Push


Aya woke up with a start. He blinked slowly, letting his senses filter in. He had heard something downstairs. There it was again - a muffled thump. Suspicious. He swung his legs over the bed and ran a hand through his hair, yanking impatiently through the tangles. His hair was a source of irritation to him on many levels. He never remembered to get it cut, so it was always in his eyes. And he had endured years of teasing in grade school for the color. Not a proper Japanese color by any means.

He looked thoughtfully at his sword. Should he take it down? No, he decided, anyone breaking into a flower shop wouldn't be an expert. He should be fine in hand to hand. He pulled on a dark shirt to cover his pale skin. Wouldn't hurt to stay hidden for as long as possible.

A thought gave him pause at the top of the stairs. What if it were one of his teammates? No matter how sneaky he was, they were all so attuned to one another that whoever it was would notice. Well, he could always say he wanted a drink of water. Then, again, he didn't have to say anything. They would just assume.

He crept stealthily down the stairs. He could definitely hear movement now, and some muffled voices. No, muffled wasn't exactly it. More like breathy.

He had just decided this when he peered cautiously around the corner into the kitchen. What he saw surprised him so much he forgot to stay hidden and openly stared.

Youji stood, his head thrown back in pleasure, as he gave a few final thrusts into the man spread wantonly on the kitchen table. The man wrapped his legs around Youji and held him close as both of them spent themselves.

Aya stumbled back and pressed himself against the wall, eyes wide. He couldn't stop looking. His brain numbly tried to assimilate what he had just seen. Youji. With another man. Youji most definitely fucking another man. Oh Lord. Maybe if he just stayed still right here they wouldn't notice him and he could slip away.

Obviously Youji wasn't just a ladies man.

The thought had never occurred to him that Youji liked men as well as women. Come to think of it, he had never said one way or the other. They had all just assumed . . . But here was incontrovertible proof that Youji most definitely swung both ways. God.

The couple had finished and now were cleaning themselves up. Youji seemed intent on shooing his one-night-stand out the door. Aya caught the words "roommates," and "morning shift." Liar. They shared a long leisurely kiss and then Youji sent the young man off with a wave and an, "I'll call you!"

He still didn't move. Now that Youji was more alert, he would probably notice if Aya tried to leave. He would wait and pretend he had just come down the stairs as Youji turned around.

He about to step into the kitchen and act like he hadn't been standing there the entire time when Youji said, "I know you're there."

Aya froze. Shit! Shitshitshitshitshit! He had thought that Youji, lost in the throes of passion, wouldn't have noticed his shocked face before he stepped back into the shadows.

Youji was halfway across the kitchen now, a predatory gleam in his eyes, his long strides eating up the distance between him and Aya. "I saw your face."

Aya pressed himself against the wall. He had no idea what to do. Events were going by too rapidly for him to process.

When Youji's arms smacked the wall on either side of his head, he jumped. He was trapped as Youji placed one hand on either side of his head and leaned in dangerously close. His breath smelled of sake and cigarettes. He was drunk, then, and maybe something else. Good. Perhaps he wouldn't remember this in the morning.

"Now you know one of my secrets. I like to fuck women and men." Youji grinned wickedly as he leaned closer, breath stirring Aya's hair. "Want to know the other one?"

Aya shook his head mutely, not trusting himself to speak coherently. He was frozen in place, not wanting to do anything to make Youji remember this incident in the morning.

"The other one is," Youji's lips brushed his ear and sent shivers chasing down his spine. "The other one is I want to fuck you."

Aya gaped at him. What? What? He couldn't manage to get anything out but a strangled noise. He was just about to push Youji away when he abruptly heaved himself up on his own and started to weave up the stairs.

"Oyasumi, Aya!" Youji's voice sounded almost cheerful as he stumbled up the stairs, arms extended to keep him upright.

Aya was rooted to the floor. The great ladies man, Kudou Youji, had just not only admitted that he liked to have sex with men, but that he extended that to lusting after Aya himself. This was shocking news.

Aya was gay. Aya had known he was gay for a long time. He had just never gotten around to doing anything about because of . . . extenuating circumstances. And, he could admit to himself, that he perhaps stared at Youji more than he ought. But the man really was attractive. He knew it meant nothing, because Youji was off limits. Not only because he had (mistakenly) thought Youji was straight, but also because he was a teammate, and you don't have one night stands with someone you have to kill with the next night.

This, however, changed things. This changed things considerably. Aya just wasn't sure he was happy about that.

~*~*~*~


Youji woke up the next day with a rather spectacular hangover. He sat up in bed, squinting at the sunlight peeping through his blinds. Empty bed - what did he do last night? Ah yes. He grinned at his memories of the kitchen. Yuuhi had been amazing. The table had been a stroke of genius. His grin faded as another memory insinuated itself into his consciousness. Aya. Aya had been there. And he had - Oh Lord. He pressed a hand to his mouth, feeling nauseous.

He had been attracted to Aya since he had woken up in Youji's bed, still groggy from his fight with Ken. When sleeping, Aya had had that little boy lost look Omi wore, and to Youji, Omi and sex shouldn't even be in the same sentence. But when he had woken up, his whole face had hardened into impassivity. That was what had intrigued Youji at first - how could a person exist with that duality?

Since Asuka had . . . disappeared the first time - he still wasn't sure whether Neu had been Asuka or not - Youji had decided to live each day as his last. He did what he wanted to do and he could live with that. Aya seemed to have two sides, even now. There was the cold fearless leader, and then there was a softer side - the side that smiled at scared young girls running from the press.

Aya wasn't even his real name; Youji knew that. Hell, technically, Youji was the one who had named him. Who was Aya really? That's what had intrigued him at the start. His Aya-watching had come with a side effect though - he started notice, really notice, things about Aya. Things like how he moved with a kind of sensuous grace. How he always took the Friday afternoon shift off and went somewhere. How he really seemed to enjoy Ikebana, like it wasn't just a job to him.

All of them had a mission come up that dealt with their past, except Aya. He was such a mystery. The P.I. in Youji itched to get the answers to his questions. But without hacking into Kritiker's file (which he definitely wasn't qualified to do), he wasn't going to find out anything. Aya certainly wasn't telling.

He was jolted out of his contemplative state by a sudden pounding on his door. "Youji!" Ken's voice was only slightly muffled by the walls. "Aya says get your ass downstairs! You're already late and I have to go to practice."

Shit. Just who he needed to see after his spectacular performance last night. "I'm coming," he answered half-heartedly, pulling on some jeans and a tank top. He yanked on a button down shirt and gave his teeth a once over while he shoved his feet into his shoes.

As he clattered down the stairs, he decided he would pretend he couldn't remember what had happened. That would stave off any unpleasantness. Aya wouldn't be willing to bring it up himself.

~*~*~*~


Aya had decided that morning to ignore Youji and the whole . . . kitchen incident. Ignoring him would avoid potential conflicts, and save Aya a lot of trouble. He didn't need a relationship right now, especially not a relationship with a promiscuous teammate. Relationships with teammates were bad. And he had his sister to think about.

Yes, he nodded to himself as Ken thundered down the stairs and blew out the door with a "ByeAyaI'llseeyoulaterI'mlate!", ignoring Youji would be the best policy.

Just then, Youji sauntered into the shop, looking rumpled. He collapsed in a chair with a gusty sigh. "Oi, Aya," he said.

Aya didn't turn his head from the arrangement he was creating on the counter. He made a noncommittal sound and hoped Youji would get the hint and leave him alone.

"Mind if I go out for a smoke?"

He snuck a glance Youji's direction and saw that he was nervously playing with his carton of cigarettes, tapping it on the table.

"No," he replied shortly.

With that, Youji jumped up and went out the back entrance, to smoke away from the lunchtime crowds streaming by the shop.

It seemed as though the tension dissipated from the air the moment Youji walked out the door. Aya let his shoulders relax and sighed, rolling his head around to loosen tense muscles. He was hoping Youji didn't remember all the details of last night, and he was just tense because he had a hangover. He wanted everything to stay the same, because then he wouldn't have to decide between a life with Youji, and a life without Youji - he never did anything halfway.

~*~*~*~


Youji took a deep drag on his cigarette and wondered if Aya was plotting to kill him. He had done two things last night - invaded Aya's personal space, and shocked him - neither of which Aya appreciated in the slightest. He hadn't seemed upset at first glance, but the way in which he studiously avoided looking at Youji, the way he clipped his words (the few words he did speak), the way his jaw had clenched when Youji had come down the stairs, these all told an experienced Aya-watcher like himself that Aya was upset with something. And Youji had a pretty good idea what that something was.

"Well, might as well go face the music," he mumbled to himself. He stubbed out his cigarette in the coffee can and stood up laboriously. He indulged in a bone-cracking stretch - satisfying, that - and meandered back into the shop.

Aya was helping a frail old woman pick out some carnations. No doubt she was visiting someone's grave. Youji grimaced and pawed through the order slips on the counter for something easy to do. Aya usually did the complicated arrangements, as he was the only one who seemed to have formal training in that sort of thing. The rest of them had all learned by the seat of their pants.

The bell jingled as the old woman left the shop and he sat down at the worktable. He snuck a glance in Aya's direction, but the other man was assiduously ignoring him, head bent over an order form as his lips moved silently. Endearing, Aya's habit of reading things to himself. Of course, that's probably why he only had to look at them once.

Youji bit back a yawn and reached for the trimming shears and the first flower. For a while, there was peace. He couldn't stand the quiet.

"Is Omi home from school yet?" he asked, just for something else to think about besides his own problems.

"He's in the kitchen," Aya replied, looking intent on his arrangement.

The boy in question wandered into the shop at that moment. He was holding a plate with a sandwich on it.

"Hey, Omittchi," Youji said, glad of the distraction.

"Na, Youji," Omi said, exasperation clearly written on his features, "next time you spill something on the table, wipe it up before it dries. It's all sticky."

Aya made a strangled noise.

Youji recovered in record time. "Ah, sorry about that, Omittchi. I'll clean it up later." He managed to look sheepish.

"Thanks, Yotan!" Omi called over his shoulder as he headed downstairs to his computer.

"No problem," Youji replied weakly. He snuck a glance at Aya.

Aya was sitting frozen, a long stemmed flower clenched in his hand. "So you remember," he said in a low voice.