The Hits Keep Coming

BY : KD Sarge
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 3515
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.

Dedicated to my dear Ass Anon: ever supportive, often threatening. What would I do without you? (answer: not much)

******

Yohji saw it coming, plain as day. That son of a bitch was going to flatten him, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, unless he released his wire and let that other bastard reach the crane controls. Aya was up there chasing the target, bouncing along the damn thing like he thought he could fly...damn, he was sexy when he did that!

Just hold on, Yohji thought, trying to duck and knowing he couldn’t go far enough. No matter what, don’t let go of the goddamned wire–

“Abyssinian! Hurry!”

Ooh, look at the pretty stars...

Someone groaned, Yohji realized it was him. Someone was swearing, that was not him. He did not swear in French. Though he might just learn, it sounded pretty cool.

“Let go of the goddamned wire, Balinese!”

Your wish is my command, Aya-kun...

Rough fingers grabbed his chin, turned his head. “Look at me!”

Maybe just one eye...

“Both.”

Che. “Fucking nag...”

Aya’s right eyelid twitched. Yohji, who had spent the last four months staring at the man every chance he got, decided that might be relief. At his teammate’s apparent recovery, or at not having to carry Yohji out after all, the blonde couldn’t tell.

Mr. Strong and Silent raised a finger, Yohji tracked it with his eyes, squinting through the headache. Aya grunted and stood, dragging Yohji with him. And let go. At least he grabbed again when Yohji almost fell, that was good of him, wasn’t it?

“Baka,” the bastard growled, “who taught you to duck?”

“Fuck off,” Yohji returned, not quite up to his usual witty rejoinders. He needed all his concentration to keep his stomach–

Whoops, shouldn’t have thought of that. “Aya, I’m going to–“

As fast as Omi on the first level of any video game, the redhead got Yohji to a trash can where he could vomit in peace. Except for the damn coldhearted bastard muttering over “half the guards in Tokyo could be right around the damn corner...”

Three trash cans, a potted palm and a sink later, they were out. Aya shoved Yohji behind the (now empty, damn they were good together even if Aya was an arrogant bastard) guard shack and detonated the explosives they’d set. Yohji covered his ears. Yeah, yeah, boom, bam, flames, debris, he’d seen it before, he didn’t give a shit, all he wanted was his own damn bed and hopefully it wouldn’t be spinning in spurts and jolts like the rest of the damned world.

“If you puke in my car,” growled the delightful bastard Yohji couldn’t believe he hadn’t killed yet, “Weiss is back to three members.”

Oh for the good old days...Aya dragged Yohji to his feet, the blonde groaned and tried to walk. The best he could come up with was, “We didn’t ask for you, you know.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” the redhead retorted. “But Birman’s skirt was so short, you didn’t hear a word, did you?”

“You’re a real fucking prize, you know that?”

“Hn.” Aya shoved Yohji into the passenger side. Yohji leaned the seat back and closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was on a carnival ride. One of those really fast, scary ones. It was still better than thinking about Aya driving. He thought about asking after the target, but didn’t bother. If the target wasn’t dead, Aya didn’t get paid. Therefore the target was dead before the icy bastard bothered picking up his fallen teammate. Who fell guarding the icy bastard’s back, thank you very much and you’re welcome.

A prince among men, that was Aya. He helped Yohji all the way to his door before he went to take his shower. Yohji managed to get the damn door open and staggered in and fell on his bed, losing his coat before he got there.

Kami, he felt like shit.

Boots. Gotta at least get the boots off, get all the way on the bed, che, he should get a shower, he’d have to change his sheets if he didn’t...

Long before he could convince himself he gave a damn about that, Yohji’s thoughts wandered somewhere big and dark and peaceful. Or at least, less painful. For a while.


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