*...* is normal thought,

//...// is Schuldig 'speaking' to Ken...this way you can tell the difference, ne? ^_^

~silvershadeus~

feedback, onegai! ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Weiß Kreuz related that would result in my being sued...I'm just borrowing the characters and such for a little while.

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SNAFU - Part 2

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Ignoring the almost feral growl coming from the young man sitting across from him, Yohji pushed his sunglasses higher on his head. The sat in the kitchen, the contents of a first aid kit spread out over the counters, the overhead lights spotlighting the two figures.

Mumbling half-hearted curses concerning the redhead's ancestry, Yohji squinted his eyes, searching for the damnably tiny splinters of wood embedded in the younger man's hand. Turning the slender hand this way and that to get a better look at it, he was all too aware of the piercing glare aimed at him.

"You do realize that if you hadn't indulged yourself in a childish fit of anger that we wouldn't be doing this right now, don't you?" He asked conversationally, grinning a little to himself at the angry snarl his words caused.

Aya made as though to jerk his hand away, but Yohji's grip shifted in the instant before he moved, holding onto the pale wrist firmly. The redhead made a token effort at freeing himself, but he knew Yohji wouldn't release his hold until his hand was properly bandaged.

Perched on a high stool, the smaller man contented himself with giving the blonde assassin his most potent glare. Yohji chuckled, releasing Aya's wrist as he went back to tending the redhead's wounds.

Truth be told, his hand was screaming in agony, the miniscule wood fragments grating on his nerves with each movement. He felt a shred of gratitude to the older man, but it was currently overshadowed by his worry for his missing teammates.

Tilting his head to one side to get a better view at Aya's hand, Yohji's hand darted in, a small flash of silver catching Aya's eye before a sharp pain flared in his hand.

Clenching his teeth to keep from crying out, Aya's eyes narrowed as Yohji held up a particularly large sliver of wood held tightly in the tweezers he wielded with amazing skill.

"Almost done. So what do we do…contact Manx and let her know we ran into trouble, or do we go this alone?"

Aya studied the top of Yohji's head as the other peered closely at his hand, one hand reaching unerringly for a gauze pad. It was clear from his tone that Yohji would go along with whatever he decided, and it was sobering to realize the extent of the older man's trust in him. When had that happened?

"Did you say something?"

Aya blinked as he found himself looking into puzzled green eyes.

Fuck.

"No." He growled, unsettled by his uncharacteristic slip.

Shrugging it off as unimportant in the greater scheme of things, Yohji held up the bottle of antiseptic.

"Whatever you say, Aya. This is going to hurt." He warned, worried eyes flicking up to meet Aya's.

"Just do it."

Yohji's lips thinned to a thin line as he poured the bottle's contents over the fresh cuts on Aya's hand, feeling the redhead's muscles tense under his hand. He could empathize; too often, he himself had felt the burning sting of the antiseptic on his own wounds.

Wordlessly, Yohji bandaged the wound, his slim fingers strangely graceful as he worked silently.

Sitting back, he examined his efforts critically, his mouth drawn down into a slight frown. Aya held his hand up, gingerly flexing his fingers, his eyes widening a little as they responded with surprisingly little pain.

"Thanks."

Startled by the redhead's acknowledgement, Yohji waved his thanks off, a tiny smile crossing his face.

"It'll have to do for now. You should get it looked at later, when we have time – you did some serious damage to the wall – who knows what you did to your hand."

Aya grunted in response, sitting up and wincing as his spine let lose with several loud pops, strained muscles protesting the sudden movement. Shaking his head, he glanced over at Yohji, eyes narrowing at what he saw.

Without the trademark pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, the dark circles under Yohji's eyes were glaringly obvious, as was the tired slump to his shoulders. Violet eyes took in the other's battered state, the rips and tears in the dark material of his clothes.

Judging by the way his body ached, and the ways his eyes burned from lack of sleep, he was in no better shape. If they were to have any hope of finding Ken and Omi, they would need to be rested and fresh. In their current state, they wouldn't be doing anyone any good.

Feeling Yohji's eyes on him, Aya looked up to meet his gaze. He noted the way the older assassin stiffened, like a recruit coming to attention in the presence of an officer.

"We'd do more harm than good if we tried to look for them right now."

Yohji's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to protest – and then he saw the haunted look in Aya's eyes.

Closing his mouth, Yohji forced himself to nod. It must have been like pulling teeth for Aya of all people, to admit to his own weakness.

"All right. But then what do we do?"

Aya got to his feet, and turned to leave.

"After that, we either find them, or we make sure whoever's to blame pays for it."

Left standing alone in the kitchen, Yohji stared after the younger man's retreating back wondering, not for the first time, just what it was that drove the violet-eyed man so strongly.

**********************

'"Roomies?'"

Again, the laughter, but this time, he could have sworn that it was somehow familiar…

//I should hope so, Weiß; we've known each other long enough. I'm hurt that you don't recognize me.//

And just like that, he knew.

"Schuldig?"

//Right the first time, Weiß. I'm sure there's a booby prize for you here somewhere.//

Shock. Anger. Confusion.

//And let's not forget fear. Because you are afraid, aren't you, Weiß? I can feel it. Such a wonderfully intense sensation – too bad you can't experience it like I can…//

"Get the fuck out of my head, you sick bastard!"

//Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Such language for one so young. It's terrible, what today's youth is coming to.//

"What the hell are you up to, bastard?" He snarled, eyes darting about frantically as though he could see the smirking German in the all-enveloping darkness.

//Me? Why nothing, Weiß. I'm just settling in for a nice, comfortable stay. Like I said, there's more than enough room in here for me…hmmm. Maybe I could put in that walk-in closet I've always wanted…//

"Damn you – "

//Honestly, I don't see why you're so angry, Weiß. This whole mess is your fault, you know. You do remember that, at least, don't you? If anyone has the right to be upset here, it should be me.//

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Bwhahahahahahahahahaha! Erm, I mean TBC...

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