"Son of a bitch!"

That bastard! That fucking bastard!

"Had to go and grab me, didn't he?" he demanded of his reflection, staring at the bracelet of purple bruises left from his 'conversation' earlier with the other man. He had hoped to get a few more nights in his favorite scanty shirts in before it got too cold, but bare arms made it far too obvious that he had recently been manhandled.

Aya.

The asshole.

Growling under his breath, Yohji ripped open a dresser drawer and began to tear through it, looking for a way to hide the bruising. His long sleeved shirts were still packed up in the attic, damn it, and if he got caught going up to get them, he would get roped into helping the others bring down their shit, too. He didn't have the energy tonight for the kind of club where the bruises wouldn't attract attention, nor for the kind where long gloves were an acceptable fashion accessory.

"Damn it, Aya…" reluctantly, he traded his sleeveless, cropped mesh for a long sleeved button-down – one of the few he kept no matter what time of the year. To make up for the change, he only buttoned two of the buttons. It was nearly as sexy as the other had been, he thought, but if he failed to get any action tonight, he was going to make Aya pay.

He supposed he was just lucky he had noticed the bruises before he'd left the house.

A final glance in the mirror, and he was on his way out the door. Annoyance at Weiss's small, stubborn field leader caused the ever-contrary blonde to set all of his favorite self-destructive tendencies on high.

Vaguely he noticed the sound of a voice, somewhere downstairs, calling his name. Breakfast, or some other shit like that. Yohji buried his head further into his pillow, hangover pouring into his head at that tiny bit of wakefulness. He groaned, and the warm body next to him shifted closer.

He knew he would never be able to go back to sleep, but damn it if he wasn't going to stay in bed with his eyes closed for as long as possible.

It had been a long while since he had partied as vigorously as he had last night. Contrary to popular belief among his team, Yohji wasn't so selfishly blind as to put a good time ahead of duty. He never went out while they were working on a mission, and never got too terribly trashed when he knew he had an early shift the next morning.

But today was Monday, and Omi had at last agreed to let them open a little later – as he would be in school and they were never busy in the early morning anyway. Yohji wished the younger man would have made the decision three weeks ago and spared him all of those along hours alone in the shop.

Annoyance at Aya had caused Yohji to party a little more enthusiastically than he had in years. Now, with his head pounding and his limbs weak, he wasn't sure his little act of defiance had really been worth it, after all.

He couldn't even remember if the sex had been any good.

Omi called his name again, and Yohji cursed, hiding his aching head under the pillow.

He was very nearly expecting it when the door burst open with a loud noise. He could feel his bed partner, beside him, sit up quickly, and pitied her for being stupid enough to acknowledge the annoyance.

"Get your shit and get out."

Yohji groaned at the sound of Aya's voice. Why in hell did it have to be him? He was going to scare the shit out of whoever-the-hell he'd brought home last night.

Yohji reluctantly pulled his head out from under the pillow and sat up, shooting the red haired man an annoyed glare.

"Geez, mom! Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

Violently violet eyes fixed on him and Yohji fought the sudden, unfamiliar urge to cover up. Instead, stubbornly, he stretched his arms up above his head and arched his back, knowing how the early morning sunlight made his golden skin glow. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, and smirked as he settled himself into a languorous slouch.

His bed partner was staring at him, too. She stood in the middle of the room – having been frightened out of bed by Aya – and was clutching her clothes to her naked chest as her eyes shifted from him to Aya and back again. Yohji was glad to see that, at the very least, she was pretty. Large breasts, thin waist. That pretty spill of red curls falling down her back was definitely not natural, though.

Still. A pity he didn't remember much about the sex.

Aya followed his gaze and, rather than appreciate the sight of a mostly-naked woman, began to glare.

"Out!" he told the girl.

Her hands shook as she pulled on her shirt, as she squirmed back into her tiny skirt. The rest of her clothing in hand, she fled.

Aya waited until she was completely gone before turning his glare on Yohji.

"Rude to just shove her out like that," the blonde yawned, stretching again to display his body to the optimum degree. "Omi usually feeds them breakfast, you know."

The skin around Aya's eyes grew tight. "Kudoh," he said, voice oddly pleasant, "Consider yourself grounded."

The blonde blinked.

"What?"

"You aren't allowed to go out anymore."

"Not…? I'm a grown man, dickwad! You can't fucking ground me!"

"Cooperate, or I'll bring Krittiker into this," Aya informed him coldly, crossing his arms. "You can't bring women back here – it's too dangerous. We're assassins, in case you've forgotten."

"I didn't let her into the basement!"

"No women, no clubbing. You don't leave this building unless it's for a mission."

"You can't just - !"

"I'm taking away your alcohol and cigarettes, as well."

"What?"

A ghost of a smile crossed that cold face. "You lectured me on taking care of my body," he said. "Now it's your turn. 'Dickwad'."

"Bastard!"

A slim eyebrow rose. Was the bastard enjoying this?

"How long is this fun-ban supposed to last?" Yohji demanded, shoving a hand through his hair.

Aya didn't blink. Didn't hesitate. He did smile.

"Indefinitely."

They stared at each other for several long moments. It was Aya's own violet orbs that looked away first, raking down Yohji's body in one quick glance before he turned away and began to leave the room.

"You better be wearing clothes the next time I see you, Kudoh," he stated, "Or you'll find yourself suffering your house arrest sans a few choice body parts."

He left. The door slammed closed behind him.

Yohji let out a scream of rage.

He thought he heard a laugh from the hallway.

"It's not a difficult concept, chibi. You buy me contraband, I pay you back with whatever you need. Whatever you need – you get me?"

The smallest Weiss heaved an irritated sigh as he realized that Yohji was not going to allow himself to be ignored. Omi looked up from his computer with what may very well one day prove to be a very scary glare.

"No, Yohji."

"Why?" he whimpered. "Come on – don't be like this!"

"Like what? Yohji, I am not risking my hide helping you destroy yourself!"

"It's not a risk!"

"You didn't hear the things Aya said he'd do to us if we helped you!" the younger man mumbled, rolling his eyes as he turned his attention back to his computer.

"Omi!"

"No."

"I'm dying!"

"Like I'd be dying if Ayan caught me helping you?"

"He wouldn't kill you! You're cute and squishy. Look at me! He wouldn't even hesitate to leave me a very, very bloody smear on the wall!"

"We need to repaint in here anyway."

"Omi!"

"No. Yotan, I'm sorry, but I think this is good for you, anyway. I'd rather watch Aya kill you than let you do it to yourself any day."

"Since when are you on his side?" Yohji demanded, throwing up his hands and storming from the room.

"I am on your side, Yohji!" Omi called after him.

Yohji shot him the bird.

"Ken…"

"No."

"Ken…"

"Get your ass away from the screen."

"Ken, I'm dying."

"Then can I have your stereo?"

"Ken!"

"Fuck of, man."

"I know your leg's not as bad as you've been pretending…wouldn't it be a shame if that got out?"

"Not going to work."

"Ken…"

"Tell Aya. Go ahead. I'd rather be in trouble for skipping a little work than for helping you feed your bad habits."

"Fuck you. You totally suck."

"Fine. Now get your ass away from the screen."

With a bored sigh, Yohji finished counting the register and put the remainder of the day's profits into the deposit bag.

"You wanna take this to the bank for me, chibi?"

The youngest Weiss swept the rest of the trash pile out the door before giving Yohji a smile. "Sure, Yotan!" he answered cheerfully.

The blonde made sure he turned away before cringing. The younger man's normally happy personality was damned annoying when Yohji didn't have enough nicotine in his system. The damn kis was actually humming as he came to take the deposit.

"Use the back door when you come back," Ken, who had at last been forced to return to work – in no small part due to Yohji's need for some kind of revenge – advised. "I'm going to go ahead and lock up for the night."

"Okay!"

Yohji rolled his eyes.

"Kudoh."

He gave a guilty jump, sure he had been caught, and glanced at Aya.

"I'm going to go pick up dinner," the cold man informed him. "Do you want to come help me?"

"Hm. Stay here and mop the floor, or tag along to carry the bags for you. Gee."

"Fine. If you don't want to go, say so. Don't be an ass."

"No, no! I want to go. You kidding me? You've kept me locked up in this place for two damned weeks!"

"Don't make me regret inviting you."

"Walking. Of course it had to be walking." Yohji tucked his hands behind his head, knowing that doing so would tug his shirt up and expose his flat, tanned belly. He grinned brazenly at a group of giggling schoolgirls they passed waiting for a bus. "You don't like to do anything the easy way, do you?"

He was surprised as Aya actually chose to answer him.

"No," the smaller man said quietly. "I don't."

Yohji couldn't help but to give a small laugh.

Aya stopped and so Yohji did, too. They stood together in the middle of the sidewalk, the flow of foot traffic parting and flowing around them like water in the dimming light. Aya stood staring at Yohji, expression unreadable. Yohji alternated between watching the crowd and reluctantly, awkwardly, meeting that unsettling gaze.

"We're going to get trampled if we stay here," Yohji said at last, after being struck by the briefcase of a passing businessman. "What's wrong?"

With a sigh and a glare, Aya drew a pack of Yohji's favorite brand of cigarettes out of his pocket and held them out to him.

"I don't approve of your habits," he stated coldly, "And I'm tempted to order you to quit. But you're a grown man and should be permitted to make your own decisions. However stupid they are."

Cautiously, Yohji took the pack from him. "You serious?" he asked.

A tight nod. Aya began to walk again. They were silent for a block or two.

"I've been thinking about cutting back a little, anyway," Yohji said at last.

"I think that would be a good idea."

"I'm allowed to drink again, too, right?"

A reluctant grunt to the affirmative. "But you still aren't allowed to bring women home," Aya stated.

"Fair enough. You know, I missed these little chats of ours while I was in the doghouse."

"Chats?"

"Yeah. Our chats. Me jabbering, you tolerating me. It's nice.:

Another grunt. "You're weird."

They reached the restaurant the group had agreed on, and Yohji held open the door for Aya, who passed by him with a thoughtful look on his face.

"We have a call-in order," he informed the girl behind the counter. "Number thirty-seven, Fujimiya?"

"Yes, right here!" she smiled, telling him the total. Aya paid without blinking, and accepted one of the bags. Yohji took the other two without being prompted.

"Why don't you date men?" Aya questioned as they stepped outside.

Yohji stumbled a step, caught off guard by the sudden and completely random query.

"What?"

"You told me you had been with men before. Well? Why is it you only date women?"

"What in the world brought that question on? Random much?"

"You said you liked our 'chats'."

"Ass."

"Well?"

"Do we have to have this conversation in a public place?"

Aya tilted his head to look at him. "Would you rather we were alone?" he asked.

No, Yohji decided, he most certainly would not.

"I don't know!" the blonde said at last, giving a helpless shrug as they began to walk again. "I guess, maybe if I wanted something serious, I would look for a man. But if I'm just trying to have a good time, women are easier." He doubted he would ever be able to be serious about a woman again, not after Asuka, but Aya didn't need to know that.

"Why?"

"Nosy son of a bitch, aren't you?" Yohji shoved his hands deeply into his pockets, uncomfortable with the whole conversation. "Most guys I meet at clubs assume that I want to…ah…take the submissive role. Because of the way I look."

"And you don't like that?" Aya asked, completely serious.

The first real conversation they'd ever had, and it had to be about this. Yohji groaned.

"Not really, no – as if it's any of your damn business," he answered, frustrated that the man wouldn't let the subject drop.

"I find it hard to believe you can only meet men who like it on top."

"Club uke's are bitches," he said dismissively. "I don't put up with that in women – why the hell would I put up with it in a man?"

"But - "

"And what about you, 'Ayan'?" he countered, annoyed. "What do you like – boys, or girls?"

Grunting, Aya let the subject drop.

tbc

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

CaT70 - Hm. I think I can live with that decision. (grins) I don't know why their dynamic fascinates me so much, but trust me, I doubt I'll ever get tired of playing with them. I'm so happy you're enjoying it!

glinwulf - Thanks!