The ride home was a quiet one. Yuki wasn't sure what to say to Shuuichi now that he had him back, and the younger man seemed to be lulled by the purr of the engine and the rhythmic passing of golden streetlights which punctuated the darkness outside into nearly falling asleep in his bucket seat.

As Yuki parked the car, Shuuichi sat upright with an effort, yawning widely. "Are we home?"

"Home," Yuki confirmed.

"Hey, Yuki!" Shuuichi, seeming to shake off most of his sleepiness, bounced beside Yuki as his lover unlocked the front door of their apartment and stepped into the living room. "Is that the shirt I picked out for you? How did you find it?! I thought I dropped it when I got kidnapped!! I hope you like it -- well, you're wearing it, so I guess you must like it! I'm so glad-- Oh! Yuki, how's your arm?! Is it feeling better?!"

Shuuichi's barrage of queries was cut off with a startled squeak as he was dragged into an almost painfully close embrace.

"Yuki...." The young man closed his eyes, burying his face in his lover's shoulder and breathing in the familiar scent of him, feeling his body heat, and wrapping his own arms around Yuki's chest. He didn't ever want to leave this shelter.

"Shuuichi...."

"I know, I know." Shuuichi pulled away reluctantly. "I need to shower. I'll go--"

Strong hands cupped his face unexpectedly, the pads of Yuki's thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks. Those narrow amber eyes searched his face with the most curious warmth.

"Don't ever do anything like that again."

"Okay, Yuki," Shuuichi answered, sounding subdued.

After another long moment of that intent stare, Yuki bent to press a soft kiss to Shuuichi's mouth.

"Yuki?"

"Shower."

"Aa."

After the younger man had darted off into the bathroom, Yuki sank with a heavy groan onto the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, then twisted his neck in order to examine the bandage wrapped around his left upper arm.

There was only the faintest of bloodstains seeping through in spite of all his exertions of the evening. Yuki grimaced. It hurt like a bitch, though. He hadn't noticed at the time -- while he had been beating the shit out of that Slasher guy -- but he was sure paying for it now.

His stomach still had not settled down from hearing Rex's scornful declaration of Shuuichi's death so he decided against taking any aspirin. Instead, he changed swiftly into his pajama bottoms, listening all the while to the streaming water in the shower. It was proof that he was not alone in the apartment, that Shuuichi was truly home and wasn't going to go anywhere for a while. It was one of the most comforting sounds Yuki had heard in a long time.

He had turned off most of the lights in the apartment, except for the lamp beside the bed, and was flipping down the covers when Shuuichi emerged from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry.

Shuuichi's endless, slim legs were glowing beneath his sleeping shorts, but Yuki could see the dark bruises that marred the smooth flesh. There were faint abrasions around the youth's wrists as well, he had noted previously. And when Shuuichi finally dropped the towel, running his hands through his feathery pink hair, Yuki could see that most of the markings on Shuuichi's face that he had been hoping had been dirt had not washed off in the shower.

Still, Shuuichi had been returned to him all in one piece, only slightly damaged, and the men who had taken him from Yuki were all dead. Just as Aya had promised.

"Yuki?"

Those round violet eyes were shadowed in the dim lighting of the bedroom. Shuuichi looked unexpectedly young and vulnerable.

Yuki stepped forward, grasping one of Shuuichi's hands and tugging. "Come on. Let's get to bed."

"Un."

They clambered under the covers and Yuki pulled Shuuichi as close to him as the restrictions of their bodies would allow. He flicked the lamp off.

"Yuki?"

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at me? I mean... for everything that happened?"

"How could I be angry?" Powerful arms pulled the smaller body close and warm lips brushed against the delicate flesh of one temple.

"Well.... I made a mess out of everything...."

"I think you did wonderfully."

"Really?!"

"Really. Now go to sleep."

"All right, Yuki."

Sighing blissfully, Shuuichi burrowed into the broad pillow of Yuki's chest, closing his eyes and allowing sleep to overtake him.

Yuki stayed awake, running his fingers through the silken strands of his lover's hair and listening to the gentle cadence of his breathing. His eyes were wide open, staring into the dark room. For him, sleep would be a long time coming.

****

"How the hell did you manage to get captured?"

"Lay off it already, Aya!" Emerald eyes glared from under heavy lids, Yoji's generous mouth twisting in a bitter frown. "I told you; they knocked me on the head!"

"You should have heard them coming behind you."

"I know!" Yoji fairly kicked open the front door, throwing his keys down on the table. Aya had started in on him as soon as they had climbed into the redhead's Porsche, and he was getting really sick of it. "I fucked up big time and I've paid for it, okay?! But *you* try listening for freaking assassins sneaking up on you while Shindou's jabbering away in your ear at top volume!"

"Hm."

Aya seemed to be considering this complaint seriously, but Yoji felt immediately guilty for blaming Shindou when it was really his own lack of vigilance that had been the largest factor in their capture.

"What were you doing in that alley in the first place?" Aya was asking. For a surprise, his voice sounded reasonable and not dark with disapproval.

Yoji squirmed. "It was... Shindou's idea."

"Ah."

Yoji sighed, then clutched at his ribs as the inhalation shifted things around painfully. "Ow."

"You're hurt."

Yoji rubbed at his sinuses. "Yeah, 'little. Don't worry about it. I'm going to go shower and go to bed."

"Shower. Then I'll look at your wounds."

"How you plan on doing that, Aya?" Yoji asked caustically, already unfastening his mission jacket. "Its my ribs that are screwed up. Short of opening me up and pasting them with super glue, there's nothi-- OW~!!!!!!!"

Yoji howled, his knees buckling and almost spilling him on the floor as one of Aya's hands closed around his wrist. It felt like a vise, although in reality Aya's grip had been careful, almost gentle.

"FUCK, AYA!! Let go, will you, you asshole!!!" Yoji jerked his arm away, clasping it close to his chest, his pupils dilated in fury-sparking green eyes. "WHAT did you do THAT for?!?!?!"

"Go and shower," Aya repeated staunchly, ignoring the question. "Then I'll look at your wounds."

Yoji growled out several rather obscene, rather personal insults aimed at his stern teammate, but trudged obediently toward the bathroom that the Weiss members shared.

"First aid kit's in my room," he called brusquely over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall. The bathroom door slammed, shaking the entire apartment.

Aya waited a beat, then moved to his own bedroom. Divesting himself of his mission gear, he repaired to Yoji's room. There were shreds of gauze on the floor already and the box was sitting open on the man's bed. Aya surmised that Yoji had stopped off here with Shindou before proceeding to the auditorium. Well, he had to have, in order to pick up his weapon and his mission clothes.

Faster than Aya had expected he would, since he spent well over half an hour in the shower normally, Yoji slouched into the room, his hair darkened to near-black and hanging around his face in damp strings, a towel draped around his waist for the sake of dubious modesty. Aya tried not to stare at the deep purple blooms of large bruises that were liberally scattered around Yoji's chest. The tall assassin had no meat on his bones, and there had been nothing to ease the blows that he had obviously taken.

"Think we're gonna have to cut these off," Yoji grunted, presenting his wrists, where soggy bandages were wrapped less than tightly. "Didn't want to take 'em off before I showered. Still hurt like a sonofabitch, though."

Aya was startled to hear Yoji admit to pain -- usually he just swallowed it down without complaint -- and so he said nothing as Yoji seated himself beside the first aid kit on his bed.

"Ribs first?" Yoji asked, pushing himself upright with a muffled groan of pain that he could not stifle. "Shindou did a good job, all things considered, but he's an amateur."

Aya was not an amateur. He was also not overly gentle, though he was careful. He made certain that Yoji's ribs got the bracing they needed, after running his hands along them to ascertain that they were only cracked and nothing was broken.

"Any other damage?" he asked Yoji, as the man gasped brokenly for air, drops of sweat running down his face. "Internal, that is?"

"I-iya." Yoji shook his head faintly. He was washed white from the pain, his hands trembling as Aya took hold of them to cut away the wet bandages. "They didn't have time to do a thorough job."

"Ah." Aya bit back a grimace as he examined the red, irritated rings of flesh around Yoji's wrists. There were more marks on his arms, just above his elbows, but they weren't nearly so bad.

Keeping his face expressionless, Aya swabbed the raw skin, smoothing on anti-inflammatory with a liberal hand. Yoji was going to be feeling these for quite a while to come. Between the mess made of his wrists and his cracked ribs, he was already suffering for his carelessness. That didn't make it any less irksome, though. Aya hated worrying, and while he would never admit to having *been* worried, he was now suffering from the backlash, feeling unjustifiable antagonism toward the object of his anxiety.

"So, Doctor, what's the verdict?" Yoji asked as Aya wrapped his wrists in stony silence. "Will I ever play the violin again?"

Aya glared at his teammate. "That's not funny."

"Ah, lighten up, Aya." Yoji shrugged, though his expression looked a lot more pensive than his airy tone of voice would have suggested. "The Slashers are dead, Shindou's back with his boyfriend, Omi gets to dance around onstage like a rock idol, and *you're* not the one who got hurt!"

Aya growled, standing and slamming the first aid kit closed with a gesture of finality. He picked it up and stood for a moment beside Yoji's bed, trying to decide whether to say anything further, and what it might be if he did.

"Are there still some pain pills in the kit, Aya?" Yoji asked, easily setting aside his ill humor. Aya envied him this ability, recognizing that it made dealing with people a lot less difficult. It seemed to be an inherent part of Yoji's nature, but Aya had too much pride.

"Aa." He chose the strongest medication they had -- not quite sleeping pills, but pretty close -- and gave them to Yoji along with a glass of water. The brunette downed them eagerly.

"Thanks," he said, handing the empty glass to his teammate.

"Aa."

"Did we ever find out why the Slashers were after us?" Yoji asked, yawning widely.

"No." Aya cast a sharp glance toward the older man. "Did they say anything while you were in their care?"

"Heh." Yoji snorted, lighting up a cigarette and swinging his long bare legs onto the bed. The smooth flesh was stained with more bruising, especially around the knees. "They didn't exactly spend a lot of quality time with us. But they were asking an awful lot of questions about Kritiker."

Aya frowned thoughtfully. "I ought to let Manx know about that...."

"Why bother?" Yoji tossed his head back, sweeping wet hair out of his face and blowing smoke upwards, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "All the members of the Slashers are dead now."

"We can't be certain of that," Aya said disapprovingly as he moved toward the door.

"Psh. Whatever. Turn off my light when you go, would ya?"

Without a further word, Aya complied, his back stiff as he exited Yoji's room.

"Hn." Yoji took a few deep drags. "Happy to be home, Aya. Good to see you too."

With a low groan, Yoji ground out his cigarette, then dropped his damp towel on the floor beside his bed. He slid under the covers, too angry at his teammate to be properly appreciative of the fact that he was going to sleep in his own bed instead of lying trussed up in an abandoned warehouse.

"Asshole." Yoji tried to find a comfortable position in which to lie. His ribs ached fiercely, and his wrists were burning. But he was exhausted, he was clean and warm from his shower, and the mattress was soft and welcoming beneath him. Before he quite knew it, resentment had slipped away into memory, then the world vanished in a haze of darkness and enfolding blankets. He sighed into his pillow and allowed himself to relax into a deep cleansing sleep.

****

The morning was beautiful, the rising sun coloring everything a warm pink, the golden-glowing air crisp and relatively clear, not yet hazed and scented with the inevitable automobile emissions.

Tatsuha sniffed, breathing in deeply of the fragrant steam rising up off of his coffee in its paper cup. Fortunately, there had been an espresso stand on his way to the flower shop his older brother had set him to staking out. It should get him warmed up and functioning by the time anything started to happen.

Slurping at the brew -- which smelled better than it tasted, unfortunately -- Tatsuha eyed the front of the Koneko no Sumu Ie. It was silent and empty, still locked up for the night. Nothing was happening, but Tatsuha hadn't wanted to miss anything in case it *did*.

He'd given up the afternoon before, after his aniki had arrived at the flower shop, assuming that Eiri wouldn't want reports on what he himself was doing there. Tatsuha wondered what all the fuss and mystery was about. But he had a meeting with Sakuma Ryuuichi riding on his obedience to his brother's orders, and so he watched without questioning, ready to report any activity to Eiri.

"Hm?" Tatsuha tilted his head to one side, thumb poised over the button of his cell phone, as he finished his bitter coffee. "That's odd...."

Tossing the cup casually over his shoulder, Tatsuha dialed up his brother's phone number, watching intently.

After letting it ring for almost a full minute, Tatsuha fielded a very cranky query.

"Ah! Ohayo, Aniki!"

"Tatsuha...." Eiri sounded like he was stifling a yawn. "Why the hell are you calling at this hour?"

"Well, I'm outside that flower shop you told me to watch and--"

"You're still there?!" Eiri's voice sharpened, sounding more surprised and incredulous than irritated now. "Didn't you go home last night?!"

Tatsuha briefly considered telling his brother he had indeed staked out the place all night, so as to impress Eiri with his dedication to the goal of meeting Ryuuichi... but in the end he gave up the idea. If Eiri found out that he had lied, then there would go the best chance he had ever had of seeing his obsession face to face.

"I went home after you showed up here yesterday, Aniki. But I got an early start! I've already been here for hours!" An exaggeration wasn't the same thing as lying, and he didn't think there was any way Eiri could find out he had only been here about half an hour.

"You don't need to," Eiri was saying brusquely. "Go home, Tatsuha. You're done there. Everything's over with, and there's nothing to see."

"So do I get to meet Ryuuichi?!" Tatsuha asked excitedly.

A longsuffering sigh gusted into his ear. "Sure, sure. Just go home and go back to bed, Tatsuha."

The young man frowned faintly. "Wait, Aniki!" he said, when it seemed as though Eiri would hang up on him. "You said there wasn't anything more going on here?"

"Nothing."

Tatsuha bit his lower lip, his sapphire eyes dark and thoughtful. "Are you sure, Aniki? 'Cause I just saw something really weird...."

****

Yuki frowned, dark golden brows drawing together, staring down at the cell phone he had allowed to fall into his lap.

"What is it, Yuki?" Shuuichi asked sleepily, emerging from a cocoon of bedcovers and twining his arms around his perplexed lover. "Who was calling this early? And why do you look so upset?"

"I'm not upset," Yuki replied absently. "Just thinking. That was odd...."

"Eh?"

Yuki's lips thinned. "Maybe I ought to call Weiss."

"Yoji-san and the others?" Shuuichi gazed up with wide eyes. "Why, Yuki? What's going on?"

Yuki's mouth opened, but before he could reply -- if he was even going to -- there came a splintering crash from the front of the apartment.

"Not again!" Yuki snarled, leaping up out of bed, his amber eyes sparking. He'd had his door repaired while he had been at the auditorium for Bad Luck's rehearsal the afternoon before; having it broken down twice in two days was not going to sit well with him.

"Yuki!" Shuuichi squalled, tangling himself up in the sheets when he tried to follow his lover. He tumbled over the edge of the bed onto the floor. "Wait!"

"Stay here, Shuuichi!" Yuki barked fiercely, not waiting to see if his order was being obeyed as he belted out of the room. After the phone call he had just received from Tatsuha, he knew this wasn't going to be anything so benign as his lover's manager -- they weren't any of them out of danger, and now the threat was inside his own apartment.

He froze a moment as he entered his living room, staring at the apparition that was standing where his front door had been until mere moments ago. The man was all clothed in black, the side of his face crusted with dried blood. His dark eyes were livid, blazing with hatred and his teeth were bared in an unnerving snarl.

Yuki was all too aware that he was wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms. His feet were bare, his hair was messy, and he wasn't carrying anything more menacing than the cell phone still clutched in one hand. He stiffened his back, glaring fiercely at the intruder.

"You owe me a new door," he said coldly, taking a step forward, tossing his phone onto the sofa cushions. The man who had broken into the apartment seemed unarmed, but Yuki was wary. Wary, but not fearful. He refused to be intimidated on his own property.

"Hey, it's you!" Shuuichi's voice rang out behind Yuki, and he gritted his teeth. He had known that the youth wouldn't do as he had commanded, but he had still had to try.

"Shuuichi...."

Shuuichi's pink head peered from around Yuki, his violet eyes wide. "But.... But you were dead! At least, I thought you were.... I even checked for a pulse and everything!"

Yuki found this all too easy to believe -- but what the hell had Yoji been thinking, allowing Shuuichi to touch what had been thought to be a corpse?!

"Next time you'll have to try a little harder," the man sneered, his gaze fixing balefully on the young man standing behind the tall blonde. His mouth split in a nasty grin, flakes of dry blood splintering off his cheek. "Only there won't be a next time, because I'm going to wring your scrawny little neck! Just as soon as I crack open your boyfriend's skull...."

Yuki snorted as the man brandished a heavy, thick metal pipe which he had been holding out of view, smacking it into his opposite palm. As long as there were no guns involved, he wasn't really very worried. "Are you sure you're up to that?" he asked scornfully. "Shouldn't you be in a hospital somewhere?" He glanced downwards, then scowled darkly, pissed off. "You're bleeding on my floor!"

With a furious howl the man propelled himself forward across the room toward the mocking blonde, his makeshift weapon raised.

"Yuki!" Shuuichi cried in panic as Yuki darted to meet his attacker. He didn't want to clash right in front of Shuuichi, didn't want to risk his lover getting caught up in the fight and being harmed.

"Stay back!" Yuki bellowed, ducking under a wild swing of the pipe. It whistled through the air over his head, but he still was not afraid. It would take a lot more than this to bring him down!

For a wonder, Shuuichi obeyed, keeping away from the combatants. He skittered around the edge of the living room, violet eyes huge, watching as the member of the Slashers tried to fulfill his promise to bash Yuki's head in, and Yuki got in a few blows, attempting to knock the pipe out of the other man's hands.

"Get him, Yuki!!"

Yuki cursed as his foot slipped, causing him to falter momentarily. He brought up his left arm to block another aggressive swing of the pipe. It caught the muscle and bone with a meaty sound, but Yuki had been falling backwards onto the sofa and so he missed the full impact and his arm was not broken.

It hurt like anything, however, and he lay a moment, stunned, attempting to pull himself back together. This was a lapse he could ill afford, and the Slashers member howled with triumph, raising his pipe to deliver the deciding blow.

Yuki cursed again, trying to roll out of the way, knowing he was too late, and then a pale ceramic projectile flew through the air, striking the man in one temple with a solid thunk.

He cried out, dropping his pipe and clutching at his head. Yuki watched in horror as Shuuichi's favorite mug went spinning, hitting the wooden floor and breaking into three jagged pieces.

"YUKI!! NOW!!"

Snapped from his shock by Shuuichi's clarion call to action, Yuki got his feet under him and surged upwards. He placed all his momentum behind his right fist, which connected with the man's jaw just as he lowered his hands and raised his head to fix Yuki with a murderous glare.

Shuuichi whooped with excitement as their attacker arced backwards, hitting the floor with a sodden thud. "Whee!! You got 'im, Yuki!!"

Yuki grimaced, clutching at his left arm, which was now doubly useless to him. "Damn!"

"Yuki! Are you all right?!" Bare feet skittered across the room, and Shuuichi was before him, eyes huge and worried. "He hit you! Did he break your arm?! Yuki!"

Ignoring his concerned lover, Yuki crossed to where the man who had broken into the apartment lay. He wasn't going to trust Shuuichi to feel for a pulse, as Yoji evidently had the evening before. Kneeling beside the still form, he reluctantly touched the man's neck. His heart was beating steadily, if a bit fast. This made Yuki nervous for a moment, but he was fairly certain that the bastard was truly unconscious and not simply faking it.

"Yuki?" Shuuichi bent to peer into his lover's face, his brows puckered. "What were you saying about Weiss?"

Yuki stood abruptly. "I think they're in danger. Tatsuha just called and said that he saw someone sneaking into the flower shop."

"What?!" Shuuichi yelped, dancing from foot to foot. "Oh no! We have to do something, Yuki! This is bad! I'm gonna call Yoji-san and warn him!!"

The boy made a dive for the telephone, but Yuki stopped him, grasping his wrist and pulling him up short.

"Yuki!"

"Grab my cell phone," Yuki barked, giving Shuuichi enough slack to do so before tugging him toward the door. "We'll call them on the way over there!"

"Hai! Yuki!"

Pausing only long enough to tug on their outdoor shoes and to grab Yuki's keys, they ran to the car.

Yuki thought that he was going to feel really stupid if there wasn't anything untoward happening at the Koneko no Sumu Ie... but no matter how wishful his thinking, he was certain that this would not be the case.

****

*briiii~!!... briiii~!!... briiii~!!...*

Yoji growled out a curse, rolling over before he remembered why that was such a bad idea.

"Owch!" He sat up, clutching at his side, and gritting his teeth. "Dammit, isn't anyone going to answer the phone?"

It was still so early that the sunlight streaming in through his window was pink-hazed. Who could be calling the shop at this hour?

Yoji grumbled, pushing himself out of bed and tugging on a pair of loose sweats which had been hanging conveniently over the headboard. If Aya hadn't left his door ajar the night before he could have slept on in blissful ignorance. He could barely hear the ringing, since the phone was all the way down in the shop, but once it had caught his attention he couldn't just roll over and ignore it. It was as annoying as an alarm clock -- more so, because he couldn't just reach over and turn it off -- and he had to wonder why it continued to ring long past the point at which any normal person would have decided to give up.

"How come the machine isn't picking up?" he wondered aloud as he slumped into the hall, glaring toward the closed doors, behind which he assumed his teammates were happily slumbering. There was a steady cascade of water hitting tile behind the bathroom door; someone was bathing. But Yoji was definitely the only one up and about.

Well, maybe Ken had unplugged the answering machine again, in order to recharge his cell phone. Omi'd given him shit about that more than once, but he continued to do it, claiming that all the outlets in the apartment were occupied.

Yoji yawned, scratching at his head through unruly chestnut curls as he made his way slowly down the stairs. He'd gone to bed with wet hair last night, and that always resulted in tangles. It was going to be a bitch to brush out, especially with his ribs messed up. He was stiff and sore, and inclined to be monstrously cranky until he'd had his morning coffee and a cigarette. Oh, and food would be good too.

Whoever was on the other end of the phone was going to get an earful.

"Hai, hai," he groused at the shrilling appliance as he padded into the Koneko with bare feet. Yep, Ken's cell was plugged in instead of the answering machine, as he'd thought. His teammate was going to catch hell for his laziness after he got out of bed; Yoji would see to that!

Leaning up against the counter, Yoji grasped the phone receiver with a languid hand. "Moshi mosh--" he started, before a flicker of bright movement caught at the corner of his eye.

An instant later the receiver hit the floor, Shindou's anxious voice emerging with a tinny clamor.

But Yoji was a little too distracted to take note of that fact.

****

"Yoji-san?! Yoji-san!! Yuki!!"

Yuki spared Shuuichi a glance. The young man's eyes were round and shadowed with apprehension. He'd been trying to contact the members of Weiss for more than three minutes now, with no success.

"What's going on?" Yuki asked sharply, taking a corner more than a little too fast.

"Someone answered the phone!" Shuuichi gasped out, clutching Yuki's cell to his ear, speaking over the roar of the engine. "I think it was Yoji-san! But there's no one there now, and I think I can hear fighting!"

Yuki cursed and trod more heavily on the gas pedal. If there were any cops out this morning that might be inclined to give chase, they were welcome to follow him to the Koneko no Sumu Ie. He might very well be leading them to the site of an assault and possible homicide.

They were close to the flower shop now. He only hoped they would not be too late.

****

Aya stepped from the shower stall onto the threadbare mat, toweling his hair briskly. Yoji had still been sound asleep when he had risen. Ken and Omi hadn't returned at all the night before -- he assumed they had gone out partying with Hiro and the others, or perhaps had found themselves a love hotel to stay at -- and so he had taken advantage of the opportunity for a long, leisurely, hot shower.

He was feeling flushed and warm, and quite relaxed. His irritation of the night before had passed into memory and he was almost ready to forgive Yoji. Of course, it helped that the man was in such sorry shape. He'd already been punished enough for causing Aya to worry, even though it hadn't been by Aya's own hand.

Idly, Aya wondered if he'd forgiven Yoji enough to cook him breakfast in bed. Since Omi wasn't here to do it, and since Yoji would probably just make himself some instant ramen if left to his own resources.... Well, Aya would make breakfast, because he was feeling generous, and because Ken and Omi weren't here, but Yoji would have to come into the kitchen to eat it.

Drying himself efficiently, Aya paused a moment. There had been a loud noise from downstairs, in the shop. Had something fallen over?

Cracking the door, Aya tipped his head, listening intently as he pulled on a pair of faded black jeans. Occasionally something would fall, especially when Ken had unloaded a shipment of stock in a hurry, but somehow there was a sense of something more sinister to the sound that raised the hairs at the nape of his neck. Misgiving was swiftly replacing his mellow enjoyment of the morning, even though he couldn't really have said why.

Another explosive bang decided him -- that had sounded almost as though the register had hit the floor -- and then the sound of breaking glass. There was definitely something wrong!

Running to his room to grab his katana, Aya saw in a flash that Yoji's door was wide open, and his bed was empty. That made him even more apprehensive, and he fairly flew down the stairs, already unsheathing his weapon.

There were two slender figures grappling in the flower shop, washed in an incongruously gold-tinted cascade of morning sunlight. Yoji was in a state of undress similar to Aya's, his bandages standing out stark and white against straining muscles. His assailant had him pinned against the base of the cold display case, a long, curved blade pressed close to his throat. One of the case's doors had been shattered, jagged shards of glass cheerfully reflecting the morning light where they were scattered about Yoji's half-prone body.

It was a woman who was attacking Yoji, Aya saw as he started forward with a furious yell. She turned, baring her teeth like a feral cat, her green eyes flashing. Leaping up off of Yoji, she crouched in a ready stance, and Aya saw that she was holding one curved blade in each hand, the sunlight gleaming on their razor-sharp edges.

He pressed his attack without so much as glancing at his disabled teammate, and the three blades clashed between the two combatants, catching and locking them together for long moments.

"You! You're the one who killed Rex!" the woman snarled. Her voice would probably have been melodious had it not been harsh and grating with raw hatred. She gave a great thrust with her arms, heaving herself backwards, and then rushing forward to attack Aya with a loud scream.

"Fuck!" Aya brought his katana up to block one blow, attempting to dodge the other. The blade sliced into his right arm, drawing blood but doing no serious damage.

"Watch out for the glass, Aya!" Yoji warned, his voice weak but loud enough to carry. It was an apt reminder, seeing as Aya was barefoot.

The redhead spun, swinging his katana toward the woman. She blocked the strike, but Aya managed to give his blade a twist that sent her weapon spinning out of her hand.

She let out a shrill, incoherent shriek of rage, jumping for Aya with her remaining blade flashing in the sunlight. Aya's jaw clenched as he caught and deflected several wild strikes. If anything, she was quicker now that she had lost one of her weapons, and he was having trouble getting his feet under him. Especially as a good third of the shop floor was off limits thanks to the broken glass.

They danced a deadly duel in the empty flower shop, bright sunlight glinting on the edges of their blades, Aya's bare feet scuffling and the woman's heels clicking. Aya grunted, dodging to the side just in time to avoid losing a lock of hair and maybe more. An answering slice of his katana marred the woman's oval face, drawing a line of scarlet down a smooth cheek.

"Bastard!" she hissed, crouching for a moment, readying herself for another rush forward. Aya didn't have to hear Yoji's low sound of warning to know that behind him was the danger of lacerated feet. If he stepped back into the glass the woman would most certainly have the advantage and he might very well lose this battle. She seemed intent on carving his heart out of his chest. That was something that Aya was not going to allow to happen.

As the woman lunged toward him, blade flickering, Aya ducked to one side. He felt a chill slice then the welling of hot blood as her weapon caught him in the upper chest. But it was a glancing strike, and she staggered, a victim of her own momentum. Aya took an instant to get his feet firmly under him, even as his assailant caught herself and swung toward him again, face livid with fury.

In a move as graceful as it was unexpected, Aya kicked out, high and hard. The heel of his foot smashed into the woman's sternum, and she fell back with a small choked cry. Not giving her the time to recover, Aya lashed forward, his katana swinging in a carefully controlled but powerful arc.

It sliced her open between one heartbeat and the next.

Aya came to a halt, panting for breath, as the body slumped over behind the register. The incongruous thought hit him that they weren't going to be able to open the store today, and that Omi was going to be pissed.

"Aya!" Yoji coughed, his voice hoarse but filled with concern. "You okay?"

Aya turned, a frown creased between his brows. Oh, that was right; he was bleeding.

"Fine," he said, grasping a rag from the bin nearby and wiping his katana free of gore. He placed it carefully on the counter -- he would give it a more thorough cleaning later -- and stalked across the shop. "Don't move, Yoji."

A weak chuckle answered him. "Don't think I could anyway."

"Are you hurt?" Aya asked, his voice sharpening, his eyes running over his teammate's lanky form.

"Not much more than I already was," Yoji answered ruefully, laying perfectly still as Aya grabbed the shop broom and began sweeping the glass shards from around his sprawled body. "But she slammed me pretty hard into this thing. Didn't do my ribs a whole hell of a lot of good. Don't think anything's broken; still feels like I took a chest-shot full of shrapnel, though. Sorry I wasn't any help while you were fighting her, Aya, but for a while there it was almost more than I could do to keep breathing."

"Don't worry about it," Aya replied brusquely. The glass cleared away, he helped Yoji to his feet. "Your back is cut," he remarked calmly, ignoring the trembling of Yoji's limbs and the fact that the taller man had to lean on him more heavily than he probably would have liked to admit.

"It'll heal." Yoji shrugged, his emerald gaze fixed mournfully on the slash in Aya's chest, where beads of blood were lazily welling to stain ivory-pale flesh, trickling down toward his belly. "I'm sorry."

Aya was surprised to hear Yoji apologize for a second time, but before he could think of anything to say, there was a violent pounding from the front of the shop.

Yoji's lips quirked, his eyes gleaming with sudden amusement. Aya glowered, but obediently went to raise the gate, after carefully propping Yoji against the front of the counter.

Feeling a certain sense of deja vu, Aya lifted the grate. Only this time it was morning instead of evening, and Yuki was standing tall behind the pink-haired youth who had been banging against the metal gate with both fists.

And they were all half naked. Aya blinked. Himself and Yoji, he could understand. But Yuki was as bare-chested as he was -- discounting the crimson smears marking Aya's pecs -- and Shindou was barely decent in tiny shorts and a loose tank.

"Ah! Aya-san! You're hurt!"

Aya met Yuki's gaze over the boy's head as he exclaimed in tones of horror. To his surprise, there was as much concern as irritation coloring those flat amber orbs.

"Is Yoji all right?" Yuki asked gruffly, pushing Shindou into the shop and stepping after him.

"I'm here," Yoji said, lifting a hand and grinning with more good humor than he should by any rights have been feeling. "I'm fine."

"Relatively speaking," Aya grumbled as he pulled the grate back down behind their unexpected guests.

"Yoji-san, I was so worried!" Shindou was fretting, crossing the shop on swift feet. "I thought something awful was happening! I tried to call you, but then you weren't there, and I didn't know what to do -- we got here as fast as we could, but--"

"Hey, kiddo, help me upstairs, would you?" Yoji interrupted, holding out a hand toward the rambling Shindou.

Aya watched grimly as Yoji adroitly steered the youth away from the blood spattered corpse half-hidden behind the counter and out of the room. Not that the man didn't need the help, because he clearly did, but it was also a good excuse to get the innocent Shindou away from the site of a messy killing. That he had managed to do so without Shindou even catching a glimpse of the body behind the counter spoke well for Yoji, even if he was getting too close again to Shindou for Aya's comfort. Still, if Shindou's own lover didn't mind....

"I think we need some coffee," Yuki said calmly, his deep voice level.

Aya glanced at the man's left arm, which he was holding awkwardly, and then caught the somber light in his pale eyes. He and Yoji evidently hadn't been the only ones in danger. There was a reason that the lovers had shown up at the Koneko no Sumu Ie 2 at this hour of the morning, still wearing what was surely their sleeping clothes. Yuki had a story to tell as well, and it *would* go better over coffee.

"Aa." Aya nodded, then led the way through the back room and up the stairs, to the Weiss members' apartment.

****

"Russian Blue." Manx sipped delicately at her steaming mug. "She was a Kritiker operative who turned double agent for the Slashers."

"So that's how she found out so quickly about Rex's death," Yoji commented.

Manx nodded. "We had suspected for a while that there was someone within the agency that was working for the Slashers, but we hadn't been able to pinpoint who it was." She sighed, sitting back and crossing long legs. "Russian Blue and Rex were lovers, which would account for her anger this morning and the fact that she got personally involved, even though she wasn't trained for combat."

"She seemed more than competent to me," Aya growled, glaring at the cheerfully complacent Kritiker contact.

By the time Manx had shown up and Omi and Ken had arrived home, there was no more room in the kitchen, so everyone moved to the front room, claiming whatever pieces of furniture they could grab. Aya stood behind the chair he had settled Yoji in, his arms folded over his chest, expression brooding. There had been no time for he or Yoji to tend to their wounds, but there was nothing that was life-threatening, and they both wanted to hear what Manx had to say.

"Well," Manx answered blandly in the face of Aya's ire. "She was not trained by Kritiker. That is not to say that she was not at some point in her life taught how to use her weapons and use them well."

Aya grunted, scowling. He didn't want to admit how close he had come to losing this morning, but the crimson streaks on his chest and the slice on his arm that was beginning to scab over presented mute testimony to Russian Blue's very real skill with her blades.

"But what did the Slashers *want*?" Omi asked earnestly. He was perched on the arm of the other chair, leaning against Ken's shoulder and looking far too alert for someone who had been up most of the night. "Why were they targeting Weiss, and why did they capture Yoji-kun?"

Manx smiled. She was sitting on the sofa with Yuki and Shindou. The novelist had his good arm locked around his lover, and didn't seem to be planning to loosen it any time soon. Shindou sat, quiet for a change, listening to everything with huge eyes.

There were sounds of movement downstairs, where Kritiker agents cleaned up after Russian Blue's entry and her fight with Aya. Yuki had complained quite vocally about the member of the Slashers who had broken into his apartment, and after hearing that the man was still alive, Manx had gotten on the phone and urgently sent a group over there as well. She promised to have the man removed, the door repaired, the blood stains off the floor, and everything fixed by the time Yuki and Shindou got home. Yuki was grudgingly pleased, even though he didn't like the idea of strangers in his place when he wasn't there, no matter how professional and well-meaning they were.

"As to that...." Manx leaned forward, setting her mug on the coffee table. "It appears that Rex and the others were former Kritiker operatives themselves."

"That would explain the goofy names!" Yoji said unexpectedly, with a small sound of surprise catching in his throat. His eyes were wide and his mouth twisted in exasperation. "I should have picked up on that much earlier! Gah! Must be getting rusty in my old age."

Aya cocked an eyebrow. They weren't any of them even thirty yet... but it was true that their occupations seemed to age them well beyond their years. And assassins didn't have a terribly long life expectancy.

"Is that how they were able to find us?" Ken wanted to know.

"Yes and no," Manx replied. "Once Rex had left the agency, he was cut off from all its resources. Although he had Russian Blue in his confidences, she wasn't highly placed enough to get him the information he wanted, and so he had to attempt alternate means to acquire it."

"What did he want?" Aya asked before anyone else could. "If it was only to kill Weiss, he could have done that long ago."

Yoji shuddered and Omi leaned closer to Ken. Manx only smiled her infuriating sphinx smile, dark eyes heavy-lidded and faintly amused.

"It wasn't Weiss he wanted, obviously. He wanted something much more ambitious. As a former operative of Kritiker, he had come to disapprove of the actions of what was essentially a vigilante group. He didn't like the fact that we are not regulated by the laws of the country."

"Oh, so naturally the best way to take out a vigilante group is to turn rogue yourself and kill everyone involved!" Yoji spoke up, his smooth voice dripping with angry sarcasm.

"That seems to be what Rex thought," Manx answered calmly.

"Fuck...." Ken clenched his hands into tight fists. "That asshole!"

"Well, he's a dead asshole now," Manx said. Everyone stared, bemused by language the likes of which they had never heard pass those ruby lips before. "And the rest of his team with him. Except for Calico, who Yuki-san helped us to capture. I doubt he can tell us anything we don't already know, but you can be sure he will be fully interrogated before being... dealt with."

"So... that's about it, right?" Yoji asked, his brows furrowing. "All the loose ends tied up?"

"I believe so," Manx answered, rising from the sofa. She turned. "Yuki-san, Shindou-san, I regret that you became involved in what was not much more than an internal struggle, and even more so that you were inconvenienced and wounded."

Yuki shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

Manx titled her head, auburn curls bobbing on her shoulders. Her gaze was intent. "You now know more about Weiss and Kritiker than anyone who is not involved in the organization. I must ask you not to breathe a word of our existence to anyone. Although I have no claim over you, I beg your utter silence."

"No claim," Yuki said dryly, his amber eyes flat and hard. "But I think Shuuichi and I know what would happen if we went around telling tales."

Manx frowned. "I don't like to think that you feel threatened, Yuki-san. I am quite highly placed in Kritiker, and I assure you that you have absolutely nothing to fear from the organization. And I very much doubt Weiss itself would do either of you any harm."

Ken and Omi were nodding vigorously. Yoji's eyes were closed; it was costing him a lot to remain upright and keep his lacerated back from coming into contact with the chair's upholstery. Aya stared at Yuki and Shindou in silence, but his expression was a bit warmer than usual.

"We won't say anything to anybody!" Shindou burst out, violet eyes round, his gamine features puckered in an unhappy expression. "You're all our friends now! We wouldn't betray our friends' trust! Would we, Yuki?!"

The blonde novelist cocked a brow at this fervent declaration, seeming disconcerted by his lover's ready classification of the Weiss members as "friends". But after a moment his features softened ever so slightly, and he reluctantly agreed.

"Aa. We wouldn't betray the trust of our friends." He shot Manx a challenging glance. "If you leave us alone, we'll leave you alone."

"Fair enough." The woman held her hand out, and after another long pause, Yuki clasped graceful, red-tipped fingers in his larger palm. "I'd say we have a deal."

"Deal," Yuki agreed with a note of finality in his voice.

"Oh! Tsukiyono-san! Thank you for performing the concert for me last night!" Shindou spoke up, his violet eyes shining. "I was so upset because I was going to miss it, and I'll bet Sakano was ready to have kittens, and Hiro and Fujisaki too! I was afraid K was going to shoot me!"

"It's okay, Shindou-kun," Omi hastened to assure him, his own blue eyes glowing. "I had so much fun! And call me Omi, okay?"

"Hai! Omi-kun!"

The two young man beamed at each other, radiating an almost palpable aura of good will and exuberance.

Yuki and Ken sighed almost identical sighs and shared a somewhat jaded glance, though not without a powerful amount of affection toward their respective lovers mingled with the exasperation.

"I think you may safely return home now, Yuki-san," Manx said, smiling down at the two men sitting on the sofa. Yuki had borrowed another shirt -- this time from Aya -- and Shindou was wearing a pair of Ken's sweat pants over his sleeping shorts. "Our people should be done there. If there is anything that is not to your liking, call the Koneko, and one of the Weiss members will contact me."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Yuki said, rising to his feet a little awkwardly. His left arm was cradled in a sling Omi had dug out of the first aid kit. It wasn't broken, but he wanted to keep it immobilized. This was going to make typing a true chore -- but he hadn't felt less like writing in quite a while. Discounting the morning of the day before, of course.

Shindou leapt up, sliding under Yuki's good arm. Even though his lover didn't really need the support, they both needed the physical contact at this point, and so Yuki did not protest. "Thank you, Manx-san! Thank you, everyone!" His violet gaze fixed anxiously on the lanky brunette who was swaying in his chair. "Yoji-san, are you going to be all right?"

Yoji opened his eyes and his mouth curved into a weak smile. "Are you leaving now, Shindou?"

"Aa." The young man looked even more concerned, his brows crinkling. "Yoji-san...."

"Don't worry," Aya grunted, coming around the chair and grasping one of Yoji's arms, helping him to heave himself up off of the cushion. "I'll take care of him."

Shindou's face lit up in relief. "I know you will, Aya-san! You'll take good care of Yoji-san!!"

Aya blinked over, nonplussed, supporting his teammate almost absently. Yoji's eyes were closed again, but he almost seemed to be smiling.

Yuki rolled his eyes.

"We'll see you later!" Shindou caroled, waving a hand at the Weiss members. "Bye~!!!"

Yuki nodded briefly. "Thanks," he said grudgingly. Then, looking relieved to have the entire thing over and done with, he steered Shindou toward the door. "Come on. Let's go see if they've towed my car away."

****

Manx left along with Yuki and Shindou. Aya waved away Ken and Omi's offers of help, hauling Yoji back into the man's bedroom. Omi, with a sigh, went to cook breakfast. Ken, under Aya's terse instruction, fetched the first aid kit before disappearing after his younger teammate.

"Hell of a wake-up call, huh, Aya?" Yoji drawled as Aya helped him to sit down on his bed. He was already reaching for his cigarettes, despite Aya's disapproving look. "I feel so lame; I couldn't even deal with one woman in a fight."

"She took you by surprise," Aya replied absently, examining the cuts on Yoji's back. Fortunately, the binding around his ribs had saved him from the worst of the damage; Russian Blue must have slammed Yoji into the display case quite ruthlessly. He was lucky it hadn't been a lot worse. "And you were weak and wounded after being beaten and tied up in a warehouse for a night and a day."

"I don't need to you to make excuses for me, Aya," Yoji said bitterly, pensively exhaling thick cigarette smoke. Then his eyes widened and he twisted his neck to stare at his teammate as the redhead rummaged through the first aid kit. "Hey, Aya! You're making excuses for me!" His emerald gaze was startled and quizzical. "How come?"

"I'm not," Aya answered brusquely, shaking disinfectant onto a pad and pressing it against the cuts on Yoji's back. "I'm simply stating a fact. You had no weapons, she had two. You were still half asleep and off guard, while she was out to revenge her lover. And then she managed to aggravate the wounds you already had. There's no shame in being overwhelmed in those circumstances."

Yoji hissed between clenched teeth, his jaw tight, as the disinfectant bit into his fresh wounds. None were very deep, but glass cuts were always extremely painful. He was so shocked by Aya's unexpected, unprecedented defense of his own failure that he was silent for long minutes, trying to process it.

He had smoked his cigarette down to nothing by the time Aya finished patching him up. Shaking off his abstraction, Yoji straightened, though not without a wince. "Shit, Aya! You're hurt worse'n I am! Let me look at you!"

"I can take care of myself--" Aya started, his voice flat, but Yoji interrupted.

"I know you could, but you're not going to!" He glared fiercely, grabbing Aya's wrist and jerking the man down onto the bed beside him. "You got those cuts saving my ass, and here you are wrapping me up like a mummy when I'm perfectly fine, and you're all over blood and gore!"

Aya gave his teammate a somewhat bemused stare, but Yoji was fussing with the first aid kit. He hardly thought that two shallow cuts counted as "blood and gore", especially when both had stopped bleeding by this time. And Yoji was certainly far from being "perfectly fine". Still, there was something oddly touching about Yoji's concern; something comforting about being made a fuss over, no matter how unnecessarily.

"Here!" Yoji leaned in close, carefully tending to the slice on Aya's chest. Aya made no sound, even though the disinfectant stung. Yoji's hands were gentle and soft, expressing the utmost care as he cleaned and covered both of Aya's wounds.

"Thanks," he muttered, ready to stand and leave.

"Wait." A warm hand pressed to one of his thighs, and then Yoji heaved himself to his feet. "You stay there, Aya. I'll be back in a sec."

Aya blinked, confused, as Yoji exited the bedroom. What was his teammate doing...?

The tall brunette returned shortly, carrying a washcloth. Aya's brow creased in confusion, then his breath caught inaudibly as Yoji knelt before him and began to wash the dried, rusty streaks of blood from his chest and belly.

"Gotta finish up the job right, eh?" Yoji grinned rakishly at the silent redhead, peering up at him through tangled bangs.

Aya's stomach twisted uncomfortably at these ministrations. The cloth was soft, warm, and damp, and Yoji's hand as he laved it over Aya's flesh was firm but careful. He could smell the shampoo in Yoji's hair, could feel his body heat, and when Yoji shifted closer to wash off his upper arm, he could feel the man's breath breaking over the moist, rapidly chilling skin of his chest, the hardness of Yoji's stomach pressing against the inside of his right thigh.

He restrained a shudder, swallowing tightly, and resisted the overwhelming urge to shove Yoji violently away from him. That, or pull him closer. He wasn't sure which was the stronger impulse, and he wasn't sure how to deal with either thought.

"There!" Yoji sat back on his heels, his eyes bright and his mouth curling up in a satisfied grin. "I still feel bad that you got hurt for my sake, but at least I've gotten you all cleaned up and bandaged!"

Aya was silent. He could think of nothing to say.

Yoji glanced upward, his expression shifting. "Aya?" He tilted his head. "You angry at me?"

Aya shook his head slowly, violet eyes tracing over the smooth lines of Yoji's face. For the first time it struck him forcibly -- Yoji had almost died this morning. If Aya had taken even five minutes longer in the shower.... He would still have taken the traitorous Kritiker operative out, but it would have been too late for Yoji.

It was strange, the sudden pain that clenched at his heart. They were all assassins. They put their lives on the line in each mission they accepted.

But it was one thing to take a bullet or knife during the course of a mission, when they were in full health and bearing their weapons, coming into the situation by their own choice. Russian Blue had broken into the shop and had meant to kill them in their home, presumably while they slept. And if Shindou had not dialed the phone and left it ringing until it roused Yoji out of bed, the bitch might very well have succeeded in her aims.

"Aya?"

Aya blinked, realizing with a jolt that he had been staring. He turned his face away, trying to ignore the surge of uncomfortable heat that pinked his cheeks. It was no use dwelling on something that had not happened, after all. Yoji was safe and relatively sound, and the woman who had tried to kill him had been destroyed by Aya's own hand.

He had to admit it, though, if only to himself; three, perhaps even four years ago, Yoji had been nothing but a teammate, and one who annoyed Aya more often than anything else... now he was a friend. A friend that Aya did not want to lose. The anxiety and apprehension he had experienced while Yoji had been in the hands of the Slashers had shown him this much. Now that these reactions had been dragged from the depths of his soul into the forefront of his notice, he would not do them the disfavor of ignoring them.

Yoji was important to Aya, and this frightened him. He did not want to become dependent upon anyone else for his peace of mind.

And yet, it was unbearably lonely to shut out everyone and everything. Aya had lived like that for years when his younger sister had become lost to him in her long coma. Now that he had begun to open himself, to unfold his long fettered wings, he found that he did not want to crush his spirit back into its self-imposed cage. Even if that meant that the possibility for being hurt was so much greater....

"Hey, Aya."

He started as Yoji settled himself beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping as though it would tip them toward one another. "Can I ask you another favor?" The man sounded sheepish, hesitant. "I swear it'll be the last one for a while!"

"What?" Aya glanced at his teammate, his... friend. "What is it, Yoji?"

Yoji held up a hairbrush, his grin weak and more than a little shamefaced. "I hate to ask... but could you brush my hair for me? It hurts too much to raise my arms above my shoulders. But it's such a mess that I can't stand it."

Aya smiled faintly, touched by the mournful tone of Yoji's voice. He knew how important his appearance was to the man, and it was true that those brunette curls, which were usually glossy and shining as they swung about his high cheekbones, were looking a little worse for wear.

"All right."

"You don't have to. I can ask Omi. I just--" Yoji stared. "Did you say yes?"

Aya sighed and took the brush Yoji had been brandishing. "Stay there," he commanded, climbing up onto the bed and moving to kneel behind the other man.

"Be gentle, 'kay, Aya?" Yoji hunched his shoulders. "I took a knock to the back of the skull when those Slasher assholes grabbed me and Shindou, and it's still tender."

"Aa." Aya set to work, being as cautious and careful as Yoji had asked. That was another situation where Yoji could have died, and there would have been nothing Aya could have done to prevent it. In the warehouse, when Calico had shown up with his gun, ready to blow out Yoji and Shindou's brains.... And Yoji had been too trussed up to do anything. If the Slashers had not made the miscalculation of leaving Shindou so loosely tied, and if Shindou had not been more of a fearless little firecracker than anyone would have thought....

They might be retrieving Yoji and Shindou's corpses from the warehouse this morning, instead of cleaning up after disposing of the last of their enemy group.

Aya scowled, running the bristles through Yoji's silken hair, feeling the curls twining around his wrist, trying to avoid tugging at the worst of the tangles. He was certain that Shindou had not told his lover about what had really happened in the warehouse, or else Yuki would have been a lot more shaken and freaked out. But Yoji had seen no reason not to give Aya a full account. After all, Aya was certainly not Yoji's lover, and he could handle knowing the truth a lot better than Yuki, couldn't he?

He would have thought so, anyway....

"That feels nice," Yoji murmured, his voice dreamy. Aya knew, even though he was settled behind Yoji, that there was a contented, sleepy look on the older man's face, his lids heavy, his mouth curved in a small smile. He could hear it in his voice. It startled him how well he knew Yoji; recognized every small nuance of his speech and body language.

"Hey, guys, breakfast is-- whoa!"

Aya glared at Ken, where the younger man was leaning in the open doorway. The dark-haired assassin's eyes were twinkling and he grinned wickedly.

He wondered what expression was on Yoji's face right now. He found that he didn't know the man *that* well, for he had no idea.

"Keep it warm," he said flatly, ignoring Ken's obvious amusement at finding his two older teammates in such an odd, moderately compromising position. It wasn't as though Ken had a lot of room to laugh, considering the fact that he and Omi had been covertly sharing a bedroom for months now.

"Hai~!" With something that Aya refused to recognize as a quick wink, Ken vanished, presumably returning to the kitchen to regale Omi with all the details of what Aya and Yoji were getting up to.

"Sorry, Aya." Yoji sounded meek, shifting uncomfortably on the mattress before the silent redhead.

"For what?" Aya asked, not ceasing to run the brush slowly through Yoji's hair, even though he had already smoothed all the tangles out. "You continue to apologize when there is nothing to apologize for. If you don't cut it out, I might start to think you have a guilty conscience for some reason."

There was a startled stillness from Yoji for long moments, then the man chuckled faintly. "All right. Sor-- Uh, I mean, I won't do it anymore."

"Good," Aya grunted.

Even though the scent of coffee and breakfast was tantalizing as it drifted in through the open door, both men remained where they were. Aya felt calmed by his rhythmic strokes through Yoji's hair, and was beginning to be able to let go of the chill that had overtaken him when he had realized how close, not once but twice, Yoji had come to dying. And from the loosening of his shoulders and the easing of his breathing, Yoji seemed to be soothed by Aya's ministrations as well.

Finally, Yoji spoke up, his voice soft. "I'm gonna fall asleep here soon, Aya." As the redhead finally left off, rising from the bed and placing the brush back on Yoji's dresser, Yoji smiled, his eyes dark but bright. "Thank you."

Aya nodded silently, feeling more uncomfortable now that he was looking Yoji in the face. "I'll go and get you some breakfast," he said, turning toward the door.

"Wait! I'll just come into the kitchen," Yoji said, moving to stand.

Aya glared, though not so fiercely as usual. "You will not. Get under your covers. I'll bring you something to eat."

Yoji's eyes widened, then he meekly did as instructed. "And coffee too, Aya? Please?"

"Of course."

Yoji's grateful smile followed Aya out into the rest of the apartment, and the redhead barely noticed Ken and Omi as he prepared a tray to carry in to Yoji.

As he left the kitchen, Ken snickered. Omi walloped him with an oven mitt.

Yoji seemed to be dozing when Aya reentered his bedroom, propped against several pillows to try to ease his ribs and lacerated back. Aya felt a twinge of sympathy -- sleeping was going to awkward and uncomfortable for Yoji for quite some time to come.

"Wake up," he said brusquely, as he placed the tray on the small table beside Yoji's bed.

"'M awake," Yoji slurred, though he did manage to peel his eyes open and sit up a little when Aya waved the coffee mug under his nose. "You're a lifesaver, Aya!" He grasped it eagerly. "I owe you, big-time!"

"Aa," Aya agreed, amused in spite of himself. He had saved Yoji's life mere hours ago, but evidently there was more gratitude to be received for supplying him with a cup of morning coffee than the former. Not that he felt there was anything wrong with this. If roles had been reversed he would have expected and trusted Yoji to rescue him. Whereas, with the exception of Omi, it was not often that the Weiss members pampered one another like this.

They shared the meal between the two of them, Yoji being unable to eat everything Aya had brought him, and insisting that he didn't want to eat alone anyway. Aya found he had been hungrier than he had thought. He fretted slightly that Yoji didn't eat more, after missing at least three meals the day before, but didn't want to say anything aloud.

Aya measured out another dose of painkillers; Yoji was in need of them. Though he had to grimace as the brunette downed them with the last of his coffee, which had to be ice-cold by this point.

He took the empty mug from Yoji's hand, anticipating that his teammate would have an after-meal smoke, and wondering of he could bum a cigarette, and whether he should, but Yoji was yawning hugely, his eyes sliding nearly closed again. He was on the verge of falling back asleep, and Aya could not blame him for this. Yoji had been through a lot since the night before last.

"Thanks, Aya," Yoji said, as Aya pulled the blankets up under his chin, making sure that Yoji was as comfortable as he could be. "For everything. It means more to me than you know."

Aya brushed a strand of dark hair from Yoji's cheek before he realized, pondering over this unexpectedly comment.

"Don't worry about it."

Yoji's generous mouth curled up in a small smile. He looked beautiful lying there, his head framed by the white pillow and chestnut waves, his features marked but not marred by faint bruisings, his green eyes gleaming beneath their fringe of thick lashes.

Barely even conscious of his own actions, Aya bent and pressed a soft, warm kiss to those lush lips. Then he straightened, his violet eyes rounding in shock at what he had just done.

"I was wondering when you were going to do that," Yoji murmured, his eyelids drooping sleepily. "Maa. Took you long enough, Aya."

With this enigmatic statement, Yoji seemed content to drift off to sleep.

Totally nonplussed -- both by what he had just done and by Yoji's cryptic, but not unfavorable, response -- Aya left the room, closing the door softly behind him.