Part 8
Aya looked around the room with his bundle of wrapping paper gathered in his arms. "It's not even eight o clock yet." He said firmly, "and I'm not having you sitting watching the TV all day."
"But…" Omi protested, realising he didn't really have a change of doing anything practical before Aya threw them out of the house.
"Ken, why don't you take Nagi and Omi out to the pitch, you can play soccer." It was clear that Aya was literally throwing them out of the house, but Omi had an answer for this.
"I don't have cleats." Omi said proudly.
"Yes, you do." Ken said excitedly, "I got you some for your last birthday, with that strip."
Omi groaned.
"Oh, and Ken," Aya said, knowing that as soon as he mentioned soccer that Ken would be his unwitting accomplice. "Take Farfarello with you."
"What did I do?" Farfarello whined. "I'm Irish, we don't do football. The only sport we take part in is the Eurovision song contest, cause we're good at it." Aya slid into a shi-ne glare, but only level one. "We play curling." Farfarello added.
"Just give in." Schuldig said, quite content that he wasn't being sent out in the snow and the cold.
"I don't have cleats." Farfarello whined.
"Aren't you the same shoe size as Ken," Yohji grinned, determined to enjoy this, because normally on Christmas morning he was sent out to play soccer. "You can borrow some of his."
"He might have foot fungus." Farfarello whined.
"I do not." Ken answered loudly.
Aya bumped up his glare to a level two, and Farfarello who couldn't tell the difference between a level two and a level five cowered, new set of ginzu knives notwithstanding.
"I don't have socks." It smacked of desperation.
"I have clean ones." Ken said. "And we can't play against each other unless we have two players each." He was almost whooping, he was so excited that someone was actually going to play with him. They never played with him, and they complained when he came back that he was covered in mud.
"Don't you have anything to say about this, Nagi?" Yohji whispered.
"I know when it's best to not even compete." He was the first up the stairs to get changed.
Aya turned to Yohji and Schuldig notching up his glare to a full factor three. "I don't have enough brandy for the pudding, or the brandy butter. Here's money, go get some, and take your buddy." Which of them he actually addressed was a matter of conjecture.
"But," Yohji started, "no where will be open."
"Somewhere will." Crawford said with a bit of a grin, knowing full well why Aya was driving them out of the house.
"Take your phone." Aya said, going into the kitchen, "Crawford's going to help me make dinner."
Yohji stood up and then leant in to Crawford, "are you sure you don't want to come with us on our magical mystery tour of Tokyo?"
"Oh, no," Crawford said with a bit of a grin, glad that he had foreseen this, "I like cooking."
The other four traipsed down the stairs, each holding a pair of cleats, one pair looking sparkling new, and the others in various stages of decay. Ken had a ball under his arm, the rest were wearing frowns. Crawford took one look at Nagi. "You can't play football in a floor length coat." He said.
"You can borrow a sweater." Aya said emerging from the kitchen with his beloved orange roll neck. Nagi went pale but took it nonetheless.
"Maybe we can destroy it." Farfarello whispered.
"The damn thing's immortal." Omi whispered back.
" I heard that." Aya answered.
"We're going to the park." Ken said in a sing song tone of voice. "We'll be back for three." The other three looked aghast, it was half eight in the morning, that meant a full day in the snow playing soccer.
"Dinner will be ready for half past." Aya answered.
"Take the first aid kit." Crawford said in an ominous tone, "or at least the antiseptic spray and some very large band aids." He gave a little smirk. "Don't worry," he said looking at Omi, "you won't need stitches."
Omi went very pale and turned his largest most vulnerable puppy dog eyes on Aya who just yawned and said, "have fun."
As soon as the house was empty Aya counted to twenty before he glomped Crawford. "I thought they'd never leave." He said pinning him to the sofa by sitting astride his hips. "I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to point that freaky doll at them." He looked at the offending porcelain geisha.
"He meant well." Crawford said, putting his arms around Aya's back, "he found you a Murasakiiro doll, it's not his fault that it looks as if it escaped from the Hell Toys manufacturing plant."
Aya kissed his lips gently, "you always taste of cinnamon." He said with a small laugh, and stole another kiss.
"Ran," Crawford said patiently, you didn't need to be a precog to see where Aya was taking this. "That doll's looking at me."
Aya cast his head back and laughed. "I doubt it," he said, "I put it back in the box." He leaned back, putting his hands on Crawford's chest. "There appears to be a problem here, I want this, God, do I want this, but I'm beginnign to think that you don't."
"It's not that." It was hard to think with the way that Aya was nuzzling his throat with his lips.
"Then what is it?" Aya's breath was a hot whisper against his ear, and his teeth reached out to bite the lobe gently.
"I'm scared we won't talk anymore." He stammered out, it was very very hard to think when Aya was doing that. "I love talking with you, Ran, about books and films, and politics, and I'm scared that if we take the next step we won't talk anymore."
Aya said a word he normally reserved for Ken, "baka." He said although a lot more fondly than when it was aimed at Siberian. "Why on earth would we stop talking? Although I'm all for stopping talking now."
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"I can't believe she did that." Aya said looking at the previous page.
"What?" Crawford asked, leaning up against Aya where they lounged on the sofa.
"Seraphim Grace-sama, she tippexed the entire scene out." Aya whined. "I finally get around your defences and we're left with a blank page."
"I think I like it better." Crawford said, stroking his hair, "It means it was just for us."
"You're a hopeless romantic." Aya said with a smile.
"I know." Crawford answered with a laugh. "but you like me like that."
"but it means she didn't feature the bit about the egg nog." Aya said with a little whine.
"If she tippexed it out from there, she certainly would have put in the bit about the egg nog."
Meanwhile in a field in the centre of Tokyo Omi was lying on the ground holding what he felt was his entire kneecap into his skin.
"Oh come on," Farfarello said, taking out the antiseptic wipe that Crawford had insisted that they take with them for just this emergency. "It's just bloody, I've gotten worse picking my nose."
"It's easy for you to say that." Nagi whined, "you've got no sense of pain." He had gone all maternal since it was his boyfriend that had been injured.
"He's an assassin." Farfarello answered, "he's fought on with broken bones and a punctured lung, that is a knee scrape." It offended his sense of justice that someone even suggested that this small cut, barely worth being called an injury, was calling off play now he was finally enjoying it.
Ken picked him up "it might only be a knee scrape but it is Christmas, I'll phone Aya and let him know that we're coming home early."
In a sports buggy in Shibuya Yohji came out of what he was sure was the only open shop in all of Japan, a small shop with a little old lady that stunk of incense, "do you think that we should get some milk as well." Schuldig asked.
"Probably an idea, no one ever has enough milk for Christmas." Yohji said.
"Do you think it's safe to go back to the house?" Schuldig said as they stepped back into the convenience store.
"I'll phone and check."
Author's Note
I always give you a note. The sex scene tippex thing I so stole from Robert Rankin's "Armageddon the Musical: The Suburban book of the dead" I admit it. If you admit it it's not plagiarism. But it was so funny and it fitted so well.
Next stop, Christmas dinner.