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Stone Mules	By : shadedmazoku Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 1318 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Stone Mules

Title: Stone Mules.

Author: Shaded Mazoku.

Email: herukatto@hotmail.com.

Part: 1/1.

Disclaimer: Characters and their history aren’t mine. They belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß.

Warnings: Violence, angst.

Rating: NC-17.

Summary: Even after stopping the end of the world, it’s still hard to face emotions.

Pairing(s): Aya/Ken, Omi/Nagi.

Fandom: Weiß Kreuz.

*

Ken wondered exactly what had ever made him complain that he had too little to do. Granted, the inactivity they’d suffered after the collapse of the Esstet temple had been very unpleasant. Ken was active by nature, and didn’t like sitting still doing nothing. And unlike the others, he didn’t have any real hobbies that included sitting down. He occasionally watched a soccer game or two on the TV, but he wasn’t like Youji, who’d taken to lounging in bed all day, watching television, before going out in the evenings. Omi, of course, had been planted in front of his computer, spending so much time there that Aya had remarked that it was a good thing it was a Kritiker hideout, and thus Kritiker’s internet bill. And Aya had his books. During their wait there, he’d rarely been without a book nearby.

Ken, though, had no such hobbies. He was a much more physical person than the other three, and he’d suffered from extreme boredom during their stay, resorting to raiding Omi’s manga to keep entertained. Too often that he cared to remember, he’d found himself wishing for something to happen. Even a mission.

This was more than he’d bargained for, though. They had been sent on a mission to put a stopper in a local drug lord’s activities, but had gotten split up earlier, as the drug lord had far more thugs working for him than they’d been told. There was no reflective surfaces anywhere near him, but he didn’t need them to tell him that he was splattered in blood, and the number of corpses in the room with him kept getting higher all the time.

The scent of blood was nearly overpowering. A strong, rich, metallic scent that seemed to thicken in the air and leave residues everywhere. Ken wondered how he’d gotten so familiar with that scent. As a child, he’d never noticed a smell whenever he got scratches and cuts, like he had been prone to, active by nature even then. Now, though, he recognized the smell anywhere. It was currently invading his senses, like the clouds of perfume that followed some women as they passed, and Ken felt like throwing up. His stomach lurched as he slid his claws into another man’s chest, and sliced it open, spraying warm blood on his face. Luckily, it appeared as if that was the last of his targets.

A static buzz in his ear preceded Omi’s voice by a few seconds. “Siberian? What’s your status?” Omi sounded a bit short of breath, but otherwise OK.

“I’m fine. I’ve cleared this part of the complex.” Ken replied, relieved to hear from his team mate. That was probably the worst part of his job. Worrying about his friends whenever they split up.

Another buzz sounded in his ear. “Good. Balinese and I cleared most of the rest of the complex. Abyssinian took down the main target. Let’s return to the base.” Omi sounded scarily professional at times.

Ken sighed and wiped off some blood that had almost hit him in the eye. He was so tired of blood. If this kept up, he was worried he’d loose it completely, and go stark raving mad. He started walking, out of the bloodstained room and towards the car. While walking, he found himself wondering how the other three handled all the blood. They all seemed to be handling things better than he was. Then, none of them had a Catholic background, like he had. In addition, Omi was raised in Weiß, and had probably been exposed to such things from a very early age. Youji had been a private investigator. He’d probably seen blood often even before he became an assassin. And Aya… …It was impossible to say what made Aya tick.

Not that that kept Ken from wondering. Not at all. Aya was Ken’s favorite subject to think about. Not only because of the redhead’s stunning beauty, though of course didn’t it hurt. There was no doubt in Ken’s mind that Aya was the most exotic creature he’d seen. His other two team mates were attractive enough, Omi in an adorable and sweet way that made his occasional Takatori ruthlessness even worse and Youji in a feline, sensual way, but neither had the exotic appeal Aya had. Even Schwarz, who, though he loathed admitting it, wasn’t bad looking per say, but they were nowhere as unique as Aya. They were foreigners, after all, and were expected to look unusual in Japan, but Aya was obviously Asian, just with a coloring that didn’t match anything Ken had ever seen.

The most stunning thing about Aya’s beauty, though, was his total disregard of it. He supposed none of them really had a truly good feeling about themselves after all the people they had killed, but at least Ken could admit that he was fairly handsome, if in a down-to-earth way, but Aya seemed to be completely unaware of his own appearance. It was disconcerting, in a way.
The others were waiting in the car when he arrived, all three of them less splattered with blood than he was. Figures, Ken thought with a mental sigh, and joined Omi in the backseat. I get the close combat weapon. He put on his safety belt and looked at the others.

Youji was driving, his hair flowing in the wind as they headed towards their base. He had his sunglasses on and a cigarette in his mouth. The cigarette was nearly smoked out, hinting that Youji had been waiting a while. Even he wouldn’t smoke in the middle of a mission. Aya sat ramrod straight, one gloved hand on the hilt of his katana. His face was devoid of any expression, and he was apparently lost in thought. Next to Ken, Omi had his laptop open, typing away. He had a satellite connection on the thing, and was seldom without it these days, suffering Youji’s teasing about an online sweetheart with a smile. Ken wasn’t entirely sure that those jabs were too far from the truth. Omi had been in a very odd mood lately.

They remained silent for the drive; only the sound of Omi’s steady typing breaking that silence. It was almost eerie how silent they were, but then, there seemed to be certain issues between them now that hadn’t been there before. Maybe because things were different now. After the whole deal with Esstet, things had changed. Whether for the better or for the worse, Ken wasn’t sure yet, but he was betting it was the last. Seeing how Aya avoided his sister, even though she was awake now, no doubt not only to keep her safe but also for the same reasons Ken hadn’t gone with Yuriko, and how Omi was slowly being pulled back into the Takatori clan, Ken couldn’t help but be more pessimistic than what was his nature.

Their new base, no longer a flower shop but a dingy-looking old apartment building, was not a very nice building, but the neighborhood was decent. Nights there were silent, with no innocent bystanders around to see the car with the four assassins park. Nobody saw them get out, splattered with blood as they were, and go inside. Kritiker had made a wise choice of new headquarters, though none of the members of Weiß wanted to admit it, all of them feeling the leash Kritiker held them on beginning to chafe seriously.

Ken headed directly for the shower once the got into his apartment, and delighted in the feel of hot water on his skin, washing away every last trace of the targets’ blood. He was far from a hedonist, but he did enjoy a hot shower, especially after a mission. Considering the range of his weapon, it was a necessity, as he always got himself splattered. Besides, he felt that he thought clearer when he was freshly showered.

The building had four floors. There was a lobby and storage facilities on the ground floor, and the two top floors had two apartments each. The first floor had been used as a store once, and was pretty much one open room, which was used as their mission room now. It was also where they hung out when they felt like talking. As such, it was the natural meeting place after a mission, where they could both relax and get debriefed if needed.

When Ken came downstairs, Aya and Youji were nowhere to be seen. Not unusual. Youji had the apartment across from Ken’s, and the walls in the building where thin enough that he could hear that the blond had been in the shower when he passed, and Youji spent longer time in the shower than the rest of them. Aya, Ken assumed, was probably upstairs changing out of his mission gear. Omi was there, though, seated on the couch with his laptop, still typing intently. Ken doubted that all Omi did was work. Most of it probably was, but if all of it was, Omi was even more of a workaholic than he already knew he was.

“Hey,” Ken said, and sat down on the couch next to Omi, stretching his legs out. He had put a towel around his neck before coming downstairs, and picked it up now, drying his hair.

Omi made a sound that might have been a greeting and rapidly typed some more, before closing his laptop.

Ken had the sudden feeling that Omi was hiding something more serious than an online sweetheart. He just hoped it wasn’t something that would tear the team apart this time. Because fate seemed determined to throw that kind of things at them.

“Ken-kun?” Omi asked, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of being overheard. “Do you think there was something odd about this mission?” He looked up at Ken, looking just like a lost teenager, which was the truth after all. They both were.

Ken sighed and stopped drying his hair, letting the towel fall back onto his shoulders. “Well,” he said, meeting Omi’s eyes, “we’ve never been sent on a mission like this before. Too many guards and too little info.” He had noticed that, even though Kritiker had tried to cover it up. There had been many pages in the file Birman had brought them, but there had been little actual information, most of it being repeated over and over in different phrasings.

Omi nodded, biting his lip a little. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he said, looking down at his feet, which were encased in a pair of fluffy blue slippers, “But Kritiker have been slacking off with their reports. As if we’re not that important now that Esstet is gone.” He sounded very young and frightened for a moment. Not that it was a surprise. Kritiker had raised him, after all, and to be cast aside now, like an outgrown toy, had to hurt Omi far more than it hurt the rest of them.

Ken impulsively reached over and pulled Omi into a hug, just holding the younger boy close. “You know we’ll always be here for each other, right?” He asked.

Omi nodded, but stiffened at the same time, as if he was hiding something. Ken knew him well enough to notice such little signs. Neither of them had the best of poker faces. He was about to ask Omi what was bothering him when Youji came sauntering downstairs, sunglasses perched on his nose even inside at night.

“Well, well,” Youji said, smirking at them. “Aren’t you two cuddly?”

Ken threw a pillow at him. “You got a black eye, didn’t you?” He said, some smugness seeping into his voice. Youji snorted and dropped down in a chair, dangling his long legs over the arm lean, the kind of casual sprawl that took practice to master.

“Aya’s not down yet?” he asked, looking around.

“Obviously,” Omi said, and ducked his head when both Ken and Youji stared at him in surprise. Omi wasn’t prone to sarcasm. “Sorry. I’m just tired, I think.”

They let it pass, both of them quite tired as well. The mission had taken a lot out of them all. Youji got up and stretched. “Well,” he said, “if there is nothing you need me for, I’m heading to bed. I need my beauty sleep, after all…” When the only reply he got was rolled eyes, he smirked and headed back upstairs.

Omi sighed, and got up as well, picking up his laptop. “I think I’ll go to bed, too,” he said, but the way he held his laptop hinted that he had other plans. Ken decided not to call him on it. There was one thing, though…

“Omi,” he said as he got up. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can come see me. You know that, right?” Omi was like a brother to him, after all. Ken had always wanted a brother when he was younger.

Smiling, Omi looked like his old self, and Ken smiled back. “I know that, Ken-kun,” Omi said. “I appreciate it.” He headed upstairs before Ken could say something else.

Ken smiled, alone in the room. “I think Youji had a point when he teased him about an online sweetheart,” he said, and walked over to the stairs, turning off the light before going up. He didn’t go to his apartment, though, but walked up another set of stairs and stood in the dark outside Aya’s apartment, wondering if he should bother the redhead. On one hand, he was slightly worried about Aya, and he wanted to see him to see if he was alright. Or just to see him, the voice in the back of his head teased. On the other hand, he didn’t want to intrude on him unless needed.

In the end, he did knock, but he got no answer. There was light shining out from under the door, though, so he doubted Aya was asleep. “Aya?” He called, knocking again.

When Aya opened the door slightly, Ken got startled at first. “Make some sound when you move, will you?” he asked, smiling at Aya. His smile faded when he took in the other man’s appearance, though. Aya was even paler than usual, and there was a hint of something in his eyes. Anyone else might not have noticed, but Ken spent a lot of time watching Aya, and had familiarized himself with the redhead’s expressions. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Aya said, and moved to close the door.

“Like hell you are.” Ken stopped the door with one hand, pointing at Aya with the other. “What are you hiding?” He knew it was something.

“It’s nothing. Nothing some rest won’t cure.” Aya’s voice was cold, as if he was trying to place a wall of ice between himself and the rest of the world.

Ken sighed. “Why do you always do this, Aya? It wouldn’t kill you to let your friends help you occasionally.” He looked up at Aya, determined not to be distracted by the redhead’s beauty right now. “I hate seeing people suffer. Especially friends. So move over, will you?”

Aya glared at him, eyes narrowing, but he did move, letting Ken come into his apartment.

Ken looked around, his curiosity taking over for a while. He’d never actually been in Aya’s room before they moved, so this was unknown territory to him. As he’d expected, Aya kept his room simple and very clean and organized. There were no clothing on the floor like in his or Youji’s apartments, or books and notes around on various surfaces, like in Omi’s. Everything was in its designated place. It made Ken feel painfully disorganized.

He turned to scrutinize Aya. The redhead was watching him coolly, but there was something awkward about his stance. He was holding his left arm lower than the right, and further back, as if to protect it. “You’re hurt,” he stated.

Aya scowled. “It’s nothing.” His voice took on that cold quality he’d used when chasing fangirls out of the flower shop. It didn’t work on Ken, though.

“Aya,” Ken said, crossing his arms, “You’ve got to stop doing that to yourself. And to try to hide it.” He gave Aya his best glare. “We’re supposed to be a team here, in case you haven’t noticed. Teams trust each other.” He reached out and grabbed Aya’s right arm, dragging him over to the nearest chair. “Sit down. And where do you keep your first aid kit?”
Aya didn’t reply, but pointed towards the bathroom, and Ken retrieved the kit and came back to Aya. He carefully touched Aya’s arm, trying to see how badly wounded he was. The redhead inhaled sharply as Ken’s fingers touched the wounded are, but said nothing. Ken sighed.

"I’m going to have to take your shirt off,” he said, and pulled the garment in question over Aya’s head, carefully separating the fabric from the wound. Fishing a cloth and a bottle of sterilized water out of the kit, he cleaned the worst of the blood away from the wound; a deep cut no doubt caused by a bullet, and put some antiseptic salve on it before bandaging it up, using movements so well practiced by now that he could do them automatically. It gave him an opportunity to marvel over how pale Aya really was. Almost like he’d imagine living marble to be. He was tempted to run his fingers down the redhead’s chest, just to see what it’d feel like. He doubted Aya would appreciate that, though, and refrained from doing so.

Once he’d finished dressing the room, he stepped back, and crossed his arms again. “You need to stop pulling this kind of stubborn shit, Aya,” he told the other man.

Aya glared at him, his eyes as cold as ever. “It’s not your concern if I am hurt.” He got up and started packing the first aid kit again.

“Not my concern?” Ken said, anger welling up in him from the inside. Aya kept doing this to them. “We’re a team, Aya. You’re our leader!” He glared at the redhead. “How can we trust you with our lives when you’re not even taking care of your own?”

Aya dropped the kit and turned slowly, facing Ken. His eyes were dark and cold. “I don’t need you to worry about me,” he said.

Ken refused to back down. “Tough luck, Aya! We do care about you. I care about you!” He was shaking, both angry and hurt. Angry that Aya was so stubborn, and cared so little about himself, and hurt that their friendship seemed non-existent to the redhead.

“I never asked for you to care,” Aya said. “You are merely being foolish.”

Something exploded inside Ken, and bubbled up to the surface. “Right. Because you’re an icy bastard who doesn’t have any emotion. What are we to you, then? Just tools for you to get your revenge on Takatori, and now that he’s dead, we’re inconveniencing you? Are Sakura like that, too? And Aya-chan? Just a reason to be a cruel, cold asshole, and now that everything is over, they’re just inconvenient. Because God forbid that you’ll actually form an emotional attachment to someone! You’re such a…” Ken trailed off, startled by the look on Aya’s face.

Not one of his usual glaring, but otherwise expressionless looks. This was a look of pure anger. Not the hot, blazing anger that Ken was prone to, the explosive and short-winded kind, but the icy, cruel anger that slowly devours from the inside, dissolving and destroying over time.

“Get out.” Simple words, but the tone underneath them convinced Ken that following the request was for the best. He walked out and down the stairs, not surprised to hear the door slam behind him.

Once he returned to his own apartment, he dropped down on the bed and shook his head. Ken, you idiot, he thought, and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. I went way too far. All he’d accomplished was pissing Aya off and making them both feel guilty. “I really am an idiot,” he said to himself. He’d only wanted Aya to see that the rest of Weiß cared for him. Maybe even to see that Ken cared more than the other two, and more deeply. Instead, he’d managed the complete opposite. Groaning, he rolled over again and buried his face in the pillow. It didn’t take the exhaustion from the earlier mission long to overpower him now that the adrenaline kick from his anger was over.

*

Aya didn’t talk to him for the rest of the week. He didn’t even acknowledge his presence, not even with one of those cold glares he was so good at. By the time Saturday came around, Ken found himself cornered by Youji, who for once seemed serious.

“What happened between you and Aya, Ken?” Youji asked, looking down at Ken.

He’d discarded his sunglasses for once, Ken noticed. That has to be a bad sign. He didn’t really want to talk about what had happened, mostly because he was aware that he has messed up badly, but he knew Youji, and the older man wasn’t going to go away until he got an answer. Youji might seem easygoing, but he could be quite stubborn when he wanted to.

“We argued,” Ken finally said, looking down. “Again. He got hurt on the mission, and I got angry with him for trying to hide it. It’s like he doesn’t trust us at all. It makes me upset.”

“I imagine it does, yes,” Youji said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not blind, Ken. I’ve seen the way you look at Aya. Can’t say that I blame you, really. I’m not into men myself, obviously, but Aya is pretty enough to look at, even if he has the personality of an ice cube.” Youji grinned slightly. “So, you argued. You do that all the time. What was different this time?”

Ken sighed. He really didn’t want to talk about it, because that would be the final admittance of how much of an idiot he’d been. Not that he didn’t know that already, but telling Youji would make it public.

“I lost my temper,” he admitted, “and not just like I usually do. I said some really stupid things. You know me, I speak without thinking first.” He looked up at Youji. “I think I upset him badly. I’m such an idiot.” He wanted to kick himself. Hard. While wearing soccer shoes.

Youji nodded. “You both are. I can’t say I envy you. Aya has to be one of the worst candidates for a crush ever.”

“Tell me about it,” Ken agreed. “In fact, I can’t really think of anyone worse.”

Youji’s eyes twinkled playfully. “Oh, I don’t know. You could have developed a crush on Takatori Reiji…”

Ken thwacked him on the head for that one, but was quite happy about the change of topic. He still had to figure out what to do about the situation between him and Aya, but not right now. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it right now. He would just say something stupid and end up making things even worse.

“Hey Ken?” Youji asked, pulling Ken’s attention away from his thoughts and onto the blond. Youji was leaning over a nearby table, his hand on a brown wallet. “Do you know where Omi went off to? He has forgotten his wallet, and I know he was getting something to eat.”

Ken nodded. “Yeah, I’m fairly sure I know. He’s been going to one of those places where you can pay to read manga and such. When he can tear himself away from his computer, at least.”

Youji grinned. “That’s not very often.” He picked up the wallet and looked at it. “He’ll be in trouble without this, though,” he said.

Ken took the wallet from the other man. “I’ll drive by and give it to him. I was planning on going for a ride anyway. Helps me think.”

“You’ll need all the help you can get for that,” Youji said, a teasing smile on his lips. “Go on. Just bring your cell phone in case you’re needed.”

*

Ken truly did love riding his bike. Even the incident with Yuriko hadn’t changed that. Yuriko. I haven’t thought about her for a long time. He felt slightly guilty for that, but he knew that their relationship could never have lasted. It had been a case of wanting what he couldn’t have; something that wasn’t stained with blood. In truth, he was glad that he’d seen reason and broken it off that early. If they had gotten closer, it would have been far more painful for them both.

He pulled to a stop in front of the little café he knew Omi frequented, and parked. It wasn’t easy to find parking for a car in Tokyo, but for a motorcycle, it was a good deal easier. He walked into the café, amused that nobody seemed to think that it was odd that he was there, since this café target teenagers. Then, Ken wasn’t that much older than the teens around him. He just felt older.

He caught sight of Omi, sitting by a table in a corner, behind a bookshelf, and walked over, but stopped suddenly, stepping behind the bookshelf. Peering over the manga, he eyed Omi’s table. Omi had a cup of what looked like hot cocoa in his hands, and was telling his companion something in a low voice, the table they shared cluttered with manga. On the other side of the table, the young telekinetic of Schwarz were listening to Omi with an almost-smile on his lips, a cup of coffee in his own hands.

Ken blinked, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the scene didn’t change. He wanted to go say something to them, but decided against it. He didn’t think the boy would cause a scene in public, but Ken knew all too well how little he could do against his powers if he did. Besides, they were only talking. Instead, he carefully leaned closer, listening in on the conversation. He felt a bit guilty for eavesdropping on his friend, but in this case, he’d make an exception.

“As you probably can guess, things are a bit odd right now,” Omi was saying. “With everything that happened, I shouldn’t even be talking to you, but…” He looked at the other boy and smiled slightly. “I like talking to you, Nagi-kun. I don’t have to worry about letting it slip what I do for a living. Besides, I have a feeling you could find us easily if you tried.”

Something that might have been a smile flitted over Nagi’s lips, but was gone as suddenly as it appeared. “True,” he said, and looked down into his cup.

Omi put his cup on the table and smiled at Nagi, a smile Ken hadn’t seen before. It was almost flirtatious, but unconsciously so. “It’s not like we’re betraying any secrets, either.”

Nagi made a small snorting sound. “You don’t have any secrets from us, Omi. We have a telepath, remember?” But he did return the smile for a little while.

“I remember.” Omi kept smiling, looking quite happy to be there, with Nagi. “I’m sorry that I had to borrow money from you,” he said. “I was in a hurry to get out, and I must have left my wallet on the table.”

“That’s OK,” Nagi said. “The perks of being a teenage assassin. A really big allowance.”

Omi chuckled. “Are you sure it’s not just because you can blow their heads off with your mind?”

“That might be part of it, too.” Nagi put his cup down, and placed his hands on the table.

Omi started telling Nagi about something that had happened at school, and seemingly without thinking, he reached across the table to put one of his hands over Nagi’s. Ken silently backed, off, unwilling to disturb them. He knew he’d have to talk to Omi about it, but the two of them seemed so happy to be there, together and away from their teams, and he didn’t have the heart to ruin it for them.

He walked out of the shop, and got on his bike, going for a long ride to clear his mind.

*

Ken walked up to Omi’s door, hesitating a little. Omi had seemed so happy there, in the café. Still, he had to at least talk to him about it. Nagi might be a teenager much like Omi, but he was also a part of an enemy team, and a team that had done a lot of cruel things. Sighing, he knocked on the door.

Omi opened, looking up at Ken in surprise, but with a smile on his lips. “Ken-kun!”

“Hey. Can I come in?” Ken asked, dreading the conversation.

“Sure!” Omi stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him. “Can I help you with something?”

Ken sighed again. “I saw you at the café today,” he said. “With Nagi.” There was no sense in putting it off.

“Oh.” Omi stopped smiling at that, and bit his lip.

“Yeah.”

“I suppose this is where I should be saying that ‘I can explain’, but I can’t, really,” Omi said, and sat down on his office chair. “It’s just nice to have someone to talk to who knows what it’s like, and who shares my interests.”

Ken pulled up a chair and sat down. “I can imagine. I mean, we all know what it’s like to be an assassin, but we have such different interests apart from that.”

Omi nodded and dangled his legs. He was wearing a pair of fluffy yellow slippers today. “There is so much stress going on. The missions are getting more and more dangerous, and we keep getting less data. Kritiker is obviously going through some unfortunate changes, and it needs better management. And then there are the rest of you guys.”

“Us?” Ken asked, surprised.

“Yes, you. Youji is getting even flightier than he used to, and he has been going out to clubs every night we haven’t got a mission, coming home drunk. Ever since the incident with Neu, he has been slowly falling apart, and if nothing is done, he might be beyond repair.” Omi tapped a finger on his desk as he spoke, seemingly without noticing. “And you and Aya are going to drive me, and each other, crazy soon.”

Ken’s eyes widened. “Aya and me?” So Omi had noticed, too.

“The two of you have been dancing around each other for a long time. And whatever happened to cause Aya to avoid you did not help matters.”

“I don’t suppose I can convince you that it’s all Aya’s fault?” Ken ducked his head under the stern look Omi gave him. “Didn’t think so, either.”

Omi sighed. “You two need to talk. Soon, before either of you do something you’ll both regret.”

Ken nodded, feeling a little sheepish. Getting a talk like that from someone two years his junior was embarrassing.

“I feel like I have to be an adult all the time,” Omi said, leaning back into his chair. “There is so much to do, and to keep track of; so many worries and responsibilities.” He bit his lip again. “When I’m with Nagi, I can pretend that I am just a teenager. A normal boy whose largest problems are things like school, allowances and dates. I know it’s a lie, and that I have to go back to being responsible and adult.” Omi looked up at Ken, a sad resignation in his eyes. “Nagi and I can be happy, geeky teenagers together, before going back to our real lives.”

Ken nodded slowly, and got up. Hearing Omi’s reasoning had made him sad for him, and for Nagi. Neither of them should have to deal with this much at such a young age.

“I should have known you had thought things through, Omi,” he said, and walked to the door. “Just be careful, will you?”

Omi nodded as Ken left.

Outside Omi’s door, Ken took a deep breath and stared at the door across from Omi’s. Aya’s door. Somehow, that door looked scarier than a normal door should, as if Aya’s glares had rubbed off on it. Ken snorted. Now he was being silly. He walked up to the door and knocked.

“Aya?” He called, hoping the redhead was in. “It’s Ken. I…” He took another deep breath. “I owe you an apology.” There as no response. “I shouldn’t have said all those things. It was stupid, and cruel, and I know it. You know how I am. I say things without thinking, and end up regretting it.” Still no response and Ken was starting think that Aya was ignoring him. He doubted the redhead would be out this late. He wasn’t Youji. “I’m sorry, Aya, for what that’s worth. I really am.”

He turned to walk away. If Aya didn’t want to listen, nothing in the world could make him. Aya was stubborn. Like a rock. Or a mule. Or maybe a stone mule. He sighed, and started walking.

“Ken.”

Ken startled at the sound of Aya’s voice, and spun around on his heel, facing the redhead.

Aya didn’t say anything more, but left the door open as he went back inside. Ken decided to interpret it as an invitation, and followed him into his rooms.

Aya’s rooms where as clean as ever, but Ken paid no attention to them, only to the redhead sitting on the couch, watching him in silence.

“As I said, I’m an idiot,” Ken said, breaking the silence. “I let my mouth run off with me. But really, I just worry about you.” He slowly walked over and sat next to Aya on the couch. “You’re a friend in our eyes, Aya, even if you are a bit of a cold bastard.” He watched Aya for a reaction, but none came. At least he wasn’t pissed off at him yet, either. Closing his eyes, he added; “More than a friend to me,” and waited.

When he got no reply, he carefully inched closer to Aya. I won’t get a chance like this again. It’ll be worth it if he kills me. Not that he actually thought that Aya would kill him, but you never knew with the redhead. Since Aya didn’t attempt to stop him, he leaned in and pressed his lips against Aya’s, gently but firmly.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but Aya’s response wasn’t it. The redhead kissed him back, taking control of the situation. Ken didn’t mind. Aya was a good kisser. He wondered if it was natural skill or practice that did it, but got distracted by Aya’s fingers on his spine and neck, caressing his skin with strong, callused fingers. Ken made a happy sound in the back of his throat and slid his fingers up underneath Aya’s sweater.

Aya’s skin was warm and soft under his fingers, and Ken was actually a bit surprised, having half-expected it to be chilly. He wasn’t though, and Ken was all too happy to let Aya press him down on the couch, while kissing his neck and jaw line like he was now. He ran his hands up the redhead’s chest, rubbing the nipples with his thumbs.

“We’re moving this to the bedroom,” Aya said, his voice slightly hoarse. It sent delightful little shivers down Ken’s spine. He didn’t have to be asked twice.

They pretty much tumbled onto Aya’s bed, and it creaked under them, but it held up. Ken chuckled and ran his fingers through Aya’s hair. It was as soft as it looked. Aya kissed him again, deep and thorough, while unbuttoning his shirt. Getting the idea, Ken tugged the redhead’s sweater up and over his head, somehow avoiding getting tangled.

Before long, they were both naked, rubbing against each other. They would have been even if they weren’t intending to, Aya’s bed was a single bed, but there was room enough for two when entwined properly.

“Aya?” Ken asked, licking Aya’s collar bone. “Do you have any lubricant?” He should have thought about that before getting this far, but he’d been distracted.

Aya reached over with one of his hands, rummaging through the nightstand drawer. “Youji got me some strawberry flavored one as a gag gift,” he said, kissing Ken again. He closed his fingers around the small bottle and withdrew his hand. The contents of the bottle sloshed as it was opened.

There was something almost surreal about the situation, Ken thought, and gasped as a slick finger found its way down between his legs, circling and seeking entrance. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, relaxing his body. He trusted Aya. A slight whimper, though not one of pain, passed his lips as one finger was pressed into him, then another. He raised his hips eagerly, spreading his legs as much as he could. The fingers stretching him open felt so good. Aya felt so good.

When he finally pulled his fingers out and replaced it with his cock, Ken cried out happily, twining his hands together on top of Aya’s neck. Aya kissed him, deeply, and thrust into him, running his hands down Ken’s side. Every thrust sent wonderful sparks up Ken’s spine, causing him to moan.

With the way they had worked each other up, they didn’t last long, both of them reaching climax before long. Ken felt boneless and snuggled closer to Aya, nipping at his earlobe.

“Mmf,” he murmured, happily. Aya was so warm and pleasant next to him. He was drifting off, and was happy to go.

“Get out of the bed,” Aya muttered, getting up.

”What?” Ken blinked, suddenly frightened.

“The bed is filthy,” Aya explained, and gave him a glare. Somehow, he was much less frightening when he was mussed and naked.

Ken smiled, relieved, and rolled out of the bed, taking a pillow with him. Aya stripped the sheets off the bed and dumped them in the laundry basket, finding new sheets and making the bed. Ken had dozed off again in the meantime, and was woken by a wet washcloth landing on his stomach.

“You’re a mess, too,” Aya said. “Clean off and come to bed.”

Ken did as told and crawled back into the bed, dragging the pillow. He curled up to Aya, as close as he could get without being plastered against the redhead. Something told him Aya wouldn’t appreciate that.

“We’ll have to talk, you know,” he said, tracing patterns on Aya’s arm with his fingers.

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow sounds good to me, Aya,” Ken agreed, falling asleep too the sound of Aya’s breath. The wait had been so long, and tonight hadn’t been for talking. There was plenty of time for that.
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Stone Mules