(flashback)
Kyo paced the length of the sidewalk in front of the store, and then paced back. He stopped, waited, then paced some more. Curiosity and the Cat, he thought bitterly, but only because it was all too true.
Ayame's shop. He'd gotten to thinking about it the other day, and now he couldn't get it out of his head. What kind of a shop would Ayame own? He paced to the corner one last time before finally facing the entrance. It's silly to be afraid of a shop. He thought, and it was, but then again, this was Ayame… He paused, considering that thought. He had no basis for such an opinion. In fact, he really had no idea what sort of person Ayame was, really. He was Yuki's brother, sure, so that didn't exactly put him on Kyo's A-list, but then again, Yuki hated him, so he couldn't be all bad… Not that it mattered one way or the other. It wasn't as if Kyo intended to make 'friends' with him or anything. It would really be pointless. What was the use of going through the motions, pretending to make a life for himself, when in the end, his fate had already been decided?
But none of that mattered. The shop didn't fit in to that equation, and he couldn't help but be curious. So the choices left to him were few. He could ask someone about the shop, but fearing the worst, he'd decided against such an embarrassment, he could spend the rest of his days in curiosity, letting such a trivial matter have more power over him than his own will, or he could just go in.
Finally choosing the later, the boy took a deep breath, pushing the heavy curtain aside and stepping into the shop.
From ceiling to floor, the room was draped in skeins of fabric. Racks of hangers sported a variety of outfits from maid uniforms to bridal gowns. What sort of people would shop in a store selling such outfits? He wondered, but wasn't allowed the luxury for long as he was soon greeted by a bubbly "Irasshaimase! Welcome, don't be shy! Whatever your dreams, let us make them a reality!"
He blinked at the girl in front of him. "Dreams?" he asked dumbly. "What's that s'posed to mean?" But again, fortune persisted to keep the boy in the dark as a very familiar voice keened from the back room.
"Mine This is the wrong type of material! I specifically told them taffeta! …I did tell them taffeta, didn't I? Oh! This is why I leave the ordering up to you! I'm simply awful at it! What on earth do they expect me to do with fourteen yards of rose velvet?" So saying, he stepped into the main parlor, the aforementioned velvet draped about his bare shoulders, and a positively desperate pout on his face.
Kyo swallowed hard as both his heart and stomach tried to take lodging in his throat and his wicked mind gave him several ideas for that velvet.
"Kyonkichi!" Ayame chirped, surprised at his visitor. "I can't believe you'd come here to see me!" with that, he grabbed the boy into an overzealous embrace, pressing Kyo to his bare chest and all that velvet.
Kyo flushed, pushing out of the older man's arms instantly. "Knock it off!" he spat. "I didn't come to see you! I just wanted to-"
"Oh my!" Ayame beamed. "Do you mean to tell me that there is some way we can serve to make your dreams come true? Some adolescent fantasy you've come to request, tailor-made by yours truly-"
"No!" Kyo shouted, now a furious shade of red. "I'm not interested in your filthy job! I was just-" he paused, not wanting to say it. "Well I was… I mean…" he looked at his feet in embarrassment. "Curious." He finally finished.
There was a long pause, in which Ayame took it upon himself to truly examine the boy for the first time.
He was much taller than Ayame had remembered, a head taller than the last time he'd seen him, at least. His hair was still that dreadful orange, but… it seemed very soft, like a baby's hair. Ayame couldn't help but wonder if it was. The young man was still sporting a summer's tan, but then again, maybe it wasn't all to the summer's credit. Ayame couldn't remember, but had he ever really looked at the boy? Either way, he couldn't help but admit, that blush across his cheeks was rather becoming, and he felt something stirring inside in a way that he hadn't felt in a long time, not since his own days of youth.
"Oh, well if that's all," he finally replied, "Then you should have just said so." He slumped, letting the material slide to the floor in a heap. "Well at least stay for some tea, I've just got some imported spiced chai from Beijing, and it's simply to die for."
Kyo would have protested, would have said that he was too busy, or would have said nothing at all and simply turned and left, but he was already being muscled into the kitchen before he'd had a chance to process the request. Ayame had a way with words. Not like some men do, not in a charming way, more confusing. He would ask a question in as many words as possible so that before you'd had the chance to figure out the question, he'd have already answered it for you and there really wasn't much left to say about it. Kyo found himself pondering this as he sat at the low, skirted table.
"A kotatsu?" he blurted. "It's only September."
Ayame turned around a moment, cocking his head to the side. "I don't like the cold." He told him with a little shiver. "I don't like it at all."
That's right. Kyo had forgotten; Ayame was the snake. Any extreme of temperature was more than the man could bear. For a second, he felt pity for the older Sohma… just for a second.
"So what do you do when it really gets cold?" Kyo asked, trying to make conversation.
Aaya turned to glance over his shoulder. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, a devious glint in his eye.
Kyo swallowed, no longer sure he did. "I… er… that's…" he felt his face flush slightly, imagining ways that one might keep warm, ways that Ayame might keep warm…
Aaya grinned. "I sleep with hot water bottles in my bed." he replied, "What were you thinking, Kyonkichi? Don't tell me you were being a pervert."
"I was not!" Kyo sputtered, now thoroughly annoyed. "You're the one who started sayin' suggestive things! Dammit! I'm outta here!" he made to leave, but Ayame rushed quickly to his side.
"Don't be upset!" he pleaded, trying not to smile. "I won't tease, just stay for tea. I can't drink it all myself, and I really don't want it to go to waste."
The younger boy froze, he could imagine he felt the soft skin of Ayame's bare chest through his thin school shirt. Kyo grumbled, but allowed himself to be seated. "Well, put a shirt on or something!" he spat, blushing furiously.
Ayame glanced down at himself as though noticing for the first time. "Oh," he commented, "Do you think I should?"
"What kind of question is that!" Kyo growled. "Of course you should! People don't just walk around without a shirt!"
Ayame cocked his head to the side, twirling a lock of silver hair around his fingers. "Martial artists do." He remarked.
"Well you're not a martial artist!" Kyo spat.
"I know Aikido." Ayame retorted. ((A/N Aikido is a defensive martial art for smaller or weaker people wherein the martial artist uses his opponent's weight against him.))
"Well you don't have the body of a martial artist!" Kyo argued, before he could stop himself.
Ayame paused, sliding to his knees in front of the boy. "What sort of body… do I have?" he asked in a sultry pout.
The younger man could feel his chest constricting, and he chastised himself as his eyes strayed over the older man's body. "Like… like an actor." He panted out.
"Really?" Ayame purred. "Do you think so?"
"Yah…" Kyo swallowed, "But… like an Onnagata." He had meant it as an insult, but he couldn't make it stick. ((A/N Onnagata is a term from Kabuki theater, where men play all the roles. Onnagata refers to a male actor who plays only female roles.))
"Oh?" Ayame asked quietly, leaning in, slowly closing the distance between them. Just then, the kettle erupted into a frantic whistling, jerking them from the moment. Ayame moved quickly to his feet, retrieving the kettle and delicately pouring two cups.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, Kyo glanced up at the older man and started. He wasn't sure but… there seemed to be two little pink spots coloring the man's cheeks.
Kyo reached quickly for the tea, wanting an excuse for his own flushed face, but Ayame's hand rested gently on his, staying his action.
"It'll be hot." Ayame warned. "Best to wait a minute."
The hand was cool and soft, and would become the kindling for many sleepless nights and tormenting dreams.