when properly provoked. His eyes went flat and cold as Schuldich turned away, obviously dismissing him.
"You asshole," he spat and Schuldich's eyes were wide when he looked again at Nagi. He apparently didn't think the frail-seeming telekinetic could get angry. "Every time something doesn't go your way, you throw a fit and then make everyone else's life miserable, too. I know where my loyalties lie, you don't have to fucking remind me." Schuldich's expression had quickly closed down into fury, his eyes narrowed as he rose from the couch.
"You little shit--" But Nagi had reacted as soon as he moved, throwing the blunt force of his power against Schuldich and slamming him into the wall.
"And what gives you the right to act so superior?" Nagi continued, setting aside his laptop and standing as well. "You're involved with Weiss, too!" He kept Schuldich pinned, not trusting that he would be able to act quickly enough if the man moved with his inhuman speed. But that didn't stop Schuldich from adding his own thoughts.
~But I'm not stupid enough to go and fall in love with one of them,~ he sneered. And that was all it took for Nagi to snap. /Damn you, Schuldich!/ Infuriated and frustrated, Nagi threw another invisible blast against Schuldich, but felt at the same time a presence clawing at the shield in his mind: Schuldich's retaliation.
Thunk!
Both assassins froze, startled out of their deadly struggle by the knife that hit the wall just centimeters from Schuldich's head. Nagi only had a half-second to register its presence, and Schuldich's blank expression of surprise, when he felt something cool and dangerously sharp touch the skin of his neck, just under his Adam's apple. Nagi's body locked up, terrified to even breathe as he flickered his eyes up to see the wielder of the dagger at his throat. Farfarello's one golden eye was trained on Schuldich and he held another knife ready to be thrown in his other hand.
"Let him go," came the low command. For a second, Nagi wasn't sure who he was talking to, until he realized Farfarello meant both of them. Schuldich was still stuck to the wall, though no longer suffocating, and he could sense Schuldich's mental talons just at the edge of his mental barrier, ready to rend and tear at a moment's notice. Neither was willing to back down and give the other the opening they needed, but Farfarello was serious.
"Do it." Nagi felt the blade prick the skin just slightly as he was finally forced to release the breath he held. His eyes were locked on Schuldich, but Schuldich was watching Farfarello, seeming torn between an expression of shock and one of thundering fury. Finally, after another tense moment, Schuldich withdrew from Nagi's mind and Nagi released him from his telekinetic hold. Farfarello nodded once, removing the dagger from Nagi's throat and making the other knife disappear with a flick of his wrist. He approached Schuldich calmly, unconcerned by the dark look he was receiving as he reached out to retrieve the knife imbedded in the wall.
"Killing him won't solve anything," Farfarello pointed out, still eerily calm. He turned his golden eye on Schuldich. "In case you've forgotten our disagreement." It was clear in Schuldich's eyes that he hadn't. Picking fights didn't seem to have much luck lately. He scowled and stalked toward the door, brushing past Nagi on the way. Despite the shields that barely remained intact after Schuldich's attack, a stray thought intruded on Schuldich's mind.
/only trying to help.../
He paused at the front door, hand on the knob, feeling even more sour for the unusual guilt nibbling at his mind. Damn Nagi for having to care about him...and damn Yohji for being so fucking hung up on Hidaka.
"You know, Schuldich," Nagi spoke up hesitantly behind him. Schuldich could sense him searching for the right words and waited, not turning around. "If...if you weren't such an arrogant jerk all the time, you'd find it wasn't so hard to get what you wanted."
For a moment, there was only silence before a soft chuckle escaped Schuldich. Leave it to Nagi to forgo politeness and tact and get straight to the point. He digested the advice for a minute then shook his head. Half-turning back to his comrades, Schuldich slid his customary smirk into place.
"Ja," he said and stepped out into the sun.
* * *
Yohji would never be able to function properly in the morning; it was a tried and true law of Kudou physics. Granted, it was nearing noon, so it was technically becoming late morning, but he preferred to be in bed at this hour. He especially did not like being stuck with the morning shift the day after he makes the worst mistake in his life. And waking up to hear Ken knocking on Aya's door on the floor above him had definitely not been uplifting. There was no telling what the two of them were discussing up there, but they'd been at it for a couple of hours now and it unnerved Yohji. What was further irksome was that this talk had probably been inspired by last night's proceedings. No doubt Ken, filled with worry and confusion about Yohji knowing his feelings for Aya, had felt he had no other choice but to approach Abyssinian on the subject before anyone else found out and accidentally revealed the truth.
A small, bitter part of Yohji wished that Aya would reject Ken and that maybe he could have another chance. But the better part of him, the part that was grateful for Ken's friendship and worried for his well being, wondered if maybe Ken would find the feelings were reciprocated after all. The last thing Yohji wanted was a miserable friend and an even icier leader.
Of course, that still left Yohji with a pile of problems to sort through, so in a way, he was grateful for having the morning shift to himself. He glanced at the clock and did some quick math, figuring he had about an hour or more before Omi dragged himself out of bed to come down and help. The kid was up so late some nights, it was a wonder he ever made it to work. Yohji contemplated a cigarette, knowing Omi would probably smell the smoke as soon as he came downstairs, then decided to have one anyway. If he opened the door up afterward, maybe it would cut down most of the scent and Omi wouldn't lecture him again about smoking in the shop. He tapped out a thin, white stick and reached for his lighter.
Time to sort out the basics: Yohji liked Ken. Yohji liked Ken in more than a platonic, brotherly way, possibly more than just a "Damn you're sexy, let's fuck" way.
Ken was a man. Which meant Yohji was breaking his own personal code by liking a man, but that was okay because Ken didn't mind being liked by a man. Ken, in fact, also liked a man. The problem was, it wasn't Yohji.
So Yohji's first real feelings for a man were unrequited, and since that was the case, he should just brush it off--
A pair of blue eyes flashed mockingly in his head and Yohji nearly crushed his cigarette in a convulsive fist. He took a short drag, letting the smoke out and trying not to growl in frustration.
That damn German. Whenever Yohji least expected it, he would turn up. He was a thorn in Yohji's side and the central knot in this whole mess. Without him, Yohji stood a chance of calling this mess with Ken a passing fling and easily returning to the world of women he knew so well. But Schuldich tore that plan to pieces every time he showed up and lured Yohji's desire to the surface. It was so damn irritating! And what was more frustrating was how Yohji's body refused to listen to him when he tried to rationalize why he could not--should not!--feel anything for this man! Even if it was almost flattering to be chased after so diligently...
/No! Absolutely not!/ Yohji squashed that line of thought firmly under his mental heel. Being chased like that wasn't flattering, it was revolting! Yohji had never hounded a woman in that manner, and he never would. It was ridiculous! And that comment about being easy... Yohji was simmering now in remembrance.
The bell on the shop's door jangled and Yohji turned automatically to face the new customer with a distracted, "Irasshaimase."
"Guten Morgen!" Schuldich responded brightly, raising a hand in greeting. He grinned broadly at Yohji's dumbstruck expression.
For once in his life, the man was not wearing that green peacoat Yohji always saw him in; in fact, his outfit had changed completely. The plain white polo shirt and black slacks gave Schuldich an almost younger appearance. He still wore that ridiculous yellow bandana--why anyone with hair as outrageously colored as Schuldich's would wear a bandana like that was beyond Yohji's comprehension. It was as bad as Aya and that damned sweater he insisted on wearing all the time. Yohji was certain he would go blind in another year from the sheer contrast of camellia red and blatant orange. An idle thought crossed Yohji's mind: what Schuldich might look like without the bandana, with his hair hanging loose and untamed. He kicked himself immediately for letting that slip when Schuldich leered at him suggestively, picking up on the thought.
"What are you doing here, Schwarz?" Yohji growled, intentionally not using Schuldich's name.
"Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by?" Yohji's glare obviously said enough and Schuldich chuckled. "Didn't think so. Your cigarette's about done, by the way." Yohji glanced down and saw that it had, indeed, burned almost all the way down to the filter. With a muttered curse, he crushed the remainder in the ashtray, irritated that he had let it burn while he was lost in his thoughts. His gaze flickered back to Schuldich when the man left the doorway and moved towards the counter Yohji sat at, making the florist uncomfortably aware that his watch--with his wire--was upstairs. "Always so skittish. You should really learn to relax."
"You should learn to stay out of other people's heads," Yohji snapped.
"It's not my fault if you're projecting. I don't always have to go into your mind to hear what you're thinking," Schuldich remarked off-hand. "You're better than the others, though." Yohji just stared at him.
Something wasn't right, beyond the simple wrongness of having your enemy in your shop and headquarters. The man before him, standing with his hands in his pockets and surveying the shop casually, did not seem like the normal Schuldich Yohji was constantly faced with. He seemed...subdued almost, less cocky and without that irritating smugness that usually was present. A flicker of something crossed Schuldich's expression just then, but it was so quickly suppressed, Yohji wondered if he had seen anything at all.
Schuldich was probably listening to his thoughts again. Grumpily, Yohji wondered if there was some way he could block Schuldich's nosy telepathy rather like slamming down the Koneko's shutters on his groping fingers. There. That was a definite twitch; he was listening. Yohji filed that idea away for further contemplation before returning to the problem at hand: his enemy/stalker had once again appeared to torment him, only now he seemed to be trying to confuse Yohji instead of seduce him. The obvious solution then was...what? Yohji sighed.
"So this is what you do every day?" Schuldich spoke up, breaking the silence. He was still looking around the shop, at the rainbow of colorful blooms that sprouted from every direction. "How boring." He stepped closer to a row of buckets, his fingers caressing the petals of a lily, but his eyes flickering to Yohji. "Can't say I mind the scenary, though." A hint of a sensuous smile curved one corner of his lips.
No fucking way. Schuldich was flirting with him. The world had gone insane while Yohji wasn't looking...or maybe someone at the club last night had slipped some time-release drug into his drink that was only kicking in now and this was some weird hallucination. Yohji pulled off his sunglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What are you doing here?" he finally said. "I thought I made myself clear last night."
"Just because I was right doesn't mean you should take it the wrong way. With the way things are going upstairs, you might want to consider finding someone new to occupy your thoughts." Schuldich lips formed a familiar leer. "Or your bed."
Yohji just stared at him. 'The way things were going upstairs'? He looked up. With Ken and Aya? Wait...meaning Ken and Aya were...? There was a heartbeat of silence in Yohji's mind and then, surprisingly, he accepted it. If Ken had confessed and Aya reciprocated the feelings then fine, let the two of them be happy together. God only knew what Ken saw in their ice princess of a leader, but whatever it was, he thought it was worth being with. Yohji would just live the life he always had: wine and dine the ladies but never settle down, and wake up in a lonely bed with haunting memories of Asuka's bloody body as his only comfort.
"It doesn't have to be that way," Schuldich murmured suddenly, making Yohji aware once again that he could never have a private thought with the telepath around. Before he could worry about the real offer behind Schuldich's words, though, the back door of the shop--the one leading into the rest of the house--opened and Omi, laden with a large potted plant, backed into the room.
"Yohji-kun, is that cigarette smoke I smell? How many times do I have to tell you not to smoke in the shop? It's bad for the plants and it drives customers away. If you have to smoke that badly, at least go outside and--" He turned, ready with a stern expression as he peered over the leafy plant he carried, and stopped in mid-sentence. Silence descended in the Koneko; Yohji was briefly grateful that it hadn't been another of his teammates.
"Um...sorry," he said lamely. The pot dropped from Omi's limp fingers, narrowly missing his feet, as he continued to stare at the man leaning against the counter. Schuldich smiled brightly--an eerie sight, really--and waved. The last time Omi had come across the two, Schuldich had Yohji pinned to a wall and brought ominous news from Nagi. What could he possibly want now? Yohji cleared his throat loudly, but Omi's eyes were still riveted on their enemy.
"Listen, Omi, can you take care of some orders in the back?" he asked and immediately Omi turned to give him an incredulous look. "Just..." Trust me, Yohji's eyes pleaded. "...please." The other boy opened his mouth, watched Yohji a moment more, glanced at Schuldich--who was still maintaining an air of obviously fake innocence--looked back at his teammate, and then closed his mouth. With a sigh, he turned and went back out of the shop, leaving the plant where it sat. Yohji let out the breath he had been holding and congratulated himself silently: crisis averted. He glanced at Schuldich, who was watching him again, and saw the angelic act was gone, replaced by the intense desire and determination apparent in all of their encounters. Yohji was dismayed to feel an answering heat welling up within him.
"You're never going to leave me alone, are you?" he asked suddenly, as the thought hit him. "Not until I've slept with you."
"Would it really be so bad?" Schuldich returned, casually reaching out to run his fingers up Yohji's arm. His skin tingling where Schuldich touched, Yohji fought down a shiver as fingers traced over his tattoo, making him painfully aware of its presence.
/sin/
Without waiting for an answer to his question, Schuldich eliminated the distance between them and brought their mouths together. Unlike their other kisses, he did not attempt to invade and force Yohji into submitting; he simply coaxed and caressed with lips and teeth and tongue, until Yohji's surprise began to melt and he returned the kiss. Yohji was shocked at how good it felt, how natural. Even if his mind was shouting otherwise, other parts of him certainly weren't. A hunger crept into the kiss, eating away at his control and making him press a stirring erection into the counter as he reached for more of Schuldich. With his hand gripping Yohji's forearm like a vise, Schuldich was all but attempting to drag him up and over the counter, and Yohji was of half a mind to agree to it--
hot breath at his throat, teeth nipping at his collarbone, a lean body pressing up against every part of him, pinning him to the cold metal of the car beneath him while a thigh adjusted just enough to press right there
--when the back door opened again.
The memory of the previous night fled before the rushed instinct to pull away. Schuldich, on the other hand, didn't release the grip he had on Yohji's arm and between that and the finger hooked through his belt loop--when had that gotten there?--Yohji was quite firmly trapped. After only a second or two more--it felt like an eternity to Yohji--Schuldich released him, the hand at Yohji's waist lingering a moment longer than was necessary. He straightened with a smile fit for the Cheshire cat, but Yohji needed another few seconds to recover fully. When he did, he remembered the door opening and turned quickly, heart hammering in his chest.
It was only Omi again, but the look of outright shock left Yohji fumbling for an explanation. He knew what it must look like--Omi being chased out so that Yohji can make out with Schuldich without anyone being the wiser--but that hadn't been the intention at all. Schuldich shifted and recaptured Yohji's attention, and the heat in those blue eyes washed over Yohji like a physical caress.
"Later, gorgeous." Something in Schuldich's tone hinted his words contained a promise instead of just a casual goodbye; Yohji wondered if he would have trouble later that evening. Schuldich just smiled broadly and headed for the door, slipping on a pair of sunglasses before stepping out into the sun.
Yohji's gaze was riveted to the door, his body torn between the desire to run after Schuldich, drag him to the nearest secluded space, and disgust at actually wanting to continue what they'd been doing before they were interrupted. His nerves were still vibrating with the lust Schuldich had awaken and his erection had not diminished with the other man's departure. Meanwhile, he did not have to look to know that Omi continued to stand in the doorway, watching him with a gaze both curious and confused, and patiently waiting for an explanation. But luck was not on Yohji's side that day for just then, Ken appeared behind Omi, peering over his shoulder, and Aya, scowling at the hold-up, attempted to see around both of his teammates.
"What's going on?" Ken asked and Yohji's head whipped around, eyes wide. Omi, he had expected, but not the other two! What was more, there was a barely noticeable change in the latter pair's body language. Aya no longer leaned away from everyone, discouraging even accidental physical contact, and Ken, as he shifted to see around Omi's head, seemed to be invading Aya's personal space consciously, as if he knew it was acceptable for him to do so and was taking advantage of that fact. It was the subtle, often unconscious behavior exhibited by a new couple; Yohji had seen it before in many of the bars he visited.
So Schuldich had been right again--no surprise there--but Yohji was in no mood to deal with all of this while still uncomfortably aware that his arousal was not fading. However, the arrival of his three co-workers did mean one thing: he could leave, if only for a short time. He moved around the counter and strode towards the doorway where his friends were cluttered.
"Lunch break," he said shortly, grateful when the trio cleared the way without argument. Ken seemed puzzled but Aya barely acknowledged him, instead walking over to fetch his own apron. Omi's gaze was searching, though, and burned a hole in his back as he fled. Yohji knew he would have to figure out a way to explain himself, but as long as he had time to himself, he could figure something out.