The Hits Keep Coming

BY : KD Sarge
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 3537
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.


 



“Go on without me,” dream-Yohji told Asuka, even as knew-better Yohji tried to stop him. Asuka finally agreed, left him there, and– “Asu–!“



“Shutthehellupyouidiot...”



Huh? That wasn’t in the script.



“Asu–itai!” Yohji jerked awake. That wasn’t a gunshot, that was an elbow. And not Asuka’s, either, she was over there dying.



“Stupidplayboyyellingallnightwakingpeopleup...” a voice grumbled, getting softer and more indistinct, “ev’rynighjusthesame...”



Oh. My. God. “Aya?” Yohji whispered, then thought better of it. Aya had things more pointy than his elbow to stick through people who annoyed him.



Besides, it couldn’t really be true that Aya was in his bed, could it? Just another dream, he’d fallen out of one and into a much more enjoyable one. Jump, Kudou, before the real Aya woke him up, bastard had an absolute gift for waking Yohji up just as things were getting good–



Hell. Yohji realized if he was thinking about being awakened, he wasn’t asleep.



Wait, that was good news, that meant Aya really was in his bed! Good thing he’d fantasized–ahem, plotted–exactly what to do. Hee hee! A couple quick hand-stretches and–



Yohji’s survival instinct eeped! and shoved memory through the headache before his fingers got somewhere that would have got him killed.



Che.



K’so.



Sigh.



Okay, okay, look at the bright side here. Sure, if his fingers wandered the least little bit, he was going to die, but–he was curled around the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, and he hadn’t been stabbed yet. That sexy redheaded body was fully dressed and on top of the covers, but still Aya was spooned right up to him and–



Err. Better do something about that. Pillow–no, Aya’s head was on it too, he’d wake the man for sure. Umm...towel. The towel was still in the bed, move it–slowly!–so Aya wouldn’t wake up to being rudely poked in the–



Stop right there. Don’t get ideas, Kudou, the man was asleep, not dead.



Well, of course, that would be just–



Gah. Stop with the damn scatterbrain, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. He’d already discovered Aya would talk in his sleep, what else might the man do?



Not that. Yohji didn’t have many scruples left, but he wasn’t going to molest a sleeping man. Especially not a teammate, and doubly-especially not a teammate with a big sharp sword and some real anger issues.



Hmmm.



Aya must have put out the candle before he climbed onto the bed. Yohji groped carefully behind him for his lighter, and lit one of the ones above the bed. Just enough light he could see the beauty beside him, not enough–he hoped–to wake the redhead.



Yeah, yeah, head hurt, it’d been doing that all night, and for a good percentage of the mornings of his adult life, he sure as hell wasn’t letting that stop him.



Aya–Aya was beautiful. Well, he’d known that, but Aya asleep... The last time–the only time–Yohji had seen Aya asleep, was after the fight with Ken. Bruised and abused and crying in his sleep–and what had that been about, anyway? He never had found out. If Aya had his own nightmares, apparently they were quieter than Yohji’s.



Enough propping himself up to stare, Aya needed to face him. Umm...Yohji fought a scared, exhilarated giggle as he caught an eartail, tickled Aya’s nose with it. The redhead batted at the annoyance, cute little kitty...



Reality check, Kudou. Not a kitten. An expert swordsman with a bad attitude who knew lots of ways to dispose of the body.



Cute definitely held, though. Yohji tickled again. Aya batted again, rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, and rolled. Bing–ow! What the hell–



For the love of all that was holy, Fujimiya slept with his fucking sword!



Aya grumbled and burrowed his face into the pillow, his earring glinted in his hair. Yet another thing that had to mean something, but Yohji was damned if he knew what.



Think it through. Again. What meant something, what didn’t?



“Aya” meant something. Most definitely, because that was not his name. Bastard still hadn’t told them–



Focus, Kudou. Aya was someone who meant a lot to him. Someone who made him cry when he talked to her in dreams. Which most likely meant she was dead. Girlfriend? Wife? Sister? Daughter? He was old enough, maybe.



Okay, that would make sense, he wouldn’t be the only member of Weiss there because of a woman. Because of the death of a very special, absolutely incredible–



Don’t go there, Kudou.



Aya. The girl Aya. Probably dead, probably her earring. Probably murdered, considering the depths of rage in Fujimiya. Yohji sighed and cuddled the redhead as he knew he could never get away with in daylight. Why did life have to suck so bad?



The red hair smelled of strawberries. Well, he’d known it would, he’d smelled Aya’s shampoo. Just out of curiosity. And it looked especially lovely against Yohji’s dark blue sheets–



Sheets. Aya had changed the sheets while a full-grown man lay on them. Yohji’s mother had been able to do that, a handy skill when her son was violently ill from whatever sweets he’d stolen this time. Yohji never could learn to limit himself–



Focus. His mother knew that skill from her years as a nurse in the American military hospital. But in a Japanese hospital, family members did such things.



Aya knew how to change sheets without disturbing the bed’s occupant. He yearned for beautiful things, but he never spent a yen he didn’t have to. He disappeared for three hours at a time at least twice a week, and came home even more silent than usual. In his sleep he cried for Aya, and begged her not to go away.



“You stupid bastard,” Yohji muttered. “At least she’s still alive!”



 



 



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