Well, reader-type persons, you certainly have put up with a lot to get to this part! WOOT WOOT WOOOOOOOOT!!!!!! -whirls about wildly and throws scarves and confetti into the air- LEMON TIME FOR GOOD LITTLE GIRLS AND UHM... oh damn... I don't have any guys reading this, do I? Well, good little girls and girls then. Blarg. Lemon Yay!
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I tumble him back onto the mattress on his floor, pouncing without a second thought. Damn, but it was hard getting up those stairs, hard to break off all those long, exploring kisses, even harder not to take him on the floor right in front of Omi's now closed door, right on the smooth wood of the hallway.

He arches into my every touch, breathlessly pausing to inquire about the state of the door.

"Do you really think I'd forget to lock it?" I laugh, going back to his stomach. There's always that first reflexive jump of skin and muscle when my mouth and hands first brush flesh. My fingers hook in the waistband of his drawstring pants again. I glance up, mouth still fluttering a line from hipbone to hipbone.

I consider taking the time to nab one last verbal consent from him, think of Aya's not-so-great reactions to conversations, and decide, screw verbal consent. Hell, screw Aya. A very nice proposal indeed.

I follow the glide of cotton down his legs with the caress of my palms. I didn't know skin could feel this warm, this absolutely soft and real. Muscles tense as I feather kisses over the insides of those incredibly long thighs. Talk about a turn on.

He sits up, gorgeous stomach muscles bunching. He pulls me forward by my hair. Every inch of his skin slides against mine; sensation interfered only by the clothing I haven't had time to remove from my person yet. His fingers catch the zipper to my sleeveless shirt as his tongue pushes past my lips. I prop myself up over him with one hand, the other working the fly of my pants. Gods, I just want out of these clothes and into him.

He throws the dark garment on the floor as soon as he separates it from my torso, turning to help me shimmy out of the loose pants. He winces in sympathy, looking at the bruising, the shower stiffened bandages around my wrists and across my lower back that I never bothered to remove.

I sigh, more than happy to push him back down onto the still made up matress, to take my time exploring every inch of his body. How could one being be so perfect, I wonder as I worship his flesh with my hands, with my mouth?

Nuzzling down his warm skin, I return to the junctions of his thighs, blowing a stream of cool air over his heated engorged flesh, deliberately teasing him. He arches under my touch, biting back sounds of want. I wrap my hand around his upright member, starting up a slow rhythm, taking a few moments to watch his face, watch him give in, give up. He rocks up into my hold, my grip slick from spreading precum.

His hands reach out blindly, I cradle one in my palms, leaving off with my previous actions, sucking gently on one slim, pale finger, swirling my tongue around, showing him all the things I could do to other parts of his body. He lies, pliant, malleable under my ministrations. Gods, the rush of power. I can do whatever I want to him, as long as I approach it all correctly. The thought itself is intoxicating. Aya, completely under my power. What more could a guy ask for?

He gasps as I cut right to the chase, bending and taking him into my mouth. Gods, smooth as silk, twice as hot. His hips unconsciously push upwards, "Youji!" My name on his lips making me hotter than hell, I concentrate on making this well worth his while. Even with the cute little bisexual thing going on, I really am a hell of a lot better at receiving rather than giving blowjobs. Oh well, everyone has one area with room for improvement. I concentrate on pulling him deeper into the warm cavern of my mouth, applying suction, alternately speeding and slowing, deliberately ignoring the needy hands wrapped around hanks of my hair.

"Mmm." He twists his head back and forth, still trying to buck up into my mouth, trying to strain for the ever nearing release. I mentally smirk, wallowing in the sweetness of victory. I let my teeth gently rake over sensitive skin, swallowing to control the gag reflex as I take him further, brushing the back of my throat, listening to his harsh breathing, feeling his body shudder under mine, desperate.

I draw back, lashing my tongue over the tip one more time. My eyes dart up to wet, parted lips. I consider; lean forward, claiming them with my own, letting him taste the salt of his skin in the recesses of my mouth. He pulls me down on top of him without a second thought; legs wind around mine, resuming the rocking motions, rubbing his cock against mine, and oh gods... friction... how I love thee.

His fingers slide down, grabbing my bottom, pulling me closer, harder, his attack on my mouth slacking as his attention is drawn elsewhere, a problem I don't have. Mmm, years of practice can help out in some areas at least. Determined to draw this out and drive him absolutely crazy, I swirl my tongue around his ear, deliberately letting out a shuddery moan, knowing all about the shivers he feels running down his spine.

His eyes meet mine as he twists towards me, nothing but pure, desperate want. He whispers my name again; he's quickly turning it into my new favorite word. I decide I've had enough of this frenzied, awkward foreplay, honestly cannot keep it up much longer. I mentally apologize to him even as I'm steadily shifting control in my direction, pushing him down.

His hand snaps up, catches hold of my wrist, pulling my palm away from his chest. He meets my unsteady gaze. "Who says you get to be top." Nothing but challenge. I grin, watching the corner of his mouth twitch upwards, in reply.

I grab his wrists, twisting his torso partially to the side, knocking him off balance, pinning his arms over his head. He tries to work his way loose. I smile again, rubbing against him, luxuriating in this mixture of aggression and submission.

"I have dibs on top." I whisper against his skin. I ride out another round of his struggling, knowing he's not trying as hard as he could, either to avoid injuring me, or because he simply doesn't want to get loose that badly. I've got my fingers crossed for option number two.

He finally gives in, arching up only to catch my mouth, murmuring something sarcastic against my lips. Victory for the Youji, and damn, would I ever be grateful for at least one thing going my way for the first time in a rather long while.

He tries to hide apprehensive violet eyes, things not so firmly under his control anymore, a precarious position for him. "Shh. It's okay." I whisper, leaning over, soothing away any surface concerns with my mouth, sucking on his tongue, kissing closed eyelids, shoulders. I replace my tongue with my fingers, teasing Aya's lips before letting them slip into his mouth. His eyes crinkle a hint of an amused smile.

After a few blissful moments I retrieve my wet digits, reclaim those lips with my own. I can feel him tense up again as I first brush his opening with one damp finger.

"Mm, what are you doi-uhnnn!" Mumbled against my mouth, uncertain, still aroused and desperate for this to keep going.

"Shh. It's okay." I repeat, broken-record like. "This'll be nice, I promise. Relax." His back arches as my first finger slides in, tightening around me. "Mmm. Gods, you're tight." Unbidden, the words fall from my lips. I bite his lower lip, drawing his attention back to me. At the same time I move my finger, effectively knocking him off balance, physically and mentally.

I slide in a second finger, searching for that elusive spot, if I could just show him what I mean. He arches up again.

"Uhn!" I muffle his cry, mimicking the actions of my fingers with my tongue. He pushes back towards my impaling digits, trying for a repeat of that sensation. I've got him now, right where I want him. He further proves this for me, moaning deep in his throat, shuddering as I add a third finger to the mix. If this were anyone by Aya, he'd be begging by now.

I twist my fingers, rubbing against his prostate, giving him a little more time to adjust, a little more time for me to go thoroughly insane with the waiting. He tightens almost painfully around me and I can't wait anymore. Can't even think anymore.

He spreads his legs for me without a single qualm on his lips, in his eyes. Breath shuddering in and out unbearably fast, I nudge forward, knowing absolute heaven is just a single thrust away. Aya watches my face, excruciatingly unreadable. I just barely see the flash of trepidation as it passes across his features.

I lean forward, whispering against his lips as I ease into the slick, tight heat that is purely Aya. His body tries to tense up around me, fighting the unexpected intrusion. I think I could honestly die like this.

"It's okay. Won't hurt you. I'll make you feel so good. It's all oka-Uhnnn-" He tightens around me unexpectedly, I halt all motion, all words, as he forces his muscles to relax as best he can, trembling intoxicatingly around me. I wait until his forehead is smooth again before I pull back.

I wonder if it would be acceptable to weep now. Nothing could possibly be so absolutely right, so absolutely perfect and so unerringly meant for me. I arch my back; burrowing my face into his shoulder as I concentrate on making him moan my name, concentrate on lasting however long he does.

Coherency rapidly dissolves from here on. Nothing matters but the play of tongue on flesh, the slide of skin against velvet-slick skin, the harsh breaths gasped right in my ear, the whispered pleas, desires he won't voice out loud. Nothing matters but burying myself time and time again in his body, arching to hit that spot, just to hear him cry out, to feel him writhing under me like sex playing dress up in human skin.

He comes seconds before the last of my control gives out, clenching down around me, fingers trying to rake new paths down my back through thick bandages. I know my fingers bruise his skin as I give in, body strung tight with much needed release, pleasure starbursts going off behind my eyes, but I can't help it anymore than he can help the moan-muffling teeth that he sinks into my shoulder.

I hover above him, arm muscles quivering under the weight of my body, collapsing down onto my elbows. A pink tongue slips out between dry lips to sooth the deep imprints on my shoulder. The only apology I'll receive. The only apology I need. His hands push back damp hair from my face. I kiss his warm lips, the inside of his mouth cool from all those open-mouthed pants.

"Okay?" I inquire with the little energy I have left to my control.

One nod answers my question, his eyes falling exhaustedly shut for a moment. I grit my teeth and pull out of him, both of us grimacing simultaneously. I feather kisses across his face, easing onto my side, still pressing my skin to his. Here comes the moment of importance. Either Aya will stay, or he'll hustle to get back into his clothes and escape to somewhere very far away from me. I can never really predict what he'll do or why he'll do it.

"Alright Aya?" I ask again.

"Aya is my sister's name," he says a tad roughly. "Don't call me that when you fuck me. Ran." When you fuck me. As if he means to do this more than once. My lips spread in yet another smug smile. Why shouldn't I smile? I'm not JUST the cat who ate the canary; I'm also the canary with a death-wish, not to mention the next door neighbor who's wanted the damned bird dead for eons. I just go laid, for the first time in a while, I'm not in that much pain, he told me to call him Ran, and he's still here, warm and real beside me.

"Ran." I try the name out on my tongue, resting my head against his shoulder, feeling his heart beating against my side. "Do you think it's too early for a nap?" I close my eyes.

"Shut up." Comes the equally worn out reply. I stay awake until his breath finally slows and then deepens next to me. He's actually planning on staying here and sleeping next to me. Life is good.

It's the lessening of body heat that finally wakes me up. I haphazardly rake my hair away from my eyes, peering around the room. Neither the window's illumination, nor my eyes happen to light upon a certain belligerent redhead's form. I can't say that I'm surprised. It wouldn't be realistic to expect him to hang around an uncomfortable situation without prompting. I wasn't awake to go after him with a cattle prod, so he's up and escaped. Joy.

His clock tells me I've probably only slept for a few hours. Gods, I need to stop all this. I haven't slept so much since... I can't even think of a time. I know I need to heal up and all, but I'm sort of busy, and being awake is one of the few surefire ways I know of getting things done. Speaking of things to get done, my stomach is making the most bizarre noises. It's nice to be hungry. I wonder if anyone's gone shopping yet, or if I'll have to risk embarrassment by hauling Ken up and out of Omi's room.

I pull my clothes back on, stiff bandages still clinging to my skin. I'll take care of those when I actually care. I don't spy a brush lying out on any of the available surfaces of his room. I make do with a quick finger comb. No one who hasn't already seen me at my worst will be around. They'll get over the shock.

Unbearably cheerful laughter grates on my nerves as soon as I leave Aya's room. Guess I won't have to be waking anyone up. They're not old and decrepit like I am; I guess they don't need to nap after they- Gah! No more Omi/Sex thoughts shall pass through my mind. I close my eyes and will them all away. Never let it be said that I am a pedophile.

"Well, a good afternoon to you two sickeningly perky children." I greet Omi and Ken.

"I haven't been a child for years on end." Ken responds, hastily shuffling away from Omi's personal space. Apparently I surprised them in the middle of something I refuse to think about due to one of the parties involved. I smirk. I still have to repay Ken for his frequent interruptions to my attempted seduction this morning. Not too "attempted" in the end, despite Ken's bunging. My smile widens almost to the point of painful.

"You appear to be pretty happy for one who looks as much like crap as you do." He tacks on as a last though, a further attempt to curry my favor. Note, by all means, my sarcasm. Heh. I love that line.

I look around. "Where the hell has Aya run off to this time?"

"You don't know? Then your guess is as good as any I could venture. He came stomping down those stairs and out the door like a bat out of hell twenty minutes ago. I just figured you two had been arguing again. That's all you seem to do anymore." Omi sighs.

I ruffle his hair, remembering his words from earlier. I promised myself I'd make an effort to be especially kind to him, and I'm going to do my best to do just that. "We just see things differently. They're not bad fights, just a hashing out of alternate views."

Big blue eyes meet mine. "I didn't really get that impression last night." He looks down, away from me, from my well-meaning lies. "You both seemed plenty angry to me. I thought he was going to kill you."

I put my hand on the kid's shoulder, ignoring Ken's possessive bristling. He has nothing to worry about from me. He should know that by now. "Omi, Sometimes things are just-"

"I'm not a child." He looks up again, chin thrust out. "You don't want to talk about; you don't want me involved. I can take a hint. I'm also not dense. Just remember that Ken and I are both here if you need us."

"How cozy looking." A leather-clad shoulder bumps me from behind.

I whirl around. Aya's back again, looking as irked as ever. "Where the hell have you been?" I bite back the urge to grab him by his coat lapels and shake him.

He carelessly throws a thick stack of papers down on the table. "Any and all easily garnered information about Meleeke Industries. Saved you some time by getting the simple first-step information." He's gone from the room as quickly as he arrived, leaving the scent of leather, rain and my shampoo behind. I'm not even going to ponder that last one.

Omi raises one eyebrow, shooting me a knowing look. Kid isn't dense after all, is he? Though, Ken would have to be not to have figured out what exactly is going on between Aya and I. I sleep in his room now, we spent a good hour IN his room making loud noises that I'm sure could quite easily pass through the walls to the rest of the house, and we do nothing but argue. Sounds like an established relationship to me. I laugh out loud. I get nothing but odd looks in return. Ah, but no one truly understands the mind of the comically deranged anymore.

"So, let's talk food, shall we?" I lean against the table, properly prepared to simply ignore the work Aya has put into avoiding me.

- - - -

My first trip out into the public is less trying than I'd thought it would be. I keep my newly acquired sunglasses on at all times. We head out to one of the nearest, bearable restaurants. We meant to pick up a coat for me first but hunger wins out yet again.

When the waiter glides over to take our orders he brings the smell of cigarettes with him, wafting in on his wake from the Smoking Section. For a moment the old craving hits me so strongly my hands curl in on themselves, nails imprinting crescents on my palm.

Aya elbows me none to gently in the ribs. I turn.

"You'd better not be thinking about what I think you're thinking about." He flatly warns me, not bothered by how ridiculous that whole statement sounds.

"Wouldn't dream of it, boss." I touch my fingertips to my forehead in false servitude. He doesn't press the issue and I hunch back into my seat. It was just a momentary rush of nostalgia. I wasn't about to go out and start again. I know that smoking is bad for me; I'm not that unintelligent. I'd just never been presented with a clear chance of quitting before. Two weeks, they said I was gone. Two weeks without a cigarette. Any need now would be merely mental. To purposefully cater to that weakness would blow any chance of a repeat of this morning with Aya, not to mention any other sort of civil interaction.

I eat whatever it is they order for me. I wasn't up to making the decision and someone or another took the initiative on their own. I don't complain. It's edible. That's all I require as of now. I'll get more picky once I'm healed up and my taste buds stop being dominated by my lack of body mass.

My plate is only partially empty when my stomach finally runs out of room. I'm nagged from all three sides, but not even Aya's infamous "Icy Glare of Death" can make me eat any more.

"Gods, am I stuffed." I rest one of my hands on my stomach, disappointed to feel that it's still flat as can be. How much does a fellow have to eat to make it noticeable?

Ken pays the bill. I wonder when I'll be able to nab some money from my own account. I don't like not having any currency on me at all. You never know when that could get you into a bind.

"Can we get a hold of a coat for me next?" I quietly ask Aya, feeling guilty. Someone else will probably wind up paying for it. I hate being in debt. As soon as I have transportation and can actually move freely once again, my first goal will be to set things in order, from getting a new copy of my driver's license, to shopping for clothing by myself.

Aya nods in reply to my request. "There's a department store just down the way. We'll walk over so we don't have to try to find parking again."

Omi looks over. "If you're walking over, why don't Ken and I go and get groceries. Knowing Youji, you'll be in there forever!" He laughs.

I shrug. "Sounds good to me." I watch as the two bounce happily out. Omi grabs Ken's hand as soon as they think they're out of sight. I smile, looking over at Aya, unsure as to what his reaction may be. He's not paying the slightest bit of attention. Lucky for them, I guess.

The wind hits me once again as we too step outside. Things just went and got colder for me during my imprisonment. I hate winter. I hate being cold. There's nothing to do but wrap my arms around my torso and try to keep from visibly shivering. It's that horrible, bitter cold that makes you just want to hold still and curl up in a ball because you're too cold and too tired to move.

Aya looks over. He sighs once, pulls his own trench coat off and drapes it over my shivering shoulders. Unable to help myself, I immediately slip my arms into the sleeves, intent on trying to thaw out as much of my body as I can. Heat from his body is trapped in the soft inner lining. I smile.

He's frowning down at the ground. I stop smiling. "Look, if you want the coat back, all you have to do is say so," I snap. If he's going to start pretending to be nice and then being an asshole about it, I want no part of it.

Puzzled heliotrope eyes look over, the crease right between his eyes deepening. "I don't want the coat back. You're the cold one." I could insert a few statements about him being the 'cold' one, personality wise and all that jazz, but I find I don't really feel like it.

"Why the hell are you scowling like that then?" I speed up my pace to catch up with his hurried strides.

"I'm not scowling," he says, scowling in my direction.

I blink once and drop the issue. Neither one of us speaks another word for the remaining two blocks it takes us to reach the store. Sears. They want me to buy a coat in Sears? Not exactly my sort of store. I prefer more, how do I put this, trendy places of commerce? Sears is where you go if you want to go shopping for, well, regular clothes, for regular people.

"Do we have to-"

"Beggars can't be choosers." Aya cuts me off. Okay then.

The coat selection isn't as bad as I'd figured it'd be, but there certainly aren't any replacements for my old lovely jacket. I grimace at Aya. "I have an idea. You give me your coat, and YOU buy a new one. You're so keen on shopping here..."

No reply. I grab the first black pea coat I can find in my size, the closest I can come to a tolerable replacement. He pays; I mentally remind myself of the price so I can reimburse him later.

No car waiting in front of the store for us. Guess I should have taken another half an hour or so. I slump down on an inside bench, close enough to watch the main entrance, but far enough not to get caught in the draft every time the door opens. Aya gingerly sits next to me, leaving plenty of room between us.

"Hey, I don't bite." I laugh, pushing over next to him. Then, I remember the impressive teeth marks still imprinted on my shoulder and there's no stopping me. He watches while I chortle like a maniac, obviously not having the slightest idea what amuses me so. "Don't ask, and I won't tell you." I finally gasp out.

Silence. Unable to think of any topic, I finally give voice to the only one lurking around the front of my mind. "So, how are you feeling? I'm sorry, I know I could have been a tad more gentle this morning, but you seem-"

"Youji!" Exasperation. "This is neither the time nor the place."

I look around. Not a soul in sight. I look back at Aya. "There's no one here!"

"Wait until we're back at the house." He comes as close to a compromise as he's willing to make. It's my turn to sigh.

"Are you angry at me?" I slide a little closer. What's the fun of being trapped in a department store with him if he won't even provide an hour's entertainment?

"I will be if you keep talking." His face tightens. "Just give me some peace and quiet."

My lower lip starts bleeding as I gnaw on it. "Sooo, what happened to all my money?" He can't possibly be as annoyed with this topic, even if I still am talking. I clarify after a few moments pass without a single hint of an answer. "They took my wallet, and I don't know whether or not they've managed to access my accounts. Is there any way I can check?"

Grrr. What have I done now? He seems to have fallen back into his regular sullen and terse attitude. "Would it honestly cause you that much effort to reply?"

I sound so childish. Petty. None of this is important. I just want to hear something out of him. Proof that he's not really angry with me. Excepting the coat incident, he's been nothing but outright unpleasant towards me. If he's regretting what we did this morning, then the least he can do is come out and say it. I'm tired of hidden grievances.

We sit in hushed iciness. I watch him gradually widen the tiny hole in the right knee of his jeans into a fist-sized rip. How 'grunge' like. All he needs now is longer messy hair like mine, and a flannel shirt. More time passes, the tear widens.

My hand appears over his without my conscious control. "You're going to wind up separating the bottom half of that pant leg from the top." I caution him, tired of watching him destroy his attire. "If you're bored, go buy a book or something, or at least start in on the other leg, so both knees match."

He turns my hand over, tracing the calluses and lines that decorate my fingers and palms with his own fingertips. This is probably as close to a wordless apology as I'll most likely ever receive from Aya this time. He looks over, watching me watching him. I like that.

A large parka squeezes onto the bench next to me, forcing Aya and I into each other, and him up against the other side of the bench. I growl, looking over my shoulder, back partially to this unwanted interloper. Apparently there's a person in this obnoxiously overstuffed parka. A pleasant, round face appears as the hood is pushed down. She pulls the jacket off and jams it the only bit of available space not taken up by her shopping bags, further mashing me into Aya. I know she's going to open her mouth and not shut up as soon as I see her. She doesn't disappoint me.

"Well, what do you know? I've been looking for somewhere to sit for the past hour or two. It's never too early to start shopping for the upcoming holiday season." She informs me cheerily. I could just as cheerfully strangle her to death. Just when Aya was finally starting to warm up to me again... "And then I saw you two lads on this here bench, and I thought to myself, Ethel, I'm sure they won't mind if little ole you takes a sit down right next to them. My god, but have you felt the weather outside, it's so cold I'm always expecting to likely freeze to death. My god, but it's a bad time to live outside the city limits, and even worse to have all your pipes freezing up all the time. You wouldn't believe the horrendous mess a burst pipe made down in my basement. You know, the pipe came from the toilet, you know. It sprayed all over. What a stink! Whew!" She prattles on.

I make big eyes at Aya, silently asking for help. He looks down, looks up again through dark lashes, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. For a moment everything fades out of sight and out of mind but him. If he isn't the most stunning thing I've seen in a long while, I'll kill the annoying woman sitting next to me right now. She rants some more in my direction. I decide to kill her anyway.

"You boys are awfully quite! Go ahead, speak up." She then proceeds to continue right on talking, not really interested in either of us speaking up anyway. I wonder what I could come up with to say that wouldn't be blatantly inappropriate? "The most hilarious thing happened to me the other day. My husband was out the other day, and I invited my neighbor and his wife over. Her name's Wilma, a good old name for a good old girl. She's been having problems with her bowels, don't you know? And her husband, Merv, he comes on over with her. And Merv's a little deaf, so he comes on over with his wife Wilma. He sits down in the parlor on one of my best chairs, don't you know. And he's a little deaf, so he doesn't hear me hollering away. Oh, I had been accidentally locked downstairs at that time, did I forget to mention that? Anyway, Wilma keeps asking Merv if he's heard something. Merv's a little deaf, you know, and he doesn't hear me hollering away from downstairs. Also, he was sitting on the cat. Poor Muffin was limping for a week."

Must kill. Must kill. Aya's smile widens, and the devious intent in his expression becomes apparent. He settles down, making himself comfortable. He's planning on staying here? While this giant walking mouth sits right next to me rambling about deaf guys, bowels and shit splattered basements?? The bastard! I was counting on him for having some excuse for us leaving in an awful hurry. I'd certainly like to be leaving. Even if it means waiting outside in the cold.

'You'll pay for this.' I mouth at him. He pats me consoling on my knee and turns towards our new companion, feigning vague interest, as close as Aya can probably get to an expression of fascination. I jab him in the stomach, elbows thoroughly trapped at my sides by this woman and her stupid shopping bags, not to mention a still gloating Aya.

The woman blabs at Aya (having apparently found her true audience) for at least another ten minutes. By the time she works her way into the topic of the results of her last visit to the gynecologist, I'm contemplating my own personal massacre of the entire staff of Sears. If I weren't completely wedged into this bench known as hell, I'd have escaped a long while ago. As is, to struggle out of this mess, I'd probably have to touch her, and after that last lovely little recollection, the one recounting her newly acquired infection 'down there', I'm thinking I'd rather not touch her whatever the risks.

The main entrance opens up. The two people I most want to see come make an entrance. I could almost swear I hear organ music playing somewhere.

Aya wriggles out of our not-so-cozy little tangle, helping me to my feet. I can't feel one of my arms. "We should be going now." He tells her. She's still talking to everyone and no one as I make my escape.

"My HERO!" I shout, throwing myself at Ken as soon as we're outside. He snickers and pushes me away.

"Do I want to know what was going on?"

"She wouldn't stop TALKING at me!" I wail, leaning on Aya as if for support. "That is not something I plan on going through ever again." I jab my first finger at Aya's chest. "You will NOT drag me into that store as long as there is breath in this body. I told you it was a shitty place to go shopping." Omi and Ken laugh at my antics as I repeat bits and pieces of that terrorist's drivel. I would almost be willing to swear I saw even Aya chuckling the tiniest bit.

I know the second we step through the door that it's going to be nothing but business from here on. Aya's got that look in his eyes. I'm only interested if business involves tracking down my new nemesis and making them scream for mercy. Now there's a pleasant though if I've ever heard one.

Aya shuffles through the stack of papers he'd carelessly throw on the kitchen table.

"And this was all WHAT again?" I ask, leaning on the table.

"First-step research. Things anyone could know if they went through the right channels." Ken clarifies for me, apparently having magically read Aya's mind and plucked the knowledge out of it.

Ken takes in my partially stupefied expression (I'm only assuming it looked that way to him) and smacks his hand to his forehead. "He told us that, when he showed up with them." He laughs. "Weren't paying attention again?"

I shrug. If he said that, I honestly must not have been listening. I have no recollections involving him saying anything along those lines. Aya plops a fourth of the stack in front of me.

"Read. Combine knowledge at the end." He commands in his typical fashion before disappearing into the living room. I glare balefully at my stack of papers. I'm SURE he gave me the thickest pile, just to antagonize me. I grimace, already anticipating the headache to come. Gone are the days when everything was summed up at someone else's expense in a tidy, concise video.

I look around. Everyone's deserted me. Hmm. Reading all by myself doesn't seem like a fun proposition at all. Reading with Aya seems even less pleasant. He's so introverted when he's trying to accomplish something, minor as it may be. No one's in the living room. Gods, do I have to go and hunt them down now?

I tromp heavily upstairs, already worn out from my brief excursion. How am I ever going to get back to top form?? I switch from loud steps to my job-silent, barely audible footfalls. If they're not downstairs, then what are they up to upstairs? I'm not really one for interrupting things, even if I am idly considering revenge on Ken still, but if they aren't actually up here reading like they're supposed to, I'm going to bust their asses for that. If I suffer, we all suffer. Right.

I peek into Omi's room. They're snuggled up in bed, both reading away. I hold back a sigh. So, I can't rant at anyone for wrongdoing. I should go find somewhere with good lighting to read then. I do sigh as I thump back down the stairs. That should be me, all cozy and in bed with someone. It won't be though. Not with my sights currently set on Aya.

I settle down in the living room, facing away from the den, so I won't be distracted by Aya, not that I can see anything but the top of his head when I look over. Direct sunlight hits the back of my neck, streaming in through a window. The bright sky belies the cold outside. As long as I keep my head tilted like so, I don't cast a shadow on the text. Definitely what I need.

At least five minutes pass before I hear the soft whisper of feet on wood behind me. Aya sits down next to me, fidgeting with his own allotment of papers, refusing to look up.

"Hmm?" I inquire, as subtle an acknowledgement of his presence as I can come up with.

"Why are you so quiet?" He flicks a strand of hair out of his eyes. I smirk, amused, as it falls back into place. Just like him, complaining when I finally stop giving him something to complain about.

"I can't very well read all of this AND talk at the same time." I remind him, still squinting at the closely typed lines. I rub my forehead, that old familiar ache right between my eyes. Gods, just like being back at school. I hated all of this shit.

"Okay?" He leans closer, face almost expressing concern.

I let out a nervous laugh. "Want to be let in on a secret?" He shrugs noncommittally in response. "I'm farsighted. I can see better than most people when it comes to distances, but you put something right in front of my face..." I trail off with a shrug of my own. "Reading gives me a headache. It's hard on my eyes to try to shape words out of the black blurs I see in front of me." I talk too much. I do that sometimes. When I'm nervous. Or just plain stupid. What if he decides this is yet another liability of mine? I should keep my damned mouth shut. I really should.

"Shouldn't you own glasses?" He raises one eyebrow.

"My sunglasses were prescription. I... I don't look so hot in regular glasses. You know me and my obsessive vanity. Couldn't let myself sit around looking like some sort of dope. Either way, my prescription sunglasses were in the shop. That means they're nothing but smithereens by now." I spread my hands palms out in an unconscious gesture of appeasement.

Aya sighs. "I could always read it for you and then repeat the contents back to you ."

"What? And have me slacking off again like the useless piece of shit that I am?" I snap back, a hint of that old resentment flaring up.

His face pales and he starts to gather up his things, intent on leaving.

"Shit, Aya. I didn't mean that." I grab a hold of his arm, trying to stall him. "It's just this headache, it puts me in an irritable mood. I didn't mean to say that. Hell, I didn't even think to say that, it just sort of slipped out. I'm sorry." The guileless apology flows more easily from my lips than it would ever from his. It's all about where you place your priorities, how you value your pride.

Violet eyes relent only seconds before his body follows suit, sitting down once again.

I hurry to continue smoothing things over, now that I'm sure he's not going to leave just yet. "Very kind of you of you to offer, but that's not much of an option right now." I smile hesitantly at him.

He frowns, "If it makes your head hurt, then why keep going?" Trying to comprehend.

"It matters to me, what you think when you look at me, when you think about me. If you're preoccupied, holding a grudge because I foisted off something I should be doing onto you, then you'll be angry with me as long as that's the foremost thought in your mind. It's important to me that you think well of me. You're important to me." It's the best explanation I can come up with.

For a moment, his desire to flee is so great that his eyes don't even look human, instinct telling him to escape a confusing situation. Underneath, I can see old, dredged up layers of suspicion and anger and betrayal.

Gods, I need to remind myself more often not to try to carry on conversations with Aya. Specifically ones that involve him, me, emotions, or all three of those topics together. There's always something I'll wind up saying to upset him. I reach a hand out, rest it on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Quiet words so he won't run off on me. "I'll drop it."

He starts under my touch, but still doesn't leave. I'm hoping I can take that as a positive sign.

Then he frowns. "Why does any of that matter to you?" He demands. "You're not that desperate for an easy fuck again, are you?" He pushes my hand away, words flustered, angry, and not at all like anything he'd usually say.

My eyebrows draw together. "Aya, gods! It's nothing like that!" I lean forward, capturing one of his clenched fists. I don't question his suspicion. That's not my place right now. "I'm not like that. I don't just treat people like meat. I like you. You're not exactly the most talkative or cheerful of all my chosen companions, but I honestly like to be around you. You can be so nice when you want to, more compassionate that you'd want anyone to think, and when you smile, it's like the world just stops in its tracks for a moment. Your good opinion doesn't matter to me because I want to use or degrade you. All I want from you is a little bit of time here and there and a smile every now and then to keep my heart in working order."

I abruptly shut my mouth. Well, that was probably one of the more stupid things I've done during this lifetime of mine, and I can be pretty damned stupid when I want to. I tell the guy I'll drop a topic and then I use up an entire Jumbo-Paragraph babbling away at him about that very same thing, sounding like something from any number of chick movies I've been forced to see during this lifetime. I never leave well enough alone. He's going to bolt now, and I won't attempt to stop him. I lower my head in temporary defeat.

Cool pale fingers tilt my face back up again. Aya studies my face closely, searching for something. I keep my face as blank as I can. His mouth eases and he releases my face. His eyes look past me for a moment, and when they return, they're blank of all expression. My stomach twists as I berate myself. I must have failed, lacking whatever it was he wanted to see.

"I- Well, I mean, if reading without glasses gives you such a painful headache, I guess it wouldn't- I guess I wouldn't mind reading it for you." Aya fumbles for the words, an awkwardness so overwhelming it almost looks painful. Words aren't his friends, they're more his kryptonite than anything else.

A glimmer of hope makes its presence felt. I'm not sure if he's simply attempting to be rid of me, or if he's once again apologizing in his own disjointed manner the only way he knows how to.

"You're tired again. You should rest upstairs and I'll take care of this." He tries again.

The final test in mind, I open my mouth. "If you really wouldn't mind, I'd be glad to hand this all over to you." I hesitate and then forge ahead. "Would you mind if I just stayed down here with you?"

He shrugs, the nonchalance forced for once. "If you'd like to."

Yes! I resist the urge to jump up and pump my fist into the air. Not only would it hurt, but Aya might suspect I've been talking to the voices in my head again.

"Are we really going after these guys?" I peer over his should. Not that I can read the small print easily, just to be close to him.

"Yes." Absolutely expressionless. "If not for what they did to you, then for what they did to our home."

On impulse, I kiss the nape of his neck and rest my chin on his shoulder, the sun on my back warms the dark fabric of my clothes. My next question. "When?"

He smiles, and this time it's a disturbing sight. Still gorgeous beyond all belief, but scary as hell. "Soon."

I content myself, knowing that revenge is close at hand, even if not this very instant. It would be so easy, to doze off again, like the invalid that I am, resting against the warmth of his body, the silence soothing, basking in his company.

I force my eyes to stay open instead. Make the best of the time you're given, I always say. Aya is giving me the opportunity to spend the requested time with him. I fully plan on enjoying this small victory as long as I can.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
-giggles- Heh, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade! -giggles some more- Oh, they meant a DIFFERENT sort of lemon. Silly me! Anyway, complaints, compliments, cadavers? Send them ALL my way! darkhunter@ijustdontcare.com or akainobaka@mchsi.com Stay tuned, girls, and uh... more girls. -pokes own eyeball-