Warnings: AU, yaoi
Dedication: For her wonderful fics and even more wonderful inspiration --this one's for you, Kurai-chan!
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Insolent Angel
Part 1
It was the wrong day for a mission.
Pushing sopping blonde hair out of his eyes, Kudo Yohji cursed yet again. Scaling a tower wall while a storm raged overhead wasn't something that sane people did with their spare time. It was no surprise that he wasn't spotted. Even the guards had understood the futility of being out in weather like this. Letting loose another rather profuse obscenity, Youji attempted to ignore the pain as his foot --once more-- slipped from its precarious purchase on rain-slicked wall.
"If it hadn't been that damned down payment..." Yohji muttered as he continued the arduous climb, progress painstakingly slow.
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The crowd in The Canary was surprisingly sparse for a weekend. Sauntering in through the usual side door, Yohji calmly surveyed the bar through his sunglasses before taking a seat next to the bartender's corner.
"Whaddya have, sir?" the short blonde boy behind the counter put down the glass he was polishing to smile.
Smirking back at the boy, Yohji reached out and affectionately ruffled the boy's hair. "The usual, Omi."
Sticking his tongue out in retort, Omi poured him a vodka straight before leaning over to whisper in the other man's ear. "There's someone asking for Balinese." the boy gestured to the man sitting at a secluded table, "I told him that I could take a message, but he 'kept insisting that he had to tell you personally."
Pulling his hood down to further cover his face, Yohji nodded before getting up. Drink in hand, he strolled over and casually took a seat across from the startled man. Taking his momentary confusion to study his possible-employer, Yohji deducted that the man was probably in his mid-forties considering the fact that his hair and goatee was only slightly graying.
"Hello. I assume you're Balinese?" the man pulled himself back together rather quickly.
"That would be me." Yohji drawled out "And you are here because you've heard of my overwhelming abundance of charm?"
The corners of the man's lip twitched as the stranger bit down a grin. "Actually, I was wondering if you'd take a rather odd job."
"My charm is insulted."
This time, the man did smile. "Well, perhaps it can be alleviated by this."
Yohji immediately felt a leather-bound coin purse being thrust into his hands under the table. Untying the bindings, he allowed himself a glance at it. His breath caught in his throat. Glimmering within the purse, the sheer amount of gold were overwhelming.
"Five-hundred gaelons."
The lanky blonde let out a low whistle from beneath his cloak. "You must be lusting after something pretty badly."
"Well, yes, aren't we all? There are a number of... special conditions you must follow." the man smirked, "And that was just the down-payment."
"Special conditions, my ass!" the wind and water took an opportunity to lash against his face as Yohji continued his climb, "Why would anyone require that a marble statuette would have to be stolen during a storm?!"
Reaching a hand up, the man caught hold of the windowsill before pulling himself up to peer into his destination. As expected, the room was dark and vacant.
Yohji balanced on the ledge by his elbows, easily inserted a wire through the cracks of the windows, and felt satisfaction as he heard a soft click. The window slid open. Hoisting himself up, the man vaulted into the room.
Immediately setting to work, viridian eyes surveyed the sparsely decorated room. There was a desk in one corner, and he briskly walked over to it, determined to get the job over with.
A flash of lightening illuminated the room.
Catching movement in the corner of his eye, Yohji whirled.
And froze.
In their brief conversation, the man at the bar --like most clients, he didn't give his name-- had described the object that he was to steal as "a marble statuette of an angel, exquisitely carved in detail". The description gave all the hints of being small, demure, and palm-sized.
Well, apparently, the man had stressed the word "statuette" out of bounds of the human language.
Slumping down onto the floor with a dejected sigh, Yohji glared at the very large, very heavy, very life-size statue of the angel.
And he was running out of options.
Option one was his original grab-and-go-back-down-the-tower plan. Obviously, that wasn't possible any longer since he'd either 1) drop the goods, or 2) drop with the goods. Both of which were unacceptable and completely out of the question.
Option two was he could take the statue in hand, haul it down the tower, and saunter out the front door. Oh yes, he could imagine the conversation with castle-owner already. "Hello good sir. I'm in the process of stealing a very precious possession from you for no reason other than commerce If you could kindly move out of the way? And you'll call off your guards and open the gate for me as well? Well, god bless sir, I'll be on my way!"
And obviously, since there were only two exits out of the tower, Balinese: thief, assassin, and generally a man who prided himself in his own cunning, was without a third option.
Staring stonily at the angel --who, of course, stared stonily back-- Yohji felt a vague alarm as a sudden drowsiness descended upon him. All he got out was a confused mumble before he slumped over and fell unconscious.
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Someone had forgotten to close the window.
Despite the fact that his eyes were still closed, Yohji could feel little droplets of rain splattering onto his face. Muttering under his breath, the lanky blonde pulled himself into a sitting position, swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stumbled over to the windowsill. Irately slamming the window shut, Yohji rubbed sleep and rain out of his eyes.
Then stopped.
And glanced at the bed he just got out of.
Recognized the black satin sheets. Recognized the mahogany bedpost. Recognized the slightly tattered plush cat.
It was his room. He was back in his loft above The Canary, as if the mission was a bad dream that never happened.
But if that was so, why was he in his Balinese gear and dripping wet?
Taking a deep breath, Yohji prepared himself, then slowly turned around.
And barely managed to bite back a shriek.
Streaks of fresh rain still glistening against marble, the statue towered over him, its blank ivory eyes appraising.
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*Bribes prospective-reviewers with chocolate-dipped-Yotans!*
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