Blood and Flowers

by Nix Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own WK.

Warnings: If you read this far, I don't think there's anything worse in this chapter

Youji gave the impression, when he was on his feet and giving off that aura that was Youji, that he was bigger than he was. Aya had thought that before. Youji was tall, and he could pull himself up tall, all blond hair and green eyes like a lion of a man, grace and power, and he looked like he was so tough that nothing could move him.

With his head resting on Aya's shoulder, his body held in Aya's arms, long legs close to Aya's body, he was light as a feather, so insubstantial, and Aya had to be careful not to hold him too tightly. He'd seen the bruising along Youji's pale body. His lover's chest rose with a deep breath as they crossed into the thick flower scented shop. He paused there, listening to Youji, to his breath, to his heartbeat even knowing it was too quiet, listening for any words that might come from his love.

Aya liked his poetry, turned to it to quiet his mind. Youji was a midnight blond iris, so graceful and elegant, the gilted blond that was there for all to see, and the deeper threads of hidden darkness. He could polish the gilt parts, and the more precious darkness would hide until the moonlight called it back. He pressed his cheek to Youji's forehead, caressing.

The drug's haze had lessened and Youji's fingers shook as they reached for Aya''s face, catching a red ear tail, "Caught you, Angel."

"Oh for god's sake, take him up stairs," Ken growled, angry, but concerned for both of them and only more irritated by that.

"We're home, Youji," Aya said, ignoring Ken, even as the command got him moving. Up the stairs, all twenty-four of them, up to the room they shared.

"Shower now," Youji said, firm.

"Yes, of course," Aya agreed. "Let me stay with you?"

And that was the wound. Someone had taken what they didn't wish to share, the safe place they'd found between each other, their sanctuary. And they both wanted to know

was

it

still

there

between them.

"Stay with me," Youji asked. That was the twenty-fourth stair, and Youji's fingers went behind Aya's head, caressing, comforting. "Please."

"I will stay with you," Aya said, emotion deepening his voice. "I will always stay with you."

"Let me walk," Youji asked, taking a deep breath.

Aya's arms tightened, holding his slender love closer, and then he let him down, lowering his legs slowly, one arm around his back, and Youji crumpled. Aya's arm around his back held him up right though and they waited.

Youji was stubborn and his body was not supposed to fail him. Aya was more tolerant than he'd let on, for those he loved and they could wait. Slowly, Youji moved, one step, body stiff, drug lingering.

Their room. They paused, Youji leaning against Aya, Aya's heart leaning on Youji's heart.

"I thought I was fucked, Aya," Youji admitted, as they stood there in the hall, door open, showing their big double bed that Aya had made neatly, Youji's work jeans over the chair that Aya read in. "It's like I'm looking at a postcard of someplace I wish I was going to be."

Aya didn't know what to say to that. He was more the kind to behead someone or scream that he would, or glare, but it was Youji's honest that had drawn him to the man in the first place. Even his gilt lion honesty. The perfect playboy happy lie that Youji lived was more honest than Aya saw other people. Youji knew how to draw his boundaries and he did what he needed to do. Trust, Aya trusted Youji to keep doing that, and that made it possible to feel this welling of love, warmth and hope and happiness. "I love you. I know we got our asses handed to us tonight, but I love you and I'm so damn happy to be holding you right now. Do you understand? I know you're in pain, and you're not saying. I know that bastard touched what wasn't his right to touch, and you know I'm going to kill him, but Youji, thank you for surviving and being here with me."

"Sure, Baby," Youji said, and there was a hint of gilt lion smile, cocky, and so genuine, so true to something that was Youji, even if Aya didn't really understand it. "Thank you for still wanting me. He head fucked me, Aya. I could hear you swearing you'd never touch me again, but," Youji said, head going light, knees unlocking, until Aya caught him up into his arms again, and carried him over the threshold. "I know you'd never say that."

Nuzzling Youji's hair, soaking in the scent of his shampoo and the hospital disinfectant, "And what would I say?"

"I'm going to kill you! If you were gonna go that way. Aya, I'm tired," the last was a confession, not weak, just the truth.

"We'll shower, then we'll sleep." Aya promised.

But Youji's strength was gone. He let Aya undress him, hiding his face against the chair wing. He let Aya carry him to their shower, and set the water, and hold him. It wasn't the water that washed him clean though. It was a stubborn and completely trustworthy red head. They would catch the killer. They would.

And when they slept, both as native as they always slept, entwined, unmasked against unmasked, their safe place existed for them still.