Mission Midwest: Weiss

Author’s Notes: This is a companion piece to Darkphoenix’s Mission: Midwest, she is handling the Schwarz side of things and I get Weiss. Totally blaming this one on the Friday night crowd.

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“I’m not wearing that,” announced Aya, his voice firm as he glared at his teammates, all of whom were gather around him in the kitchen of their new temporary residence in God-only-knew-where, USA. Well, Omi probably knew where too, but Aya didn’t know and he didn’t care. He had other concerns at the moment.

Omi sighed as he saw the argument play out yet again. Hadn’t they already done this? Twice, in fact? Perhaps the third time would be the charm; but he doubted it. No one did stubborn like a Fujimiya.

“I’m too tall,” volunteered Yohji with a grin at the irritable redhead, eagerly offering his excuse for turning down this part of the mission. “Omi’s too young. And Ken doesn’t have the legs for it.”

“Hey!” piped in Ken before he remembered that winning the argument about having the legs for it meant losing the other argument. It was better to concede defeat and accept a little slander against his legs. It was either that or he’d have to wear the dress.

He snuck a peek at the knee length dress that would have done June Cleaver proud and shuddered. The damned thing was even made of a ghastly floral print with pink flowers! It was hideous.

“You’re the only one who can wear the dress convincingly, Aya-kun,” pleaded Omi, turning big blue eyes that had melted more than one teacher onto the other assassin. Abyssinian was made of sterner stuff and just glared at the blonde haired bishonen.

“I’m not wearing that. I don‘t see why I have to be the wife anyway.”

“We’ve been over this. We need to pass for a typical American family if we’re going to complete the mission and find out who eliminated the last team. Yohji can retrieve the data Kritiker wants from the office he’ll be working in but the people that killed West are in this neighborhood and we have to find them,” explained Omi with exasperation. Just once couldn’t Aya do things the easy way? Or maybe think of the team? Four men living together would attract notice in the little town they had been sent to. And four gay florists…well, pink elephants would have drawn less attention.

“I don’t care. I’m not being the wife. And I am not wearing that dress,” snarled Aya.

Omi sighed, “We tried to do this the reasonable way. Yohji, Ken, grab him.”

Three bloody noses, two black eyes, and more bumps and bruises than anyone cared to count later Aya stood in the center of the kitchen hissing like an angry cat. His red hair was mussed and his right eye was blackening but he was also wearing the dress and a pair of high heels. The string of pearls had been a casualty of the fight but Omi figured they could always replace that later. Aya was in the dress.

“What are we going to do about the black eye?” asked Ken. It wouldn’t exactly look good if Yohji got hauled in for spousal abuse the first time Aya went outside.

“A little make-up will cover that right up,” announced Yohji with a little yawn as he lit a cigarette.

Aya turned a truly impressive glare on the blonde and grabbed his cigarette, putting it out in the sink, before announcing in prim tones, “No smoking in the house.”

“And no sex. Ever again.” He announced before stalking off, ruining his exit by stumbling in the heels.

“Ayan. Aw, Aya. Come on. A-ayan, baby, don‘t be that way,” pleaded Yohji quickly following him. “At least let me smoke!”

Omi blinked in surprise and then chuckled. Perfect. Mom and dad were fighting, he hadn’t done his homework, and Ken was raiding the fridge. They were well on their way to being an average American family.