I expected Aya to stop talking to me, damn him. But Yohji? What was his excuse? No need to worry, thoughl; they're back. Aya can't decide whether he wants to be left alone or get some answers, Yohji is slowly slipping off the deep end, and Omi is stuck in the middle. What fun!

Thank you all for the reviews. Enjoy.

fire mystic

One Step Forward…

Yohji was grateful that the negative tension with Aya had eased a bit. The feeling was short-lived.

If anything, the little bit of understanding he had hoped they had attained had gone out the door with Aya when Yohji had told him to go to bed. Aya was back to avoiding and ignoring, and knowing that he had taken care of him while he was injured made it all the more unbearable. Why had he bothered? It's not like he cared. Omi could have done it just as well, but Aya had insisted.

Yohji had told him to go get some sleep. He would have kicked himself if he had known Aya wouldn't return. Not to look in on him. Not even to ask about him. It was as if he washed his hands of it. Yohji's better. Mission accomplished.

At that point, all he needed was a bit more rest. Omi checked on him once in a while, but it was relatively smooth sailing except for his confusion about Aya's behavior. Two days passed before he managed to catch Aya sitting at the kitchen table. Yohji took a deep breath and plunged into trying to get some type of civil conversation, and possibly an explanation, out of the other man.

"Hey Aya."

"Hn."

Okay. Monosyllables. That wasn't totally unexpected of Aya. And he hadn't bolted from the room. Even better.

"I wanted to thank you."

Aya didn't glance up from the paper he was reading. "You're welcome."

Yohji pulled out a chair and sat. "Aya. We need to talk."

Aya placed the paper down on the table, eyes raking Yohji coldly as he stood up. "No. We don't." And he walked out, leaving Yohji staring at an empty chair with his hands spread before him on the table.

From that point, Aya spent most of his time either in the shop, in his room, or, mysteriously gone, and when Yohji was well enough to return to working at the flower shop, he noticed that Aya had arranged the schedule so they spent as little time on shift together as possible. Coincidence? Yohji didn't think so. The person he wanted to be close to, the person whose presence had allowed him to rest comfortably in the face of nightmares; the avoidance had become too sharp, too painfully obvious.

Omi, on the other hand, he couldn't seem to escape. Omi was full of questions, and not only about the details to complete his report for the mission. He wanted to know why Aya had insisted on taking care of him, what kind of care he had given, and if Aya had said anything to him. He would ask in the most pleasant way at the oddest times, or insinuate something to see if he could find out anything more. Yohji had caught Ken on more than one occasion shaking his head and giving Omi a warning look. Apparently he could tell Yohji was getting irritated by the questions, but Omi persisted.

"Really, Yohji. You were back on your feet much faster than I thought." He commented into the morning lull on the third day Yohji had returned. It was about the twentieth time he had said it or something similar. "Aya must have taken very good care of you. I wonder…"

Yohji snapped.

"I don't know, Omi." His voice was too loud, full of pent-up frustration and bordering on angry. "Okay? I don't know why he did it. If you want to know, maybe you should ask Aya." He slammed through the back door of the shop, throwing his apron on a workbench nearby as he went, and then through the kitchen and out the back door, a cigarette already between his lips, his hands trembling slightly as he lit it.

He collapsed to sit with his back to the wall, resting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands as he sucked soothing nicotine into his lungs.

"You shouldn't take this out on Omi."

Shit! His reflexes jumped violently at the unexpected words. He turned, have ready to defend himself, to find Aya standing with his back to the now closed door. Damn, but he was getting slow, not to mention careless. How had Aya snuck up on him so easily?

"Where the hell did you come from?"

"You walked right past me in the kitchen." Didn't that drive home how distracted he had been?

"What do you want, Aya?"

"You shouldn't take this out on Omi." He repeated.

Yohji grunted, thinking of the irony that it was Aya saying this to him, the same Aya, who had to be reminded at every turn not to be rude to people. "Maybe you should go and explain a few things to him, then, Aya, because I certainly don't have the answers he's looking for."

Yohji refused to look at him. He felt like he was choking on the feelings he kept pushing down and that looking at Aya would be the last straw, the point at which he would just have to scream it out of himself, purge himself of the emotion, consequences be damned, or simply implode with them.

He was too angry for that, to let himself show that kind of weakness.

So he refused to look, reminding himself that Aya didn't care, that Aya was just making peace for the team, that Aya would never understand how he felt, even if he did scream it at him, and would certainly never return those feelings. Not Aya. Too cold. Too distant.

"Just because you get distracted…"

"Distracted?" Yohji growled. "Distraction wasn't what got me knocked upside the head, Aya. It was a bad mission profile, and the fact that none of us cleared the floor when we should have taken the precaution.

"Besides, if I remember correctly, it was you that had me pinned up against the wall in that hotel room. Who was distracted then, Abyssinian?" His code name; to remind him that they had been on a mission.

"You remember."

"I never said I didn't. Were you hoping I would forget?"

Aya was quiet, which was not so unusual there, but when Yohji glanced up at him, there was a puzzling expression on his face.

Yohji let the silence stretch out, letting Aya make the decision whether to divulge what he was thinking.

"Why?"

Yohji straightened, stretching his back out against the wall.

"Why what?" He baited.

"Why did you do it?" Aya breathed.

Yohji let his head roll against the wall lazily till he was once again looking up at Aya. He waited until Aya returned his gaze before very slowly reaching up and pushing his glasses down on his nose so Aya could see his eyes clearly.

"Why did I do what?" He asked innocently, his expression anything but.

Anger flashed in those pretty violet eyes. "You know what," he gritted out.

Yohji's smile was pure smugness.

"Oh, yes, I know what, Aya, but if you really want an answer, you're going to have to spell it out for me."

And oh, yes, that got to Aya, stuck between having already admitted that he wanted a reason and being put in a position to have to confront the issue directly.

Aya turned away, wouldn't look at Yohji.

"Why did you kiss me?"

Yohji took his time getting up, taking a moment to stretch and take one last drag before dropping the butt to the ground and grinding it into the pavement, making the movement casual, lazy, and somehow sexual. He let his hips roll slightly as he moved to stand in front of Aya, reaching past Aya's head to place a hand on the door so he could lean into Aya's space. Aya still wouldn't look at him, and Yohji dared to reach out, wrapping fingers gently around Aya's jaw and turning his head so Aya couldn't do anything but meet his gaze.

"Because I felt like it, Aya. Because you're so damn sexy." He could see the anger seep into those bright eyes, could feel it steel the jaw he was holding so gently, could sense it seethe through the wire taught body in front of him.

He made the step back look casual, though he was ready to defend himself if needed, and had to force himself to look away.

"Now, if there's nothing else you want, I got plans for tonight. I think I've been cooped up here long enough, don't you?" He turned back and winked smugly. Aya moved as if he'd been zapped by electricity, and Yohji drifted past him back into the house.