Yoji stifled a yawn the following morning as he emerged from the mess that was his room, fresh from the shower. He padded barefoot down the hall, passing Omi's open door. Omi was already up, probably down making breakfast. Too bad Ken wasn't always an early riser. He hated to wake the brunette just to help him restrain Aya if necessary, but—he was rather hoping to avoid being eaten. Having Ken there as backup greatly reduced the chance. He knocked on the door and after a moment of silence, pushed it open. Ken didn't have Aya's issues of people in his room, though Aya's room couldn't be nearly as cluttered as Kens. He stepped over a pile of books and papers and moved gracefully among other various objects, including, but not limited to clothing, weights, soccer balls, and soccer paraphernalia by the thin light coming from the ajar bathroom door. Ken had curtains so thick hardly any light could get through, creating ultimate twilight until they were opened for the day. Even his own room wasn't so cluttered. Comfortably messy, yes, cluttered—no.
He picked his way across the dark room towards the bed, and sighed with relief as his legs bumped against it. Of course, Ken was on the far side of the bed. Nothing was ever easy. He leaned and reached, putting one hand down for balance, and grabbed for his teammate's shoulder. What he ended up with was the sheet, revealing a rather feminine shoulder with a spill of brunette hair around it. Captured by surprise that Ken had a girl in his bed, and a hot one at that, he kept pulling on the sheet, revealing perfectly tan skin—no tan lines—down to the curve of her hip, where the top of shorts were revealed. The girl sighed in her sleep and rolled, hand outstretched, searching for the lost sheet in her sleep.
Yoji's gaze lifted from the top of her shorts traced the curve of her body up past her breasts to her face. Despite popular belief, he really wasn't a breasts kind of guy. Which body part was his favorite? Well, it was hidden for the moment, so the face is where he shifted to. High cheekbones with a triangular jaw and a slightly pointy nose, offset by full lips, parted in sleep. She moved again, and her arm ran into him. He jumped and stilled when her eyelids fluttered open and stared at him, unfocused and senseless for a moment before becoming impossibly large and surrounded by the blush that invaded her face. Cute—was the thought that he had before she squeaked and lashed out, punching him right in the nose with a closed fist, flooring him. On a cleat. Damn those things hurt.
"Yoji! What the HELL are you doing in here!?" she yelled, clutching the sheet to herself, anger and embarrassment set into the line of her body, into her flushed face.
He sat up, rubbing the back of his head, allowing that familiar smile come onto his face. The smile that said he knew something. "I happen to live here. I'm the one who should be asking you that question, and while I'm at it, how did you learn my name miss—?"
She froze a moment, mouth hanging open, staring at him. She set her jaw stubbornly and glared at him. It would have been comparable to Aya's stares, but the blush ruined the effect. "N-None of your business! K-Ken warned me about you—"
"Did he now?" Yoji smiled slyly. "Why would he warn you about me?" he asked innocently. Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him, gaze flat. It was reminiscent of Aya when he was trying not to smile. Cute. Of course, cute was only one step short of pissed as hell. That is, if Aya logic could be applied to her. Yoji sighed and interrupted as her mouth opened, ready to lob something angry at him. "Calm down, nothing personal. Where is lover-boy? I need him for something."
Her mouth dropped open again, this time in shock. "Lover-boy?"
That glint entered those blue-green eyes as Yoji watched her. "Oh don't tell me he had a hot chick like you sleep in his bed, but he didn't actually sleep with you?" the blonde shook his head in disappointment. Teasing would definitely be in order. He waved his hands in the air as if to erase what he said. "Never mind. So where is he? Did he sneak out and run away?"
Ken leapt at the out. Of course. He went running at least three times a week. Why didn't she think of it before? Shee hesitated a moment purposefully, as if thinking. "He said he might go for a run."
"Mmm. Well, if he sneaks back in, tell him to get his tight ass downstairs. I've got something important for him to do." Yoji flashed her that smile and leaned in, capturing her cheek with one hand and planting a quick kiss on those sweet lips. She started and tried to pull away, and he let her, but leaned with her a little, flicking his tongue out and licking her lips before she got far.
She melted a little, staring at him, and he realized he'd lowered his shields. Bad Sidhe, no cookie. He snapped them back into place and she came to herself. Blushing, she shoved him off the bed, like she knew he did something wrong. Laughing, Yoji glided out of the room, leaving Ken's lover alone. But Ken-ken was not going to be so lucky. Oh no, not nearly as lucky. But first things first; checking on Aya had to be priority.
After being awoken so rudely, Ken couldn't bring himself to go back to sleep. In fact, it seemed like a really bad idea with Yoji knowing that there was a girl in his room. Well, he guessed it was true. Technically.
He was tempted to bypass a shower for the sake of his sanity, but Omi and Yoji would probably chase him back up for being stinky. Oh well. He had to face it one day, what difference did it make if he did it sooner rather than later? Maybe he'd get better at not being embarrassed—Right. With a sigh he pulled himself from bed and felt weird. It was going to take a bit for him to get used to the new additions. He crossed his arms to provide some stability and strode into the bathroom; locking both doors to be sure nobody would try to sneak a peek. Okay, truth; so Yoji couldn't sneak a peek. Omi would never think of doing such a thing, and Aya wasn't interested in that sort of thing. Unfortunately. Wait, where did that thought come from?
He got clean as quickly as possible and went for clothing. Clothes always made him feel better. He got his pants on and realized that he was standing on them. So he was shorter as a girl? Great. He expected to be smaller, but not really shorter. Before he could really think of all the problems that could spawn from this particular problem and what other, not so obvious problems could be caused, his pants felt snugger, and he was himself. Thank God. Perhaps this curse would be gone now? He could only wish.
Shaking the thought off, he padded down the stairs, stifling a yawn as he entered the kitchen, greeted by the wonderful smell of bacon. Unsurprisingly, Omi stood at the stove, juggling at least three different pans. The youngest member of Weiss also happened to be the best consistent cook in the house. Yoji had a few dishes of his own, though the appearance of one of them was rare. He tended to waste his efforts on women rather then his teammates. Ken himself could cook a little, but could face the music that the younger boy was better at it. A lot better. And Aya—Well, nobody touched Aya's cooking if they could help it. At best, it tasted like nothing; otherwise it somehow came out tasting like cardboard, and had the consistency of slimy oatmeal with burned mystery bits.
Honey-brown hair moved as Omi raised his eyes from the pan and glanced at him. "Good morning Ken-kun, where's Aya? Isn't he up yet?"
Ken raised his eyebrows. "I don't know." Why ask him?
"Bishounen, Ken-ken and I are going to get Aya up—right after breakfast," the blond smirked as Omi placed a platter full of bacon, eggs and pancakes down on the table.
"If we do that, he won't get any between the two of you." Omi sighed, exasperated. "I'll go get him—"
"Seriously Chibi, we'll leave some for him, the blonde coaxed. He got a skeptical look for his efforts. "Oh fine, we'll get him," Yoji grumbled, shoving his chair back from the table with a screech, leading the way to the basement door. "But he," a finger pointed at Ken, "gets to go down first."
The two younger members stared at him. "You locked him in the basement? Yoji!" Omi exclaimed, exasperated. "Why—how could you do that?!"
Sigh. "Didn't I tell you yet?" The blonde looked from one to the other of them and shook his head, "Our leader is going to be furry."
". . . WHAT?!"
" . . . So that's what happened. And, since Ken is the one of us best at close fighting, he gets to go down first."
Ken was about to argue, but hey, when Yoji was right, he was right. No sense in getting one of them hurt when he could prevent it. He reached for the handle and stopped with it in hand, to toss a threat at Yoji. "If he makes me kitty, you're dead."
"Why Ken-ken, would I do something like that to you? Speaking of which, who was that lovely brunette I found lounging in your bed, hmm?"
"I wasn't—! Er— none of your business. Just back off Yoji." the brunette warned, face flushing. He opened the door and escaped down the spiral stairs, being chased by the playboy's laughter. The view he got stopped him. There was stuffing everywhere, with bits and pieces of color here and there. The puffy chair they owned was torn apart and scattered all over the basement. No trace of Aya.
Ken took the final steps and glanced around. No movement. He approached the couch silently. It was the logical place to sleep. . . He spotted those crimson locks and peered over the back of the couch. His mouth dropped open and he stared at the beautiful man before him. The redhead was stretched the length of the couch, lying half on his side. His arms were crossed low across his bare stomach, as if he was cold.
"Ken-ken? You alive down there?" Yoji called from the top of the stairs. What a coward.
It took him two tries to answer affirmatively, and then he turned back to Aya and found himself staring at those familiar violet eyes, and suddenly became very aware that Aya was nude. He looked away, flushing scarlet. "Aya—"
" . . . "
" . . . "
"Ken, mind handing me that blanket?" Ken jumped at Aya's deep, unwavering voice. Aya was impossible to embarrass. That was the only explanation.
"Ah, sure—Sure!" Ken lifted the blanket and handed it over the back of the couch, getting another glimpse of Aya's lean body. He took a couple of hurried steps backwards, turning away. "I'll go let them know that you're—you."
" . . . Aa."
"Well, is it safe?" Yoji asked, lounging on the open door as Ken strode up the stairs, face flushed. Eyebrows went up as he examined the brunette's face, looking for clues.
"He's fine. Just need to clean up a little, which you can do, ya coward," Ken plucked the broom seemingly from midair and shoved it into Yoji's hands, pushing past him to escape through the kitchen without another word.
"Hey! You can't just—!" Yoji started indignantly moving after Ken.
"Do it Kudoh," Aya ordered, walking between the two standing at the top of the stairs and continued through the kitchen, headed for the stairs in nothing but a small throw being held closed at his waist.
"A-Aya-kun—er, why are you . . . where are your clothes?" Omi stuttered, eyes wide.
" . . . " Aya shook his head and gestured vaguely towards the stairs behind him before heading for his room.
" . . . Why do I have to clean it up?" Yoji grumbled, heading down. "Hey, Bishounen, help and I'll buy supper so you don't have to cook."
"Mm. Okay."
The two proceeded downstairs and stared at the destruction of what had been Omi's favorite chair.
"Damn. I didn't think he'd be this destructive." Yoji glanced around; noticing everything else was relatively untouched, though there was fur and fuzz everywhere. "I guess he chose a target and focused his attention on it. Think he had some sort of secret grudge against that chair? Or maybe, deep down, he's really not a puffy-chair kinda guy."
Omi snorted. "Yoji-kun, you've got strange insight," the honey-haired member bent to retrieve a large piece of fuzz. As soon as his hand closed around it, flashes of violence invaded his conscious. Claws ripping into the fake leather, flinging the little white balls and polyester around the room; the need for blood; the need for meat. Another image intruded upon the violence, making it seem less real. He felt curls clutched in his hands, his face turned up and very close to—then he was kneeling licking the same man's stomach, tugging at the rough material keeping him from what he really wanted to get at— skin between his teeth, soft blonde curls brushing his cheek as he marked his soon to be lover—Omi gasped as a weight came down on his shoulder and dropped the fuzz.
"Chibi? You okay?" Yoji reached down and lifted Omi's head with a few fingers under his chin. Omi shuddered and stepped back, trying to pull away from the inevitable images, this time too distorted and quick for him to register clearly before the flow stopped. He blinked and found he was hugging himself, a few feet back from Yoji, who was staring.
"Omi—"
"Ah, I-I'm fine Yoji-kun. I just, felt a little dizzy there for a moment," Omi turned away, mind working a mile a minute. What was that? Why did he keep seeing these . . . images? What did they mean?
"Bishonen, when will you learn that you can't deceive me of all people? Eh?" the tall blonde asked, draping himself over Omi's shoulders and peering at him curiously. Omi waited for the images to come, but nothing happened. Maybe it was random? Or maybe it would only happen once with each person? Turning that over in his mind he thought about what he had seen and felt himself flush. Curly blonde hair, the skin, the—subject all pointed to one thing: Yoji. Before his brain could catch up his mouth opened, "Yoji, who did you have down here? You'd better not be bringing women down here, this is our meeting room! Take them to your room if you must bring them home!"
Yoji stared dumbly at him, "What?"
"You heard me! Don't bring girls down here!"
"What makes you think I have?"
"Because I saw—" Omi cut himself off abruptly and turned quickly, pulling out of Yoji's reach. Yoji wouldn't know. He couldn't have seen.
"What?"
Omi bit his lip. Would Yoji think he was crazy, seeing these images? He would definitely poke fun, insinuate that he could control what images he got. . . but . . . This was not something he could handle on his own. It wasn't going away, but getting worse. He sighed and plopped down on the couch, his hands in his lap. "I—I think I'm going crazy Yoji-kun. I keep seeing—weird flashes of events, pieces of other people's lives . . ."
"Whoa, slow down there Chibi, random images?"
"Not—random exactly . . ." Omi flushed and looked down. "The first time it happened was when I went and got those hooks out of the car, so I got pieces of events that happened in that car, and I think thoughts, from the people in the car. Aya thinking of the mission, Ken freaked because you drive too fast in the rain, and uh—well . . ." Omi blushed crimson.
Yoji cleared his throat and grinned. "Okay, okay, I believe you. What I do in my car is my own business you know—"
"Like I WANTED to see that! Yoji!" Omi grimaced and covered his eyes. "Thank god it was the beginning and not somewhere in the middle."
Yoji grinned wickedly. "What, not curious Bishonen?" he teased, playing his fingers across Omi's arm lightly. He couldn't contain his laughter at the look he received as Omi jerked away. "Almost as good as Aya, Omichi," Yoji winked.
"Okay, okay, so this just started happening recently." Yoji paused, tilting his head to one side. "Isn't it obvious where this is stemming from? That group, the ones that had Ken-ken and you. Neither of you looked that good when we got you out."
"Then why isn't Ken affected? They had him longer even—"
"Who says he's not?" Yoji asked claiming the spot next to him on the couch gracefully, draping his arms along the back.
Omi blinked. "You think? Why wouldn't he say anything?" he asked, leaning back.
"Well, you didn't. Not right away anyway."
"I suppose that's plausible. I—" Omi flinched. Countless images. Countless missions. Acceptance. Refusal. Determination. He would not allow these killers to continue on. He would willingly take the life of anyone who threatened his team. Even if that meant—.
"Omi! Na—" Blinking rapidly Omi came to himself Yoji's hands on his shoulders, shaking him.
"A-ah, I'm okay Yo-tan," Omi assured him raising his head and smiling, hands going to those on his shoulders to stop the shaking. He caught Yoji's green eyes and paused. Gold and copper rings blended with the green, sending a jolt down his spine as he fell into those eyes.
It was happening again. It had to be. Yoji leaned closer, at the quiet response, trying to peer under those honey-brown bangs when Omi looked up suddenly, his baby blues a touch wide.
"Omi?" the blonde started, silenced when Omi closed the distance between them; soft lips tentatively brushed his own, then pressed forward. Startled, Yoji froze, then shoved the other back by his shoulders. "Omi!" he squeaked in a rather un-Yoji-like manner and frowned, eyebrows drawing in.
Omi blinked and gazed at him through half-lidded eyes briefly, before reaching for him again. Yoji held him back at arms length, a nervous laugh escaping him. How could he have been so stupid? But who would guess that Omi was susceptible to Sidhe magic? He built his shields up until Omi stopped giving him those doe eyes. Well under shield, Omi's cheeks were flaming as he jumped up, gasped out something and disappeared up the stairs at a dead run.
For once in his life, Yoji Kudoh was left open mouthed, and speechless.
Pain. An immeasurable amount of thoughts flung at him, crashing through his thin, broken barriers. Pathetic, he was pathetic. The sharp pain of skin on skin brought him back to reality, out of the sea of thoughts he was being subjected to with a gasp.
"So, have you changed your mind, or am I going to have to get rough with you?"
A dry rasp sounded, Schuldig's shoulders shaking as he laughed bitterly. "Get rough? This is nothing.
A tight smile formed on the tall man's face. Schuldig knew what that smile meant. It was the promise of torment. All at once Schuldig learned just how flimsy his grasp on his thin shields were as the came crashing down around his ears once again, not just invaded by this man; but by anyone—everyone near. With a dismayed cry the German grabbed his head, trying to push them out. But to no avail, as soon as he succeeded in shoving some back, another wave of power would roll over him, drowning him in the thoughts of others. Intimate things, random things, violent things, childish things; there was no end to them!
As suddenly as the assault began, it withdrew like a wave back from a sandy beach, and there was nothing; nothing but himself. The silence was almost deafening. It was . . . nice. No intruding thoughts; just his own.
A hand brushed his forehead and twined into his hair, bringing him back to reality as they tightened and jerked his head back. "What would you do Ehren? What would you do for the silence?" The pain turned into a caress as the woman leaned down, nails trailing out of his hair and down the side of his face.
"What would you do for the silence, young one?"
Schuldig bowed his head, hands clenched loosely in fists, submitting to the woman who captured his heart so many years ago, and the man who fucked him up. The man would never get him again, but the woman lured him out by hope. A hope to one day be free.
Unsigned reviews:
Isi: I'm glad it did. Thanks!
Lexi: Thanks!
A/N: Hey all! It's me again. I hope you all enjoyed this installment and are excited for the next chunk I'm working on. Feel free to ask questions and make guesses on the pairings!
—Akira