Late Night Owl
Disclaimer: I've been trying for a year or so now, but I still don't own the Weiss boys. It's quite sad.
Chapter Two: Black Leather and Nosebleeds
"Oh, come on, Omi. It's not so bad. It'll be fun," Youji said convincingly.
"I don't know." was the younger man's muffled reply. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea."
"Who's to know? This'll just be between you and me, kid. No one else has to know."
The door that Omi was hiding behind opened a crack, and a blond head peered out. "Well, Aya and Ken will know." He nodded his head towards where the other two were waiting.
"Ah," sighed Youji with a dismissive wave. "Who are they gonna tell? What kind of reasoning is that, chibi?"
"Don't call me that!" was the automatic response the tall blond was looking for, and the one he got.
"I won't," he said, "If you come out. Chibi."
"Come on, Omi!" said Ken. "The rest of us have to do it, too. Nothing to be embarrassed about.
There was plenty to be embarrassed about, thought Omi as he slumped his shoulders and came out of the dressing room.
That's right, dressing room.
The members of Weiss, the white hunters of evil men, the fierce assassins who all had some sort of revenge of some sort driving them (and who were all very good at angst-ing, one might add) were at the mall.
Youji was having the time of his life; Ken didn't seem to mind; Omi seemed to be feeling slightly uncomfortable; Aya seemed to have gone into sensory overload.
Why were they at the mall?
Because the lanky blond had dissected all of their closets and said that nothing that any of the other members owned were right for going under cover at a night club ("Aya, really. You *cannot* just wear an orange sweater!").
Anyway, Omi stepped out of the dressing room rather (extremely) tentatively.
The older man who had been encouraging him muttered one word. "Damn." And actually, that summed it up quite nicely.
Ken stared. Then he said, "Actually, the dark blue top wasn't that bad, after all."
The remaining member of Weiss didn't say anything; he just kind of stared.
See, the innocent kid who had (been shoved) stepped into that room (while protesting) carrying a pile of clothes came out looking pretty different.
"Come on, Omitichi," Youji said, placing a hand on the younger man's back and gently steering him to the three way mirrors so he could see his reflection from many sides. "This way. And stop trying to scramble back to the dressing room to hide. You look great; after all, *I* picked out those clothes."
He dragged the reluctant Omi over to the mirrors, where he peeked out from behind his hands.
Omi (though he may not really know it) was pretty good looking normally. Ask just about any of the girls who hang around the shop. But his normal look would not be suitable for clubbing. He looked too sweet, too innocent.
The blond he saw in the mirror looked older, more dangerous, sexier.
It must, he decided, be the black leather.
"Now all you need," said an enthusiastic Ken, "is some red streaks in your hair! We'll have our own little raver!"
Not, of course, that Ken knew what a raver looked like.
"Red," the oldest member said with a dismissive wave, "is passé."
From across the room, Aya glared at him. Red hair, in his opinion, was *always* in style.
Continuing, Youji added, "Now, what we need is. black streaks. We can get them done after this"
"But I don't *want* s-" the not-so-innocent-looking-anymore blond began.
"Nonsense! It's as good as done, Omitichi. You can thank me later," Youji interrupted smoothly. "You there!" He cried, gesturing to the saleslady. "We were having a difference of opinions about what color of hair dye would should use on our friend here, and we were wondering what you thought."
"Well," she said drawing nearer, "Let me get a look. I'd have to say-" She stopped suddenly.
"Say what?" asked Aya, looking down at her.
"Uh, Aya? She just had a nosebleed when she got a good look at him and passed out from blood loss," said Ken gently.
"Well, I think that's a sign she would've said red."
The other three members turned to stare at Aya. "And I think that's a disgusting way to decide," Youji said finally.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, Omi?" Ken asked hurriedly in an obvious attempt to try to change the subject.
Youji turned to him with a (demonic) gleam in his eye. "After we get streaks in Omi's hair, it's your turn. This is fun!"
I know this chapter isn't as good as the first one. I'm sorry! It's a lot shorter, too.
Review! Please! I'm down on my knees here (philosophically).
Disclaimer: I've been trying for a year or so now, but I still don't own the Weiss boys. It's quite sad.
Chapter Two: Black Leather and Nosebleeds
"Oh, come on, Omi. It's not so bad. It'll be fun," Youji said convincingly.
"I don't know." was the younger man's muffled reply. "I'm not so sure it's a good idea."
"Who's to know? This'll just be between you and me, kid. No one else has to know."
The door that Omi was hiding behind opened a crack, and a blond head peered out. "Well, Aya and Ken will know." He nodded his head towards where the other two were waiting.
"Ah," sighed Youji with a dismissive wave. "Who are they gonna tell? What kind of reasoning is that, chibi?"
"Don't call me that!" was the automatic response the tall blond was looking for, and the one he got.
"I won't," he said, "If you come out. Chibi."
"Come on, Omi!" said Ken. "The rest of us have to do it, too. Nothing to be embarrassed about.
There was plenty to be embarrassed about, thought Omi as he slumped his shoulders and came out of the dressing room.
That's right, dressing room.
The members of Weiss, the white hunters of evil men, the fierce assassins who all had some sort of revenge of some sort driving them (and who were all very good at angst-ing, one might add) were at the mall.
Youji was having the time of his life; Ken didn't seem to mind; Omi seemed to be feeling slightly uncomfortable; Aya seemed to have gone into sensory overload.
Why were they at the mall?
Because the lanky blond had dissected all of their closets and said that nothing that any of the other members owned were right for going under cover at a night club ("Aya, really. You *cannot* just wear an orange sweater!").
Anyway, Omi stepped out of the dressing room rather (extremely) tentatively.
The older man who had been encouraging him muttered one word. "Damn." And actually, that summed it up quite nicely.
Ken stared. Then he said, "Actually, the dark blue top wasn't that bad, after all."
The remaining member of Weiss didn't say anything; he just kind of stared.
See, the innocent kid who had (been shoved) stepped into that room (while protesting) carrying a pile of clothes came out looking pretty different.
"Come on, Omitichi," Youji said, placing a hand on the younger man's back and gently steering him to the three way mirrors so he could see his reflection from many sides. "This way. And stop trying to scramble back to the dressing room to hide. You look great; after all, *I* picked out those clothes."
He dragged the reluctant Omi over to the mirrors, where he peeked out from behind his hands.
Omi (though he may not really know it) was pretty good looking normally. Ask just about any of the girls who hang around the shop. But his normal look would not be suitable for clubbing. He looked too sweet, too innocent.
The blond he saw in the mirror looked older, more dangerous, sexier.
It must, he decided, be the black leather.
"Now all you need," said an enthusiastic Ken, "is some red streaks in your hair! We'll have our own little raver!"
Not, of course, that Ken knew what a raver looked like.
"Red," the oldest member said with a dismissive wave, "is passé."
From across the room, Aya glared at him. Red hair, in his opinion, was *always* in style.
Continuing, Youji added, "Now, what we need is. black streaks. We can get them done after this"
"But I don't *want* s-" the not-so-innocent-looking-anymore blond began.
"Nonsense! It's as good as done, Omitichi. You can thank me later," Youji interrupted smoothly. "You there!" He cried, gesturing to the saleslady. "We were having a difference of opinions about what color of hair dye would should use on our friend here, and we were wondering what you thought."
"Well," she said drawing nearer, "Let me get a look. I'd have to say-" She stopped suddenly.
"Say what?" asked Aya, looking down at her.
"Uh, Aya? She just had a nosebleed when she got a good look at him and passed out from blood loss," said Ken gently.
"Well, I think that's a sign she would've said red."
The other three members turned to stare at Aya. "And I think that's a disgusting way to decide," Youji said finally.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, Omi?" Ken asked hurriedly in an obvious attempt to try to change the subject.
Youji turned to him with a (demonic) gleam in his eye. "After we get streaks in Omi's hair, it's your turn. This is fun!"
I know this chapter isn't as good as the first one. I'm sorry! It's a lot shorter, too.
Review! Please! I'm down on my knees here (philosophically).