Disclaimer: Twinkle, twinkle little Weiss. Killing in the dead of night.
All of you look mighty fine. It hurts me that you aren't mine. Twinkle,
twinkle little Weiss. I hope this poem will suffice.
A/N: Sorry for the late update! I'm terrible at fight scenes like the first part of this chapter, but as long as I get the point across, it's okay, right? Also, we have Aya acting more Ran-ish than usual. I probably should have called him Ran from the beginning because I'm finding that I like writing him that way, but what's done is done. ::sigh:: Oh! And many thanks to everyone who was kind enough to review!! You are all awesome! Now on with the fic!
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It generally doesn't take me very long to go from point 'a' to point 'b'; or at least not usually. It's a little hard when you don't know exactly where you're going. And as much as this is true of life, I'm afraid I was actually talking about physical displacement. . . That is to say. . . I think I'm lost.
I studied the maps! I know where Omi was headed! I mean it's not like I'm an idiot- but everything looks so different when you're actually here. I gave up trying to look for footprints awhile ago; the snow is too thick coming down. Now I'm just, well, looking for a house near a rather large lake, I guess. From there, I should be able to find the road. Even with all the snow, it should still be visible. Funny, I don't see any water . . . but there's a nice clearing up ahead.
Oh, well. I guess I'll just keep running and I'll bump into somethi-
"Gaaa!"
I took a step into the snow and my foot shuffled forward, sending me crashing backwards, arms flailing, before I descended beneath the blanket of white. Sitting up almost instantly, covered in numbing snow, I attempted to stand once again, only to slip and fall a second time.
". . .?" I rubbed my head before pushing away some of the snow to find ice underneath. I realized quite quickly, and with a good deal of embarrassment, that I was actually sitting in the middle of a rather large, frozen pond.
Well that was thoroughly pointless, but at least I found what I was looking for . . . and there's the house! I stood slowly and stepped cautiously until I reached the same incline I had come down on into the pond and ran around it past the structure and to the road. Just a little farther. . .
I slipped behind a tree at the first sight of a certain white-haired someone up ahead, though much more camouflaged then me, had had already made himself known. I saw several darts fly in from the left and berserker dodged them lithely. The white-haired man took out his two daggers and tossed them in Omi's direction. I restrained myself from looking, and closed my eyes to calm myself.
It's too dangerous to look for Omi's position. . . . I don't have a weapon, so my best advantage is the element of surprise. But whatever I'm going to do, I'd better do it fast. Be resourceful, Ken . . . resourceful! Well, I think snowballs are a bit childish at this point, and my fists can pack a punch but it's not a sure knockout. Wait, I've got it! Finally a use for this orange sweater. . .
I untied it from my waist quickly and gathered a thin layer of snow onto it. Pressing my hands on top turned snow to water and dampened the cloth so it wouldn't break. A few more darts grazed the air, a little closer to me, now. Omi's alright! Thank goodness. One hit the tree I was attempting to hide behind and I saw berserker only a few feet in front. Thank God he hasn't seen me yet. Now time for some fun. . . Youji style.
I came up behind him and twisted the sweater around his neck. I looked up to see Omi, who yelled my name in surprise, but I could only half-hear through the pounding in my ears as Berserker fought my grip. The fact that I was strangling him seemed to have no effect at all. What the heck IS this guy? He tired to shake me off, but I held fast, even as I felt his teeth sink into my arm.
I think I'm going to need shots now. I shivered unconsciously. The thought of rabies only briefly passed through my mind as I noticed one bandaged arm reach to his back . . . I had missed one very important detail.
My vision blurred as I felt the enemy's third dagger pierce my stomach.
"A t-third one. . . .'s k-kinda n-nifty," I bit my tongue, fighting the instinct to stagger back and draw the metal from my stomach.
Cringing, I pulled harder on the two ends of the sweater to drown the pain. If I let just one hand go, it would all be over, so the dagger remained embedded in me. I almost didn't notice anymore. My hands were numb with cold, and all I could hold onto now were the ends of that infernal sweater and my consciousness . . . but just barely.
The only thing I can remember after that before I passed-out was the red snow by a dagger to my side, and Omi leaning over me, talking about something . . . frantically. I could see the world in color; red, before both my mind and body became numb.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"So this is their hideout?" Crawford pushed his glasses up a tad, "Pitiful, really." He looked over at the small psychic he had come with, who chose not to say anything to that, or even turn around, for that matter.
Without warning, Nagi thrust one open hand in front of him, and a gust of wind gathered around his fingers, circling for one second around restless hair. Suddenly coming together, all at once, as if summoned forward by the hand, a great gust knocked down the door to the flower shop in front of it.
"Good work," the taller man stepped over the door and into the shop, nearly knocking over a pot of geraniums to his right, and the ringing of a phone could be heard from the next room. Both members of Schwarz ignored it.
"I don't think they're here," Nagi said outright. Crawford turned to him with a superior air.
"According to Siberian, Abyssinian and Balinese are watching this shop. I trust that he would know where his own comrades are. It is foolish not to," he continued into the back of the shop as the ringing stopped. Nagi sighed.
"Their energy isn't here," the smallest member of Schwarz proceeded to walk over the door of the hanaya, leaving Crawford to search through as many doors as he wished. But as Nagi had told him, there was nothing to be found except a calico cat that wandered the halls. Crawford restrained himself from killing it out of mere frustration as he joined Nagi outside the building. He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"It seems we have underestimated our opponent's ability to control his thoughts," he hissed.
"Don't get angry at me," Nagi crossed his arms, "I never wanted to do this, anyway."
Crawford chose to ignore that comment, as they both waited to hear word from Schuldig. Ever the impatient one, Nagi spoke up.
"What's Schuldig good for anyway if he can't tell false thoughts from genuine ones? I say we forget this stupid crusade of his." There were a few seconds silence.
"Weiss is our enemy. If there is a force that drives him to get rid of Bombay, by all means, I say let him do it. We will destroy them, and Schuldig's purpose will not get in the way of that. Siberian will pay for his deception."
Nagi sighed once again, "Whatever you say."
~~~meanwhile~~~~
"Are you ready Youji?" Aya stayed in his position until he had the consent of his partner.
"Don't hold back. . ." the blond edged forward ever so slightly and smirked, "I like to play hard."
"I'm not sure if you could handle it," Aya smirked back. If Youji wanted to raise the bar, he certainly wouldn't object.
"Try me," Youji readied himself for the oncoming thrust. Aya sent himself forward into the swing, and Youji reciprocated. "Too slow!" he cried out, forcing the pace to quicken, beginning to sweat slightly.
"Yes!" Youji yelled; holding up his paddle in victory as the ping pong ball bounced to the floor off of Aya's side of the net. The red-haired man narrowed his eyes in annoyance as the man opposite him began to do an interesting little victory dance, "Ha! For all that bragging, you weren't even a challenge." (1)
Aya sighed, putting down the paddle in defeat, and looked up to see Youji grinning and talking to the girls in the recreation hall who had flocked around him in admiration. They all had gotten coffee at the coffee stand and each of them insisted on buying Youji a cup. Aya couldn't help but feel a little ignored, but he did end up smiling as he caught his lover's eyes they turned around to look at him, winking playfully.
He had forgotten how nice it was to spend together; just the two of them. Of course, they both had their share of girls who would flock whenever they were around, and the only reason he let them stay was Youji seemed to enjoy the attention. He, however, could only just bear it. It seemed they were disbanding, now. Good.
"Hey Aya," Youji walked over, "I'm hungry. When do you think we're going to eat lunch?"
"Hn" Aya answered, seemingly unmoved by his statement. He was too busy thinking about the state they left Ken and Omi in . . . it wasn't exactly ideal. Youji did have plans to get them together, despite how spontaneous their actions had been so far. There was a fairly well known outdoor ice rink very close to the resort, and he knew Youji planned to slip two pre- paid tickets to the nearly-sold-out laser-light ice ball into Ken's pockets (but that was too dangerous). He still needed a good idea of how to make sure that they get them.
In any case, Youji seemed determined to make them have a good time.
However, the tickets would mean nothing if Omi refused to go with him. It didn't make sense to Youji why that would be the case, because he knew as well as anyone less dense than Ken, (. . . which is most everyone), how crazy their genki young teammate was about him. And then, of course, there was always the possibility that Ken would be too afraid to ask Omi at all, in which case one of them would have to make himself known and slap some sense into him. As things stood, they didn't feel any need to . . . yet. Aya rummaged through the bag he had packed.
"Here," Aya tossed an apple in Youji's direction as he walked over. Youji caught it and looked back at Aya in surprise, "You said you were hungry."
"Yeah. . ." Youji looked at the apple thoughtfully, twisting it around, and looking at the unused coffee stirrers on the ping pong table that the girls from before had left there upon accident. He then suddenly grinned.
Aya raised an eyebrow. It's generally a good thing when Youji smiles, but a terrifying thing when he grins.
"Hey, Aya? Have you ever made . . . apple people?" Aya raised both eyebrows, widening his eyes slightly at the question upon realizing that Youji was actually serious. "Here, I'll show you. . ." Youji fumbled looking for a pocket knife in his jeans, but unsuccessfully, "Do you have a pocket knife?"
Aya reluctantly handed his over, and watched as the blond cut two eyes and a mouth out of the front of the apple, eating the pieces as he went. He smiled and stuck a coffee stirrer on its sides as arms, holding out the creation triumphantly in Aya's glaring face. He would have gotten angry but the apple looked so . . . happy.
"Why?" Aya asked simply. The whole thing was utterly and annoyingly ridiculous. On the other hand, Youji seemed very pleased with himself.
"Well, someone has to deliver these, and it's not going to be me," the blond held out the ice-skating ball tickets in the hand that the apple person wasn't sitting on. Aya merely raised an eyebrow. How did he get himself into these things?
~~~~~~~
Omi gazed down at the unconscious body on the bed, breathing heavily, and replaced the lukewarm damp cloth on the wound with a hot one he brought from the bathroom, and the unconscious body twitched backwards in a cringe. No matter how lightly the cloth was laid, it had to be painful. Ken was always so reckless. What if he hadn't been there to throw that dart at berserker? Then what, Ken?! Then what?! Omi clenched his fists in anger.
He wasn't sure if he was glad or not that the dart hadn't been poisoned. Omi had been sure that all of them had quick-reaction sedatives to be in accordance to Persia's mission order that they should kill no one. However, the fact that Schwarz was behind this could change everything. He would have to contact Manx at once. And yet, he didn't want to . . .
He looked down at Ken's motionless face, still pale from the cold, and laid a hand across his cheek to smooth the pained expression. When the corners of the former goalie's mouth twitched upward, Omi stole his hand away quickly and guiltily, embarrassed at the feeling that possessed him to do something like that. He had no right.
Ken must have . . . thought it was someone else; in his dream maybe. He knew that Ken didn't want to be here. Ken made that very clear to Youji the night before they left. Omi turned away. It was all because of him. He couldn't understand it, Ken had always been so kind to him, but acted strange sometimes. That is, not exactly 'strange'. For Ken, normal is underrated. Now that he thought of it, Ken had made a point to avoid him these past few weeks in the shop, and now this. The sting Omi felt in his chest refused to leave. He realized. . . I mean, for a long time. . . Nothing hurts quite like unrequited love.
Omi jumped as he saw the brown-headed man stir on the bed, and quickly gathered up a voice to say something.
"Ken? Ken, are you awake?!" the blond looked concerned as he saw Ken try to move, eyes still shut, and then wince.
"No, just french fries don't forget. . ." Ken broke off awkwardly, swallowing, ". . . the mayonnaise." Ken paused, as if stating to continue, but then stopped and resumed breathing heavily. Omi sighed. French fries with mayonnaise. Ken definitely was still sleeping, but come to think of it, Omi was getting a little hungry.
Ken stirred again, tried to roll over onto his wounded side and awoke with a yell and a jolt upward into a sitting position.
"Ken, don't move-" But it was too late, Ken already had, and howled in even more pain than before as he collapsed back down to where he had been, sprawled out on the bed, and sweating.
"Ken-kun, you shouldn't do that, your wound is going to open up again!" Omi checked worriedly beneath the towel on the bandage and made sure the blood wasn't soaking through, completely unaware that every thought going through Ken's head was not on the status of his wound, but rather about how good Omi looked, and how close he was. . . with his hands on Ken's chest. . . and that angry expression left his cheeks flushed red. . .
"Thank you. I'm fine," Ken flashed a smile, and attempted to come into a sitting position once again, slowly this time. Omi did not object. . .
. . . until Ken tried to leave the bed altogether.
"Owwowwwow!" Ken hissed as Omi pushed him back onto the bed, gently, but enough so that it was clear he didn't want Ken getting up again, "What'd you do that for?! It's not like I'm an invalid! I can get up!" Ken yelled in annoyance.
"Well, it doesn't look like that to me, you're staying in bed, and that's final!" Omi yelled right back, tilting downward as he leaned one hand against the bedpost, the other fist clenched, "I didn't bring you here and fix that wound of yours so that you could get up and get hurt again! You're so reckless to do something like that in the first place! I mean, you didn't even have a weapon, you could have been killed . . . " Omi trailed off and stopped being angry as he froze, realizing his position.
He might have leaned just a little too close. Well, at least it seemed that way, because it really wasn't Omi's words that Ken was smirking at, or mesmerized by. That's what Omi had just begun to notice. There was an awkward silence.
"K-ken-kun?" Omi breathed. He had ended his speech leaning down about five inches away from a very tempting target, who was completely taken. A deep blush crossed Omi's cheeks as well and he averted his eyes, "err, well . . . that is, sorry I . . . was just worried you were. . ."
There was silence, and Omi felt the pounding of blood rushing through his ears, and it was ALMOST enough to drown out all noise. . . but alas, it wasn't. Just as he leaned forward, so much that Omi could feel Ken's breath on his lips, there was a loud rapping on the door.
Omi jumped nearly a foot in the air, and Ken flung his head backward in surprise, hitting the bedpost, resulting in a face somewhat like this: @_@
"I-I'll get it," Omi stuttered as he backed away from the bed and turned around to the door. He opened it cautiously, and looked both ways into an empty hallway. Then he looked down, and there it was. . . arms outspread and smiling up at him. . . an apple on top of two pieces of paper.
Omi stared at the fruit for a few seconds, dot-eyed and confused. Who. . . or better yet, WHY was there a frighteningly happy apple at their door? His first thought was 'Schwarz' . . . and his second thought was upon looking at the apple, 'there's no way in hell', but the pieces of paper were really what drew most of his interest.
Ken, who had recovered quickly from his head injury, soon began to wonder what was taking Omi so long, and why he didn't hear anything, "What is it?" he said rather loudly, but Omi had already shut the door and was walking in. He placed the apple person on the table and took the two tickets into his hand.
"These seem to be tickets to an ice-skating ball. Do you think it's a trap. . .? KEN?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Ken looked up innocently, his mouth full of apple, "Whout?"
"Do you even realize this could have been sent by our ENEMY?!" Omi fumed, "This is Schwarz we're talking about. They could have poisoned that. Put it down!"
"Tastes fine to me," Ken said, taking another bite. Omi tensed. He felt like he was taking care of a five-year-old who insisted on chewing on crayons.
"Fine, then. It doesn't even matter now that you've started," he sighed, "Be lucky I don't think that Schwarz would even bother poisoning it because they don't take us to be IDIOTS!" Omi glared accusingly at the currently bed-ridden brunette who muttered a 'sorry' and continued eating, looking a little hurt.
Omi looked at Ken, and immediately regretted his words. He had been angry because he was afraid that Ken's carelessness would end up killing him, but to call Ken an idiot was beyond the bounds of forgivable. He felt ten times smaller. Gods he loved him. . . why did he have to be such a jerk sometimes? That's maybe what love does. . . Omi was frightened by the close call. One thing he failed to mention or acknowledge were the tears of worry that had come over his first thought of losing Ken. He was still shaken and confused.
"I'm really sorry, Ken. . . I had no right to say that. It's just that I worry about you," He stopped at the shaking of the brown head in front of him.
"No, it's alright," Ken said, "I wasn't going to tell you, but if it makes you feel better, I think I have a pretty good idea who sent this," He shook the half-eaten apple in his hand, "Youji's been playing some tricks on me lately. I don't know who he got to do this, but it's definitely his handiwork. . . I'd bet my favorite soccer ball on it," he took another bite.
Omi raised his eyebrows, "Any ideas why Youji would send us these," He held up the two tickets. Ken feigned confusion.
"No clue," he said, almost believably. Of course, he knew why. . . probably in the hopes of somewhere between his bad skills on ice and hot chocolate that something would. . . happen.
"Then there is still a chance that it is a trap," Omi deduced, "and if there is any possibility of investigation at this event, you know we have to go, which means that you'd better come prepared this time, and you also have to recover before tomorrow night."
Ken nodded as he finished the apple. He had no objections to this. Actually, if his wound closed completely he would be ready to maybe take some of Youji's advice. He saw something in Omi's eyes when they had gotten close, and he wasn't so sure that his chances were completely dashed anymore. Maybe his close call with death had made him realize something beyond himself. He was willing to do anything for Omi, and Omi had taken care of him. Omi was worried about him. Of course, these are things that friends would do for each other, but if he didn't start taking some action, or even TRY, like Youji had been saying before, then nothing was ever going to happen. He didn't want to jeopardize their friendship, true, but this had been going on far too long. He couldn't take it anymore.
This apple was a reminder. Ken fingered the apple core and made a promise to himself right then. When it all came down to it, there was just a basic decision to be made, and it was as simple as the toss of a coin, so he promised himself that if he could throw the apple core into the garbage can all the way across the room, then he would try to win Omi over at the ice rink. If he didn't make it, things would stay as they were and he'd wait in agony for the rest of his life, or however long he could keep the secret.
He threw the apple into the air and it landed in the can. He turned to smile at Omi, "Then I guess. . . it's a date." Omi blushed.
"You mean, it's the mission," the blond replied, "You'd better get some rest before then."
"Yeah, the mission," Ken sank down into the pillow, wincing slightly at the movement. Well, he'd made the shot, there's no turning back now. His mission he just assigned himself was very different from the one Persia had given them, and only slightly less dangerous than taking on berserker with nothing more than an orange sweater.
~~~~~~~
(1) Well, what did you THINK they were doing? ^_~
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a/n: Please forgive the apple people. ^^;; You should understand the chaotic nature of this story by now. Again I apologize for this chapter, but the next one should be better. Ken and Omi go ice skating ^^ Now I don't have to think up anything silly like apple people to make things more interesting.
Okay, I've run out of things to say, and if you leave a review it would make my day! (Hey, that rhymes!!) ^^
A/N: Sorry for the late update! I'm terrible at fight scenes like the first part of this chapter, but as long as I get the point across, it's okay, right? Also, we have Aya acting more Ran-ish than usual. I probably should have called him Ran from the beginning because I'm finding that I like writing him that way, but what's done is done. ::sigh:: Oh! And many thanks to everyone who was kind enough to review!! You are all awesome! Now on with the fic!
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It generally doesn't take me very long to go from point 'a' to point 'b'; or at least not usually. It's a little hard when you don't know exactly where you're going. And as much as this is true of life, I'm afraid I was actually talking about physical displacement. . . That is to say. . . I think I'm lost.
I studied the maps! I know where Omi was headed! I mean it's not like I'm an idiot- but everything looks so different when you're actually here. I gave up trying to look for footprints awhile ago; the snow is too thick coming down. Now I'm just, well, looking for a house near a rather large lake, I guess. From there, I should be able to find the road. Even with all the snow, it should still be visible. Funny, I don't see any water . . . but there's a nice clearing up ahead.
Oh, well. I guess I'll just keep running and I'll bump into somethi-
"Gaaa!"
I took a step into the snow and my foot shuffled forward, sending me crashing backwards, arms flailing, before I descended beneath the blanket of white. Sitting up almost instantly, covered in numbing snow, I attempted to stand once again, only to slip and fall a second time.
". . .?" I rubbed my head before pushing away some of the snow to find ice underneath. I realized quite quickly, and with a good deal of embarrassment, that I was actually sitting in the middle of a rather large, frozen pond.
Well that was thoroughly pointless, but at least I found what I was looking for . . . and there's the house! I stood slowly and stepped cautiously until I reached the same incline I had come down on into the pond and ran around it past the structure and to the road. Just a little farther. . .
I slipped behind a tree at the first sight of a certain white-haired someone up ahead, though much more camouflaged then me, had had already made himself known. I saw several darts fly in from the left and berserker dodged them lithely. The white-haired man took out his two daggers and tossed them in Omi's direction. I restrained myself from looking, and closed my eyes to calm myself.
It's too dangerous to look for Omi's position. . . . I don't have a weapon, so my best advantage is the element of surprise. But whatever I'm going to do, I'd better do it fast. Be resourceful, Ken . . . resourceful! Well, I think snowballs are a bit childish at this point, and my fists can pack a punch but it's not a sure knockout. Wait, I've got it! Finally a use for this orange sweater. . .
I untied it from my waist quickly and gathered a thin layer of snow onto it. Pressing my hands on top turned snow to water and dampened the cloth so it wouldn't break. A few more darts grazed the air, a little closer to me, now. Omi's alright! Thank goodness. One hit the tree I was attempting to hide behind and I saw berserker only a few feet in front. Thank God he hasn't seen me yet. Now time for some fun. . . Youji style.
I came up behind him and twisted the sweater around his neck. I looked up to see Omi, who yelled my name in surprise, but I could only half-hear through the pounding in my ears as Berserker fought my grip. The fact that I was strangling him seemed to have no effect at all. What the heck IS this guy? He tired to shake me off, but I held fast, even as I felt his teeth sink into my arm.
I think I'm going to need shots now. I shivered unconsciously. The thought of rabies only briefly passed through my mind as I noticed one bandaged arm reach to his back . . . I had missed one very important detail.
My vision blurred as I felt the enemy's third dagger pierce my stomach.
"A t-third one. . . .'s k-kinda n-nifty," I bit my tongue, fighting the instinct to stagger back and draw the metal from my stomach.
Cringing, I pulled harder on the two ends of the sweater to drown the pain. If I let just one hand go, it would all be over, so the dagger remained embedded in me. I almost didn't notice anymore. My hands were numb with cold, and all I could hold onto now were the ends of that infernal sweater and my consciousness . . . but just barely.
The only thing I can remember after that before I passed-out was the red snow by a dagger to my side, and Omi leaning over me, talking about something . . . frantically. I could see the world in color; red, before both my mind and body became numb.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"So this is their hideout?" Crawford pushed his glasses up a tad, "Pitiful, really." He looked over at the small psychic he had come with, who chose not to say anything to that, or even turn around, for that matter.
Without warning, Nagi thrust one open hand in front of him, and a gust of wind gathered around his fingers, circling for one second around restless hair. Suddenly coming together, all at once, as if summoned forward by the hand, a great gust knocked down the door to the flower shop in front of it.
"Good work," the taller man stepped over the door and into the shop, nearly knocking over a pot of geraniums to his right, and the ringing of a phone could be heard from the next room. Both members of Schwarz ignored it.
"I don't think they're here," Nagi said outright. Crawford turned to him with a superior air.
"According to Siberian, Abyssinian and Balinese are watching this shop. I trust that he would know where his own comrades are. It is foolish not to," he continued into the back of the shop as the ringing stopped. Nagi sighed.
"Their energy isn't here," the smallest member of Schwarz proceeded to walk over the door of the hanaya, leaving Crawford to search through as many doors as he wished. But as Nagi had told him, there was nothing to be found except a calico cat that wandered the halls. Crawford restrained himself from killing it out of mere frustration as he joined Nagi outside the building. He narrowed his eyes slightly.
"It seems we have underestimated our opponent's ability to control his thoughts," he hissed.
"Don't get angry at me," Nagi crossed his arms, "I never wanted to do this, anyway."
Crawford chose to ignore that comment, as they both waited to hear word from Schuldig. Ever the impatient one, Nagi spoke up.
"What's Schuldig good for anyway if he can't tell false thoughts from genuine ones? I say we forget this stupid crusade of his." There were a few seconds silence.
"Weiss is our enemy. If there is a force that drives him to get rid of Bombay, by all means, I say let him do it. We will destroy them, and Schuldig's purpose will not get in the way of that. Siberian will pay for his deception."
Nagi sighed once again, "Whatever you say."
~~~meanwhile~~~~
"Are you ready Youji?" Aya stayed in his position until he had the consent of his partner.
"Don't hold back. . ." the blond edged forward ever so slightly and smirked, "I like to play hard."
"I'm not sure if you could handle it," Aya smirked back. If Youji wanted to raise the bar, he certainly wouldn't object.
"Try me," Youji readied himself for the oncoming thrust. Aya sent himself forward into the swing, and Youji reciprocated. "Too slow!" he cried out, forcing the pace to quicken, beginning to sweat slightly.
"Yes!" Youji yelled; holding up his paddle in victory as the ping pong ball bounced to the floor off of Aya's side of the net. The red-haired man narrowed his eyes in annoyance as the man opposite him began to do an interesting little victory dance, "Ha! For all that bragging, you weren't even a challenge." (1)
Aya sighed, putting down the paddle in defeat, and looked up to see Youji grinning and talking to the girls in the recreation hall who had flocked around him in admiration. They all had gotten coffee at the coffee stand and each of them insisted on buying Youji a cup. Aya couldn't help but feel a little ignored, but he did end up smiling as he caught his lover's eyes they turned around to look at him, winking playfully.
He had forgotten how nice it was to spend together; just the two of them. Of course, they both had their share of girls who would flock whenever they were around, and the only reason he let them stay was Youji seemed to enjoy the attention. He, however, could only just bear it. It seemed they were disbanding, now. Good.
"Hey Aya," Youji walked over, "I'm hungry. When do you think we're going to eat lunch?"
"Hn" Aya answered, seemingly unmoved by his statement. He was too busy thinking about the state they left Ken and Omi in . . . it wasn't exactly ideal. Youji did have plans to get them together, despite how spontaneous their actions had been so far. There was a fairly well known outdoor ice rink very close to the resort, and he knew Youji planned to slip two pre- paid tickets to the nearly-sold-out laser-light ice ball into Ken's pockets (but that was too dangerous). He still needed a good idea of how to make sure that they get them.
In any case, Youji seemed determined to make them have a good time.
However, the tickets would mean nothing if Omi refused to go with him. It didn't make sense to Youji why that would be the case, because he knew as well as anyone less dense than Ken, (. . . which is most everyone), how crazy their genki young teammate was about him. And then, of course, there was always the possibility that Ken would be too afraid to ask Omi at all, in which case one of them would have to make himself known and slap some sense into him. As things stood, they didn't feel any need to . . . yet. Aya rummaged through the bag he had packed.
"Here," Aya tossed an apple in Youji's direction as he walked over. Youji caught it and looked back at Aya in surprise, "You said you were hungry."
"Yeah. . ." Youji looked at the apple thoughtfully, twisting it around, and looking at the unused coffee stirrers on the ping pong table that the girls from before had left there upon accident. He then suddenly grinned.
Aya raised an eyebrow. It's generally a good thing when Youji smiles, but a terrifying thing when he grins.
"Hey, Aya? Have you ever made . . . apple people?" Aya raised both eyebrows, widening his eyes slightly at the question upon realizing that Youji was actually serious. "Here, I'll show you. . ." Youji fumbled looking for a pocket knife in his jeans, but unsuccessfully, "Do you have a pocket knife?"
Aya reluctantly handed his over, and watched as the blond cut two eyes and a mouth out of the front of the apple, eating the pieces as he went. He smiled and stuck a coffee stirrer on its sides as arms, holding out the creation triumphantly in Aya's glaring face. He would have gotten angry but the apple looked so . . . happy.
"Why?" Aya asked simply. The whole thing was utterly and annoyingly ridiculous. On the other hand, Youji seemed very pleased with himself.
"Well, someone has to deliver these, and it's not going to be me," the blond held out the ice-skating ball tickets in the hand that the apple person wasn't sitting on. Aya merely raised an eyebrow. How did he get himself into these things?
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Omi gazed down at the unconscious body on the bed, breathing heavily, and replaced the lukewarm damp cloth on the wound with a hot one he brought from the bathroom, and the unconscious body twitched backwards in a cringe. No matter how lightly the cloth was laid, it had to be painful. Ken was always so reckless. What if he hadn't been there to throw that dart at berserker? Then what, Ken?! Then what?! Omi clenched his fists in anger.
He wasn't sure if he was glad or not that the dart hadn't been poisoned. Omi had been sure that all of them had quick-reaction sedatives to be in accordance to Persia's mission order that they should kill no one. However, the fact that Schwarz was behind this could change everything. He would have to contact Manx at once. And yet, he didn't want to . . .
He looked down at Ken's motionless face, still pale from the cold, and laid a hand across his cheek to smooth the pained expression. When the corners of the former goalie's mouth twitched upward, Omi stole his hand away quickly and guiltily, embarrassed at the feeling that possessed him to do something like that. He had no right.
Ken must have . . . thought it was someone else; in his dream maybe. He knew that Ken didn't want to be here. Ken made that very clear to Youji the night before they left. Omi turned away. It was all because of him. He couldn't understand it, Ken had always been so kind to him, but acted strange sometimes. That is, not exactly 'strange'. For Ken, normal is underrated. Now that he thought of it, Ken had made a point to avoid him these past few weeks in the shop, and now this. The sting Omi felt in his chest refused to leave. He realized. . . I mean, for a long time. . . Nothing hurts quite like unrequited love.
Omi jumped as he saw the brown-headed man stir on the bed, and quickly gathered up a voice to say something.
"Ken? Ken, are you awake?!" the blond looked concerned as he saw Ken try to move, eyes still shut, and then wince.
"No, just french fries don't forget. . ." Ken broke off awkwardly, swallowing, ". . . the mayonnaise." Ken paused, as if stating to continue, but then stopped and resumed breathing heavily. Omi sighed. French fries with mayonnaise. Ken definitely was still sleeping, but come to think of it, Omi was getting a little hungry.
Ken stirred again, tried to roll over onto his wounded side and awoke with a yell and a jolt upward into a sitting position.
"Ken, don't move-" But it was too late, Ken already had, and howled in even more pain than before as he collapsed back down to where he had been, sprawled out on the bed, and sweating.
"Ken-kun, you shouldn't do that, your wound is going to open up again!" Omi checked worriedly beneath the towel on the bandage and made sure the blood wasn't soaking through, completely unaware that every thought going through Ken's head was not on the status of his wound, but rather about how good Omi looked, and how close he was. . . with his hands on Ken's chest. . . and that angry expression left his cheeks flushed red. . .
"Thank you. I'm fine," Ken flashed a smile, and attempted to come into a sitting position once again, slowly this time. Omi did not object. . .
. . . until Ken tried to leave the bed altogether.
"Owwowwwow!" Ken hissed as Omi pushed him back onto the bed, gently, but enough so that it was clear he didn't want Ken getting up again, "What'd you do that for?! It's not like I'm an invalid! I can get up!" Ken yelled in annoyance.
"Well, it doesn't look like that to me, you're staying in bed, and that's final!" Omi yelled right back, tilting downward as he leaned one hand against the bedpost, the other fist clenched, "I didn't bring you here and fix that wound of yours so that you could get up and get hurt again! You're so reckless to do something like that in the first place! I mean, you didn't even have a weapon, you could have been killed . . . " Omi trailed off and stopped being angry as he froze, realizing his position.
He might have leaned just a little too close. Well, at least it seemed that way, because it really wasn't Omi's words that Ken was smirking at, or mesmerized by. That's what Omi had just begun to notice. There was an awkward silence.
"K-ken-kun?" Omi breathed. He had ended his speech leaning down about five inches away from a very tempting target, who was completely taken. A deep blush crossed Omi's cheeks as well and he averted his eyes, "err, well . . . that is, sorry I . . . was just worried you were. . ."
There was silence, and Omi felt the pounding of blood rushing through his ears, and it was ALMOST enough to drown out all noise. . . but alas, it wasn't. Just as he leaned forward, so much that Omi could feel Ken's breath on his lips, there was a loud rapping on the door.
Omi jumped nearly a foot in the air, and Ken flung his head backward in surprise, hitting the bedpost, resulting in a face somewhat like this: @_@
"I-I'll get it," Omi stuttered as he backed away from the bed and turned around to the door. He opened it cautiously, and looked both ways into an empty hallway. Then he looked down, and there it was. . . arms outspread and smiling up at him. . . an apple on top of two pieces of paper.
Omi stared at the fruit for a few seconds, dot-eyed and confused. Who. . . or better yet, WHY was there a frighteningly happy apple at their door? His first thought was 'Schwarz' . . . and his second thought was upon looking at the apple, 'there's no way in hell', but the pieces of paper were really what drew most of his interest.
Ken, who had recovered quickly from his head injury, soon began to wonder what was taking Omi so long, and why he didn't hear anything, "What is it?" he said rather loudly, but Omi had already shut the door and was walking in. He placed the apple person on the table and took the two tickets into his hand.
"These seem to be tickets to an ice-skating ball. Do you think it's a trap. . .? KEN?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Ken looked up innocently, his mouth full of apple, "Whout?"
"Do you even realize this could have been sent by our ENEMY?!" Omi fumed, "This is Schwarz we're talking about. They could have poisoned that. Put it down!"
"Tastes fine to me," Ken said, taking another bite. Omi tensed. He felt like he was taking care of a five-year-old who insisted on chewing on crayons.
"Fine, then. It doesn't even matter now that you've started," he sighed, "Be lucky I don't think that Schwarz would even bother poisoning it because they don't take us to be IDIOTS!" Omi glared accusingly at the currently bed-ridden brunette who muttered a 'sorry' and continued eating, looking a little hurt.
Omi looked at Ken, and immediately regretted his words. He had been angry because he was afraid that Ken's carelessness would end up killing him, but to call Ken an idiot was beyond the bounds of forgivable. He felt ten times smaller. Gods he loved him. . . why did he have to be such a jerk sometimes? That's maybe what love does. . . Omi was frightened by the close call. One thing he failed to mention or acknowledge were the tears of worry that had come over his first thought of losing Ken. He was still shaken and confused.
"I'm really sorry, Ken. . . I had no right to say that. It's just that I worry about you," He stopped at the shaking of the brown head in front of him.
"No, it's alright," Ken said, "I wasn't going to tell you, but if it makes you feel better, I think I have a pretty good idea who sent this," He shook the half-eaten apple in his hand, "Youji's been playing some tricks on me lately. I don't know who he got to do this, but it's definitely his handiwork. . . I'd bet my favorite soccer ball on it," he took another bite.
Omi raised his eyebrows, "Any ideas why Youji would send us these," He held up the two tickets. Ken feigned confusion.
"No clue," he said, almost believably. Of course, he knew why. . . probably in the hopes of somewhere between his bad skills on ice and hot chocolate that something would. . . happen.
"Then there is still a chance that it is a trap," Omi deduced, "and if there is any possibility of investigation at this event, you know we have to go, which means that you'd better come prepared this time, and you also have to recover before tomorrow night."
Ken nodded as he finished the apple. He had no objections to this. Actually, if his wound closed completely he would be ready to maybe take some of Youji's advice. He saw something in Omi's eyes when they had gotten close, and he wasn't so sure that his chances were completely dashed anymore. Maybe his close call with death had made him realize something beyond himself. He was willing to do anything for Omi, and Omi had taken care of him. Omi was worried about him. Of course, these are things that friends would do for each other, but if he didn't start taking some action, or even TRY, like Youji had been saying before, then nothing was ever going to happen. He didn't want to jeopardize their friendship, true, but this had been going on far too long. He couldn't take it anymore.
This apple was a reminder. Ken fingered the apple core and made a promise to himself right then. When it all came down to it, there was just a basic decision to be made, and it was as simple as the toss of a coin, so he promised himself that if he could throw the apple core into the garbage can all the way across the room, then he would try to win Omi over at the ice rink. If he didn't make it, things would stay as they were and he'd wait in agony for the rest of his life, or however long he could keep the secret.
He threw the apple into the air and it landed in the can. He turned to smile at Omi, "Then I guess. . . it's a date." Omi blushed.
"You mean, it's the mission," the blond replied, "You'd better get some rest before then."
"Yeah, the mission," Ken sank down into the pillow, wincing slightly at the movement. Well, he'd made the shot, there's no turning back now. His mission he just assigned himself was very different from the one Persia had given them, and only slightly less dangerous than taking on berserker with nothing more than an orange sweater.
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(1) Well, what did you THINK they were doing? ^_~
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a/n: Please forgive the apple people. ^^;; You should understand the chaotic nature of this story by now. Again I apologize for this chapter, but the next one should be better. Ken and Omi go ice skating ^^ Now I don't have to think up anything silly like apple people to make things more interesting.
Okay, I've run out of things to say, and if you leave a review it would make my day! (Hey, that rhymes!!) ^^