Author: Hoshino Yumeko
Title: The Coffee-Bean Incident: Aya's Story, Chapter Two: Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo=Migraine
Author's Notes: I know, it's been forever and then some since I posted Chapter One. ^.^;;; I'm sorry. I'm also sorry if any of you find this unbearably short. I write as I'm inspired, and I post as I see completion. One day, I will combine all this into a lengthy one-shot, but until then, tolerate my goofy chapter titles.
Also, one day, I will have more time. School will not rule my life, and I'll have more time to devote to my... *badly-muffled snickering from the background* art.
Anyhey, the appearance of Manx's rifle in this chapter is dedicated to my Kumiko-chan, my little Color Guard maven. ^_^ I hope you like this! I've been having an INSANE amount of fun writing this fic and making it God- hurting-ly satirical! Writing such idiotically silly stuff is therapeutic.
So, send all comments, insults, flames, non-living sacrifices [You'd really like this that much?! ^.^;;;] misplaced pixies and articles of Youji's wardrobe to either ShiniFerret@aol.com or Batafurai_yousei@yahoo.com.
And if you find absolutely none of this funny, shame on you! ^_~
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CH. 2--Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo=Migraine
Not to anyone's actual surprise, Omi really had been correct. He briefly considered going to get his team-mates; noiselessly pushing the door open and cautiously peeking from around the doorframe, he watched for a moment before even considering blindly rushing into the skirmish. Years of performing his given tasks as an assassin had taught him the virtue of a keen eye, but, more relevantly, so had years of living with Ken.
The genki one had a tendency to be a space-case, and would burst into a room whenever the random need to do so struck him. He had done that once before when Ken hadn't been watching where he was going, and Omi had a strong suspicion that there were still stains of his blood permanently left in the cracks between the floor tiles. That had been the day exactly how lethal Ken's clumsy streak was. He still wondered how a person who could barely walk and chew gum simultaneously during the day could be the deathly efficient Siberian at night.
"Oh, YEAH?! Well you wouldn't know a target unless they bit you on your ass!" Ken yelled wildly to a [probably, considering Youji's style of abuse] stinging insult dealt to him by the ever-slick playboy.
Youji made a face at Ken. "That's kinda gross, man."
Ken narrowed his eyes, and Omi closed the door to mute the sound of the squabbling over what Ken had actually meant when he said that. He wasn't going to break up this cat-fight, which was continuing with the intensity of World War III. The blond considered himself slightly homicidal, not suicidal.
But Omi didn't actually have to break up the fight, because as he turned back to the computer, Manx walked into the shop, carrying a Color Guard saber from her high school days. Aya gave her a confused glare until she sauntered over to Ken and Youji and solidly walloped the both of them over the head. "Intelligent solution," the red-haired men murmured.
Manx smiled mysteriously and laughed as they watched the formerly- arguing florists rub their smarting scalps and glare and the smirking messenger. She deftly twirled the white-tape-insulated wooden rifle in her hands and replied, "Thank you, Aya. I consider that quite a compliment." She cooly examined Youji and Ken and, with the frost of the Artic in her voice, said, "Break it up for now, boys. We have work to do. People besides your teammates for you to kill. Now, I trust we can take the few steps to the mission room in reletive quiet, hmm?"
Aya fell into step behind her, and he--well, he was Aya; what do you want him to do?
...On second thought, forget I asked, you hentais!
Anyway, Ayan was Ayan, Ken-Ken was sulking and Youji was damned fine, a glowing example of male perfection, making his way across the white tile floor with the grace of a multi-billion-dollar model on a catwalk in Mi--
Youji, GIVE me that PEN! This is MY story, dangit! I will NOT pet your Narcissistic ego! If you don't watch it, I WILL write that lemon of you and Farfie!
_ANYWAY_, they walked to the mission room in the total silence that Manx so evilly desired, and she opened the door to a few dozen earfuls of Rammstein. Omi nodded his head happily to the beat of the song as he pulled up the file that would hold the night's mission. If Ken hadn't been so busy concentrating on maintaining a good sulk, he would have instantly cheered at the pained expression on Manx's face as she stood, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, with the open door clutched in one hand.
Youji rolled his eyes at the young one's choice of music. Rammstein was good, but he personally was currently in more of a Pink Floyd mood himself. He walked past Manx and attempted, to no avail, to scream at Omi over the song. "OMI! TURN YOUR DAMNED CD OFF!" The statement was repeated at various intensity of expletives, but no progress was made, which was a damned pity, because Youji got more inventive after every repetition. (The expletives flew in strikingly beautiful flocks through the air... All of them whizzing by Omi's oh-so-naive head...)
The tall assassin finally reached over and wrenched the pulg from the wall socket. "OMI!"
"...Yes?" He lifted his head to gaze, with guilty fear in his too- blue eyes, at the terror of an angry Kudou Youji towering over him. If he had been feeling any worse about the episode, his eyes would have been welling with guilty tears.
Youji sighed as he looked down at the teenager, and the room again grew eerily silent as a pang of guilt struck him. "Omi! I...you--well!..." Ken got a great deal of sadistic pleasure from watching the normally oh-so- smooth playboy stutter through an apology to his snuggle-bunny. "Omittchi..." Youji murmured, running his fingers through Omi's pale hair, "I'm sorry for yelling at you..."
"Okay," Omi replied sweetly, running his fingers over Youji's cheek. And, as all the non-shounen-ai-loathing view--err, readers, finish "aww"- ing over the pure, sticky-sweet cuteness of it all, Youji pulling him into a lovely kiss.
//Man,// Omi thought deviously as he and Youji played tonsil-hockey, //gotta love the cuteness factor.//
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Title: The Coffee-Bean Incident: Aya's Story, Chapter Two: Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo=Migraine
Author's Notes: I know, it's been forever and then some since I posted Chapter One. ^.^;;; I'm sorry. I'm also sorry if any of you find this unbearably short. I write as I'm inspired, and I post as I see completion. One day, I will combine all this into a lengthy one-shot, but until then, tolerate my goofy chapter titles.
Also, one day, I will have more time. School will not rule my life, and I'll have more time to devote to my... *badly-muffled snickering from the background* art.
Anyhey, the appearance of Manx's rifle in this chapter is dedicated to my Kumiko-chan, my little Color Guard maven. ^_^ I hope you like this! I've been having an INSANE amount of fun writing this fic and making it God- hurting-ly satirical! Writing such idiotically silly stuff is therapeutic.
So, send all comments, insults, flames, non-living sacrifices [You'd really like this that much?! ^.^;;;] misplaced pixies and articles of Youji's wardrobe to either ShiniFerret@aol.com or Batafurai_yousei@yahoo.com.
And if you find absolutely none of this funny, shame on you! ^_~
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CH. 2--Omi+His CD Collection+Stereo=Migraine
Not to anyone's actual surprise, Omi really had been correct. He briefly considered going to get his team-mates; noiselessly pushing the door open and cautiously peeking from around the doorframe, he watched for a moment before even considering blindly rushing into the skirmish. Years of performing his given tasks as an assassin had taught him the virtue of a keen eye, but, more relevantly, so had years of living with Ken.
The genki one had a tendency to be a space-case, and would burst into a room whenever the random need to do so struck him. He had done that once before when Ken hadn't been watching where he was going, and Omi had a strong suspicion that there were still stains of his blood permanently left in the cracks between the floor tiles. That had been the day exactly how lethal Ken's clumsy streak was. He still wondered how a person who could barely walk and chew gum simultaneously during the day could be the deathly efficient Siberian at night.
"Oh, YEAH?! Well you wouldn't know a target unless they bit you on your ass!" Ken yelled wildly to a [probably, considering Youji's style of abuse] stinging insult dealt to him by the ever-slick playboy.
Youji made a face at Ken. "That's kinda gross, man."
Ken narrowed his eyes, and Omi closed the door to mute the sound of the squabbling over what Ken had actually meant when he said that. He wasn't going to break up this cat-fight, which was continuing with the intensity of World War III. The blond considered himself slightly homicidal, not suicidal.
But Omi didn't actually have to break up the fight, because as he turned back to the computer, Manx walked into the shop, carrying a Color Guard saber from her high school days. Aya gave her a confused glare until she sauntered over to Ken and Youji and solidly walloped the both of them over the head. "Intelligent solution," the red-haired men murmured.
Manx smiled mysteriously and laughed as they watched the formerly- arguing florists rub their smarting scalps and glare and the smirking messenger. She deftly twirled the white-tape-insulated wooden rifle in her hands and replied, "Thank you, Aya. I consider that quite a compliment." She cooly examined Youji and Ken and, with the frost of the Artic in her voice, said, "Break it up for now, boys. We have work to do. People besides your teammates for you to kill. Now, I trust we can take the few steps to the mission room in reletive quiet, hmm?"
Aya fell into step behind her, and he--well, he was Aya; what do you want him to do?
...On second thought, forget I asked, you hentais!
Anyway, Ayan was Ayan, Ken-Ken was sulking and Youji was damned fine, a glowing example of male perfection, making his way across the white tile floor with the grace of a multi-billion-dollar model on a catwalk in Mi--
Youji, GIVE me that PEN! This is MY story, dangit! I will NOT pet your Narcissistic ego! If you don't watch it, I WILL write that lemon of you and Farfie!
_ANYWAY_, they walked to the mission room in the total silence that Manx so evilly desired, and she opened the door to a few dozen earfuls of Rammstein. Omi nodded his head happily to the beat of the song as he pulled up the file that would hold the night's mission. If Ken hadn't been so busy concentrating on maintaining a good sulk, he would have instantly cheered at the pained expression on Manx's face as she stood, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, with the open door clutched in one hand.
Youji rolled his eyes at the young one's choice of music. Rammstein was good, but he personally was currently in more of a Pink Floyd mood himself. He walked past Manx and attempted, to no avail, to scream at Omi over the song. "OMI! TURN YOUR DAMNED CD OFF!" The statement was repeated at various intensity of expletives, but no progress was made, which was a damned pity, because Youji got more inventive after every repetition. (The expletives flew in strikingly beautiful flocks through the air... All of them whizzing by Omi's oh-so-naive head...)
The tall assassin finally reached over and wrenched the pulg from the wall socket. "OMI!"
"...Yes?" He lifted his head to gaze, with guilty fear in his too- blue eyes, at the terror of an angry Kudou Youji towering over him. If he had been feeling any worse about the episode, his eyes would have been welling with guilty tears.
Youji sighed as he looked down at the teenager, and the room again grew eerily silent as a pang of guilt struck him. "Omi! I...you--well!..." Ken got a great deal of sadistic pleasure from watching the normally oh-so- smooth playboy stutter through an apology to his snuggle-bunny. "Omittchi..." Youji murmured, running his fingers through Omi's pale hair, "I'm sorry for yelling at you..."
"Okay," Omi replied sweetly, running his fingers over Youji's cheek. And, as all the non-shounen-ai-loathing view--err, readers, finish "aww"- ing over the pure, sticky-sweet cuteness of it all, Youji pulling him into a lovely kiss.
//Man,// Omi thought deviously as he and Youji played tonsil-hockey, //gotta love the cuteness factor.//
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