Do you believe in sin?
By Tien Riu
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Disclaimer:
Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me. Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.
C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.
"Do you believe in sin?" is, potentially, a prequel/short/background to a trilogy of Weiss Kreuz stories (Aya x Youji, yaoi, plot-related).
Extra Note: Rating [R] is for future chapters, but I'm not lowering it down to PG-13 simply because it seems awful to do something like that to readers. Also - it feels like cheating since Fanfiction.net has just put G - PG-13 as the default view rating.
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Damn his punctuality - it'll always just be an act
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Youji
Aya is waiting for me when I get back to Koneko - at five minutes past six damn his punctuality. He doesn't do something as obvious as glare at me. Or do that half mope, half guilt-trip stare that Omi has perfected so well in the past two years of our acquaintance.
Nothing from Aya except a grunt of acknowledgement that I existed and had appeared - and then he slid behind the wheel of - My car!
"You can't think you're going to drive."
Nothing.
"No - I'm serious. You can't think you're going to drive Seven."
Still nothing. I glare at him through the window of the driver's seat.
"Aya."
He turns finally, staring at me, violet eyes unreadable. Be still my heart, the statue speaks, "Get in the car Youji."
"My car."
"You were late."
And that, as they say, was that.
If it had been Ken, I would have dragged him out of that car, and we would have been kicking dust and throwing punches by now. Aya - well, I could do the same thing to Aya.
The thing is - the thing is -
The thing is that I'm fairly sure Ken would stop short of killing me. Aya however. . .
Who would win in a fight with Aya? It is a question that I save for the longer stakeouts when the most interesting remark it's possible to get from Aya is 'be quiet'.
Ken is the strongest amongst us, I am the most versatile. Aya, the sword fighter, by definition of his forms, is light, quick and slight of build. Except for Omi, in close quarters, with no weapons, you would think that he would at least get his composure mussed.
Except - there's something about the way he moves.
That slow slink, the tilt of his hips, the way he holds himself - it speaks of something. . . Else.
And trust me, in the past six months I've known him, I've become an expert on the way he moves. It's not just sexy - it's controlled. Every move, like steel wrapped in silk. I would start comparing him to a leopard in a zoo, but that would be clichéd - and besides, visions of Aya naked in a cage is possibly not what I need to be imagining while I'm sitting next to him.
The only time I've seen him look less than controlled was the first day I met him - after Ken knocked him out.
Which, I might add, was the first and only time Ken has managed that feat. Even in our informal sparring sessions - or at least the last one we had before Ken accidentally punched a hole through the wall and Aya shattered several windows - the two were evenly matched at best.
Okay I lie - the first time they sparred, Aya threw Ken across the room. And I mean that literally. The second time, Ken didn't last more than thirty-five seconds and three milliseconds (Omi was timing it). The third time left the wall with a hole, broken glass shards for all of us to clean up and black plastic over the windows of the Koneko's attic for the past four months.
There is nothing more humiliating than being a male and knowing that posturing will only get your ass whipped.
Especially when he is unlikely to break more than a light sweat.
I slide into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut and glared at Aya, "Fine. But one scratch - just one -"
He doesn't look at me as he turns the ignition key and the trip continues in that way - silent and filled with brooding.
Well, brooding on my part. Aya was just silent - no anger, no regret. Nothing. I might as well have not existed.
Being ignored has always given me urges to do things like strip, lean over and start nuzzling him.
I wonder if he'd notice me then. . .
Probably not.
Being around Aya must be good for keeping my ego deflated if nothing else.
Aya
Aya put the car into park and stared at the manor in front of them. Kritiker had safe houses scattered all over Japan; operatives who required further debriefing than their contacts could safely provide were directed there.
He had expected a place that was secluded, far from neighbours. He had not expected a mansion.
Homesick? A voice jeered quietly at the back of his head as he opened the car door and reached over to lift his bag with him. Not homesick. Ran Fujimiya is dead and Aya Fujimiya has no home.
"Woah. We need to ask for a pay rise." Kudou commented, looking upwards, "Or at least better quarters." He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked up to the grand sweep of the entranceway, "Do you think we should knock Aya -?" he turned, frowning when he realised Aya was still standing by the car, "Aya?"
Aya startled, and felt heat rise to his cheeks; Kudou was staring at him, one eyebrow arched. Stop being melodramatic fool - this is a mission. Like any other mission.
He shifted the weight of his bag and followed Kudou up the stairs, ignoring the older man's tilted questioning expression.
This is the first mission where Youji gets to be your lover. . . the snide voice murmured quietly, Even if it's all an act - there's going to be close contact. Hugging. Hand holding. Kissing. . . Holding him till you couldn't slide a paper between the both of your bodies. What happens then, A~ya?
A shiver went down his spine; he could smell the other's cologne - fresh and edged with a crisp that reminded him of fresh mint and mornings. You're delusional Fujimiya - Kudou and mornings are as likely as Kudou and -
He stopped his thoughts, gritting his teeth - and realised he was glaring at Youji, who was staring at him, eyes wide beneath the light tints of his sunglasses.
Despite the fact that the last rays of the sun had long slid beneath the horizon half an hour ago.
"What? Lipstick on my teeth?" Youji asked, grinning as he flipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket, "What did I do wrong this time Aya?" he added, arching another eyebrow.
Aya turned to the door and pressed the doorbell - the doors had soundproofing, he noted.
"You're going to have to talk to me at some point y'know." Youji said quietly.
There was something different about the way he spoke. Aya realised it almost before he turned to stare at Youji; the tinge of laughter that always accompanied everything he said was gone, as effectively wiped as mist before morning sun.
"We're supposed to be lovers." Youji continued, "And even if we don't do the down and dirty, there's going to be some form of public displays of affection. Kissing, hugging, hand holding. A smile or two at least, god held us." He added, the lilt returning.
Aya flinched, more because the words echoed his thoughts than from the meaning. You're going to have to ask him to teach you how to act, Aya. You know that don't you Aya. Ask Youji Kudou, the playboy lover, how to hold hands. How to sigh against his skin as he kisses you. When to moan. When to take off his clothes, when he can take yours off.
I know how to do that. I don't need help or tutelage.
What do you know of public displays of affection A~ya? The voice whispered quietly, Born on your sister's hospital bed - you're barely two years old in experience. All you know is death and killing.
That's not true. He silently protested to himself.
But Ran is dead. In Aya's place. Remember? You don't know - you don't know and it's all fakery. All you have is the act - when to sigh, when to groan, when to moan and arch, when to beg him to keep going - because you won't feel anything will you, A~ya. You're ice - you won't feel anything, no matter what he does, so it's all an act. Ice - ice - nothing but ice.
"Aya? Aya?"
Aya blinked, and realised that Youji was waving a hand in front of his face, "What?" he grunted.
"You zoned out there." Youji commented then frowned, the mist of humour and sexual innuendo gone from his voice once more, "The mission won't be that bad, Aya." He said, "I might be obsessed with sex, but I haven't ever pressed myself on somebody who wasn't interested." He paused, staring at Aya for several silent seconds as if waiting for something, then sighed and continued, "Besides - it's all an act."
Aya turned back to the door, reaching forward to press the doorbell again. All an act. His mind echoed, It'll always just be an act.