Chapter 3

Thanks to my lovely reviewers dawn, NagiNaoeSchwarzsProdigy, Misura, Jo, Wing Zero, Kura, krimson, Kaeera, Venus, D.D. 04, and Kaelina. Once again you guys inspired me to keep going on this. I really appreciate all the people who took time to help me get my German phrasing down correctly. Thanks for the help! Also much thanks to everyone who graciously took the time to review this story, it means a lot to me!

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10:26 a.m. A small brunch café mid city.

The man with the flame colored hair pushes away his plate, his fingers tapping the tabletop with unconscious impatience. He wants a cigarette now that he's downed his coffee. His jade eyes light on the dark man across the table, and he leans back against the vinyl-cushioned booth, draping his arm over the back.

"So what's my fortune today, O mystical oracle?" The comment is loud, sneering, obnoxious. Like the speaker. Or at least how many view him to be. "What have the stars predicted for me?"

"You will meet your future."

Long, abrasive laughter. The dark-haired man pushes his wire rimmed glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and relieve some of the stress-induced sinus pressure. Or perhaps it is merely a protective habit formed from having his advice laughed at most of the time. He sighs and revises his statement.

"If you're going to be out late again, walk home. Don't get too drunk." He snaps the last warning as an afterthought, injecting it with the irritation he's been feeling all day.

"Yes Mother, I won't drink and drive. I'll even take a taxi cab!" More laughter. The bells tied to the door handle jingle as he exits the warm café, chorusing his parting jab.

The man inside looks quietly into the depths of his coffee mug. "Yes, I know you will," he murmurs sadly, all signs of annoyance gone. "I know you will."

2:38 a.m. Marienplatz, Munich

"Heh." The sound issues from the tall man's lips, tingeing white on cold night air, short, smug with and undertone of disgust. After the tourist-attracting Hofbrauhaus closed at midnight, he made his way to the local's bar. After, of course, making sure the foreign businessmen he'd been tracking all night stumbled their own drunken ways into taxicabs. They would undoubtedly go to their hotel rooms to sleep off the night of merrymaking. Even without his talent he would have gleaned this, as the most vocal of the group had shouted his plans for the immediate future so loudly that any number of passerbys on the street could have figured out as much.

He smirks, his mouth brushing the upraised collar of his thick black coat. His concern with that particular group of Japanese businessmen was now completely dispelled. They would be of no threat to him. Using both the skills he was born with, and the ones he worked hard to learn, he had become an invisible presence in the crowd—quite an impressive feat when one had hair so brilliantly colored as his. He had only been eavesdropping a few hours before he knew whatever threats these people made in the future would be a joke. It had been boring to stay and watch the already tipsy businessmen get downright smashed, when he knew they weren't going to discuss anything useful anymore. But he didn't build his credibility by leaving a site when the targets were still active. You never knew what people might say when they're drunk, or who will come and get them to put them to bed.

No one showed up, of course, and he didn't expect them to. However he stayed in the shadows outside the beer hall until he saw the taxicabs drive off in the direction of the hotel. He waited a good fifteen minutes before making his way to his favorite bar.

Now walking home, warm inside with the alcohol and genuinely enjoying the night, he looks up to see the sky as a dark blue canvas, a heavenly being having flicked a brush of silver paint to make the stars. He sighs and the breath escapes as curling smoke, this time not from cigarettes. His expensive leather boots clip against the cobblestones, he keeps his gloved hands deep in his pockets for warmth. He left the bar earlier than he usually does, perhaps because he doesn't need alcohol tonight to raise his spirits. Despite being bored for half the time, it really was reliving to be able to cross off the businessmen as possible problems. For all the headaches that have been coming his way recently, this good news is going a long way to make up for them.

He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts he almost misses the small presence. He lifts his head to seek the source, finding himself in the courtyard of the clock tower. Against the side of the building is a dark smudge, unmoving. He must have picked up on it because his mind has been geared to Japanese all evening.

He walks forward, interested. The smudge becomes a shape, a form from which a jumble of incoherent thought fragments and emotions are emanating softly. He reaches down to touch the dark head, expressing his wonderment aloud. Upon further inspection he discovers it is a boy, injured, and somewhat delirious. The kid's jumbled thoughts become vocal now, and the tall man chuckles in amusement. He is close enough to smell the boy's breath, so he knows the slurring of his words is not from overindulgence of alcohol.

After seeing the boy won't respond to his native Japanese, the man hauls him up off the street. He catches him before he hits the ground in a swoon, feeling his mind flutter into unconsciousness. Its obvious this one won't be able to walk for a while. It goes again his grain to just leave the kid here for whatever or whoever comes along. The boy sure didn't put up much of a fight when he himself came along.

But its late, and he doesn't want to go through the hassle of booking a room——

A ghost whisper of a murmur echoes in his mind, pitifully faint and weak. The man sighs. Guess its home then. He shifts the kid in his arms, cursing when he realizes just how cold he is to the touch. Even with the added bulk of the man's coat, the dark-haired boy is easy to carry. The man walks away from the circle of light in the abandoned alcove, the silent boy cradled protectively in his arms.

~~@~@~@~@~@~@~~~

It's a soft clean morning light that filters through the window of their upstairs apartment. Late enough in the day for the light to have just enough substance to warm his exposed skin. His sleepy gaze wanders over the rumpled covers and his lover's relaxed form, the sunlight catching the fuzz on his long limbs and chest in a golden glow. Ken smiles adoringly upon his angel's face, reaching up to smooth a lock of honey blonde hair. The angel's eyelashes flutter and he blinks them open with a yawn, tightening his hold on the younger man tucked against his side. Ken watches in wonder as the emerald eyes focus on him, his lover's smile like the sunshine, warming him from the inside. The golden man pulls him in for a good morning kiss, the greeting unspoken but exchanged all the same. Ken settles into his lover's body, leaning against him contently, the older man running his fingers through Ken's chocolate hair.

"I love you, Yohji," he whispers. An arm snakes around behind him, jerking upwards unexpectedly and landing the little brunette on top of his lover's chest so fast he gasps. Yohji chuckles, leaning in to steal another kiss.

"I know," he murmurs. "I love you too." He ducks his head to swiftly place a kiss on the underside of Ken's jaw. With a quickening pace he nips and nibbles up the side of Ken's cheek, to his ear. Ken giggles and shies away as his lover breathes warm moist air into the recesses of his ear. Yohji holds fast however, and noses persistently at the side of Ken's face. Ken yelps as his lover nips a little too hard. He squirms but the pain only increases, the other's grip like iron.

"Ouch, Yohji, let go! That hurts! Yohji! Yohji!"

"Yohji!"

Ken cries out sharply as he sits bolt upright. His pain dazed eyes become bewildered as he finds himself not in a comfortable warm bed on a lazy Sunday morning, but in a much smaller, darker area. Uncertainty and fear prickle in the back of his mind. Where am I? he wonders. What—what—?

He freezes as a voice purrs from behind him, velvet smooth and very close:

"Don't worry Kätzchen, I won't hurt you."

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Now what has Ken gotten himself into? What's with Crawford's fortune cookie prediction? And what exactly is Schuldich's line of work? I'd love to hear what you think. Comments and suggestions are always welcome via email or reviews. Hope to hear from you!

~~Lady Kickass ^_^*