Author's Babblings: ^_^; I'd like to apologize for bastardizing Team Argentina, ne. I actually cheer for them, and Brazil tends to play dirtier than anyone else, in my personal opinion... But at any rate, 's how I ended up writing it, so I hope there's no hard feelings from anyone? I'm more likely to get beaten up for the Ken-abuse. X_x;
-+- marsupial: XD Happy Birthday to you and your gramma! ::offers naked Kenken with a bow on top:: .x Er.. and I wouldn't share that with gramma, just to be safe...
-+- Carter Tachikawa: n_n; Someone liked mah pigeon scene! ::hugs:: Thanks for the b-day wishes. I'm not rushing to update, but I definitely need to keep the gears rolling so that I don't procrastinate too much on it.
-+- siberian: n_n Thanks again, and look, two people liked the pigeon! *ahem* I try to write the characters as in-character as possible, hence the lack of an uber-uke Ken. He's just too self-assured to be a weepy clinger-on. ^_~ Kinda like you'll never see my Ran/Aya spouting love poetry.
-+- lise: Aww, but he abandoned Ken for a good reason! ...if stubborness and Vietnamese food count. .; Hell, I think I'd be tempted to abandon Ken for Vietnamese food... n_n; 'specially since if he tagged along, he'd eat it all.
-+- Katarzyna K Yue: ;_; Aww, I don't get to get strapped to the bed and-- *ahem* I mean, uh, yay! x_o; Yeah, the one time Ken actually needs Ran to be there, he isn't? ^^; But it's kinda his fault, though Ran will get kicked if he rubs that in.
-+- chibi koneko: hehe Yeah, well, if I didn't put in a bit of plot, they'd just be angsting back and forth at one another? ^_~ But fear not, more angst is on the way (yeah, as if that's a surprise coming from me). After all, Ken has to get on the plane back to Brazil in a few days.... ::insert dramatic musical crescendo of DOOM!::
-+- nauta iupiter: Gah~! x_x Not the Aeneid all over again... "Arma virumque cano" must be the most famous Latin snippet. ^_~ That, and "Passer, deliciae meae puellae". Sorry for the cliffhangers, they're just good places to end. .; As for the weasel sex... ::drops two ferrets in a box together and shakes it up:: Tadaa! That's the best I can promise for now. The rest is in the stars. ^_^;
-+- Kyri: He might not have shiny armor (unless you count the Kevlar? which is kinda dull and pliable..) but he's definitely tall, angsty, and handsome? . ::waves the Ken Abusers Anonymous banner:: Hi, my name is Mags, and I like to torture brown-haired soccer bishounen.. x_o Hey, is that Nanjou Kouji over there..?
-+- olivia-yuymaxwell: n_n; Ken doesn't really need saving, just some Band-Aids and an ice pack and possibly someone to check out if he's got any internal bleeding... x_x;
-+- Marty: XD Dude, you and your monkey sex. *ahem* Should I even bother posting on the MLs? O.o; I didn't think people were reading it on there, since I've only gotten maybe.. two, three replies in the whole time I've been posting.
Rating: Good question. O_o... Low. Kiddie-safe.
Warnings: Um, angst? Doom? More angst? n_n And it's way too short, but I needed to end it here or the next chapter wouldn't flow for shit.
//chapter 6//
Click.
"Goooooood~ morning Manhattan! This is the one, the only, DJ Mack Daddy here to bring a smile to your face! Of course, you're gonna need to keep smiling because it's one day to Christmas and you know you've still got shopping to do! But don't worry, all the stores are staying open extra-late 'cos you know you're gonna be waiting in lines for hours! And you know what? That's better than being outside! Today the every-lovely Big Apple is gonna see a high of – ooh, get the bikinis out, ladies – 18 degrees, and we're predicting a huge blizzard for some point later today, but y'all know how those weather forecasters can be. Now onto the traffic repor---"
Smack.
The radio cut off with an angry screech and Ran glared at it for good measure. Why couldn't he ever wake up to music? It was always that same, obnoxious DJ, no matter how he adjusted his alarm clock setting. The man seemed to have an inner clock directly in tune with Ran's own. He reached over again and switched on his CD player. Mellow, subtly intense rock music filtered through the apartment and Ran slid out of bed, scuffling across the floor in his bunny slippers though this time he'd pulled a black bathrobe around his shoulders; the apartment was cold once more, he'd really have to get on the landlord's case. For the amount of money he was paying...
*..coo?*
Violet eyes blinked, staring down the fluffy bird perched on the windowsill. What, was this becoming a habit?
"Go bother someone else." He pulled a take-out carton of cold Vietnamese noodles out of the fridge and a pair of chopsticks off of the dish rack, and sat down at the small two-person kitchen table. The pigeon tapped on the glass with it's beak.
"Go away." Was he talking to a pigeon? This was definitely one for the records. The bird made another mournful sound and fluffed its feathers even more against the cold. Ran poked at the cold noodles, then sighed.
"Alright, fine. Stop guilt-tripping me." He'd gone shopping the day before (one whole shopping bag worth of stuff... but who knew, maybe it'd last for a month or so) and opened up a box of corn flakes, shaking a few out onto a saucer. He didn't know what pigeons ate, but that seemed safe enough. Cracking the window brought with it a blast of freezing wind, but he left it half-open and watched for a moment as the pigeon began to earnestly peck at the cereal.
Ran sat back down to his noodles, but couldn't quite bring himself to ingest them. They'd been much better last night, mild and warm and exactly what the winter weather called for, in his opinion.
A pot of hazelnut coffee later, the redhead was feeling much better. The pigeon tried to edge its way into the apartment and Ran shooed it away, closing the window once more. He didn't feel like going to work, not with the tension in the air, but Charlie would probably have a coronary if Ran suggested he wasn't showing up again.
After a quick, cold shower, Ran didn't dress for the predicted blizzard. He pulled on a slim pair of white slacks and an immaculate white dress shirt, casting himself a sideways look in the mirror. What had Ken said about him being skinnier than he should have been? He turned a few times, violet eyes wandering over pale skin and toned muscle. Alright, so he didn't have any fat on him, but that didn't make him too thin. Though maybe his collarbone stood out more than—Was that a hickey?!
Manhattan was a mess, and all the side alleys in the world didn't get him to the hotel any faster. He had taken the motorcycle again, but this time kept warmer with gloves and a sleek dove-gray leather trenchcoat.
Ken wasn't waiting for him in the lobby, and Ran glanced down at his expensive watch. He'd always known the brunette to be punctual, and it was already fifteen minutes past the time when he'd been supposed to pick him up. Perhaps Ken had assumed that Ran was thoroughly stuck in traffic.
The woman at the front desk smiled somewhat haggardly at the tall redhead, relieved that he wasn't asking anything more complicated than for her to call Ken's room. A minute passed, and she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, sir, your client doesn't seem to be answering the phone."
Violet eyes narrowed and Ran nodded his thanks, heading for the elevator.
He was still unsure about how to react to Ken after what had happened. The redhead had never been the best person in the world for dealing with emotions, whether his own or those belonging to others. And now his teammate had made a pass at him, and how was he supposed to process it? Ken would be heading back to Brazil soon, so it was impossible that he'd wanted anything more than a quick fling, and for some reason that hurt, struck a chord somewhere within where the ice couldn't quite reach after all the years of alienation.
Ken had reached out, but he'd reached out for something with a time limit, and Ran didn't think he was the type of person who'd do well with that sort of experience to haunt him on his numerous lonely nights. The tone of Ken's voice and the faint glimmer of hurt in emotional brown eyes was already enough to nag at him.
His thoughts cut off abruptly as he found himself standing in front of the door to Ken's room. Shaking his head to clear it, he lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles firmly against the wooden door.
"Wake up, Hidaka. You're going to be late for the first meeting."
Silence. Ran frowned and banged on the door more impatiently.
"Hidaka, come on. I don't have time for this."
More silence. Something started to nag at the back of Ran's mind and he reached to the small of his back, gloved hand closing around the Magnum and drawing it. A quiet click and it was cocked and ready to blast a huge hole in any material presented. Ran knocked on the door again.
"Siberian, this is a direct order. Open the door or I'm going to shoot the lock in."
Ken's world had been a black haze of disorientation and pain all through the night. He'd dipped in and out of consciousness, but every time the darkness had sucked him back down despite his desperate attempts to claw his way back into wakefulness. Something registered as different when he heard the first knock on his door.
Aya...?
"Hidaka, come on. I don't have time for this."
Years of being apart couldn't break down the inherent need to obey Abyssinian's voice. Ran—no, Aya—had always kept them safe, had always made sure that they all made it out of a mission alive. There were times when his yelling was just hot air (plenty of times, in fact) but then there was that tone of voice, that no-nonsense knife edge to the deep, melodic voice that told him he'd be so much worm fodder if he didn't obey, and obey immediately.
Dark lashes fluttered painfully open and Ken blinked at the wall. He was on his side, and as far as he could tell, he was still alive.
"Siberian, this is a direct order. Open the door or I'm going to shoot the lock in."
Ken was right in what would be the line of fire.
If he shoots, I'm dead.
Ken struggled to sit up, gasped as pain shot up into his lungs, coughed painfully. He tried to croak out something, anything to let Ran know that he was going to try getting to the door and failed as he launched into another lung-bursting bout of coughing.
"Do—Don't shoot..." he managed after a moment, leaning heavily on one arm as he tried to get his air back. It felt like his lungs had been tapdanced on by elephants.
Or like his sides had been beaten for an extended period of time by an aluminum baseball bat, which was more likely.
"Ken?" This time Ran's voice sounded less commanding and more worried. "Ken, can you get to the door?"
Ken glanced down at himself, forcing himself to focus through the screaming pain to figure out what injuries actually lurked under the surface. At least he wasn't bleeding externally, nothing major anyway.
"Yeah." He coughed once, dryly, and winced. "Just give me a minute."
Standing up wasn't an option, not when his back felt as if it had been snapped in half. He managed to half-crawl, half-drag himself to the door and reached shakily for the handle, pulling it open with the last reserves of strength.
He was staring into the barrel of a nasty-looking gun, which quickly lifted and pointed over his head.
"I'm.. pretty sure no one else is in here."
Ran just stepped over him, body tense and movements fluid and silent as he checked out the room, going so far as to look under the bed, behind the curtains, in the closet, and in the shower stall. Finally satisfied that the room really was empty save for Ken, he tucked the gun back into his pants and shut the door, locked it, then quickly dropped to his knees.
"Alright. What hurts?"
Ken grimaced, leaning against Ran the moment that strong arms slid around him to offer more support than his own were giving him.
"Everything," he muttered. "But I don't think I'm gonna die. I just got the shit beaten outta me for the first time in a few years."
Ran didn't seem to be listening. He kept Ken cradled back against his chest and strong, leather-gloved hands slid over his body, pressing here and there and listening to the various minor sounds of pain that the brunette made when something was sore.
"I swear, Fujimiya, if you so much as hint at somethin' along the lines of 'I told you so'..."
Violet eyes met brown, and Ken suddenly regretted his words. He felt like an ass for implying that Ran would be that much of an asshole but dammit, it wasn't that unlikely! The redhead had always gotten a kick out of proving how right he was and how wrong the rest of the world was in turn. There was a spark of something akin to hurt in the icy indigo gaze and then it was gone as Ran seemed to brush off the comment... or just tuck it away for later brooding, as was more likely.
"You look like shit," Ran murmured. Somehow he made even a diss sound sexy; it was that damned voice, always deep and throaty. Wait, what the hell was wrong with him? Ken had just been beaten unconscious and probably gotten a few steps south of dying, and the first thing he was contemplating upon regaining consciousness was the sexiness of one Fujimiya Ran? Ugh. He really needed to get himself laid if things were getting that bad.
Ken gathered his wits enough to shoot back something indignant, but then cool fingertips were trailing over his lower lip and any words he'd mustered died like any hope of thinking in his muddled brain. Somehow Ran had gotten the glove off one-handed and the pads of his fingers felt so soft and strangely comforting against the brunette's bruised lips...
"You have a nasty split lip," was the comment. "And though nothing seems critical, you're bleeding all over my shirt."
Trust Ran to be a complete and utter asshole right after he seemed to be actually caring.
"Fuck you." Ken tried to shove him off but that just made his ribs throb. "You've bled all over me plenty of times, an' I never complained."
"That was after missions." A moment of hesitation as Ran let go and Ken slumped angrily back against the wall. "...and I'm not complaining. Just stating a fact. Wait here."
"Naw, I was gonna run a few marathons while you were gone." Ok, so the soccer coach was in a shitty mood. Waking up busted up did that to a person. Waking up busted up with a bitchy ex-partner to deal with didn't make things any better.
He heard Ran rummage around in the bathroom and the sink running, and then the soft rustle of expensive clothing as Ran sank back to his knees next to the brunette. Something cold and rough pressed against the cut on his lip.
"Ow!"
"...Sorry. Hold still." One pale hand cupped his cheek and the other lightly dabbed at his bruised lip with the wet washcloth. His lip started to throb, but the cold felt good and he closed his eyes.
"Hidaka. Stay with me."
Brown eyes fluttered open again, and Ran uttered a silent sigh of relief. He wasn't used to seeing Ken look so vulnerable. Siberian had always been hot-tempered but if he was hurt, it was usually one of the other two that took care of him. And now he'd escaped the past to a degree, was actually living a life that didn't require his body to deal with this sort of abuse on a regular basis... Ran was jealous, on a level.
"...'s not fair. I couldn't fight back." Something had shifted in Ken's eyes, and he was looking away. Come to think of it, Ran really was surprised that Ken was in the state he was in. Of all the members of Weiss, he'd been the most fit for fighting and undoubtedly the best at close contact.
"Why not?"
"Snuck up on me, an' they had a baseball bat. Couldn't do anything about it." Now anger was starting to flare up again. "Fuckin' cowards."
"Who was it?"
"This asshole from team Argentina an' his crew. He got one of his players to injure one of mine an' then had the gall to laugh about it, so I kinda jumped him on the sidelines and made him look like a wimp in front of a stadium fulla people..." An unmistakable, proud grin was creeping up. "Broke his nose."
Ran sighed.
"And he decided to get payback by beating you within an inch of your life?"
"Yeah, well, he tried, but he didn't do a good job, ne? I've had worse beatings before. We've all had. Good for him he didn't know that." Ken shrugged lightly. "An' it was stupid, because they made me pass out first and only then started to lay inta me, so I don't get it. Unless they were just all paranoid of me makin' too much noise."
"By screaming for help?"
"Yeah, somethin' wimpy like that."
Ran shook his head, a smirk threatening to tug at his lips. He kept it at bay.
"You're something else, Hidaka."
Ken grinned, holding the cold washcloth to his lip to keep it from bleeding on his shirt.
"Yeah, so they tell me. Hey..." Brown eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward just a bit. Ran resisted the urge to lean away. A warm, pale finger settled against the side of his throat and Ran swallowed hard, trying to read what was going on in chocolate depths but found that he couldn't because they were focused elsewhere. "...did I leave that hickey?"
//end chapter 6//
I have a feeling that chapter 7 is going to be it for this fic. ^^; After all, the convention's gotta end some time and Ken's got a career back in Brazil.
But~ before I get overwhelming amounts of death threats and flames, I fully intend to do a sequel! ^^ So just bear with me, ne.