No review response for last chapter just because it's been so long since I updates. Aplogies.

This is a fun chapter, and based on the particular picture of Aya that inspired me to write this story in the first place. I'll try to find it and post it in my LJ if anyone is interested.

He was awoken by the bright sunlight streaming through the window. His first instinct – to curse himself for falling asleep in that damned chair and staying there all night – vanished completely at the sight that greeted his tired eyes.

The window was located directly behind one side of the bed, and Yohji hadn't thought to close the curtains last night. The sun spilled through the white panes like liquid gold and, almost worshipfully, it seemed, dribbled down to cover and caress the small form still asleep in the bed. Aya was curled into an heartbreakingly fragile-looking ball, the blanket just barely covering the lower extremities of his delicate, nude form. The light played joyfully off the pale planes of those tight, lithe muscles, making his soft-looking skin almost sparkle.

Yohji had never seen Aya's face the way it now looked. It was…soft. Peaceful. Vulnerable. He had always known that Aya was a beautiful man, but that beauty had never before seemed so…real.

Aya shifted, curling more tightly into himself. The action caused the blanket to tug down, revealing a little more thigh, a little more sharp hip, a little more everything.

Yohji's breath caught, and it was more from surprise than anything else. His body was responding to Aya. Aya. If there was anyone it was useless to fantasize about, it was cold, unfriendly, violent Aya Fujimiya. Other than to take notice of his beauty, Yohji had never before allowed himself to think of the man in that way.

Aya shifted again, silky-looking strands of red hair spilling into his delicate face, and Yohji rose quickly. He had the distinct feeling that Aya would not be very forgiving if he woke to find Yohji watching him with a hard-on and a goofy smile. He fled the room with the distinct impression that he wasn't leaving a moment too soon.

A cold shower proved necessary. Much as he would like to, he could not allow himself to think of Aya that way. The moment he started to see Aya in a sexual manner was the very moment the swordsman cut his junk off. Aya would not tolerate it, he had no doubt.

He didn't spend any more time in the shower than was strictly necessary. He felt pretty shitty anyway, what with a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair all night and a distinctly tired feeling that told him he hadn't gotten nearly enough rest. He dressed comfortably, deciding to spend the day inside, and headed down to the kitchen without bothering to dry his hair.

He was met with the flat, humorless gaze of Aya, staring at him over a bag of ground coffee.

Yohji stopped. He stared at Aya, the image of the man as he had appeared earlier that morning flashing through his mind despite his best attempts to dampen the memories. Aya stared back – cold, unreadable. He was Aya again, and the innocent, sleeping man he had been this morning might as well have never existed. The sweet, somewhat inebriated man who had kissed him last night might as well have been a figment of Yohji's imagination.

Yohji was the first to look away. He had to force himself to speak.

"You feeling okay this morning?" he asked. "Whatever you drank last night, I hope you know you gave me a scare."

"Want coffee?"

"Ah. Yeah. Yes. Thank you."

He waited until Aya's back was turned before looking at him again. There was no way he could keep himself from noticing the slim yet strong lines of his back through his t-shirt, or the cut of his small, perfect ass in his jeans. The damage had been done, and now Yohji couldn't stop seeing Aya.

"I woke up naked."

Yohji gave a jump as the smaller man spoke, and he started guiltily when Aya turned away from the coffee maker to level his unnerving pansy-colored gaze on him.

"Kudoh?"

"Hey, all I did was make sure you were okay."

"By undressing me?"

"No! I wasn't…! I mean, I didn't…! I wouldn't - ! But it would serve you right if I did!" he finished at last, lamely. Aya arched one delicate eyebrow.

"Pardon?" the man asked slowly.

"Coming on to me like some drunken prom date! And I tried to get you dressed, but you wouldn't - ! You…"

"That still doesn't explain why I was naked in the first place."

"I was trying to help you!"

"By undressing me."

Yohji faltered, struggling to explain himself. He was rescued only by the arrival of Ken, tromping down the stairs for a quick breakfast before an early-morning soccer game. He snagged a banana and a bottle of sports drink and was out the door without so much as a glance at either of his teammates. Aya had moved to the fridge, so Yohji hurried to the coffee pot and filled up the largest mug he could find, trying all the while not to think about the fact that Aya – and the knife drawer – were behind him.

When he turned around, it was to find Aya waiting with the carton of liquid creamer. Hoping he didn't appear nearly as nervous as he felt, he held out his mug and attempted a smile. Aya set the creamer down and took the mug from him.

Rather than pour the creamer, however, Aya set the mug down and turned to face him once more.

"A…Aya?" the man was just staring at him, expression as blank as ever. He wondered if he was expecting him to explain or apologize. "You holding my coffee hostage or something?"

He didn't know what Aya was doing, and actually tried to pull back as the man reached for him.

Aya's hand caught in his hair. Pulled, hard, forcing his head down. His eyes widened as he suddenly found himself mere inches away from Aya's face.

Aya's other hand twitched and Yohji felt something sharp press into the skin of his belly. Had the bastard actually drawn a knife on him? Aya's eyes held him, trapped and helpless. He couldn't look away, couldn't pull back, couldn't think of a single glib comment to brush the moment off with.

And then, unbidden, his mind flashed him with the memory of the way Aya had looked this morning in the bed. The phantom memory of Aya lips on his last night followed, as well as the small, not-quite-formed thought of what if.

It all came to Yohji, and he could see in Aya's eyes that the man caught the look – the brief, instinctual flash of desire.

Aya scowled and shoved him away. Yohji's hip hit the table hard enough to bruise. Aya's back was to him, white-knuckled hands gripping the counter.

Yohji moved away slowly, circling until the table was between them. He could see on the floor the object Aya had threatened him with – not a knife, but a fruit spoon. Yohji had no doubt that he would have been able to seriously injure him anyway, even with something as harmless as that in the in quick and deadly hands of Weiss' leader. Aya could make a bag of flour or a square of tofu into deadly weapons.

"Nothing happened, Aya," he said in what he hoped was his most soothing tone of voice as he watched the other man's back tense and wished he had his wire on him. "You drank too much…or someone slipped you something. I was worried about you."

He spoke slowly, as if trying to talk down a jumper, and spread his empty hands harmlessly as Aya turned to face him.

He had never been so terrified in his life.

"I put you in the shower to try to sober you up," he explained, quickly rolling up one of his shirt sleeves. "Look – look at these bruises! You beat the shit out of me for trying!"

There was no response in Aya's eyes. Desperate, Yohji continued.

"I tried to change you out of your wet clothes, but you wouldn't put anything on. You just went to bed. Nothing happened, I swear. I didn't do anything but make sure you were okay. Aya? You gotta believe me. Aya?"

"Why did you kiss Yukio last night?"

Yohji faltered.

"What?"

"Yukio."

"You…saw that?"

Aya crossed his arms, waiting.

"Is that what you're mad about? You were planning on breaking up with him anyway, weren't you?"

"Is that why you came with me last night? You wanted Yukio?"

"Yeah. Well…I mean, that was why. But I don't anymore. Want him, I mean. I don't want him. Guy's a bad kisser. I don't know what made me think I wanted him. I…"

"And how am I?"

Yohji stopped.

"What?"

"As a kisser. You said Yukio was bad, but he isn't the only one you kissed last night."

"You remember that?"

Aya waited.

"You? Ah…well…"

"Kudoh."

"I'm thinking, okay?"

"What is there to think about?"

"What do you want to hear, man? I can see you gutting me with a spork no matter what I say. You'll be pissed if I liked it, pissed if I didn't, and violent either way! I didn't choose this, you know. You're the one who kissed me!"

"Fine." Aya's voice was cold. "I kissed you. Was I any good?"

"Yes!" Yohji exploded. "Yes! Great! Wonderful! I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all morning, so just castrate me and get it over with!"

Aya nodded once, tightly.

"Okay."

As he began to head for the kitchen door, Yohji scurried around the table, determined to keep it between them. His heart ran cold with fear as Aya stopped in the doorway to turn back and look at him.

"You're taking me out," he stated. "Tonight. Somewhere nice. Don't forget."

"Out?" Yohji blinked helplessly. "Like a date? Me and…and you?"

Aya was already walking away.

"Is that what you mean, Aya? Aya! Hey!"

He didn't stop. He rounded a corner and was out of sight.

Yohji slowly and bonelessly slid into a chair.

Yohji shifted in his seat. Reached to take another sip of water. Shifted again. He had never been so uncomfortable in his life.

This was his third 'date' with Aya, if he was even allowed to think of it in such terms. He still had yet to figure that one out.

The first night, Yohji had attempted to talk, tease, and joke with Aya, but had found that he lacked the courage to continue it at the almost-friendly level he had pushed them to before the Yukio/naked-Aya/kitchen fiasco, and so it had fallen short. He had failed to raise even the slightest response in the smaller man.

The second night had been even more halfhearted, and tonight – tonight they hadn't spoken one word to each other since leaving the house.

The waitress came with their bill, and Yohji was only too happy to pay, as long as it meant that the night was almost over. He didn't know what Aya was getting out of these little exchanges, but if the man wanted to keep doing this, Yohji just might have to summon up the courage to turn him down.

He had a cigarette lit the moment he hit the cool night air, and was halfway to the car before he realized that Aya was not by his side.

Stuffing a hand into his pocket, he turned around. Aya was several steps behind him, walking slowly. His eyes were fixed on the ground.

"Aya?" it felt strange to speak after hours of silence, but he did it. "You okay?"

Aya looked up. His eyes were as cold and unreadable as ever.

"I'm sorry, Yohji."

No doubt it had been difficult to say, but Yohji found himself staring anyway. Aya apologizing was a rare and confusing thing.

"For what?" he asked.

To his surprise, Yohji actually saw the man flinch ever so slightly, slim shoulders hunching a little. Aya backed away.

"For putting you through this. I thought that maybe…you don't have to do this again." Aya spoke as if each word he pushed out somehow pained him. Slowly, deliberately, he continued. "You should have just said no in the first place."

Yohji had forgotten about his cigarette, and he was silent with shock until it burnt down far enough to sting his fingers. Cursing, he flicked it away.

"I…guess you were…afraid…to say no," Aya said finally. "I wouldn't have hurt you. It was wrong for me to try to influence you into dating me."

Yohji pulled his burnt fingers from his mouth, staring dumbly.

"You mean these were dates?"

"You yourself said it. Even I get lonely. I apologize for wasting your time."

"Aya…?"

"There's no reason for you to have another wasted night. I'll take a cab home," he thrust a wad of bills into one of Yohji's hands. "Go to one of your clubs and have a good time. I'll cover your shift tomorrow morning."

Yohji could only stare, silent, at him. As Aya turned and began to walk back to the restaurant, he found himself following.

"You wanted to date me."

"It was only a thought. You're the only one who I…" Aya trailed off. Yohji was about to stop following him when he spoke again. "You saw me," he said quietly. "You took an interest in my health. I couldn't scare you off. You forced me to talk to you. I was irresponsible of me to begin to think…"

Yohji reached out and caught his arm and Aya stopped walking. For a moment, the blonde felt a rush of fear, but he quickly pushed it away. He had hurt Aya's feelings. He couldn't allow himself to be afraid of the man if he wanted to fix that.

"I was the one you wanted all along, wasn't I?" he asked, amazed. "Except, you didn't know how to ask, and I was too stupid to see it."

Aya didn't answer, didn't turn to look at him. Yohji fought the urge to release him. Bravely, he slid his thumb against the back of Aya's wrist.

Yohji wasn't sure what he was doing, just that he would find himself at the pointy end of a katana if he wasn't careful.

"Aya…?"

The man turned to him at last, and had he been anyone else, Yohji would have called the movement hesitant. Ignoring the logic that told him to leave Aya alone left him working on pure instinct.

He slid his hand up Aya's arm to his elbow, and using that hold, and his own body, he backed Aya up against a nearby car.

He lowered his head until his breath was shared with Aya's. Inches away from his lips he hesitated. Aya was staring at him – cold, unreadable. Beautiful. Yohji remembered the sight of him, pale and nude and vulnerable in the early morning light, and he realized that that was a sight he would like to wake to again.

He'd been unbearably jealous when Aya had been dating Yukio, and yet, when it had come down to it, he hadn't wanted Yukio at all. Could it have been Aya who he'd been yearning for?

His free hand came up to cup Aya's cheek, his thumb caressing his soft lips, urging them to part for him. He remembered the feel of those lips on his own, and realized that it was something he wanted to experience at least one more time.

Yohji drew back without kissing him, and Aya's eyes, which had begun to drift closed, opened. Yohji was too close; he had to step away, catch his breath, or he would do something he would never be forgiven for.

"Yohji…?"

"Okay," his voice came out shaky, and he took another step away, running a hand backwards through his hair. "Okay. Let's give it a shot."

"A…?"

"Let's try this for real. Hell, why not? Let's give it a chance," he laughed, and it sounded just as rattled as he now felt.

And why shouldn't he be? He had once told Aya that if he wanted a serious relationship, he'd probably go for another man.

Aya had just proven that this was far more serious than he had ever before dreamed.

tbc