Disclaimers/ warnings: See first chapter. I still don't own them. That'd be cool, but. . . no.

A/N: Okkei, day two begins. Ken's been drugged, Aya's being subtle, Yohji's going crazy, and Omi is still in la la land. Good for him! Schwartz has yet to make an appearance. Ken and Aya have yet to win. We have about six more crossovers to go. Basically, we're just starting.

Nagi: Get on with it, will you?

Fine. Jeez. You know what's a cute nickname for Nagi-chan? Naggles. My friend came up with it.

Nagi: Call me that one more time and I'll kill you in cold blood.

Vicious. Anyway. Let's get this started!

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When Ken awoke the next morning, it was to the cheerful chirping of songbirds and the distant, muffled sounds of morning traffic. He stretched luxuriously and sat up in bed, smiling lightly to himself. Collapsing back onto his heap of blankets and pillows, he reminisced about the day before and reviewed his plan for the day. That's when he began to curse and leapt out of bed, suddenly remembering that he had the early shift. Then he paused, one arm in his shirt and one arm out. He realized all of a sudden, with a great feeling of dread, that it was 10:00 in the morning. And his shift started at 7:00. Aya was going to kill him.

To his credit, Ken managed to get dressed in all of about 12 seconds. Within another five, he'd washed his face and run a comb through his haphazard hair. By the time twenty seconds rolled around, he was down the stairs and in the kitchen hastily stuffing food into his mouth. Yohji, who'd been sipping leisurely at his coffee, dropped his half-eaten toast and his jaw hit the floor at the sight of the Ken-hurricane wreaking havoc in the kitchen. He didn't have time for questions, however, because Ken shot into the store like a nuclear missile the next moment.

//Well,// Yohji thought to himself as he resumed eating his breakfast. //Old Aya certainly inspires an impressive work ethic.//

Meanwhile, Ken had located Aya, who was working diligently on the overnight arrangements. "Aya!" he cried breathlessly, "I - I'm sorry - I overslept-"

To Ken's complete surprise, Aya merely smiled gently at his impassioned tirade. "It's fine, Ken," Aya said softly. Ken nearly died. As if it weren't enough for Aya to be completely gorgeous when he was a cold, cruel bastard, now the redhead was -smiling- at him, too? It was just about too much for Ken's pretty-Aya-immunity system. Aya must have noticed Ken's questionable condition, because his brow furrowed and he reached out to place a hand on Ken's forehead. "Are you all right? You look. . . tired."

Ken jolted as Aya touched him, then he blushed madly and stammered, "No - no, I'm fine, it's just - I, uh-" //Think!// his brain yelled. Ken decided to play the guilt card. "I - feel awful that you took my shift, Aya. Wake me up next time." Aya nodded, but there was a glint in his eye that Ken found curious.

They were distracted from further conversation by the customer-alert- bell ringing. Both florists looked up to find a boy and girl, probably about age 17, talking angrily to each other. The customers both had bright blue eyes and blonde hair, and were similar enough that they might have been siblings. The boy, who they couldn't see very well because he'd moved behind the exotic plants, cried, "For the last -time-, Cleo! Master doesn't like flowers!"

"Nonsense," the girl, Cleo, said haughtily. "Everyone likes flowers." Her eyes went all sparkly and chibi-ified. "I should get him roses. Beautiful red roses. Then he'll truly understand how much I lo - er, how angry I am with him for taking my sword."

The boy hung his head in despair. "Why do I even bother?" he said aloud. Just then, Omi entered the shop and walked over to the male customer, who was fingering the daffodils lightly.

"Can I help you?" he asked cheerfully.

The customer turned around, and Omi gasped. He found himself looking into the face of a boy who could have been his identical twin. Both boys blinked at each other, bright eyes vast in surprise. Then Omi squealed happily. "Majic!" he cried. The boy gasped.

"Omi?" he said in awe. Then he was thoroughly glomped by his very excited sales personnel. Their high-pitched, excited voices bounced throughout the shop.

"Oh Majic, I heard you disappeared!" Majic laughed at this.

"Nah, didn't my father tell you? I've been out with my master, Omi. We've been all over, and I got into the Tower of Fang - but I dropped out - and-"

"Majic!" the girl called Cleo yelled, much to Aya's annoyance. She marched over to the two boys and grabbed her companion's ear roughly. "Who is this?" she demanded.

"My cousin, Omi - ow, let go Cleo!" the boy said plaintively. Just then, the bell rang once more and a brown-haired man of perhaps twenty entered the store. Both current customers started. "Master!" Majic called in surprise.

"Orphen!" the girl cried. Then she snatched her badly-chosen flowers from Ken's workstation and thrust them into the man's face. "Here," she said, trying to sound unconcerned. "For you."

Orphen looked at the flowers disapprovingly. "What are these for?" he asked, disgust clear in his tone.

"Well, y - your birthday was last week, Master, and I forgot to get you a present so-" Majic tried, stuttering over his explanation. Orphen smiled at his apprentice.

"Aw, thanks Majic - I honestly didn't think you'd remember." Majic blushed and began muttering under his breath. Cleo watched the new arrival indignantly.

"Hey! Those flowers are from me, too, you know!" Orphen snorted.

"Yeah, but if I thank -you-, you'll get some crazy idea that I appreciate your attentions or something." He motioned Majic toward the door, still lecturing Cleo on her ridiculous theories. Majic hugged Omi goodbye and followed his master, dragging Cleo open-mouthed behind him. The door slipped shut, and all three florists stared at it for several minutes. Then Omi sighed happily and went to find a broom.

Ken blinked in utter confusion. Was that really a sale? Who were these people? Why was Omi so friendly with them? Questions still riddling his mind, he turned to Aya, a small frown on his lips. "Aya?" he asked, looking, to Aya at least, completely adorable. "What just happened?" Aya shook his head, no answer forthcoming. Ken sighed dramatically and went back to making the flower arrangements, trying to make up for time lost when he overslept.

As he blended the beautifully colored flowers with incredible precision and delicacy, filling orders for birthdays, anniversaries and the like, his mind wandered. He spent a bit of concentration worrying about soccer practice the following day - coming up with new drills was always a challenge - but quickly shifted his focus to more pressing matters. Like the challenge. And the bet. And his complete lack of progress. He needed to take the first steps in his plan to seduce Aya - so far, he'd managed to prove himself a coward, fall off a stool, sleep in, ditch his shift, and otherwise embarrass himself. Ken reached for the last chrysanthemum and shoved it unhappily into the arrangement. He knew he'd have to come up with a plan eventually (or maybe not so eventually), but whenever he even -thought- about pursuing Aya, he got all flustered and shy and unsure of himself. Ken fingered the yellow roses distractedly. Would Aya respond? His teammate had been quite accommodating these last few days, but all it served to do was make Ken even more lovesick and nervous than he'd been to begin with. Ken sighed as he thought about Aya - his mind wandered completely off-task, and he managed to knock all of his flowers off the arrangement counter.

Cursing lightly, he bent to pick them up; as he straightened, he saw Aya standing in front of him, reaching out a red rose he had dropped. Ken looked at the flower. He looked up at the beautiful expression on Aya's face. It was too much. Ken couldn't help himself; he fainted.

Aya watched in shock as Ken tumbled backwards, losing consciousness as he fell. Thankfully, Aya's reflexes were quick, and he managed to catch Ken before he hit the ground. Just then, Yohji walked into the shop. He froze when he saw Aya, a rose clutched in his fingers, kneeling on the floor with Ken in his arms, beautiful flowers scattered all around him and light from the front windows dancing across his striking features. Yohji simply stared. Omi, coming to stand beside his koi, gasped. When Yohji finally recovered his voice, he said, "Damn Aya - that's pretty dramatic."

Aya glared and him and growled low in his throat. "He fainted," the redhead explained, pulling Ken farther into his arms.

"Of course he fainted!" Yohji cried passionately. "Our poor little Kenken couldn't handle something like -that-! I can't believe you actually pulled something this romantic!"

Aya rolled his eyes. "I didn't," he protested. "Kudou - pick up these flowers and finish the arrangement. I'll take Ken into the living room."

"Wait a moment, Aya-kun!" Omi cried. Aya looked back down to his prone comrade. Without warning, a bright flash lit up his vision, and he was forced to blink rapidly several times. "There!" Omi said happily, lowering the camera from his face. "It's such a pretty image - you want a copy, Aya-kun? I know Ken-kun will." Aya grunted, but Omi took it as a yes and skipped off gleefully. His leader glanced down at Ken's beautiful, peaceful face and smiled. Then he stood and deftly carried his companion into the apartment. Yohji, shaking his head in bemusement, began again on the arrangement, leaving the red rose to one side.

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Ken slowly regained consciousness to find himself lying on the living room couch, Aya at his side with a cold flannel. Ken started to get up, but Aya held him back, a severe expression on his face. "You said you were all right," Aya said grimly when he finally spoke. Ken blushed.

"I'm not - I wasn't - I'm not sick Aya," Ken tried. Aya merely gave him a skeptical look.

"You fainted," Aya said flatly, as though this explained everything.

"Yes but - that was. . . " Ken stumbled, wondering how to make the redhead understand. Without really thinking it through, he said bluntly, "Aya, do you know how amazingly beautiful you are?"

Aya's eyebrows shot straight to heaven. Ken blushed scarlet. //Baka!// he berated himself. //You aren't supposed to just -say- things like that! It's supposed to be all mushy and romantic and crap!// Unknowingly deepening the hole he was already in, Ken tried again. "I mean, uh - you with that rose - it was kinda overwhelming. I - um - oh, never mind," Ken finished confusingly, face the color of tomato soup.

Aya patted the cloth over Ken's face again, thinking hard. //Ken thinks I'm beautiful?// he wondered, an unconscious little tingle shooting up his spine at the idea. //Maybe I can capitalize on this.// Aya smiled at Ken and watched the brunette's reaction. Pleased, he pressed the flannel over Ken's eyes and handed his still-blushing companion a glass of water, moving back into the shop now that he knew Ken was going to be all right. There was a lot on his mind now - his task was becoming easier.

Ken lay still as Aya left his side, pondering this turn of events. He'd screwed up and told Aya rather plainly that he found the man beautiful, but Aya hadn't glared at him - Aya had -smiled-. This was something, all right. Maybe Aya wouldn't mind his advances after all. Maybe Aya. . . Ken shook his head as he sat up. It was too much to hope that Aya might feel the same way. But if Aya didn't mind, at least he could be a bit more straightforward. Ken felt courage building inside of him. He was Ken, after all - Ken the Mighty. Well, Ken the Not So Cowardly, anyway. He wouldn't back down from a challenge, no matter how deadly or perilous it might turn out to be. Aya might be dangerously beautiful, but Ken was stubborn, and he wasn't giving up on his love for anything.

That decided, Ken still needed a plan. Slowly rising, he glanced from side to side as though searching for inspiration in the apartment's common room. Finally, his eyes settled on the kitchen area, and he started. Kitchen? Cooking? There was an idea he hadn't thought of. What did Aya like to eat, anyway?

Ken wrinkled his nose unhappily. Aya liked casseroles, and soufflés, and lasagna, and all sorts of things Ken found -way- too fancy and difficult. Putting his disgust aside, he headed to the kitchen and rifled through the cookbooks. Luckily, Aya had bookmarked all of his favorite recipes, so Ken found them easily. He stared back and forth between the green-bean casserole and salmon soufflé with extreme trepidation. Drawing himself up bravely, he started on the side dishes, all the while chanting, //I can do this - I can do this. . . // Ken smiled to himself. Aya was even worth tackling a French cookbook. Love truly was indestructible.

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Somewhere in the flower shop, Omi hummed as he worked amongst the roses, picking out the wilting ones nestled carefully in their compatriots and setting them to one side. Much as he felt bad about throwing them out, customers didn't pay for bad flowers [1]. He paused and remembered all the action these roses had seen recently - from secret messages to insults to dramatic photo opportunities. . . he giggled. Then he got an idea and arranged a new message in the flowers, pleased with his ingenuity and sentimental phrasing.

Omi went back to plucking the dying flowers out of the masses, breaking lightly into song as he did so. "One heart you are following, one dream keeps you wondering, love lights your way through the - OUCH!" he yelped suddenly, pricking his finger on the omnipresent thorns. He popped the bleeding finger into his mouth and scowled cutely - before he knew it, Yohji was at his side.

"What's wrong, Omittchi?" he asked, worry just edging his voice, though he tried to sound unconcerned. Omi felt like squealing. //He cares! Oh, I always wished-// His thoughts broke off when he noticed Yohji was staring at the roses. Omi blinked as Yohji turned to look at him, a smile he'd never seen before on the elder man's lips.

"I love you, too, Omittchi," Yohji murmured, crushing Omi against his chest and tangling his fingers in his koi's soft hair. Omi just smiled.

Aya, entering the shop from the back closet, paused and watched them. He opened his mouth to tell them to get back to work, but he closed it again without making a sound, shook his head, and headed out to finish the deliveries. //Sometimes,// he told himself, //even Yohji needs a moment.//

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Ken stared disconcertedly at his casserole, currently taking a turn in the oven. He grimaced slightly as he glanced over the directions again. //Is it supposed to be all. . . brown like that?// he wondered as he looked back and forth between the picture in the book and his concoction. Then he shrugged and threw the book in an energetic heap on the table. //Oh well. Too late now.//

Cooking was a lot more difficult than he'd imagined it might be - granted, he'd cooked some things before, like microwave dinners, but nothing nearly as complicated as that damn casserole. The directions took up two and a half pages! Ken grumbled as he made the accompanying salad. Tomatoes, lettuce, avocado, carrots - they all found their haphazard way into the mixture. Thankfully for Ken, he'd found some leftover pizza in the refrigerator - at least -he- wouldn't get food poisoning. The others were on their own.

Salad completed, he went about setting the table - he smiled to himself as he recalled just how housewife-y he'd been today. Making dinner, setting the table, doing the laundry. . .

He was interrupted by several things happening at once. The telephone rang. The timer on the oven went off. And three very hungry, very tired florist-assassins entered the living room. Ken grabbed the phone, shut off the timer, and somehow managed to tell off the telemarketer while simultaneously shoving his companions into their dinner seats and yanking scalding food out of the oven. When he hung up the phone a moment later, he found his colleagues watching him anxiously. Finally, Omi spoke.

"Anou, Ken-kun. . . is dinner ready?" Ken nodded, thoroughly pleased with himself for having decided on the cooking idea. As he set all the dishes carefully on the periwinkle-blue tablecloth, Yohji asked,

"So. . . what'd you make us, Kenken?"

"Casserole," Ken responded easily, setting said entrée down in front of his friends. Much to his joy, it presented a rather appealing picture - hopefully, it would taste as good as it looked.

Aya was floored. He looked at the casserole. He looked at Ken. He looked back at the casserole. Ken watched him anxiously; clearly, the redhead was deep in thought. Finally, Aya managed, "Ken. . . you don't cook."

Ken smiled at him. "First time for everything."

Aya looked back at the meal before him. "But Ken," he said again, "you don't like casserole."

Ken blushed to the roots of his hair. //He remembered! My god - he does notice me!// In a small voice, he said aloud, "No, Aya, but - you do."

Aya looked at him sharply. "You made this for me?" Ken's blush deepened, but he met Aya's stare and nodded. Aya's gaze softened. Carefully, he took a small bite of the casserole on his plate. Immediately, his eyes shot open and he swallowed hard. This only caused him to start coughing violently, to the horror of his teammates. Ken squeezed his eyes shut. //Oh my god, I killed Aya!// his shattered mind screamed. //I didn't think -anyone- could cook that badly! I'm a murderer! Wait - I was already a murderer - oh but this is different! No, Aya, you can't die! Gah!// He was startled by a warm hand on his face. His teal eyes shot open to see Aya looking at him in what might have been complete and total adoration, a pale hand on Ken's tan cheek.

"Ken-" Aya said breathlessly. Ken's heart leapt into his throat. "Ken this is - amazing. How did - how did you-" Aya broke off, unable to put his admiration into words. Ken blinked rapidly several times, trying to make sense of the situation.

"You - you like it?" he asked incredulously.

"Love it," Aya said, holding his gaze. Ken sighed in relief. Suddenly, both florists realized Yohji and Omi had started devouring the casserole with a vengeance. Aya found Ken's hand and squeezed it slightly; Ken felt the heat rising in his cheeks again. //Maybe I'll cook more often,// he mused amid Omi's shrieks of delight. //I knew it would be worth it!//

End Day 2

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[1] - This was sort of supposed to be metaphorical for his life as an assassin. You know - removing the 'dead flowers' from the rest of society.

The crossover with Orphen? I had to. It's my personal opinion that Omi and Majic could switch series and nobody would know the difference. Well, until a mission came along at least.

Aya: Bombay, take out the guards.

Majic: Wha?

Ken: The darts! Quick!

Majic: Gah! (randomly throws darts in all directions)

Yohji: Ack! My neck!

Or, alternately. . .

Orphen: You can do it, Majic - we've been working on this all week, remember?

Omi: Er, uh - go spelly-thing!

Cleo: You idiot! Don't you even remember the incantation?

Azalie: RAWR!

Omi: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

So, yeah. That's my theory anyway. Poor Aya - he almost died! That would really suck for my romantic comedy, though. Please review - I'd like to know if it's living up to your expectations. Plus, the money we get from reviewers is the only way we can pay Nagi's Internet bills. ^-^