BY : MikoNoHoshi
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 4275
Disclaimer: I get no money from writing these fics, nor I don't own Weiss. In fact, I'm not even allowed to touch the pretty least not in any of their special places...

Chapter 11: Defend Me

Now Yohji couldn’t give a flying fuck about creating awkward moments for other people; his Thursday night porn sessions in the living room proved this if his vivid breakfast-time descriptions of his most brilliant conquests didn’t. So, in his opinion (developed overnight), it was better to bite the bullet, deal with the initial awkwardness, and get them the hell over Aya’s presence as soon as possible. The boy was staying.

A glance over his shoulder found him following quietly, arms tucked close to his body and head lifted only enough to see where he was going. Taking a breath, Yohji lead their tiny party forward, making the quick trip to the coffee pot with Aya obediently in tow. As Yohji retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and filled them with coffee, the boy stood stiffly at his side examining the floor.

“Here,” Yohji pressed a cup of coffee at him, and Aya cradled it carefully with both hands. The blonde watched him take a small sip before he turned to meet the curious looks. Ken had even stopped eating, and both he and Omi stared at Aya from their places at the table.

“Omi, Ken, this is Aya. Aya, this is our resident bishounen, Omi, and the pig sitting next to him is Ken.”

Ken went to act in defiance of the pig comment, but having to swallow a huge mouthful of eggs before he could speak, found himself unable to do so effectively and decided to resume eating instead.

“Nice to meet you,” Omi offered with a smile that was friendly if not quite genuine. “Are you a, uh, friend of Yohji’s?”

The connotation was clear; any of Yohji’s friends who showed up before noon were undoubtedly lovers of a not so savory variety. Omi said not to bring those into the house. Seeing that Aya was not going to rise to his own defense, Yohji took it upon himself to play knight in shining armor.

“He’s from the mission.”

He stated it bluntly, ripping off the clean kitchen bandage to reveal the shocking wound of their nightlife. Omi’s smile dropped, as did Ken’s fork, clattering as it landed on his plate.

“Mission?” Omi asked. “What’s he doing here?”

“He was one of the,” here he cast a worried glance at Aya who was studying the floor before meeting Omi’s accusing eyes, “captives.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s in our kitchen,” Ken pointed out the obvious with more ire than Yohji thought the statement merited. It raised his own hackles, and he wasn’t about to let Ken have the corner on righteous anger.

“Kaimo bought him for me as a present,” he thought the sarcasm was a nice touch, but it seemed lost on Ken.

“Bought? Present?!”

Ken’s stuttered comments were interrupted by Omi in a tone that was surprisingly stern, though hardly unemotional, “You’re not going to keep him!”

He didn’t quite make it a question, and the fact that his ill-chosen words made Aya sound like a pet irritated Yohji despite the fact he had been guilty of the same. The way he looked over the boy didn’t help, his eyes full of disgust that wasn’t aimed at Aya as much as his condition. Yohji wasn’t anywhere near sure that the boy would be able to decipher the difference, and he was, for the first time, grateful that his charge wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes. Damn, but they could show a little compassion. How could they ask him to toss away this bruised, quiet, beautiful little creature?

Omi, taking a breath, repeated, “You don’t plan to keep him.”

“I do.”

“Yohji-kun! It’s dangerous. It’s wrong. You can’t make him—”

“I’m not gonna make him do anything! I’m not a fucking monster!”

“What do you plan to do, then? What about Kritiker? You can’t possibly deal with this; be serious,” he pleaded.

“I am fucking serious!” He didn’t realize he had slammed down his coffee cup until the felt the edge of the counter digging into his forearm. He released the cup, but the anger wasn’t so easy to let go. Still, his voice had an eerie calm when he began to speak, and its effect wasn’t lost on him as Omi’s eyes widened even a Yohji worked himself back up to yelling.

“What should I do, Omi? Ship him back to that ass Joji? Let them sell him off to some bastard who’ll tie him up and rape him? Let the fuckers kill him so I don’t compromise the god damned organization? Fuck that!”

He hand stung where he used it to smack the counter on the last line; Omi didn’t jump at the sound, but Aya did. He was close enough that Yohji almost felt the tremble of his shoulders.

Shit. Could he screw up anything else this morning? No doubt Aya was thinking he would make good on the threat, and he had practically advertised the fact that the boy was almost raped. Belatedly, very, Yohji realized that the discussion (or the yelling match it had degraded into) would have been much better conducted prior to Aya’s introduction.

Yohji hoped his brain decided to wake up soon, because living without it was making life damn difficult.

“I’m not taking him back,” he managed, leaving the ‘because he’s mine’ thankfully unspoken. That would have Omi up his ass in a heartbeat. “He didn’t belong there.”

“So you decided to bring him home and fuck him?” The scrape of Ken’s chair was loud in the kitchen, and the mug Aya was holding was saved only by Yohji’s quick reflexes. Had he not been watching the redhead, he doubted he could have caught it as it slipped between the trembling fingers as Aya shrank back from Ken’s anger.

“Back off!” Yohji demanded, shoving at Ken’s chest with his elbow. About to retaliate, Ken’s eyes flicked to Aya; whatever he saw there, whether the shaking hands or clenched eyes, made him drop his hand.

“What’s wrong with him?” he asked when Aya flinched again from the hand, raised now in placation.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Yohji returned, stepping between them.

“Uh . . . sorry,” Ken mumbled, backing up as if unsure where he had gone wrong enough to land in the position of bad guy in their current situation. Yohji, though, was hardly going to claim that position for himself; he was the knight in shining fucking armor and they could just deal with it.

“Hey, Aya,” Yohji tried to smile reassuringly, wondering how much of his morning’s work had just been washed down the drain. The redhead had straightened up almost immediately, but he couldn’t seem to fight the tremors that ran through his frame. “Why don’t you take your coffee in the living room and drink it while I talk to these guys? Do that, Aya?”

A nod. Satisfied, Yohji returned the warm mug to cool hands and pointed out the way. Purple eyes lifted enough to get his bearings, then Aya proceeded cautiously towards the doorway with small, silent steps, giving Ken as wide a berth as possible before slipping silently from the room.

“Yohji-kun,” Omi shook his head as the older man took a seat between them at the table.

“I know. But I couldn’t leave him there. I mean, look at him! And they,” he closed his eyes, the image of Aya’s beaten body too fresh in his mind. “He’s had it hard.”

“I understand. But, he can’t stay here. Kritiker—”

“Kritiker might want him.”


“I thought about it last night. He can’t go back; he saw me kill Kaimo. He probably doesn’t have any family, definitely nowhere to go. Maybe he could be Weiss.”

“There’s a lot of problems with that idea.”

“I know.”

“He might not be stable. You said Kaimo had him; he may have serious psychological issues.”

“Glass houses, chibi.”


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