Wow, so I'm FINALLY getting this second part out! *shock* And I have a lot of people to thank, mainly neechan and Meghan, but also all the wonderful people who reviewed when I posted (especially Jin, for reviewing twice...seems I read quite a bit of thanks to her at the beginning of a lot of recent fics, you rock, Jin! Kenken fans unite!)
What most people don't probably realize is I actually wrote the first part of this fic almost a year ago but it wasn't till a month or two ago, when I posted it on FF.net, thanks to the response, did I get an inkling to write more, so, arigato minna. (And yes, this is a shameless ploy to encourage more reviews if anyone else wants the next parts after this ;)
And, now without further ado, T.B.S. Part 2
*****
"Anoo, Aya-kun, you're bleeding."
The red-head jerked around sharply at Omi's words before slowly glancing down at his hands. If the teen hadn't been watching as closely as was he would have missed the slight look of surprise that swept over the older man's striking features as he released his death grip on the dozen rose-stems he had been working with.
Without even acknowledging his teammate, the assassin pushed roughly past, heading for the back room and presumably a band-aid.
Sighing, Omi reached for the battered flowers, feeling almost sorry for them. It wasn't easy being in the way of Aya's wrath. Of course, the true target of the sword-man's anger was standing on the opposite side of the shop, trying his hardest to water the plants...and failing miserably.
The fact that Ken was getting way behind on his work was the most likely reason for the red-head's frustration; Omi couldn't think of anything else in the direction Aya had been glaring for the last five minutes that would get him so riled up.
Still, if that was what was making him mad, he was overreacting. It wasn't like Ken could do anything about it, they all well knew. The girls were often annoying and hampered their work greatly; however, they were also their largest source of income, and more often than not, the flowers were given right back to them, thus allowing them to resell them numerous times. If any of their oh-so-frequent customers/admires had caught on to that fact, they had as yet chosen not to comment and simply kept buying the same arrangements, over, and over, and over again.
But no matter how often they dealt with screaming hoards of fangirls, Ken still got flustered when six or seven of them were rubbing up against him.
Yohji often joked how clumsy their 'Kenken' could be, but that was doing an injustice to the brunet. In actuality, his friend was one of the most dexterous people Omi knew...except when the girls were pressing in close. Then pots got dropped, or water got splashed, as was happening now.
Once, Omi had tried defending his friend, pointing out it was difficult for anyone to work neatly when they were being crowded and hassled by that many screaming, cooing teenage girls. To which the playboy had replied that he somehow managed it fine. Aya had ended the argument with the icy comment that the only reason the older man managed was because he simply stopped working all together.
Omi sighed again. Aya, it always comes back to him. Maybe he really was frozen, a beautifully crafted sculpture of ice, like Yohji teased, like Ken kept hinting at during their "strategy" sessions. It would explain how he could get so furious with Ken when the brunet really was trying his hardest--
"Omi, the next batch of deliveries is ready. "
The sharp call broke into his thoughts. Quickly he made his way over to the object of said thoughts, who was frowning down at the large bundle of flowers gathered on the counter, waiting to go out. As the teen neared, Aya glanced up, eyes flashing amethyst in the bright lights. It was enough to take Omi's breath away. God, he's beautiful...even in that hideous orange sweater.
Yohji frequently complained that his poor eyes should not be subjected to viewing such terrible color clashing; the redhead answered with silence, and continued to wear the thing. Omi hated to admit it, but he agreed with the older blond...and yet, somehow, the offending article of clothing was growing on him...or maybe he could just find Aya beautiful no matter what he was wearing...or not wearing, not was good, not was very--
"This is a rather large delivery for one person." The other's muttered statement thankfully brought Omi back to reality before he embarrassed himself too badly.
"Yohji!" Aya shouted, turning towards where the older man was happily flirting with two women, in their mid-twenties but still giggling like the schoolgirls surrounding them. Realizing he was the focus of the sword-man's attention, he sauntered over, throwing Omi a sly grin as he joined them.
The teen bit back a grimace, trying to hide his discomfort. Ken swore that the blond was after him, but it had been hard to believe, especially the way he flirted with anything that moved, was vaguely female, and over 18. But then again, over the last few days he had been noticing more and more how hollow the older man's words and smiles always seemed...except when talking to Omi.
"So, what's up?"
"This is a large shipment. Go with him and help out." With that Aya made to turn away and return to the poor roses.
Trying to ignore the grin spreading across Yohji's face, Omi cleared his voice. "Anoo, why don't you send Ken with Yohji, since I still have that arrangement to finish." He nodded at his work station. "And, besides, I think he could use the break." He glanced pointedly at the girls, one of whom had taken it upon herself to glomp Ken around the waist and not let go (that'd be me ;-), which seemed to be making the simple task of plant watering almost impossible.
As Aya's features darkened like the sky does before, say, a hurricane, Omi realized that maybe that had not been the best place to draw the older man's attention. And yet he's even sexier when angry...not helping! he berated his subconscious. Clearing his throat once more and trying to figure out what to say, he was saved by Ken himself strolling over, either drawn by the impromptu gathering of the other three or simply desperate for a chance to escape the girls at least for a bit.
Probably the latter, considering the second his entourage spotted the red-head's stormy face, they fled to the far sides of the shop and became very absorbed in the displays.
"I couldn't help but overhear we need two people for the delivery," he stated cheerfully, obviously relieved to be freed from his fangirls' clutches. "Why don't you go with Omi, Aya, since me and Yohji still have watering and a few arrangements left to put together?"
Omi could have cheered. That was the perfect solution, allowing Ken some time alone in the shop with Yohji during closing, while he got a nice long quiet ride with Aya, just the two of them.
Apparently, the solution wasn't so 'perfect' for either of the older two assassins. Yohji frowned, and Aya snapped, "Yohji, Omi, get those flowers delivered. Ken, there are plants to be watered," before he turned, making his way to the counter and the mangled roses he had left there.
Ken sighed, threw Omi a 'well, I tried,' look, and headed back to his hose and harem.
"Well, bishounen, shall we get moving?" With that, the older man threw an arm around the teen's shoulders. By reflex, he shrugged it off and turned to gather up the flowers, but not before catching the other's hurt look.
That gave him pause--why did he shrug it off? If Ken's right, then I'm hurting him the same way Aya's hurting me. Why am I being so indifferent to his feelings? He's offering me kindness, maybe even love and I'm giving him...coldness.
Admit it, Omi, it's nice knowing someone cares about you, why push it away?
On their final trip to the car with the last bunch of flowers, Omi noticed the arm had somehow found its way back around his shoulders. About to repeat his previous reaction, he paused, and allowed it to stay. It was hard loving Aya, hard loving someone so beautiful, yet so cold...and Yohji's arm around him was warm.
*****
Speeding along the narrow road, Yohji was enjoying the cool breeze on his face, soothing him, relaxing him, keeping him from doing anything too foolish...or so he hoped. Aya had given him the perfect chance, and he'd be damned if he was going to pass it up. And yet--
He glanced over at his silent passenger, who was offering him only a profile view with his head tilted back, eyes closed, also obviously enjoying the wind created by their swift passage.
--and yet, he didn't want to push his luck. He's more than worth a little patience.
Glancing over again, he debated reaching out and caressing the teen's cheek. It was sure to be soft, smooth...perfect. Just like everything else, from those captivating baby-blue eyes to his flawless--
*HONK*
The blaring of the oncoming car's horn rushed him back to reality. Strange, that didn't seem right, the car appeared to be in his lane...oh, shit. Jerking the wheel to the left, he just barely got them back in their proper lane before the sports car hurtled past.
"Yohji?!" The loud honking followed by the subsequent erratic movement of the vehicle had roused Omi, bringing him fully upright, straining against the seatbelt and glancing around wildly.
Shifting his eyes over for only a peek before hurriedly returning them to the road, Yohji shrugged. "Ah...squirrel?"
The skeptical snort made it plain what the teen thought of that explanation. Still, Yohji had doubts he wanted to hear what had really distracted the older man. Apparently he was right, because no more was said on the subject; the only noise created by the wind as it rustled the flowers in their plastic wrap.
Just as the temptation of perusing his young companion was winning against the common sense of actually paying attention to his driving, Omi saved them both from the likely fate of a car wreck or worse by speaking up.
"Ano, Yohji-kun?"
"Nn?" Concentrate on the road, not on the person speaking.
"Mind if I ask you a question?" Quietly, almost hesitant.
Thoughts are on driving, not on him. Not on those soft, light pink lips speaking those quiet, alluring words ...Damn, where was a bucket of ice water when he needed one? Or just Aya, he could cool anything off.
"What were you and Aya-kun fighting about a few days ago?"
Well, what do you know...that worked, too. Suddenly the road seemed very appealing. Anywhere was good to look, in fact, except at the one thing that had been so distracting only a moment before. He decided to answer in the only way he could think of.
"Umm..."
Without glancing over, he could tell that was not going to appease Omi's curiosity. Pity, too, 'cause there was no way in hell Yohji planned on telling him the truth.
"Yohji-kun, please, it's important."
"Why?"
He could feel those sharp blues eyes on him, searching his face, searching for truths that the older man planned to continue hiding unless a really good reason spurred him to do otherwise.
"Because it's not every night two members of Weiss try to kill each other in our own home." His voice was insistent...and worried.
Yohji just shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, I seem to remember that on the first night a certain red-head joined our team, Ken duked it out with him."
There was the unmistakable sound of jeans rubbing against leather as Omi squirmed in his seat. "That was different. We'd just met him. The four of us have been working together, as well as sharing the same house, for how long? And last night we get woken up in the dead of night to you guys trying to kill each other!" He took a deep breath. "What is going on?!"
But Yohji wasn't listening. Is that when you fell for him? he silently asked the absent Aya. Was it that first night you realized it was Ken you wanted? Or did it take some time, the way it did for me with the bishounen.
And what about Ken? How long has he felt that way about me? It couldn't have been since they first met, of that Yohji was sure. He definitely would have noticed it if it had been that long...or would I?
It had taken Aya, Aya, for gods' sake, to point it out to me! That still rankled. Yohji prided himself on being the expert on love and all its attributes. Hell, he knew just about every secret crush and relationship in their loud shop entourage.
And yet he'd missed a simple thing like Ken falling in love with him.
"Yohji-kun?"
Omi's voice snapped him back to the here and now. Damn, that was the second time in less than ten minutes. He and that reality chick really needed to get better acquainted.
Here he was, on a long peaceful drive out to some mansion that needed three dozen bouquets for a wedding or something, alone, with the one he most desired...and he was wasting it thinking of Aya and Ken.
"Sorry there, bishounen, spaced out a bit."
Yohji could swear he heard the teen muttering something about cars, attentions spans, and certain death before he raised his voice to a fully audible level. "Do you have to call me that?"
"Sure thing, Oomii." He emphasized the name, grinning. He could feel the glare shot at him, but that only increased his smile. After all, what could that do? He knew Aya.
Still, Yohji chided himself, he should be feeling more remorse. He was just making Omi mad and that was a sure-fire way of losing what he wanted.
Unless Omi isn't what I want, a little voice whispered. Had been whispering, ever since Aya had confronted him three nights passed and forced him to realize what Ken was feeling for him. Smiling, soccer-loving Ken, whom he had come to consider one of his closest friends.
Yohji wanted Omi, he was attracted to Omi. And I'd almost gotten him to like me back. He could feel it, knew the teen had all but given up on the stone-cold bastard when said icicle had to go and mess everything up by...by showing me what I was too blind to see.
"Kuso!" he muttered, flooring it, ignoring Omi's startled protest as they hurtled along the empty road. He had never meant to hurt Ken, would never want to damage their friendship, but was it possible he wanted more than just simple friendship, if that was what the brunet also desired?
And do you really think you have a chance with Omi, with where his heart is now? The little voice was back.
"Aya began the fight. He was mad about the way I was treating Ken--"
The younger man glanced over, surprised. "Hn? I don't understand."
Yohji took a deep breath. He had been kidding himself, trying to keep it hidden. If he wanted to know Omi's true feeling about him, and about Aya, then first Omi was going to have to know everything. Keeping secrets wouldn't help anything. He knew enough about relationships and love to know you might build the first with lies, but to genuinely have the latter, one needed truth.
"Aya was mad at how terribly I was treating Ken because..." Yohji risked taking his eyes off the road; this was too important to miss the other's expression. Maybe telling the full truth to Omi would help him figure out his own true feelings. "Because he loves Ken."
*****
"But..." his mouth opened and closed, no other sounds emerging. He tried again. "But, I love Yohji!" Every delicious, beautiful part of him.
Ken managed the weak protest before his mouth gaped open once more, then slammed shut, then fell open yet again, searching for something more to say. Oh very good, you can do a wonderful fish impression, want to try acting like a more sentient form of life now? It was times like these that he had come to hate the little voice in his head.
Omi nodded. "Yohji-kun swears that Aya-kun knows that...but he still wants you."
"But...you love Aya!"
This time the blond wouldn't meet his eyes. "Apparently he knows that, too...and doesn't care."
"But.." he repeated again, for lack of anything better. I now present, ladies and gentlemen, the amazing Ken, man of one word. He really wished his internal voice had eyes so it could see the mental glare he was giving it. Giving it up as a lost cause, he sighed.
His friend looked up at that, and it was then Ken thought he caught sight of a vague hint of tears in the other's eyes. Yet before he could say anything, Omi began again, softly. "I know Yohji-kun was telling the truth about this...he lies about a lot of things, but not this because...because--"
"Because he loves you." Ken finished, then blinked. "You know, this is starting to make my head spin."
Omi returned the comment with a lopsided smile. "Glad I'm not the only one. I feel like we're in a soap opera."
The brunet wrinkled his nose at that. "Yeck, I hope not." That got him a chuckle. Good, that was getting the teen back on track to his normal genki self.
"So, what do we do from here? I mean, does this--"
"We go on with our plan." Ken grinned. "This changes nothing." Apparently his subconscious disagreed. What the hell do you mean? This changes everything! That ice-cold but amazingly good-looking sword-wielding assassin likes, maybe even loves, you!
But did he love him back?
Umm... If the little voice didn't know then it would be a good time for the little voice to shut up! Ok...
Now that he was internally decided, or at least not quite so conflicted, he returned his attention to his friend.
"The plan goes on, which means I'm heading downstairs and saying that--"
"No..."
"Hn?" That stopped Ken. "Why not? Don't you still want Aya to come up here? Don't you still want him..." Maybe he still wants him the same way you still want Yohji...But he did still want the blond...didn't he? Then why do your thoughts now keep circling towards a certain drop-dead gorgeous red-head?
That was it, he didn't know where and he didn't know how but he was getting a muzzle for that damn voice if it killed him.
"Ano, Ken..."
The hesitant voice recaptured his focus and as brown eyes met blue he saw for certain the glimmer that signified Omiwas just barely holding back tears. Not surprising, really. There had been a few time lately he had been wanting to break down; hell, if things kept up as they were going now, it was going to be getting like a funeral around here soon...and how ironically apropos, considering their line of work--
"Ken-kun?" Omi was regarding him strangely.
Way to pay attention there!
He growled, he couldn't help it. Will you shut up!
"Sorry Omi, lost in my thoughts...so, what's the plan then?" But his friend simply shook his head. "No plans, I just want you to ask Aya to come up."
"But, if Yohji's right, he knows how you feel, won't that just--" he tried protesting.
"Exactly. No matter what you say, he'll know what's going on. I want to...no, I need to talk to him, to know the truth, to know exactly what he's truly feeling."
Ken gazed at his friend for a moment, taking in the determined look, and then sighed. "This should be interesting..."
With that, he turned, heading down to the basement where the two older Weiss members were supposedly going over the shop's books. Somehow Ken doubted that, though, at least in Yohji's case. Numbers, except when they belonged to beautiful women's telephones, never seemed to agree with him.
The sight that greeted him confirmed his guess. There was Aya, as cold and stiff as usual, hunched in a corner, perusing their finical records...and there was Yohji, sprawled...in a very alluring manner...across the sofa, eyes glued to the TV.
Ken resisted the very strong urge to vault the couch back and plant himself across the lanky form, feel his warm body beneath--no, you promised Omi...
Clearing his throat and tearing his eyes away from the soft blond waves, framing the long, handsome face, with those deep, emerald eyes that one could happily lose themselves in--Aya, you're suppose to be talking to Aya!
"Eto...Aya?" Suddenly amethyst eyes pierced him, and he was paralyzed by their gaze. OK, maybe we can forgo our little chat and I'll just jump him instead--Whoa, where had that come from? Deep breath, think calming thoughts, think of cold showers, the annoying harem, think of...think of...Omi...Omi?! Where the hell are your thoughts going? That's it, I'm getting off this train right now, see you later pal!
As his mind momentarily jumped ship, Aya continued to regard him, his expression growing stranger as Ken's silence continued. After a moment, the brunet could suddenly feel Yohji's gaze on him from behind...he had always been very aware of where the blond's eyes were at any given moment, it was a talent but--
"Yes?" Apparently tired of waiting, the red-head was looking for a response.
They were both staring at him, god, did they both have to be so damn hot?
"Um, Omi...Omi wanted..." he managed to stammer.
"Well, gee, you think it's about the bishounen?" Yohji joked from the couch.
Not helping, lovely, really, it's not! Taking a deep breath, wishing he could bring himself to just shout that out loud, he pushed ahead. "Hewantstotalktoyou!"
Blink...blink blink. The confusion in the violet eyes was giving him this outrageous urge to laugh. He could tell Yohji was just as perplexed, which just made the compulsion stronger.
"Nani?"
"Perhaps a bit slower this time," Yohji added with a grin. Ken couldn't see but he knew he had to be grinning. He only got that tone when he was grinning. You do know you're being a baka, right? Oh wonderful, it had come back.
But for once he completely agreed with the stupid, irritating little voice. God help him, the world had to be coming to an end.
"Omi would like to talk to you, Aya...alone." There, was that really that hard?
He glanced to Aya, who regarded him coolly, i.e. very sexily, for a moment, then rose, presumably doing as he was asked. Then he turned to take in the sight of Yohji, whose attention had returned to the TV...he was so cute when absorbed in something.
Hard? Hell yes!
*****
So Omi wanted to talk to him. Problem: he had nothing to say to the teen. But Ken had asked, his Ken, and thus he found himself trudging up the stairs towards the blond's room.
Was that truly the only reason, though? Was it because the soccer player with those chocolate eyes that could melt you (funny, he'd always thought it was the candy that was suppose to do the melting) had asked him? Or was there more to it...
Three days ago Aya would have immediately known the answer to that riddle, but now?
Now he was being forced to realize that his coldness, that impregnable wall he had carefully constructed, might have been built a little too high. Long ago, when he had realized the wall had a crack that was allowing Ken to get to him, he had tried to seal it, until he realized how futile the effort was. So instead he had fortified himself against everything and everyone else.
And that was hurting people, especially the boy he was on his way to see. Boy? That wasn't right; Omi was no more a boy than the rest of them--no, he was a killer, just like they all were, making a living on other people's love by day and their blood by night.
And yet...and yet they were his family.
That made him pause, stopped mid-step, hand frozen on the railing.
Family? After his parents were murdered and his sister had fallen into the coma, he had had thought his family lost. Or were as good as gone until the day revenge could be taken and his sister reopened her eyes, answering his prayers.
Yet somehow his revenge was untaken, his prayers unanswered, but he had regained a family, or at least a strange approximation of one. The four of them looked out for one another, supported each other when it all got to be too much. They'd all shared so much grief, so much pain and loss, there was no one else any of them could truly turn to but each other.
And here he was, hurting one of them. Typical.
Getting himself once more started on the hike upstairs, he reflected on the past few months, on all the blindingly obvious signs that he had somehow managed to miss. Omi stammering when he spoke to him, the constant surveillance when he thought the red-head wasn't looking, the blushing whenever accidental contact occurred...the note he had found with his name and Omi's surrounded by hearts, unmistakably scrawled in the teen's compact hand-writing.
Hmm...the last one really should have clued him in. Of course, only moments after he had read said note, Ken had happened to randomly smile at him, so he supposed it was understandable that all other thoughts had fled...
And maybe he had been purposely trying to forget, trying to block it all because...because he was confused enough by falling in love with Ken, the idea that someone could fall in love with him, even with his wall supposedly protecting him from such unimaginable things, was baffling.
Aya took a deep breath, finding himself facing Omi's door. It was now or never. He gave it one sharp tap, waited.
"Come in." He heard the muffled command, did as he was bid.
The teen was on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest, arms encircling his legs loosely. All in all he was looking, well, to put it simply, adorable. He hated the thought, but there it was...
Hell, who was he kidding? Ken had put the first crack in his walls the day they met, and three days ago, when the truth came out, what was left had come crumbling down. Thankfully, he didn't think the other three had noticed yet, but nonetheless, things were starting to get to him.
Like the bishounen (Yohji had the right of it) sitting on the bed in front of him.
OK, you still have some control, use it! he commanded himself, clearing his throat. "Ken said you wanted to talk to me?"
"Nn." Blue eyes turned up to meet his. "I know how you feel about Ken-kun, and I know you know how I feel about you...Yohji-kun told me as much," Omi began.
Aya managed to school his expression enough to only raise an eyebrow in slight surprise at this revelation. Inside, however, he was seething...or thought he should be. Who was the older man to be bandying about his feelings? However, in truth, Aya found he wasn't mad, only...confused. Where did they go from here?
He realized as the silence stretched that the other was waiting for his response. Well, that made two of them. What was he supposed to say?
Thankfully, for some unknown reason, Lady Luck decided to grace him with her much-appreciated presence, and saved him from the need of offering a reply--for now, anyways.
"Aya, Omi, Manx is here. We have a mission!"