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Twelve
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"You're a fucking asshole, Fujimiya, I hope you know that," Youji swore as he gingerly lowered himself onto a bench in the cell they'd been assigned.
Aya pressed his lips together and looked away, but didn't respond.
"And I'm not just talking about you beating the shit out of me," Youji continued, dabbing a bit of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. "Do you know how hard it is to stand there and watch the chibi fight tears? No, of course not," he said bitterly. "You just walk out on him like everyone else in his life has."
Youji's head was pounding. He had a bruise forming on his cheek where Aya had slugged him, to go along with what were most likely bruised ribs from the beating on his chest. "And did you have to hit me in the face, you prick?"
Frustration grew within Youji as Aya replied with a faint smirk of amusement. Damn the asshole. He was finding this funny. "Well, I'm so fucking glad you're going to enjoy a night in jail. You beat me up. Why the hell am I here when you're the one that can't control your fucking temper?"
The blonde was aware of the fact that he was babbling slightly. But Aya wasn't talking, wouldn't talk, Youji was sure, and he'd be damned if he was going to try to win a staring contest with the prick. He was too sore to lie down on the hard bench, in too much pain to sleep sitting up. It had taken them a few hours to get processed through to their lovely accommodations and all the injuries that Aya had inflicted on him were making themselves known with a vengeance.
"Ch'," Youji swore again. "Did they have to take my cigarettes, too?"
"Do you think I'd let you smoke in here?" Aya growled from his own bench, looking serene and composed as always, the hint of a smile gone from his lips.
"It's the fucking least you could do," Youji muttered. "I'm going to be black and blue for a week." He shifted, trying to get comfortable.
He foresaw a long night ahead. It had already been a long afternoon.
They'd been arrested in front of the Magic Bus. Youji hadn't had any identification and Aya's, strangely enough, had said "Fujimiya Ran." The PI inside Youji told him to file away that piece of information for later. Youji's lack of id and fingerprints in the system (thanks to Kritiker) had extended the time it had taken to get them worked through the process.
Eventually, Youji had used his one phone call to get a hold of Manx as his "employer" to vouch for his identity. The arresting officer had spent some time on the phone with the secretary, and had a positively evil grin on his face when he returned. It was then that they'd confiscated Youji's cigarettes and sun glasses, quoting "standard operating procedure" as they denied the blonde the only comfort he had.
Youji shifted, trying to find some position to rest his body in so he didn't ache. He couldn't sit; he had probably bruised his tailbone when he fell. He'd hit the ground so hard he'd bitten his lip when he bounced slightly.
He moved again, the sounds of his clothes rustling echoing through the small room. He couldn't rest on his sides, his hips were too bony. He could lay on his back, but it hurt too much to breathe that way. Stomach was out because of the bruises on his torso, thanks to the prick sitting across from him, seemingly asleep with his arms crossed over his chest. Youji was just about ready to give up and stand against the wall, figuring that might be his best chance of finding some comfortable way to at least doze.
"Are you physically incapable of sitting still?" Aya growled from across the cell.
"Well excuse the fuck out of me," Youji growled back. His temper was shot to hell. "I was knocked on my ass, hit in the face, punched in the ribs and stomach, by you, by the way, and have been denied nicotine for," he glanced at his watch, "six hours. I have a headache, I'm hungry, and my whole body hurts. Yes, I'm physically incapable of sitting still, you ass."
Aya grunted and settled back against the wall, once again appearing to ignore Youji's existence.
Youji seethed. Truly unable to sit still, he got up and paced. Fuck Aya. He had no room to bitch. It was his fault they were there anyway. What had he been thinking to start pounding on Youji right there in front of the hospital? Of course someone was going to call the police. Two young men brawling in front of a hospital was going to draw attention.
And what really pissed Youji off was that Aya had walked away without a scratch. Youji hadn't managed to land a single good punch. Youji was the taller, but Aya had a good thirty pounds more of muscle packed on, mostly in his arms and shoulders, and Youji now understood the hours the redhead used to spend in the gym in the Koneko. Youji relied on speed and stealth; he had no need for the brute strength Aya used to wield his katana.
And he'd left his shopping bags in front of that girl's room when Aya had dragged him off. The asshole. He'd splurged a fair amount of his last pay check on himself for once, instead of dumping it into the house fund, and it was probably all gone.
Fucking prick Youji paced, hands unconsciously clenching and unclenching as he walked, trying to ignore the longing for a hit of nicotine, boot clad footsteps sounding off the concrete floor. He was tired and hurt, but couldn't stop moving. He was overly aware of Aya's body in the small space, his own reacting in ways that Youji didn't want to ponder.
"For fuck's sake, Kudou," Aya growled again.
"Oh, shut up," Youji shot right back. "It's your fucking fault I can't sit down, so just deal with it, okay?" It was also Aya's fault that Youji was trying to keep his body under control. It didn't matter that the blonde was pissed off at the redhead, his body still reacted to Aya's like it always had. Just being in the same room as Aya was arousing, and Youji was struggling to hang on to the anger that would deflect the arousal. It helped that every time he moved it hurt, and it was Aya's hands that had inflicted that pain.
Youji continued to pace, the sounds of his steps and the light, barely heard rhythm of Aya's breathing the only noise in the cell. He'd never done real well with small spaces. The residual effects of having been accidentally locked in a closet as a child, he assumed. He was mostly over the anxiety that had plagued much of his teenage years, having been able to realize that not all small dark rooms were places where Bad Things happened.
The lights flickered and went out. Youji sighed and cautiously moved toward the empty bench. With a sudden flash of brilliance, he peeled off his turtleneck and folded it into a makeshift pillow to cushion his hip as he stretched out, groaning slightly. Damn, but he hurt.
"Fuck you, Fujimiya Aya," Youji muttered. True sleep evaded him as he laid there, floating in and out of that hazy realm that wasn't real rest. Light from the corridor allowed him to see Aya, sitting still as death save the rise and fall of his chest.
He sighed again and tried to pretend he was back in his nice soft bed in his apartment above the koneko. The koneko. Shit. Omi was probably going to be panicked, wondering where he was. He had told the chibi he would be out for the afternoon, but would be back for dinner. Omi was going to order pizza for the three of them.
Dammit, Youji cursed himself. He hoped Manx had taken the time to call the kid and let him know what had happened. He'd know soon enough; it was about that time of night for the younger two to attempt a jail break for their comrade.
But the chaos that would follow any of Ken's plans never happened as Youji lay on his bench, watching Aya sleep. And when the building failed to shake with the results of Omi's explosives, Youji figured that they weren't coming for him, so Manx had to have told them something.
Time ticked by as Youji tried to sleep, head throbbing from his impact against the wall of the hospital. They had given him a cursory medical exam when they'd taken him into custody, so he knew he didn't have a concussion and was safe to sleep, but he couldn't quite seem to drift off. His eyes kept finding the pale form of his ex-teammate across the room.
Youji missed Aya, even the silent, sullen, cold hearted bastard who yelled at the school girls in the shop. He missed the almost smiles that he could coax out of the redhead when he fought with Ken, the smell of his private stock of tea he rarely let any of them touch.
He missed the feel of their bodies together in the dark, the hint of longing and want in purple eyes that never reached firm lips. Youji even missed that ugly orange sweater tangled in a pool of his own clothing on the floor of Aya's room.
The blonde wished he could go back and change things. He wanted to go back to that night, where he'd just talked to Aya and fallen asleep in the armchair. He wanted to change the evening he'd come drunk and let Aya treat him like a whore and make him talk to him, make Aya see him as a person, not just a fuck-toy to be discarded when finished. He desperately wished he could find a way to make that fatal evening that Aya had thrown him out never happen. He finally drifted off to sleep with that last thought in his mind.
Youji woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, cold sweat soaking his back. He groaned as he sat up, body aching from the pummeling the previous day. Aya, he saw, was awake, watching from the other side of the room. An image from his nightmare passed across his vision, replacing the silent, stone faced Aya with the gory, blood drenched man he'd watched die in his sleep. Shaking his head to banish the vision, Youji retrieved his shirt from the bench and slipped it on, easing some of the chill in his arms.
He could feel Aya's eyes on him as he rose slowly, easing kinks out of his body by slowly pacing their confines. His anger hadn't diminished any during the time he had slept. If anything, it had seemed to grow, seeing how easily Aya was able to slip into sleep, despite the conditions.
"What?" he growled at the redhead after long silent minutes with Aya's gaze on his back.
"Hn." Aya slumped back against the wall, eyes sliding closed again, giving at least the outward appearance of sleep.
Youji made a rude gesture with his hand as he continued to measure out the length of their cell with his stride.
"Kudou, Fujimiya," a guard spoke from the hall. "You're being released." The door slid open. "Let's go."
Aya stood smoothly, making the transition from sleep to wake in a heartbeat. Youji growled softly and followed him out of the cell.
Twelve
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"You're a fucking asshole, Fujimiya, I hope you know that," Youji swore as he gingerly lowered himself onto a bench in the cell they'd been assigned.
Aya pressed his lips together and looked away, but didn't respond.
"And I'm not just talking about you beating the shit out of me," Youji continued, dabbing a bit of dried blood at the corner of his mouth. "Do you know how hard it is to stand there and watch the chibi fight tears? No, of course not," he said bitterly. "You just walk out on him like everyone else in his life has."
Youji's head was pounding. He had a bruise forming on his cheek where Aya had slugged him, to go along with what were most likely bruised ribs from the beating on his chest. "And did you have to hit me in the face, you prick?"
Frustration grew within Youji as Aya replied with a faint smirk of amusement. Damn the asshole. He was finding this funny. "Well, I'm so fucking glad you're going to enjoy a night in jail. You beat me up. Why the hell am I here when you're the one that can't control your fucking temper?"
The blonde was aware of the fact that he was babbling slightly. But Aya wasn't talking, wouldn't talk, Youji was sure, and he'd be damned if he was going to try to win a staring contest with the prick. He was too sore to lie down on the hard bench, in too much pain to sleep sitting up. It had taken them a few hours to get processed through to their lovely accommodations and all the injuries that Aya had inflicted on him were making themselves known with a vengeance.
"Ch'," Youji swore again. "Did they have to take my cigarettes, too?"
"Do you think I'd let you smoke in here?" Aya growled from his own bench, looking serene and composed as always, the hint of a smile gone from his lips.
"It's the fucking least you could do," Youji muttered. "I'm going to be black and blue for a week." He shifted, trying to get comfortable.
He foresaw a long night ahead. It had already been a long afternoon.
They'd been arrested in front of the Magic Bus. Youji hadn't had any identification and Aya's, strangely enough, had said "Fujimiya Ran." The PI inside Youji told him to file away that piece of information for later. Youji's lack of id and fingerprints in the system (thanks to Kritiker) had extended the time it had taken to get them worked through the process.
Eventually, Youji had used his one phone call to get a hold of Manx as his "employer" to vouch for his identity. The arresting officer had spent some time on the phone with the secretary, and had a positively evil grin on his face when he returned. It was then that they'd confiscated Youji's cigarettes and sun glasses, quoting "standard operating procedure" as they denied the blonde the only comfort he had.
Youji shifted, trying to find some position to rest his body in so he didn't ache. He couldn't sit; he had probably bruised his tailbone when he fell. He'd hit the ground so hard he'd bitten his lip when he bounced slightly.
He moved again, the sounds of his clothes rustling echoing through the small room. He couldn't rest on his sides, his hips were too bony. He could lay on his back, but it hurt too much to breathe that way. Stomach was out because of the bruises on his torso, thanks to the prick sitting across from him, seemingly asleep with his arms crossed over his chest. Youji was just about ready to give up and stand against the wall, figuring that might be his best chance of finding some comfortable way to at least doze.
"Are you physically incapable of sitting still?" Aya growled from across the cell.
"Well excuse the fuck out of me," Youji growled back. His temper was shot to hell. "I was knocked on my ass, hit in the face, punched in the ribs and stomach, by you, by the way, and have been denied nicotine for," he glanced at his watch, "six hours. I have a headache, I'm hungry, and my whole body hurts. Yes, I'm physically incapable of sitting still, you ass."
Aya grunted and settled back against the wall, once again appearing to ignore Youji's existence.
Youji seethed. Truly unable to sit still, he got up and paced. Fuck Aya. He had no room to bitch. It was his fault they were there anyway. What had he been thinking to start pounding on Youji right there in front of the hospital? Of course someone was going to call the police. Two young men brawling in front of a hospital was going to draw attention.
And what really pissed Youji off was that Aya had walked away without a scratch. Youji hadn't managed to land a single good punch. Youji was the taller, but Aya had a good thirty pounds more of muscle packed on, mostly in his arms and shoulders, and Youji now understood the hours the redhead used to spend in the gym in the Koneko. Youji relied on speed and stealth; he had no need for the brute strength Aya used to wield his katana.
And he'd left his shopping bags in front of that girl's room when Aya had dragged him off. The asshole. He'd splurged a fair amount of his last pay check on himself for once, instead of dumping it into the house fund, and it was probably all gone.
Fucking prick Youji paced, hands unconsciously clenching and unclenching as he walked, trying to ignore the longing for a hit of nicotine, boot clad footsteps sounding off the concrete floor. He was tired and hurt, but couldn't stop moving. He was overly aware of Aya's body in the small space, his own reacting in ways that Youji didn't want to ponder.
"For fuck's sake, Kudou," Aya growled again.
"Oh, shut up," Youji shot right back. "It's your fucking fault I can't sit down, so just deal with it, okay?" It was also Aya's fault that Youji was trying to keep his body under control. It didn't matter that the blonde was pissed off at the redhead, his body still reacted to Aya's like it always had. Just being in the same room as Aya was arousing, and Youji was struggling to hang on to the anger that would deflect the arousal. It helped that every time he moved it hurt, and it was Aya's hands that had inflicted that pain.
Youji continued to pace, the sounds of his steps and the light, barely heard rhythm of Aya's breathing the only noise in the cell. He'd never done real well with small spaces. The residual effects of having been accidentally locked in a closet as a child, he assumed. He was mostly over the anxiety that had plagued much of his teenage years, having been able to realize that not all small dark rooms were places where Bad Things happened.
The lights flickered and went out. Youji sighed and cautiously moved toward the empty bench. With a sudden flash of brilliance, he peeled off his turtleneck and folded it into a makeshift pillow to cushion his hip as he stretched out, groaning slightly. Damn, but he hurt.
"Fuck you, Fujimiya Aya," Youji muttered. True sleep evaded him as he laid there, floating in and out of that hazy realm that wasn't real rest. Light from the corridor allowed him to see Aya, sitting still as death save the rise and fall of his chest.
He sighed again and tried to pretend he was back in his nice soft bed in his apartment above the koneko. The koneko. Shit. Omi was probably going to be panicked, wondering where he was. He had told the chibi he would be out for the afternoon, but would be back for dinner. Omi was going to order pizza for the three of them.
Dammit, Youji cursed himself. He hoped Manx had taken the time to call the kid and let him know what had happened. He'd know soon enough; it was about that time of night for the younger two to attempt a jail break for their comrade.
But the chaos that would follow any of Ken's plans never happened as Youji lay on his bench, watching Aya sleep. And when the building failed to shake with the results of Omi's explosives, Youji figured that they weren't coming for him, so Manx had to have told them something.
Time ticked by as Youji tried to sleep, head throbbing from his impact against the wall of the hospital. They had given him a cursory medical exam when they'd taken him into custody, so he knew he didn't have a concussion and was safe to sleep, but he couldn't quite seem to drift off. His eyes kept finding the pale form of his ex-teammate across the room.
Youji missed Aya, even the silent, sullen, cold hearted bastard who yelled at the school girls in the shop. He missed the almost smiles that he could coax out of the redhead when he fought with Ken, the smell of his private stock of tea he rarely let any of them touch.
He missed the feel of their bodies together in the dark, the hint of longing and want in purple eyes that never reached firm lips. Youji even missed that ugly orange sweater tangled in a pool of his own clothing on the floor of Aya's room.
The blonde wished he could go back and change things. He wanted to go back to that night, where he'd just talked to Aya and fallen asleep in the armchair. He wanted to change the evening he'd come drunk and let Aya treat him like a whore and make him talk to him, make Aya see him as a person, not just a fuck-toy to be discarded when finished. He desperately wished he could find a way to make that fatal evening that Aya had thrown him out never happen. He finally drifted off to sleep with that last thought in his mind.
Youji woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, cold sweat soaking his back. He groaned as he sat up, body aching from the pummeling the previous day. Aya, he saw, was awake, watching from the other side of the room. An image from his nightmare passed across his vision, replacing the silent, stone faced Aya with the gory, blood drenched man he'd watched die in his sleep. Shaking his head to banish the vision, Youji retrieved his shirt from the bench and slipped it on, easing some of the chill in his arms.
He could feel Aya's eyes on him as he rose slowly, easing kinks out of his body by slowly pacing their confines. His anger hadn't diminished any during the time he had slept. If anything, it had seemed to grow, seeing how easily Aya was able to slip into sleep, despite the conditions.
"What?" he growled at the redhead after long silent minutes with Aya's gaze on his back.
"Hn." Aya slumped back against the wall, eyes sliding closed again, giving at least the outward appearance of sleep.
Youji made a rude gesture with his hand as he continued to measure out the length of their cell with his stride.
"Kudou, Fujimiya," a guard spoke from the hall. "You're being released." The door slid open. "Let's go."
Aya stood smoothly, making the transition from sleep to wake in a heartbeat. Youji growled softly and followed him out of the cell.