Hah...you all thought that you had gotten rid of me, didn't you? =)

Thank you to everyone who reviewed...the list gets longer and longer every time. You, my friends, are my inspiration.

Special thank you's to Kurai and Amy, my editors -I don't know where I'd be without you. Kurai, you kept this story alive. Amy..you're the one who did CPR for it ^^. Thanks so much, both of you. And now, the product of a bored mind, I give you....the next chapter! Enjoy, everyone!

Note: This chapter is in honour of the new legislation in Canada that allows same sex marriages...a happy day for all of us. Forever proud to be Canadian!!!!!!

Youji scowled into the rear view mirror.

There wasn't anyone behind them. If he suddenly grabbed the steering wheel, swerved off the road and plowed straight into Tokyo's financial district, would anyone else get hurt?

He fingered the swollen edge along his jaw and sighed. With his luck, he'd make it out alive. Yesterday hadn't been the best of days, and today wasn't turning out to be an award winner either.

Aya. That jerk. He folded his arms across his chest, wrinkling his nose is disgust when he realized exactly whose clothes he was wearing.

They were too big for him. And way too orange.

In a way, he was glad he had these small, insignificant things to gripe about. Somehow, it made everything bearable.

He chewed his lip as he watched the familiar scenery inch by. Grey, grey, grey, grey.

Stupid Aya, fucking his day up. But really, Aya was the least of it. He couldn't hate Aya, not even if he'd tried.

This was all Kritiker's fault.

Awnings, markets, fruit stands and tourists. Flashes of colour. Just vague. Swallowed again quickly by the blur of movement. Dismal. The healthy hum of the Porsche. The smooth cold leather against the back of his neck. He shuddered. His back ached -every time he leaned against the seat it throbbed, he could just imagine the skin along his spine, tinted green and purple. Why the hell hadn't he taken the painkillers Omi had offered him....?

The brakes slammed hard and his head crashed into the headrest, bashing against the lump there. He gave a pained yelp.

The keys turned in the ignition. The motor stopped purring.

He was back.

He looked up at the building.

It was strange for an apartment. In place of the normal stone-coloured walls, these walls were white. Shining white. Smooth. He loved the way that the building rose against the sky. Immense. And not dwarfing or imposing but….welcoming.

In the city's dull unchanging background, it challenged all and seemed to say 'the world is tough, there is rest for the weary here.' Bright cheerful caretakers. On every floor. Nice little kids, never too noisy. No pets. No screaming punk couples.

Didn't they know they lived with a killer?

"Youji. Move."

He quickly unbuckled and made his escape. It was short-lived however, as Aya followed him up to the front door.

His hands were tingling. He was freezing even in the godawful sweater. The air was bitter as all hell today.

"Yah' don't hafta' watch me read y'know." Youji tried to explain one last time. " I'm a responsible adult. It's already done!"

The characteristic blank stare was his only response.

With a huff he fished the keys out of his, or rather, Aya's jean pockets. Thank God that Omi had thought to rescue him from his ruined Armani.

Damn, but the kid was a one-man show.

The key turned in the lock, and the door clicked. He held it open.

"Please, you first." Sarcasm was kept at a minimum.

The elevator ride was a long one. It always was when you lived on the 20th floor. But still, it was with pleasure that he threw back the doors to his apartment. The scent of potted flowers, aromatic oils and cigarettes washed over him, soothing his jangled nerves. The plain white-washed walls and simple blue trim spoke to him. He sighed in contentment.

Aya stepped in behind him and closed the door reluctantly.

"It smells in here," Aya offered as he shed his trench to reveal –pyjamas?

Youji decided not to touch that one on account of his medical condition. But he did allow himself to roll his eyes. "Yeah yeah, I know. Like a bar. But you're the one who decided to play mom today so you're just gonna hafta…."

"That's not what I meant."

Huh? It wasn't? He must have blinked because Aya elaborated.

"….it smells…….good."

He was speechless for a good moment. "It does?" he found himself asking at last.

Aya studied him for a minute, and then sniffed the air, seemingly confused himself.

There was a pregnant pause. Aya stared at the floor. Youji looked out the window.

"I'm gonna go change," Youji said at last. "You want me to throw your stuff in the laundry?"

Aya looked down at himself, only just seeming to make the connection. He shrugged elegantly.

"All right then, I'll take 'em down in a sec. Make yourself at home. I think there's a beer or two left in the fridge if you're thirsty."

Youji retreated to his room, and stripped out of Aya's clothes quickly. He looked into the closet. Nothing there but clubbing and mission gear –the rest of his clothes were spread out around his floor. He sighed.

Things were really going to hell.

He emerged minutes later in torn and faded jeans and a nondescript grey sweater. The one that was about two sizes too large for him and had a bad habit of slipping from his shoulder.

Aya looked up from the newspaper he was reading -yesterday's- and arched an eyebrow. "The files?"

"Yeah in a minute, gotta do the laundry first."

"Youji."

"Yah?"

"Read. Now."

The Balinese cringed at that tone of voice. "All right Aya. But doncha' go blamin' me when you find your sweater isn't clean."

"Youji..." the statement held a tone of warning.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. With a sigh, Youji retrieved the folders from the next room. "You know Aya, we need to work on your people skills."

The Abyssinian glared. "Sit down Youji. Here. Next to me, where I can watch you."

"Yes, mother," The brunette said irritably. This was stupid. Just plain stupid. He'd been through the damn thing a few times already. It was simple. Same as the next one. So naturally, he hunkered down on the couch with the third mission folder. Aya wouldn't know the difference. He wasn't even allowed to read over Youji's shoulder this time.

"Turn on the light Youji, you're going to get eyestrain."

The Balinese settled back to read and couldn't help but smile.

He had missed this.

----------------------

They had sat like that for God knew how long. Youji going over his files and Aya next to him, reading the newspaper. Or rather, trying to. At the beginning it had been easy, but as the hours wore on, and the morning gave way to the afternoon, the redhead found his concentration quickly disappearing. And Youji wasn't helping.

To his credit, the brunette hadn't said a word. Just kept on reading for hours and hours. And Aya couldn't keep his eyes off him. The slim build, that soft chestnut hair that just brushed against his shoulders -those glittering emerald eyes, narrowed in focus -how could anyone, but anyone, bring themselves to look away? He even found himself smiling at the small habitual nods that Youji would give occasionally, signifying he understood the content of the papers. The Balinese was driving him insane -and for once, was doing nothing at all to provoke it.



He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and folded the newspaper in half. He was itching for something to do or say -but he was so out of practice.



"You've been at it a long time. Take a break." He winced when the words sounded more clipped than he had meant them to. Even so, his companion smiled tiredly up at him.



"Heh. Thanks, Aya." He rubbed at his eyes. "Can I get you anything?"



"No. No thank you." Whether the redhead was being polite or was distrustful of his culinary prowess, Youji was not sure.



"Not even tea? I've got green."



How did Youji know that he liked...



"All right." He conceded.



"Heh. Thought that might rope you in." Youji stood and ambled off to the kitchen, only to return minutes later with two mugs in hand. "Kept the water hot," He said with another sunny smile and placed the cup in front of the redhead. When he sat down again, there was less space between them then there had been before. Aya slung his arm around the back of the couch.



"Nice place," He commented quietly.



"Thanks. It is, isn't it?"



Aya assumed that to be a rhetorical question. He brought his mug to his lips and sipped. Silence descended upon the room once more. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable, either. Aya lowered his cup, and was surprised to see Youji slowly pitching to the side, eyelids at half-mast and fluttering.



"Youji," he said softly "you need to sleep."



"Mmm." The brunette nodded his head. "Nah."



Guilt plagued him. Maybe Youji really had read all his files. Maybe he should have been using the time for sleep. He could have used it. The Balinese was badly injured...violet eyes flicked to a slender set of shoulders. The grey sweater was slipping down one, revealing mottled purple skin.

Gods.

Youji was distracting him. He was supposed to be getting information. Trying to figure out exactly what had happened the other night. But he couldn't do it. Just couldn't do it. He felt so strangely warm.



Trrrrrrrrring! Trrrrrrrring!



Youji jumped in surprise. Aya's arm slipped a little ways, and his fingers brushed against the man's shoulders. The redhead blinked at the contact.



"Damn phone." Youji muttered and settled back into a slouch.



"Indeed." Aya concurred.



"Heh. So, what's new, Aya?" Youji struggled against a yawn.



"What's new?"



"Yeah. You know...what you been up to?"



"Nothing."

Trrrrrrrrrring! Trrrrrrrring!



The brunette laughed sleepily and looked into his eyes. "Really? Nothing?"



"Really. Nothing." He was increasingly aware of the way that the space between their faces seemed to be shrinking. He swallowed.



"That's a pity. Guy like you oughta get more dates you know..." He could feel breath upon his cheek as the words were spoken. He looked down at Youji, and their eyes met. Those orbs were dazed and confused and...something else. Something.....



What emotions reflected in his eyes?



"If I were interested..." he whispered "....I know where I'd look." He leaned closer, and their noses brushed. He shivered. Their lips were just fraction of an inch apart. Aya could nearly feel the silky softness of Youji's lips on his own.



"Aya - I...."



"Youji...."



Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Startled, both men jumped back.



"Hey guys, it's Omi. Guess you're on the way back already, which is all right. That's all I really called to ask you anyway. See you!"



Aya was already on his feet, facing away from Youji to hide his blush. "It's time. Let's go Youji." He made his way to the door and shrugged his coat on.



"Aya....? " the man was right behind him.



"Let's go, Youji."



He left the apartment without even waiting for Youji to gather his things.



Ayan Ayan Aya~n....always running from the things that scare you...



God.



Why was he so stupid?