From the deepest of insecurities I have been rescued by the numerous kind reviews about this fic. To everyone who has read, and especially those who have taken the time out of their busy lives to leave me a note of what they thought of my work, my most sincere thanks. Really; sometimes it feels like you're all the only thing that keeps me motivated. When a writer begins to doubt herself…it can get pretty nasty.
On a side note: I keep waiting for the horses to rebel and kill all the apes. Planet of the Equines, anyone?
Bridges
Chapter Five
Aya did not tell Yohji of Nakamura's surprising offer that night. He knew the blonde would immediately assume he was going to accept the job, and the redhead wasn't quiet certain yet if he should, or could, for that matter.
Could he live in Japan again? Could he actually bear to…stay?
As far as Aya was concerned, the "date" was over the moment they were out of sight of those they were trying to deceive. He lapsed into silence, deep in thought, the moment he and Yohji were in the car heading toward the apartment complex. It took Yohji a full five minutes to realize that his companion had chosen to stop speaking.
A long and silent car ride. The theory of relativity in full effect, Aya supposed. He wasn't sure if Yohji was angry at him for closing off so abruptly, but the former assassin couldn't really bring himself to care.
At the apartment complex, Yohji walked him silently to his door.
Aya went inside without saying goodnight.
Four in the morning and the phone began to ring. Normally, a call at four a.m. would result in the severest of tongue-lashings from a very grumpy ex-swordsman – a truly traumatizing experience for the foolish caller.
This time though, Aya was not grumpy.
Aya was not grumpy because he had not been awoken by the phone.
Aya had not been awoken because he had not been asleep.
Yohji began ranting before he could even say hello.
"I can't just sit back and take it, Aya. I know we were only faking a romantic relationship, but I thought we were at least friends, damn it!" The young man on the other line raged. "This isn't Weiss anymore, Aya. We aren't strangers in a flowershop, and you aren't the all-powerful, unquestionable Leader. You can't just shut me out anymore!"
"Yohji…" He sighed.
"I've done a hell of a lot for you, Aya, whether you realize it or not! The very least you could do in return is treat me like a human being!"
"Yohji!" He made himself louder this time. The blonde fell silent.
In fact, neither spoke for several minutes.
"Sorry." Yohji mumbled quietly. "I shouldn't have called so early."
"I'm sorry, too." Aya heard himself say. "I had something on my mind tonight."
"So why not tell me, then?"
"I can't. Not yet. Sorry."
"I understand."
Another long stretch of silence.
"I'm sorry for waking you." Yohji said finally.
"You didn't. I couldn't sleep."
"Me either."
Aya sighed to himself, suddenly missing the golden man's presence.
"Come over." He murmured quietly.
"You sure about that?" Yohji's tone was blatantly suggestive.
Aya sighed again.
"This isn't some sort of booty-call, Yohji. I just can't…I just don't want to be alone."
Another silence, this one so long that Aya began to wonder if the other man had hung up on him.
"Yohji?" He asked finally, wincing at the weariness in his own voice. "Are you still there?"
"I'm always there for you." Yohji answered finally, quietly. "I'll be right over."
Yohji arrived at his door in record time, dressed in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a ratty old robe. Aya couldn't help but to smile at him.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just never took you for the pajama type."
"Would you rather I show up naked?"
"Are you coming in or not?" Aya asked, stepping away from the door.
They popped popcorn and settled into the couch under a large blanket, an old movie in the VCR.
Aya fell asleep against Yohji, mind at last soothed enough for rest. He had a strange dream as he drifted off of the blonde man lightly brushing a kiss against his forehead.
When the alarm woke him some hours later, he found himself tucked snugly into his bed. Breakfast was waiting for him in the kitchen, and Yohji was gone.
The breakfast was still warm.
That very day Aya told Jiro Nakamura that he accepted the job and would be staying in Japan.
The office he had been using had been merely a loan. The moment Aya signed on for his new job, Nakamura gave him a new one.
The older man was still as stern-faced and strict as Aya's first impression had lead him to believe, but somehow, thanks to one Yohji Kudoh, he had gained both the man's approval and respect.
The new office Aya was given was large and bright, one entire wall consisting of nothing but windows. It looked bare with only Aya's scant possessions from the old office sitting atop his desk in a pitiful cluster, and he resolved, at the very least, to buy some artwork to hang over the desk.
Maybe Yohji would like to come with him when he went shopping…
Aya shook his head, banishing the thought and only blushing a little. Today he couldn't seem to get the blonde out of his head, and he thought he might know the reason why.
No.
No time for such asinine thoughts. His first appointment was walking in.
Aya smiled at the nervous-looking young man who took a seat across from him. Until he had proven himself, he would only be given the easiest of tasks. The boy before him was young and inexperienced and would agree to sign any contract Aya gave him if it meant he got the record deal he had dreamed all his life of.
It was going to be a dull day.
Friday evening, Yohji showed up at his door at what was becoming the usual time. As far as Aya could remember, they hadn't made any plans – wasn't the man tired of him yet?
Still, he stepped aside without question and let the other man into his apartment.
"Why aren't you ready?" The blonde asked, taking in Aya's sweat pants and overlarge t-shirt.
Aya turned away quickly, embarrassed to be seem looking so disheveled. He busied himself with putting away the book he had been reading to avoid looking at Yohji.
"I didn't know we had plans." He answered, a tad gruffly.
"You look cute."
Aya gestured with the book in his hand.
"You want this shoved up your ass?"
"Oooh. Kinky."
"Yohji!"
The lanky blonde plopped down on the couch, smirking brazenly at him.
"We'll stay in, then." He informed Aya. "What do you want to do?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I've got a few suggestions if you can't think of anything…"
Aya scowled. "And what if I don't want to do anything?" He countered. "What if I just want to spend the night here, reading?"
"Boring."
"Maybe I like being boring."
He lifted his shoulders in a graceful shrug, and Aya couldn't decide if the other man was making fun of him or not.
"I'll tell you what," Yohji said good-naturedly. "You do whatever you had planned for the night. Pretend I'm not even here."
"And what, pray tell, will you do?"
"Sit here and bask in the glory of your presence."
He was definitely making fun of him, but Aya decided to try, at the very least, to call his bluff. He sat at the other end of the couch, propped his feet up in Yohji's lap, and opened his book once more.
After a few moments, Yohji turned on the television and muted it. After a time, Aya forgot he was there.
That's when it started. At first, the redhead barely noticed the feather light-touch against the arch of his heel. When he finally did look up, it was to find a smirking Yohji focusing all of his attention on his foot. The blonde caught his ankle before he could wrench away.
"Yohji!" He gasped, fighting the urge to laugh and failing. "Yohji, stop! I'll kick you!"
He stopped, but did not release him. Smirk growing, he crawled forward over Aya's body and the redhead grew very still, distracted by surprise as things low in his body began to tighten.
Yohji stared deeply into his eyes, and he found himself tilting his head back submissively, silently begging for something he had no way of naming.
Then Yohji dug his fingers into his ribs.
Some time later, the former assassin found himself on the ground and out of breath from laughter, face streaked with tears. Yohji lay atop him, face in his shoulder.
"How about take-out?" Yohji suggested quietly, voice slightly muffled.
"I wasn't going to eat tonight."
"Skinny as you are?" Another jab to tickle-sore ribs. Yohji raised up on his elbows as Aya began to squirm beneath him. "Take-out?" He asked again.
"Get off me."
He laughed, bright and carefree, and did as told, nearly dancing to the phone.
"What kind of race-stereotyping food do we want tonight?"
"Don't care." Aya grunted, picking himself up off the ground and feeling suddenly very troubled. He righted himself back onto the couch as he watched Yohji flirt harmlessly with whoever he was speaking to. Aya scowled.
Yohji laughed, tossing his head, and Aya heart did a strange sort of flip-flop.
Shit.
The order was made and Yohji came to join him on the couch once more. The blonde soon found it nearly impossible to engage his companion in any form of conversation.
Aya opened his book and stared at the pages, unable to make sense out of the printed words. After catching himself reading the same sentence at least ten times, he stopped trying.
Yohji felt like cursing but restrained himself for fear he would be forced to explain his sudden bad mood to his companion.
Things had been going so well, damn it! He had gotten the human icicle to smile and laugh and relax. He had watched the shields fall away from those lovely amethyst eyes and felt the cold leave that perfect, supple body. He had thought…
He had turned his back for all of two minutes to order their food, plotting a romantic dinner followed by a profession of love and then, hopefully, an evening of amorous exercise in the bedroom.
When he had turned back to Aya, the relaxed, happy, open man he had coaxed out had vanished, replaced by the cold and dangerous Aya who had once lead the team known as Weiss.
What had gone wrong, Yohji wondered. Had Aya suspected how close Yohji had come to ravishing him? How very thin his control had been stretched when he had found himself with Aya beneath him, head tilted back in such delicious submission, long, pale column of neck exposed so delectably…
Yohji quickly shifted away from Aya and crossed his legs, focusing his mind on the basketball game playing on the muted television. Sports good. Basketball though…lean, sweaty men running around…probably wasn't the best sport to be chosen for calming himself down.
Yohji channel-surfed until he found golf, then settled back and tried not to think about the silent and much too alluring man sitting mere inches from him.
By the time their food arrived, he was composed enough to stand.
How had it happened?
Ran Fujimiya has been a normal boy once, long ago. He had felt attraction for other people before (usually other males – a secret kept even from his beloved sister.)
But Ran had died to give birth to the killer. Aya had always assumed that the part of him concerned with the delights of the flesh had died along with his innocence.
Yet here he was, a man certainly deserving of nothing of the kind, literally itching to pounce on Yohji Kudoh. It was an amazing, painful feeling – like taking first breath of air after nearly drowning.
It was certainly unexpected.
And embarrassing.
"Aya, get your bony ass over here and eat." Yohji snapped playfully, carrying the bags of food into the kitchen. The food smelt Indian. "And don't try bothering with – Hey! You still have that wine! Wanna finish the bottle?"
Aya pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, calling himself nine kinds of idiot and fighting the urge to laugh.
Yohji's harmless flirting had gotten to him! The man had been doing him a favor by pretending to be his lover and Aya had to go and ruing everything by wanting…needing…for it to be real!
His utter foolishness never ceased to amaze.
It was depressing, really. Especially knowing, as he did, that the blonde had already chosen the person he wanted to love.
Why in hell couldn't he have decided to want Yohji back when the man was more casual with his affections?
"Aya?"
"I'm coming." He answered, hoping that the hopelessness in his voice was only his imagination. He rose and made his way to the kitchen.
He was a horrible idiot, feeling that way for Yohji now. They were trying to be friends, weren't they? If Yohji ever discovered the way he felt, friendship would no longer be a possibility for them.
He didn't love the lanky blonde; emotions such as love were surely beyond Aya's capacity. He most certainly wanted his former teammate, however. The very thought of watching those golden hands slide over the pale skin of his body made him nearly gasp with longing.
Damn it.
Yohji was setting the table as he walked into the kitchen. He already had two places set with the paper plates Aya had been using since moving into the apartment. A Styrofoam cup sat at each setting, already filled with the remains of the wine from the other night.
Yohji made a sweeping bow, grinning at him as he pulled out a chair.
Glaring, Aya took the other seat.
They were silent as they ate, but Yohji looked much too happy with himself for Aya to be at ease.
"Do you want to go shopping with me tomorrow?" Aya blurted, surprising himself.
It must have been the wine.
Yohji raised his eyebrows.
"Shopping for a prom dress?"
"I need things." The redhead glared. "Plates, cups, silverware, towels…do you understand the need for such things, or do I need to explain it to you?"
"I thought you didn't want to waste the money buying all of that when you're only going to be here a few months."
"I'm…" Aya glared down at his plate. "I'm not leaving."
"What?"
"Nakamura offered me a job. I accepted."
"Don't fuck with me, man."
"I'm not…I'm staying." Aya looked up suddenly, glaring fiercely. "Is that a problem? Was this whole friendship ruse only supposed to last for the duration of my stay?"
"Aya…"
He jumped as the blonde reached across the table to take his hand.
"I'm thrilled you're staying." He said quietly.
Aya ducked his head, smiling. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I'm just…tired."
"You should get some sleep, then."
"Do you want to stay?"
"Aya!" He grinned. "So forward!"
"That's not what I meant. Forget it."
Yohji rose and came to his side of the table, kneeling beside him. He pulled at Aya's arm until the redhead bent toward him. The blonde wrapped his arms around him and pressed his forehead to his shoulder.
"I'm glad you're staying." He said quietly. "This isn't some temporary friendship I need you in my life – and I want you to know that."
Aya leaned into him, his newfound lust for his former teammate taking a backseat to the comfort and safety Yohji brought to him.
Because Aya needed Yohji, too.
"This place has a discount for newlyweds." Yohji said, nudging Aya as they entered a store specializing in kitchenware. "Isn't that great, dear?"
Bad idea, Aya knew, opening his mouth to tell Yohji that he didn't feel like playing along.
"Fifteen percent! That's not half bad!"
Somehow the words never escaped his lips. He had a lot to buy and a discount would make everything so much easier for his frugal mind to accept. He had already spent much more than he would have liked to. Yohji had actually taken his card away to keep him from balking at paying for the mattress, pillows, and sheets they had bought in the last store.
"Knowing you and how you save," He had said, "All of this will barely put a dent in your bank balance."
Yohji was taking this whole shopping spree with far too much cheer. He was like a child at Christmas and, what was more, he refused to explain why he had taken to the task with such vigor.
"You're going to be living with this stuff – it might as well be nice, right?" He had asked while pressing into Aya's arms a comforter much thicker than the one he had been looking at. "It's not like you're the type to replace something once it begins to wear out – you might as well get something that's going to last you a little longer."
"Oh yes, that pattern is just lovely." Yohji was saying to the salesperson, startling Aya out of his thoughts. The smaller man noticed with a surprised amusement that his companion had affected the lisp stereotypical to gay men and was twirling a long stand of hair around one finger. "What do you think, honey pants?"
It was too much. Aya was going to be forced to laugh if Aya kept this up.
Not trusting his voice, he merely nodded once, sharply.
"I don't know, though." Yohji mused, tilting his head to the side and chewing on his bottom lip as he examined the set of plates he was looking at. "Do you have any, maybe, where the smaller flowers are pink? I just adore pink! Our whole kitchen is going to be pink, isn't it, bunny thong?"
"Bunny thong?" Aya and the unfortunate salesperson asked at the same time. Aya was fighting very hard not to laugh.
Yohji ignored the question.
"And, you know, maybe with the big flowers being purple? My love muffin here just loves purple, don't you, sugar toes?"
"How about no pattern?" Aya asked tightly, picking up a plain white (and very cheap) plate.
"Aww, my little candy-lips just loves his arts and crafts. I know you would love to decorate the plates yourself, snuggly sheets, but you promised I got to decorate the kitchen!"
In the end, Aya bought plates with just the smallest pattern of blue violets around the edges, along with plain, clear drinking glasses and the least-decorative silverware Yohji would let him even look at.
The store gave them a discount and, Aya thought, was very happy to see them leave.
Yeah. Yohji. Sigh. One thing to be said about him, though, the boy does have fun.
In case you haven't yet noticed, the entire premise of this fic is that the two of them are dating and Aya doesn't realize it. (Grins.)
Response to Reviews:
tigermink - sorry for the confusion; those aren't stories, but extremely talented writers who post right here on Both are in my favorited listing if you want to check them out.
moimoi-chan - Maa...probably
bluecup- thankies!
Moon without a Sun - are those good unrecognizable sounds or bad?
Shadowgirl1 - are you aware you're becomming one of my favorite people? Thanks so much for reading!
talietim69 - well, Aya's beginning to figure out his own feelings, but for the time being is still oblivious to Yohji's. It will take a while, but not too long. I think clarification for the dear man may come in somewhere around chapter nine...
Thanks everyone! See you next week!
