Wow. Last chapter seemed to have generated a lot of enthusiasm. You don't know how happy the reviews made me. I hope you continue to enjoy.

Yohji Kudoh was miserable.

Mis-er-a-ble.

"Yotan, get your feet off the table!"

That bastard, Aya. It was all his fault. Yukio called him nearly every night. They had gone out three times in the last week. Yohji had even caught them one night sharing a brief, polite kiss goodbye.

They showed absolutely no passion in public.

He bet they were fucking like bunnies in private.

Every time Yohji saw them together, or picked up the phone to hear Yukio's voice, asking to speak to Aya, or saw that Aya had reserved an evening off on the shop schedule for a date, Yohji's misery only grew. There was no reprieve, no mercy, no safe haven. He couldn't even look at Aya again without thinking about the fact the man was dating Yukio.

Damn that bastard, Aya!

And damn himself, too, for failing to realize sooner that he was still interested in Yukio.

"Please don't smoke while I'm trying to cook!"

Yohji followed Omi's request without thought, putting his cigarettes away without drawing one. Lost in his darkness, he barely noticed when the cause of his sulking came into the kitchen and sat down across from him. His demeanor was cold, business-like, determined. It was the feel of those violently violet eyes boring into him that finally alerted Yohji to the other man's presence. The blonde rolled his eyes upwards to look at him slowly, questioningly.

"You aren't grounded anymore," the small redhead stated, taking the fact that Yohji was looking at him as the needed indicator that he wasn't being ignored.

"Yeah?" Yohji countered dully, "I knew that."

"You haven't been out since that one time," he accused.

Yohji stared at Aya, but the other man didn't so much as blink in the face of his scrutiny. "You worried or something?" he demanded. "I just have something on my mind, that's all. Don't feel like partying."

"You could come with us."

"You and Yukio? Why?"

Aya didn't answer at first. He turned his glare on Omi until the younger man at last caught on and left the kitchen.

"I…don't want to be alone with him," Aya stated at last.

"Who – Omi?"

"Yukio."

Yohji stared at him, a surge of sudden hope rising up within him. "Oh?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual. "I thought you two were hitting it off."

"I've tried, but…I can't see him in anything but a completely platonic manner. He, however, doesn't seem to understand this. I get the feeling…" Aya trailed off hesitantly, looking away. Yohji had never seen him look so…human…before. "I would prefer not to be alone with him again," he said at last. "I will let him take me to a bar if you'll come with us. You can pick someone up there, can't you? I need you to come with us. As…as a personal favor."

"You're not interested in Yukio?"

"No."

"And…I'm guessing what you're not saying is that all these weeks of intelligent conversation and absolutely no action has gotten him all horned up. Right? And he's pushing a little strong, and you can't handle it because you're a detached little bastard with absolutely no sex drive. Right?"

Aya pursed his lips into a thin line and glared, refusing to answer.

Yohji found his mood suddenly improving considerably. "Aya," he said with sudden cheer, reaching across the table to pat his shoulder. "I would be happy to help you out."

Despite Aya's insistence that he didn't care about Yukio (and Yohji had checked – asking him several times throughout the day to make absolutely certain the man wasn't going to change his mind tonight) the small redhead looked absolutely stunning when he came down the stairs, ready for his date.

"You sure you're planning to break up with him?" Yohji demanded when he saw him, jealousy rising like bile in his throat. If he was going to be forced to spend the evening watching Yukio hang all over Aya, he'd rather stay home.

The small redhead rolled his eyes upward to look at him, his gaze hard and flat.

"What," he demanded coldly, "Does that mean?"

Yohji crossed his arms. Given the sudden chance to amend his mistake and get Yukio back, the blonde was not in the mood to put up with Aya's icy temper. "You look like a guy trying to impress a lover, not hurt one," he accused. "I just want to make sure you aren't going to go back on what you told me. I'm only going with you tonight on the condition that that you're breaking up with him."

Aya faltered. For a moment, his icy façade almost cracked. "Why?" he asked.

Yohji stared at him, and suddenly realized he couldn't tell him about his sudden, strange desire for Yukio. Suddenly, there seemed something wrong with it.

"Hey – don't question the man doing you a favor!" Yohji scolded at last, grabbing his car keys. "Are you ready to go, or do you want to see if you can find some pants even tighter than those? Maybe we could use paint and just make the illusion of pants."

"You're one to talk," Aya replied coolly, brushing past him.

Yohji's mood improved a little, though he had no idea why. Once again looking forward to seeing Aya break up with Yukio, he followed the slim redhead out the door.

His questioning had pissed Aya off, as he'd have known it would if he had bothered to stop and think about it. The other man refused to speak to him on the ride to the club they had agreed to meet Yukio at, despite the fact that Yohji attempted several apologies as he drove. Aya barely even waited for the car to stop before he got out.

Yukio wasn't there yet, and so Aya's exit lost some of its effectiveness as he was left waiting outside the front door. He gave Yohji a warning look as the blonde approached, and it took all of the taller man's control to keep from teasing him.

Yohji's opportunity came with better timing than he ever could have hoped for. They had managed to claim a table, and Aya had excused himself to go wash his hands. Yohji at last had Yukio alone, and the way the shorter man was looking at him, he knew his advances would not be discouraged.

"So," he smiled as a server brought the drinks they had ordered. "You and Aya, huh?"

"Well, that's what I'd hoped, but you never really know," Yukio answered with a coy smile. "Gorgeous man, but I've never seen someone play hard to get for so long! I'm honestly beginning to wonder if he has a personality at all."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Well, I suppose you do know him better…but seriously, does the man never smile?"

"He smiles!"

"Intellectually, he's great, but sometimes I need a little more action – you know? And all these weeks of staring at that ass and just getting rebuked for my efforts…kind of makes me wish for someone a little more…carnal…" his hand brushed Yohji's as he reached for his drink, and the blonde resolutely pushed away the urge to defend Aya.

"That's…understandable," he said, giving his most confident, alluring smile. "I mean, you're only human, right? We all have…needs."

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Yohji didn't have time for the careful flirtation he had planned out. Yukio leaned in quickly to kiss him, needing no more prompting than that, and, for a moment, Yohji was more than happy to let things simply move along.

Then Yukio, hands sliding into Yohji's hair, tried to deepen the kiss. It was too wet, too messy, and his tongue altered between sitting listlessly in his mouth and thrusting deeply enough to almost make him gag.

Yohji felt absolutely nothing – except, maybe, disgust. This, he remembered suddenly, was why he had originally broken up with the man in the first place. He pulled away quickly, sacrificing a few strands of hair in the process, and quickly took a sip of his beer in an attempt to relieve himself of the taste of the other man's mouth.

"That was exactly what I've been wanting," Yukio said with a smile.

Yohji returned the smile halfheartedly, turning in his seat to see if he could pick Aya out in the crowd yet. He had never before been so happy to see the man when a group of dancers broke apart to let him through.

"Let's not mention this to Aya, okay, Yukio?" Yohji asked, wondering why he'd been so jealous that Aya had been dating the man.

"A secret?" he grinned. "How exciting!"

Yohji would have to remember to tell his housemates he was screening his phone calls. A few weeks, and Yukio would get the picture. Much easier than the whole mess of a I-can't-stand-you break-up talk.

Aya slid into his chair with his eyes downcast, betraying to Yohji just how much he was dreading his own break-up speech.

Yohji took another sip of his beer, unable to summon any sympathy.

Yohji resolutely ignored the urge to yawn as he shut off the car and unhooked his seatbelt. Staying out late partying was not nearly so fun when he didn't drink more than two beers.

The thought caused him to glance at Aya, dozing in the passenger seat. Nervous about his talk with Yukio, the small man had accidentally had a little too much to drink and was, amazingly enough, a little tipsy. Respecting Aya's feelings on drinking and driving, Yohji had cut himself off the moment he had realized his teammate was in no shape to drive home for him.

"Aya?" knowing that he was risking life and limb, Yohji reached out to gently shake the smaller man. "Aya? We're home."

The ride back had been just as silent as the ride to the club had been, and Yohji might as well have been alone. Now he was bored, tired, and more than a little disappointed in the way the night had ended.

Aya brushed away Yohji's hand and turned away, pillowing his head against the window. Sighing, Yohji got out of the car and crossed to Aya's side. He kept Aya from falling out of the vehicle as he opened the door, and ignored the glares and hissing curses as he leaned across him to unlatch his seatbelt. He managed to get the smaller man out of the car, and hooked an arm around him as he stumbled.

"Not far to the door, Aya," he informed him as the man began to growl. "Here – lean against me for a second so I can get the key. Wasn't thinking. I put it in my pocket when I got out of the car."

His light chatter did nothing to soothe the slim man in his arms. Aya pushed away from him and backed unsteadily into a wall, using it for support, instead.

Yohji stopped with the key in the lock, staring at the small man. Aya could usually be depended on to be level-headed and responsible, but for whatever reason, tonight the man had made a judgment error and had a little too much to drink. At least, that was what Yohji had first assumed, but as he stared Aya, he felt a rush of fear down his spine.

"Aya?" he asked. He reached out and took the pale redhead's face in his hand, trying to search his eyes in the dim lighting. "You did just drink, right? You didn't…no one gave you anything, right? You didn't take any pills, borrow any pain meds?"

"Not stupid," he muttered, glaring at slapping at his hand.

"Aya, I really need to know. I won't tell, okay? Did you leave your drink lying around for a while?"

Without answering, Aya fell forward against his chest, throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him.

Aya's kiss held the awkwardness of inexperience, but it was as far from unpleasant as possible. There was something surprisingly enticing about the naïveté, the hesitation, the sweetness of it all.

He stared as Aya pulled away, hit the wall, and began sliding down to the ground. Shaking himself out of his surprise, Yohji caught him quickly, awkwardly managing to get the door open despite the limp body in his arms. It was not good how unresisting the small and surprisingly light man was as he carried him inside.

Yohji made a judgment call and headed for the bathroom adjacent to Aya's room. Carefully, he set Aya down in the tub. One last time he tried to check the other man's eyes, tried to force them open. Aya refused to let him, squirming away, cursing him, hissing dangerously.

"Don't kill me for this," Yohji muttered, giving up.

He turned the faucet to cold, and put the shower on full-blast. Aya shouted, tried to get up, and slid back down – almost hitting his head on the tile along the way. Yohji sent up a silent prayer that they both survived the night.

"All right, Aya, we're almost done," Yohji assured him in the most soothing tone he could manage, moving the towel to dry the smaller man's hair.

Aya had fought like a wildcat, and Yohji would bear the evidence in the form of bruises, bites, scratches, and pinches for weeks to come. He had calmed about halfway through and gone completely limp so quickly that Yohji had begun to worry again, and dismissed the idea of leaving him alone when he realized that Aya would do nothing but sit and stare off into space unless promted.

At last he placed a towel on the counter and led Aya to sit there as he tied to get him dry – giving up on the hope that a cold shower would sober him up. Wiping fresh drops of water from the smooth alabaster of a beautiful nude body would have been a dream come true under other circumstances, but Yohji felt far too worried and guilty to enjoy it as he should, even when Aya reached forward to run his fingers through Yohji's long hair. Yohji quickly brushed the other man's hand away, continuing with his task.

Now Aya was watching him. Yohji could feel it – those dark, violet eyes peering at him from underneath the towel Yohji had thrown over the smaller man's head. Yohji forced himself to meet those eyes, to keep himself from trying to take a peek at his body. He reminded himself that this was Aya, the cold and formidable field leader of the Weiss. Attempting to take advantage of this moment of weakness would cost him dearly.

Aya put his arms around Yohji's neck and Yohji, despite his resolve, did not resist when the smaller man leaned in to kiss him again.

The first time, it had surprised him, but he had enjoyed it. Now, this second time, Yohji was more surprised.

And, again, the surprise did nothing to limit his enjoyment; however, he pulled away before the kiss could progress to anything more than a simple press of lips against lips.

"Aya," he said firmly, nearly scolding, "You don't know what you're doing."

Aya tried to lean into him and Yohji pulled away. He caught hold of Aya's arms, still wrapped around him, and managed to help him off the counter.

"We'll get you dressed, and then you can go to bed. Sleep it off," he babbled, unwinding those lovely arms and trying very hard not to look at his leader's pale, nude form. Aya stared at him for a moment, then walked away.

He was unsteady on his feet, but seemed more like himself as he wandered back into his bedroom. Yohji followed, still concerned, and watched the smaller man crawl into the bed and drag a blanket over his slim form.

Yohji moved to the armchair Aya kept near the window and sank down, eyes locked on the other man. Aya seemed a little better, maybe, but he was still worried. He couldn't bring himself to leave.

An hour, Yohji decided, getting comfortable. He would stay for an hour, then go back to his own room. If Aya was still alive and well in an hour, he would probably be fine.

An hour, Yohji promised himself as his eyes grew heavy and Aya's quiet, sleeping form filled his vision. In the morning, once he was feeling better, Aya would kill him for trying to take care of him.

But Yohji would stay for an hour, anyway, just to be sure Aya was okay.

It was only an hour.

tbc

Aya didn't take anything, he's just a lightweight. His behavior is based on (cough) the way someone I know very well (cough, cough) acts when she gets tipsy. I.E.: very sleepy and snuggly, although it takes considerably more to get her that way.

Response to Unsigned Reviews:

glinwulf - he's working through it, I think.

CaT70 - oh, but it wouldn't be as cute if we did it the easy way. (gins). Sorry, but I'm not familiar with that book at all.