Disclaimer: Aya, Yohji, and company not mine in any way, shape, manner, or form. I wish they were, because then I'd get Omi-kun to clean my apartment.

This was written in response to me saying "Tiiiiiiiff, I'm bored," to my roommate PlotbunnyTiff and her promptly generating me a random ficlet challenge. The challenge: Write a story in which a character punches something in anger and is not pleased with the results, and which involves oil near the end of the story.

This is also my first ever posted fanfic. Wee.

Oil Slick

"FUCK!" screamed Yohji, and with that mighty shriek of frustration, he punched the dashboard of his car.

He was quite surprised when it caved in, and was more surprised when the nerves in his hand finally processed what had occurred and sent waves of pain up his arm. This led to more screaming of "FUCK!" with "FuckitfuckitfuckitOW!" and "Sonuvawhore!" mixed in and some very comical handshaking, which led, of course, to more cries of pain.

Yohji finally calmed down enough to check over his hand and, sure enough, he'd managed to break something. He could feel a bone crepitating in there somewhere, and his hand certainly hurt enough for it to be broken. He snarled, hissed, and swore. He knew only one thing for sure.

This was all Aya's fault.

Aya was not supposed to lead someone on like that and then get all pissy when they responded in a perfectly natural manner to what looked like an open invitation. He was not supposed to throw a very public fit about said response, and he was most certainly not supposed to order someone to get the hell out of their common home. The other members of Weiss were not supposed to take Aya's side and let him turn a misunderstanding on Yohji's part into sexual harassment. And Yohji was not supposed to abruptly find himself outside next to his car, blinking and wondering how he'd gotten there.

Yohji'd been just angry enough to hop in the car and leave. After an hour or two of aimless driving, he'd stopped at a bar and tried to distract himself by picking up a chick or two. It hadn't worked; the Kudoh charm could only compensate for so much distraction on his part, and a certain grumpy sexually-repressed redhead kept invading his thoughts. At this point, he didn't think he'd have managed to get it up even if he had managed to take a couple of girls back to a hotel room. Aya and that goddamn oil kept invading his brain.

Damn that evil, evil oil.

He wasn't even sure what kind of oil it was, but Aya had been covered from head to toe in it. In retrospect, it was probably motor oil; Aya'd said something about fixing the van. But Aya, standing there, bare-chested, with oil making his slim frame gleam in the hall light, pants plastered to him, sodden shirt hanging from his fingertips, eartails slicked into points, blatant invitation in his purple eyes, leaning against Yohji's doorframe like hot slippery kinky sex on legs…

It had been too much temptation for one man to take. He'd kissed Aya full on the lips, and pulled that oil-covered sexiness into his arms.

He still swore that Aya had responded, melting into his arms for half a moment, yielding to his kiss. Then he'd pushed Yohji away, face flushed, and had thrown a royal hissy fit. He'd screamed a dozen things at Yohji, of which "pervert" had probably been the kindest. He'd thrown his shirt at Yohji, vanished for half a second, then reappeared with his katana and marched Yohji downstairs at swordpoint. Yohji hadn't even gotten a chance to explain himself to Ken and Omi-kun; they'd assumed if Aya was so pissed he probably had a good reason. They'd shooed him out, Ken with a suspicious glower, Omi with an apologetic "Maybe you should leave until things calm down."

And thus he'd found himself here, cold, lonely, and realizing that he'd just hurt his precious car and his good wanking hand. All because of Aya and that goddamn oil. Fuck, he could still smell that oil on his hand as he licked the deep scrapes in his knuckles. Aya was a confused cocktease, and Yohji had to pay for it.

Yohji glared at his hand, which was turning all sorts of lovely kinds of purple and black, including one shade that almost matched Aya's eyes. He'd better hie himself hither to a hospital and get it looked at. Fuck, he wasn't going to be able to work until it healed either; he needed full use of his right hand to use the Sexy Wire of Death(tm). His teeth could only help so much. And Manx would take it out of his hide for stupidly incapacitating himself when he was needed.

Yohji looked over at the dash again, and almost cried. His beautiful precious baby, the chick magnet to end all chick magnets, was currently looking very sad. He wasn't sure if it was drivable. If he'd managed to fuck up the electrical system, he didn't want to chance it.

Yohji sighed a sigh that was very nearly a sob, cradled his throbbing hand in his lap, and thumped his head against the steering wheel.

And then someone knocked on his windshield.

Yohji looked up into a pair of very familiar purple eyes which still looked dead pissy but held vague hints of concern and (gasp!) remorse. Eyes that still made Yohji feel all fluttery inside, despite the fact that he was supposed to be very, very angry at their owner.

"C'mon Kudoh, let's get you looked at. I didn't just drive around half the night looking for you so you could first injure your idiot self and then make it worse by not seeking medical attention." Joy, Aya was as friendly and sweet as ever. But he'd driven around half the night looking for him? That was kind of unAyalike, to say the least. Yohji would be getting screamed at if there was a mission right now, so it wasn't that that had brought him all the way out here.

Yohji sighed again, got out of his car, giving it a last apologetic look, and got into Aya's Porsche, still cradling his poor hand. Aya got in and started driving. They drove in silence for a few minutes, and then Aya surprised the hell out of Yohji.

"Kudoh, I'm…sorry. I overreacted."

Yohji glanced up, looking for airborne pigs, and then decided to be gracious since apparently the universe had warped enough to allow Aya to apologize to him. I knew the bastard wanted me, he thought. Out loud, he said, "Apology accepted. Just stay away from bulk quantities of motor oil in the future, or I won't be responsible for my actions."

Was it his imagination, or did Aya smile slightly?