BY : MikoNoHoshi
Category: Weiß Kreuz > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 4283
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 Twenty-Three: Wake Me

“Yohji-kun,” a voice whined, loudly, from the other side of his door, “I have to go! You’re gonna make me late again!”

Reluctantly dragging his mind into the world of the waking, Yohji had almost summoned his normal reply when, upon opening his eyes, he found purple ones looking back at him. Still laying on his side, Aya studied him from the other half of the bed. Yohji did what he always did when waking up with someone: he gave his most dashing smile and said good morning.

The eyes fled. About to give a lesson on the proper reply, he was interrupted by the less pleasant task of dealing with Omi.

“Yohji-kun!” The doorknob turned, admitting the boy who had, apparently, designs on waking Yohji physically. “You’re up.” He was pouting now, hands on his hips. “You’ve got to go to the shop.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ten minutes. You go on,” the blonde suggested, shifting into a sitting position and fumbling for his shades on the nightstand. For once this action wasn’t motivated by a hangover but rather force of habit. Only when they were properly in place did he pay attention to the aggravated chibi who was, in turn, paying attention to Aya. Said Aya was, Yohji could clearly see, trying to decide whether he ought to be on the floor.

“Don’t even think about it,” Yohji warned him before addressing the intruder. “Omi, I’ll be down in ten. Aya, stay there for a second.”

Having sorted out his complicated menagerie, Yohji tossed his legs out of the bed, stood, and popped his back before scratching idly at the cloth of the t-shirt. Why anyone would willingly sleep in clothes was beyond him. Given a choice, he might not wear them at all.

“Omi, shoo,” he motioned the other from in front of his closet and grabbed his white jeans from their conspicuous place on the shelf. Omi looked at him doubtfully.

“I’m up, I’m up. Clothes, see? Glasses, see?”

“Ten minutes,” Omi warned before he turned and walked out, leaving the door open as an incentive.

Yohji really didn’t care. Quickly locating a white cashmere sweater, he laid it over his arm with the jeans and turned back to the bed.

Aya had done as he was told and was laying quietly between the covers, eyes focused on his own hands which rested a little away on the white sheets.

“Okay. Here’s the deal. I gotta go to work before Omi has a coronary, and I’d like it if you’d stay in bed today.”

No response. Yohji rolled his eyes.



“Great, okay. So, you know, you can go the bathroom, clean up, whatever, but then come back here and rest. Sleep if you can.”

“Yes, Yohji.”

Why did his name still sound like Master? Yohji dismissed it, telling himself to concentrate on the progress it represented.

“I’ll come—” he paused, reconsidering. It might sound like he didn’t trust Aya or that he was following up an order if he said he’s be back to check in on him. “I’ll bring you some breakfast later.”

A nod.

Yohji looked back as he reached the door; Aya’s eyes were closed, but he was much too tense to be sleeping.


Mondays at the Koneko weren’t too busy until mid-afternoon, and Yohji really didn’t make it a habit to ever be too busy, so when he spent the morning scribbling distractedly in a notebook, Ken didn’t take particular notice. Between flirting with the few ladies who came in and fixing a couple of orders, the blonde had been planning. True, his skills weren’t on par with Omi’s, but having a written record helped.

At nine he’d taken an early break to bring Aya breakfast. Finding written instructions from Omi on the fridge, Yohji heated a little both in a bowl (though really, he was sure no one wanted chicken-flavored water for breakfast) and poured some juice in the kitty mug he found resting in the drying rack. He added a spoon and a napkin to the tray and started up the stairs.

The door was as he left it, and Yohji entered quietly to find his charge curled up and dead to the world.

Setting the tray on the nightstand, he left a quick note on the napkin and went back to work.


He set the plastic clock hands to one-thirty and hung the out to lunch sign on the shop door.

“Take out?” Ken asked, shucking his apron.

In the process of taking a cigarette from his pack in preparation of going outside, Yohji shook his head no.

“Errands,” he explained.

Ken shrugged.


Yohji pulled the cap off the deodorant and sniffed it; making a face, he capped it and put it quickly back on the shelf before scanning for another one. Finding the next one to be slightly spicy but not too strong, he tossed it in the plastic basket that dangled from his left arm and set about finding a lotion that didn’t scream cheap drugstore.


He returned home affirmed in his regular purchases from upscale shops and vowing to take Aya to the same as soon as possible. Checking his watch, Yohji realized he was due back in ten minutes, giving him roughly twenty-five before Ken came yelling for him to get his ass down there.

He deposited his plastic bag on the kitchen table and threw together a quick ham sandwich to eat while he made Aya’s lunch. He’d left the tray upstairs, not to mention the kitty cup, so he settled for his own green coffee mug for the broth and, picking up a plate, set it there with a few saltine crackers. It was deviation from Omi’s plan, but Yohji would feel better if he could get Aya back to solid food.

Shoving the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, making it too full, he chewed as he climbed the steps, plate balanced easily in his hand.

Aya was still sleeping in the dim room, though an investigation of the nightstand proved he had been awake, at least briefly. The napkin-note had been moved to the side of the tray, and about half the juice was gone; less of the broth had disappeared. Yohji wondered if Aya found it as tasteless as he did and was glad he’d brought the crackers.

During his shuffling of various items on the nightstand, Yohji noticed the stir of the covers and looked to find Aya regarding him warily.

He smiled; the eyes were instantly turned away.

“You know, Aya, I like it a whole lot better when you look at me.”

That didn’t seem to garner an official response, but a few minutes later, Yohji was once again surveyed by violet eyes.

Again he smiled, this time as he settled onto the bed, crossing his legs and turning to face Aya to proffer the green mug.

“Here. Sit up.”

The boy shifted up against the headboard, reaching cautiously for the cup and holding it with both hands. He sipped at it once, then looked to Yohji for approval; the blonde had to resist hugging him. It was the first time he hadn’t had to tell the boy to eat what was given to him.

Feeling like he was feeding a skittish gazelle in a petting zoo, Yohji picked up a cracker and offered it. Aya was careful not to touch him when he took it. Balancing the mug on one thigh, he brought the cracker to his mouth and took a small bite, chewing almost silently.

Yohji tried not to grin too widely.

“Yohji!” the summons interrupted the quiet moment, making Yohji sigh. For once, he was quick to obey, not wanting Ken to come up and make Aya nervous, not when things were going so well.

“I gotta go. Eat what you want, then back to sleep, okay?”

“Okay, Yohji.”

Yohji spent the last three hours of his shift with a smile that baffled even him in its persistence.


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