Well, so what if Christmas season is over, I had this written, and because I was on vacation, and then school, I wasn't able to type it up until now. It's Yohji/Aya. And I don't believe I have anythign else to say. Short one-shot.

Aya and the Mistletoe

Christmas is a downright weird time of the year. It has the odd effect of cheering and depressing us at the same time, and I'm not one for rollercoaster rides, especially emotional ones. Nor am I bipolar, though Ken's accused me of that several times, and Aya probably agrees. There is one thing I really like about Christmas though... But that comes in a bit.

As it is, the flower shop is decorated to the figurative teeth with Christmas decorations. Omi took it upon himself to bring some holiday cheer into our otherwise apathetic lives. Or theirs, at least, because I make sure I have a good time when I can. So he declared one afternoon that he was going to decorate the shop, dragging Ken down with him, not that he protested after Omi promised him they'd have 'fun' while working. Damn that kid's good at manipulating people. I mean, if I were Ken, there's no way I'd be able to resist a pleading, puppy-dog eyed Omi, even less when he gets that sultry pout going and promises it won't be that bad. You gotta hand it to Ken though, he's good at resisting the leash, but Omi's even better at pulling it. Anyway, the end result is that they spent an entire afternoon (though I'm sure the fun lasted way longer than that) up on chairs and roofs, or down on knees, putting up lights and ornaments in between kisses and sensual teasings. It's all Ken's fault for corrupting our innocent little Omi. Actually, it's really funny, Omi's quite the teaser, it never ceases to surprise Aya and me. You'd think the kid took lessons from someone good, like me. You can take that however you want.

So, now there's wreaths, snowmen, reindeer, bells, and all sorts of girly stuff strewn everywhere in the shop and house. You can't turn a friggin corner without running into some sort of singing puppet thing. Kinda nice. Of course, even thinking so, I would not have moved my fine-looking ass off that couch to help them if the thing had caught on fire, though I appreciate the effort they put into it. I might have had Aya walk in and glared though. That's always a good incentive.

They even put decorations on our doors too, and I'd been of mind to take the ridiculous Rudolph-thingy off, but after noticing that even Aya, who lives his life trying to make true the saying 'If looks could kill', succumbed to the Christmas spirit, then who was I to dampen the holiday cheer? The look on his face when he'd seen the holly-jolly Santa Claus on his door had been priceless though, it's kinda what I imagine he'd look like if he was a waiter and some chick slapped that leather-covered ass of his. Makes me think Ken and Omi did it on purpose.

Like I said, the decorations are nice, during the day at least, when we're just cheerful florists, joking and around and just living our uneventful life. Wow, almost sounds nice. Wish it was. The girls throng our store after school, ooing and aahin over the lights and pretty little decorations, and making week-before-Christmas last minute attempts at getting one of us to be their holiday sweetheart. When will they realize that I go for older women, the stick up Aya's ass is made of steel and can't be removed, and that they've lost the other two (who really were the only choices from the beginning because of the aforementioned reasons) to each other?

So, it's all nice and nice during the day, (and yes, I did repeat myself) but the bipolar disease is biting us all. I like Christmas, don't get me wrong, but... coming home at night after a mission, blood-stained and tired, knowing there's a body beheaded or stabbed through lying somewhere in the night, and then looking at those pure white, cheerful decorations... it's not exactly good for the soul. It has a way of making us guiltier than we normally feel, and that says a lot. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's gone a night or two without sleep cause those damn cheerful messages or love and peace and Christmas spirit are haunting us and shining from outside the window. Omi's begun to turn them off before we leave for a mission now. Smart kid, but he shoulda been smarter and thought of that earlier.

There is one thing I really like about Christmas though... the mistletoe. Yeah, you know where this is going.

I get home this afternoon a bit disgruntled. Ken takes one look at me and states, loud enough for the world to hear, "Well, someone's in a good mood. What happened, got dumped again?"

"No, I had to look at your face," I snap. Alright, so he hit the nail on the head, and my response probably proved that to him, but to hell with that. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, I sit on the couch, doing a good imitation of pissy-Aya, while Ken laughs and Omi just hums as he cooks, knowing better than to bother me at the moment. God bless his tact, wish it'd rub off on certain people. Ken snickers again.

Minutes pass, and I'm still fuming. Damn it all, damn, damn, damn. Only takes one hot chick to diss me, and I'm as irritable as a bee's nest harassed by little boys with sticks. If I ever see that woman again…. I better be in the middle of making out with another even better-looking one. I really need to take out my anger on someone, and though the first choice is Ken, either he's one lucky bastard, or has ESP, cause by the time I lift my head to look for him to piss off into a confrontation with me, Omi announces that he's left to deliver some orders. Damn it again. I've got no luck today.

So that leaves Aya or an inanimate object (I just can't do anything to Omi) and though I'm sure an inanimate object would probably give me a faster and louder response than Aya, Red's too much fun when he's finally ticked. Ah, enjoyment like no other.

Aya's on shift now, and I walk into the back room, finding him in the corner, his back turned to me. His attention is completely focused on the Christmas garland he's making. His single, rectangle earring glints, catching my eye, and I find myself mesmerized by his profile. His milky white face makes his striking red hair and icy violet eyes stand out more, as beautiful as an artwork, where darks and lights are placed side by side to bring to complement each other. I'd be hard pressed to find a girl more beautiful, or dangerous, for that matter, than the man in front of me. And what I find even odder, though that only makes him all the more desirable, is that he's so wrapped up in his little world that he's completely oblivious to that fact. Makes you wonder what's wrong with him, I mean, has no girl ever told him how good-looking he is? For that matter, has he even looked in a mirror? Red's blind, is my only explanation. I'm sure some of our targets thought they were being killed by a dark angel in the few seconds they had to see Aya's face before silver retribution took their life, and their head.

Aya's nimble fingers, slight calluses from his sword marring otherwise perfectly smooth and silky skin, weave in a out of the garland, busy and quick, much like ants scurrying furiously around their destroyed anthill. But unlike them, his hands are graceful, as if floating, like a pianists hands flitting over the keys. It's like a drug, my eyes follow his movements as if hypnotized, and I'm not as pissed anymore. To hell with it, I should have known this would happen. Watching Aya's hands working is a weird sort of therapy. I'm sure he knows I'm there, but either he's so engrossed in his task that he doesn't even bother to send me a glare of acknowledgement, or he's just used to me standing in the doorway doing nothing. I doubt he's realized that it's him that I'm looking at, he's that clueless to personal attention. Which is just as well for me, gives me longer to live.

Looking up, I notice something green above Aya's head, and once realizing it isn't just one of our hanging plants, I grin.

Perfect.

A way to not only release pent up frustration on the worthiest victim, but to fulfill my deepest desires. Maybe I do have some luck today.

Moments like these make me glad to be an assassin, for I manage to get within a foot behind him before he stiffens and whirls around to face me, his face a mix between surprise and annoyance.

"What are you—!"

I cut him off by confidently trapping his lips underneath mine, and roughly pushing his small effeminate body against the wall. He tries to get away, but I have him pinned tightly, and after a few desperate thrashes, his resolve weakens as he finds it futile. I hear him curse feebly, and had I not known, helplessly, the muffled sound coming from his throat. The hands stuck between our bodies clench as he has no choice but to yield to my lips. Or maybe it's not that he doesn't have a choice, because I'm surprised I'm still alive and still kissing him, but that he chooses to yield. His mouth is wide open for access and I marvel at how easily he bends to my pressure against his lips. I almost swell with an odd pride at being able to subjugate him so easily, to tame him, though I'd never wondered whether Aya was the dominant or submissive type, as Aya and sex had never crossed my mind together, at least not unless it was me doing it, and of course I'd be on top.

It's hot and brief, my tongue traces his gums and his teeth scrape over it. He's meek and inexperienced, or maybe just in shock, and allows me to lead his movement and press him tighter, entrapping the wet, burning mound of flesh that is his tongue inside my mouth and around mine, and for my hands to settle on his hips. I'm having fun. He's everything I've ever thought he was and more, and there's a surreal quality to the air and to the small sounds of pleasure I manage to draw out from the bottom of his throat, almost inaudible. I'm in control, and the most rewarding part of that is that he's letting me. My mind can barely get around that fact, it's so… un-Aya.

Hot and brief, but it seems to be scalding and lasting an eternity when his lips are pressed bruisingly to mine. Sweet and smooth, but I can taste a sort of fresh iciness, like mint, reminding me of the danger he holds amongst his deceptive beauty. It makes me wonder why I'm still here, with him still trapped between the wall and me, yielding to me.

"You were under the mistletoe," I whisper, delighted to hear his breathless curse as his flushed face lifts to meet mine and the kiss is broken. He appears dizzy, and his hands are weakly grasping my shirt, about to slip off. I'm giddy and completely dumbfounded as I finally take in that, shit, I just kissed Aya. Cold, snake-plus-lion-plus-shark-dangerous Aya, and the most he can do is just stare at me dazedly.

But his glazed amethysts suddenly flash in anger and the strength surges back in his limbs. More like the Aya I know, and the change brings me back to my senses as well. I'm about to about back away from the imminent revenge I know is going to come, but the little bastard beats me to it and instead shoves me away, almost making me lose my balance and fall over. The pretty blush on his face is all that's left of our little encounter, the only thing that betrays his angry, indignant glare. I'm thinking I better leave now, lest he draw his sword our of thin air—hey, it's Aya, anything deadly is possible— and decides to cut me into bento-sized pieces for tomorrow's lunch. That's what I'm expecting him to do, at least.

Apparently, I don't know Aya very well. I used to think he was as predictable as a celebrity wedding's divorce.

Still blushing, I don't think I've ever seen him do that, he steps over to stand right underneath the mistletoe, as we'd kinda moved away from it, places hishands on his hips in his best 'I'm-pissed-so-you-better-listen-to-me' posture, and growls, "You dickhead, it's only while I'm under the plant."

I stare at him, not sure if I heard correctly, or if that means what it seems to mean. But Aya's no idiot, he's gotta know what he's doing…. In that case, I'm only too happy to listen to him, for once.

If you have a comment, kindly drop it in. Doesn't take that long to say whether it was alright, or fairly good, or whether they were out of character or the ending lacked something. Constructive criticism and all.