A/N: This part contains sex. Please don't read if you think it will offend you.

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Seventeen
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Ran slouched in the corner of a booth in the very back of the Blue Apple, waiting. His informant was already two hours late, but that was par for the course. He still might show up. This information Kiba had promised him was vital to Kritiker somehow. Manx hadn't exactly explained. She hadn't exactly asked either.

So, Ran thought of it as part of his penance, and waited.

Pouring himself a little more sake out of the small bottle on the table, he scowled. The sake was really quite good, but he had never truly enjoyed drinking alone. He had chosen sake because he could nurse it for a few hours and not get drunk. At least, not get too drunk; he could feel his skin slowly flushing in the heat of the bar. At least he had remembered to eat before he had left, though the rice was laying heavily in his stomach.

He shook a cigarette out of the pack lying on top of his jacket on the seat. His second. They helped him fit in, but that wasn't the reason he was smoking them. He had seen them in a kiosk while waiting for the subway earlier in the evening and impulsively bought them - they smelled like vanilla. There was still the acrid nicotine underlying it all, but the vanilla was sweet and soothed his senses, like coming home.

It shouldn't feel like that. When had he started thinking of the Koneko, of Youji, as home? The room he slept in, the kitchen he cooked and ate in, the worktable in the Koneko, all the other rooms he lived and breathed in, that alone should not make it feel like home. What he had always thought of as his home had burned down. He had no home now. But still the bond was holding them together was there, stretched and aching in his soul. He could no more deny it than he could the love he felt tying him to Aya-chan.

And Aya-chan ...

"Hey there," a voice purred above his head. A girl, mid-twenties, bronze skin, too much eyeliner, epicanthic fold. Her hair was short and gelled into messy spikes. "This seat taken?" she asked, trailing her fingers down his arm.

Ran shifted out from under her hand. Not Kiba. "Yes," he answered shortly.

The girl shrugged, moving away toward easier marks. Ran sighed irritably. He tried to be as inconspicious as possible, but in a place like this, people were bound to notice him. It was unfortunate he had to remain at least partly visible so that Kiba could find him in the crowd. He wasn't comfortable being so exposed.

Exposed like he had been when he had bared his past to Youji. He hadn't meant to do that. But Youji had asked him to stay, and the confession had turned into part of his apology. He wasn't sure if Youji had taken it that way. He wasn't sure how Youji had taken it at all, because he had run as soon as he had realized how much he had told.

Was it a mistake? He hated to be unsure.

The minutes ticked agonizingly by. Ran poured himself more sake and winced as the music reached a screaming chorus. Checking his watch, he decided he would give Kiba another half an hour and then call it quits. It was an unspoken agreement between them that he never waited more than three hours. Staying any longer would be a waste of time. Not that this wasn't already a waste of his time.

He idly wondered what exactly Youji saw in these clubs. And whether Youji was in one at the moment. Weekend, weekday, it never seemed to make a difference to the older man. But then again, they both had morning shift. So perhaps he was at home.

It shouldn't matter.

The sake bottle was empty. Ran checked his watch again. It was time to go. He threw some money on the table and grabbed his jacket, pushing his arms into it and sliding out of the booth in the same motion. The cigarettes he shoved into his pocket. An impulse buy. Since when did he give in to his impulses?

Since Youji, that voice whispered.

He ignored it and headed toward the exit. The fall air washed over his skin as he stepped out of the club, crisp and cool. It cleared his head, stuffy from the cigarettes and noise at the bar. A few people were on the streets, going from one somewhere to another. He willed them not to see him, not wanting to endure the curious and frequently appraising stares he usually elicited from the general public, and they did not.

So he was relatively invisible as he made his way down the stairs to the subway station. Everything was white and yellow tile, clean and unpleasantly bright under the electric lights. Ran's boots boomed in the unnatural emptiness of the corridors.

The car he chose was completely empty. It swayed as it moved, and Ran laid his cheek on the cool window and stared out at the lights blinking past. His solitude was interrupted two stops away from the Koneko when a group of giggling college students got on. They filled the previously empty car with boisterous chatter, isolating him in his corner seat.

He felt, as he watched a girl who was around Ken's age shyly take the hand of a boy sitting next to her, very alone. The feeling persisted as he exited the train and emerged into the cold night air.

It was funny. He had never even felt that he was alone until he had killed Takatori. He had felt exultant, triumphant, standing there on the roof with the fire burning all around him and Takatori's blood still dripping from his blade. And then all the grief that he had buried under his righteous anger had burst forth, and he had cried for those he had lost for the first time, sitting silently in his room, locked in his inability to reach out.

When he had fulfilled his revenge, he had also destroyed his own purpose, the conviction that had kept him going after the loss of his family, and the failure of Crashers. Because Aya-chan hadn't woken up, and he was still completely, dreadfully alone.

But then Youji had touched him, had marked him and talked to him and been angry when he'd gone. Youji had changed things, simply by noticing that he was there. He hadn't been able to resist the allure of companionship, even if it was only an illusion. As time went on, though, he realized, that companionship would become real, if he could stand the pain of Youji unburying his heart and holding it in his hands.

Ran opened the back door and slipped inside, hopping a little as he wrenched off his boots without sitting down. Suddenly, his room no longer seemed a sanctuary. Suddenly, his bed was no longer inviting.

He found himself standing in front of Youji's door without remembering how he had gotten there. He paused for a long moment, considering, before sweeping all reason aside and twisting the knob.

"Aya?" Youji's voice was deep and sleepy.

"Yes," Ran replied, softly closing the door behind him.

There was a rustling of sheets from the bed. "Lemme turn the lamp on," Youji said. "It's a mess in here."

"No," Ran said, and made it through his memory of the jumble with only a stubbed toe. To turn on the light would ruin the moment, break the spell, stop the cycle. The light would only remind him that this was a mistake, the wrong thing to do, when he desperately wished it wasn't, that it didn't feel so right.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling the warmth of Youji's legs through the sheets. The curtains were open slightly, sending a slash of moonlight across the room. As his eyes adjusted to the almost dark, Ran curled his toes on the floor, and reflected that he really had no idea what he was doing. Youji had always come to him before, but would he welcome Ran now? He wondered dully if it made a difference that he was in Youji's private space, waking Youji from his dreams. He wondered if he should go.

"Did you get the information?" Youji shifted slightly under the blankets, some of the warmth withdrawing from Ran's back.

Ran's frustration rose again like bile, bitter on the back of his tongue. "No." He kept his voice carefully controlled. "He didn't show up."

"Oh." Youji moved again, presumably to sit against the headboard.

Ran looked at his feet in the dim light. "He is unreliable at the best of times," he said, by way of explanation, "but always honest." Manx wouldn't be happy about this, he was sure. Just one more black mark against him in her little book.

Sighing, he leaned back on his elbows, consciously trying to relax his back muscles and trying not to think about what he was doing. Which was what, exactly?

"Aya?" Youji sounded slightly confused and still half asleep.

And he had a right to be both those things, Ran mused wryly. He didn't know how to articulate what he wanted at the best of times. "Hn," he replied, letting his body relax fully on the bed, perpendicular to Youji, and closing his eyes. Not thinking.

Youji's weight shifted on the bed. Ran turned his head slowly and opened his eyes, seeking Youji's gaze in the darkness. "What do you want, Aya?" Youji asked, hugging his knees to his chest, his eyes searching Ran's face.

Instead of answering, Ran brought up his hand to lightly touch Youji's cheek, feeling as if he were moving through sand.

"Okay," Youji whispered, turning so he could press his lips into Ran's palm. "Okay."

An enormous burden was lifted from Ran's shoulders at Youji's easy acquiescence. He didn't have to say anything. Youji knew. Youji understood. He had never even thought it possible before.

Youji took Ran's hand in his own and kissed his wrist, then, tucking his legs under him, the inside of Ran's elbow. He leaned over Ran, his hair swinging in his face, and kissed him. The kiss was soft, a little sleepy as Youji slipped his tongue between Ran's lips and tasted the sake Ran knew was still lingering there.

"You taste sweet," Youji murmured.

Ran propped himself up on his elbow and kissed Youji again. He slid his hand around the back of Youji's neck, fingers tangling in the curly blonde hair, rhythmically tightening and releasing as Youji pressed the kiss deeper. He felt a tug on his shirt and cracked an eye open, seeing Youji's long fingers toying with the laces threaded through the eyelets.

"I really like this shirt," Youji said softly against Ran's ear, "but you're wearing too many clothes right now," he finished, his hand finally tugging the laces undone.

Pushing himself up to a sitting position again, Ran had to agree. Youji knelt in the middle of the bed, golden skin glowing a little in the moonlight. The sheets were puddled around his knees, and he was, Ran discovered, gloriously naked and already mostly hard. Crossing his arms, Ran tugged his shirt over his head in one smooth movement, dropping it on the floor and shaking his hair back into place. He bent down and unzipped the side zips up to his knees on his pants.

Youji made a soft sound as Ran stood up. "I didn't know you owned leather pants," he breathed.

Ran raised his eyebrows. "More than one pair," he said, slowly unbuttoning his fly. Youji watched in rapt attention as he slid them over his hips, hooking his thumbs under his socks and pulling them off one at a time as he stepped out of his pants. Ran straightened slowly, suddenly feeling exposed and more than a little shy. He had never purposefully showed anyone his body before, always hiding in the darkness of his room. He was squirmingly aware of his erection as it jutted out at half mast from his groin, the old silvery scars on his shoulder, all his thousand and one tiny imperfections.

Keeping his eyes locked on Ran's, Youji stretched out on the bed, baring himself to the same kind of scrutiny. He smiled, and gestured to the empty space beside him in invitation. Ran stood frozen for a moment, amazed at the perceptiveness, and sheer kindness of the man in front of him.

He took a moment just to look at Youji, to allow himself to memorize the lean lines of his body, legs that seemed to go on forever, the tantalizing dip of his hipbones, the curls that surrounded his sex, much darker than his hair. Understated muscles, chiseled abs, dark nipples peaking in the air of the room, a certain lithe quality about him, even relaxing indolently into the soft mattress.

"Ran?" Youji asked softly, turning on his side and seeking Ran's gaze with wide green eyes, the haze of sleep mostly gone.

Jolted out of his reverie by the sound of his true name, Ran came back to himself. Climbing onto the bed to kneel next to Youji, he planted a firm hand in the other man's chest and pushed him down. The push changed into a caress as Youji let himself fall back, arching slightly under Ran's gentle touch.

Youji sighed as Ran pressed his lips lightly against his ribcage, slowly working his way over the flesh he had marred, the bruises mostly faded to the barest hint of color. He dropped light kisses over the taut body, moving teasingly slow up Youji's chest. The blonde's breath caught in his throat as Ran's hands skimmed his sides.

Ran nibbled his way up Youji's neck, kissing his jaw where the bruise had been, purple at first, then fading to yellow, and now just shadow, hiding underneath light stubble. He cupped Youji's face in his right hand, and kissed his jaw again, as if he could somehow soothe away the hurt he had caused.

"It's okay," Youji whispered close to his ear, pressing his cheek into Ran's palm and smoothing a hand down his back.

"No," Ran said, and kissed Youji on the lips this time. No, in truth, it wasn't okay, and he regretted his actions, yet he still couldn't bring himself to say so.

The kiss was long and deep, and Ran lingered there, on Youji's soft lips. How, after all that Ran had done, and all that he'd not said, could Youji be so willing, so giving, understanding? He felt as though he could pour everything he was into Youji, and Youji would embrace him. He was forgiving, so good, so everything that Ran was not.

His hand wandered over Youji's chest, drifting lower in small circles, lightly scraping his nails against the smooth skin, idly wondering how Youji kept his tan all year long. He slid his hand against the blonde's flat belly, and felt the muscles bunch and twist under his teasing touch. The scent of vanilla and musk wafted up from the faint beads of perspiration emerging from Youji's skin. Ran's hand at last reached the base of Youji's erection and he slid his index finger up the big vein on the underside. Youji inhaled shakily and buried his face in Ran's neck, suckling gently.

Youji shuddered and moaned as Ran continued to tease him, never keeping the same rhythm long enough to offer any kind of release. Dipping his head to Youji's chest, Ran swirled his tongue around a chocolate colored nipple, nipping it lightly with his teeth. Youji slid a hand around his neck, brushing the most sensitive spot behind his ear with clever fingers and whispering something that Ran couldn't quite make out. His cock jumped, but he ignored it. Ran felt strangely like they had switched places, and he was Youji, seducing Aya with a language that had no words. How could he have possibly resisted?

He let his fingers wander farther, caressing Youji's balls, gently massaging them. Youji spread his legs and pushed his hips upward, and Ran couldn't resist dipping down lower. He circled the small ring of muscle lightly as Youji surged up and kissed him hard. Their tongues warred with each other until Ran broke the kiss.

"How long?" Ran asked, pushing just the tip of his finger in, but no farther.

"Long time," Youji gasped. "A while before you." He shoved his hand under his pillow and brought out an almost empty tube. "Here."

At least six months then. Maybe longer. Ran took the lube from Youji's outstretched hand and gently nudged his hip. "Turn over," he said.

Youji's eyes were questioning, but he complied. The smooth skin of Youji's back was broken by two ugly circles of puckered flesh, just above where his heart should be. Ran had never asked about them. He had never thought to be curious before, but now small pieces of things Youji had said were coming back to him, and he wanted to know their story. He knew this much – Youji had been lucky. The bullets had gone in under Youji's collarbone, missed his ribs and his heart, and exited out the back. One scar was breathlessly close to his spine.

Ran grabbed a pillow from the pile at the head of Youji's bed. "Lift up your hips," he said, and slid the pillow easily underneath. He let his hand grasp Youji's erection for a long moment, making sure it was laying flat underneath his stomach.

Squirming, Youji propped himself up on his elbows and looked over his shoulder at Ran. Ran placed his hand in the middle of Youji's back, but didn't push as Youji's eyes searched his face. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he had found in Ran's gaze, he let his body relax.

"I trust you," Youji said, his voice muffled by the pillows.

Ran smoothed his hand down Youji's back in lieu of answering, tracing the line of Youji's backbone all the way down to the slight dip at the base of his spine. Lightly keeping the contact, Ran settled himself in between Youji's legs, nudging them slightly farther apart to give himself room. He ran his hands up Youji's thighs before planting his hands firmly on either side of the other man's back, and bending his head down to kiss each shoulder before moving lower.

Youji's hips jerked as Ran pressed his lips to the sensitive spot on his lower back. Opening his mouth, Ran tasted Youji's skin delicately with his tongue. It was smooth and slightly salty and felt cool compared to the heat of his mouth. He lingered there, reveling in the way Youji's hips arched upward at every touch.

Suddenly, Ran sucked hard, making Youji moan in response. A moment later, he released the small patch of skin, soothing the darkening welt with his thumb. Payback, a little, for the marks Youji had left on his neck in the past.

Moaning again as Ran trailed his finger down the cleft of his ass, Youji said, "Please, Ran."

Ran pressed another long kiss to the base of Youji's spine, making the blonde writhe in pleasure. He stretched his hand out for the lube, lying half buried in blankets where he had dropped it. Flipping the top, he squeezed some of the cool gel in a line on his finger. He gently circled the tight ring of muscle before sliding his finger slowly inside, twisting it to spread the lube around as much as possible.

He took his time preparing Youji, mindful of how long it had been and his almost assuredly bruised tailbone. Youji was panting and clenching the pillows around his head by the time Ran decided he was ready.

Youji sighed when Ran withdrew his fingers, and the sound went straight to his groin, bringing the throbbing erection between his legs to his immediate attention. Ran's thighs pressed against Youji's, nudging his legs farther apart, the contact sending a jolt through him. He reached for the lube again as he bent forward once more to press his lips against the rapidly darkening welt he'd raised.

Spreading a thin coat of gel over his palm, Ran hissed as he fisted his erection. Youji was still breathing heavily, but shifted slightly to look over his shoulder as best he could without lifting his head. Ran put his dry hand on Youji's ass and squeezed, silently urging the man to turn back, to relax.

Youji did and Ran moved forward, pressing the tip of his weeping cock into Youji's waiting entrance, pausing until Youji had caught his breath before slowly pushing farther in. He buried himself in Youji's tight passage, pressing forward until their hips touched, then smoothly pulling out, establishing a steady rhythm. Youji made a soft noise, burying his head in the pillows as Ran slid across his prostate, hips jerking against the pillow Ran had placed under him.

Ran's hands caressed Youji's sweat slicked sides before finding purchase at his waist. With each stroke forward, he could feel Youji writhe underneath him with mounting pleasure. The blonde pressed his hips back against Ran's, an unvoiced plea for more, faster, harder.

Ignoring the way his balls ached for release, the breathy moan Youji made with each thrust, Ran continued to torture them both with long slow strokes. He lost himself in the rhythms of Youji's body, sheathing himself completely in the blonde, and feeling Youji accept him over and over again. Suddenly, Youji let out a choked cry and clamped down hard. The air left Ran's lungs in one breath, and he gripped Youji's hips as he came helplessly inside the older man's passage.

Ran collapsed atop Youji, burying his face in between the older man's shoulder blades. Harsh breathing and rapid heartbeats gradually faded away as he savored the moment, filling his senses with all that was Youji: the vanilla still lingering on his skin from a shower, the heat of his body against Ran's chest, the soft catch in his breath from too many cigarettes.

He rolled off Youji and sat up on the edge of the bed, wincing a little as his sensitized cock slid completely out of Youji's body. He had to get away. He'd lingered too long already. It was a mistake, coming to Youji.

Youji seemed to be dozing as Ran climbed off the bed, trying not to jostle the other man and wake him. What had he been thinking? The problem was that he hadn't been.

"Hey," Youji muttered, stretching a hand out over the edge of the bed toward Ran, fingers just brushing his thigh. "Stay?"

Ran froze, his shirt dangling from his loosened grasp. Could he? Youji was both safe and dangerous at the same time. On the one hand, he offered relief from the overwhelming sense of loneliness Ran had only recently come to grips with. But then, Youji also threatened his way of life, his existence. There was the key - existence. Because Ran with Youji and Ran without Youji was like the difference between living and merely existing. Youji made him want to live, when all he had wanted before was for his sister to wake up so he could die. His revenge was sought, his mission complete.

"I can't," he whispered, pulling on his pants.

Youji propped himself up, watching him with hooded eyes, but he didn't speak as Ran fled to the confines of his own room.