Title: Funny Bone
Author: Genuinelie(s)
Rating: light! R (language, suggestion)
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is not mine, and I make no from it. Sadly.
Teaser: He flirted with him because it was his sense of humor.
xxxxx
He flirted with him because it was his sense of humor.
He flirted with them because second best was better than nothing at all, and that he knew second best was something he'd still be grateful for, something he could still make happiness out of. He could leave with second best, start out for a new future.
No, he couldn't leave by himself, that was too lonely of an alternative. This life was a masochistic, bleak hell - but at least he wasn't alone in it.
The sharp-edged pain accompanying those thoughts, of course, was the razor-edge of wisdom whittling away at his delusions.
Yohji shrugged a lazy shoulder, muscles moving easily with the motion.
Across the room, Aya was completely absorbed in counting the till. Ken was sweeping the floor. Omi pulled down the shades. If he ignored everything else he knew, it was one of countless identical memories, a filler scene in the action movie of his life.
"Action movie", while admittedly gracious, was decidedly preferable to "tragedy".
He tilted his head, watching them from his perch on the window seat. One leg was propped up, one hand resting across the leg that was stretched down to the floor. The other held a cigarette, still unlit. Timing was everything, of course, in the art of gaining attention from his teammates. Counting the till was important; if he waited till Aya was done, there was a better chance he'd stick around to make sure Yohji put his smoke out, rather than just shoving him out the door.
So. He was action.
So...Ken was easy. He was a racecar movie. Not much substance, yet people loved blowing their money and time on them. Guaranteed to be good fun, with pretty people and not much plot.
He knew he wasn't giving him enough credit, of course...but Yohji also figured Ken would appreciate being dumbed down to being labeled a "tragedy" as well.
Omi...Omi was a romantic love story. Little bit of angst, mostly fluff, always cheesy.
Yohji eyed what Omi was wearing. It made him look like an escaped gnome from the American department stores' holiday displays.
Gnome...elf... Yohji shrugged off the word choice.
Two down, and that brought him to his sense of humor.
Ayan, Ayan.
Samurai movie was too easy, and what the man would probably choose for himself, too, which was just not original enough for Yohji.
The till closed. Yohji fiddled with his lighter, then lit the cigarette. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the nicotene give him a moment of peace.
"Yohji-kun! Not in the shop!" Omi's voice was horrified.
Yohji cracked an eye. "Oh, Omi. Everyone's gone, what does it matter, eh?"
Maybe Aya was a cowboy movie. They were filled with honor and revenge, weren't they? Lots of action?
Plus, Aya in a cowboy hat and chaps!
Yohji's mind supplied an open backside to the chaps.
"Oi!" Yohji's eyes snapped open again, smirk still on his lips, which were definitely missing a cigarette. He looked away from Aya's violet glare, which was directly in front of his face, down his body...
...Yohji's sense of humor allowed him to linger on Aya's body a bit longer than was going to be healthy for him...
...down to the loafer-clad foot, which had apparently stubbed out his nicotene. A thin trail of smoke was disippating from beneath the toe.
Yohji sighed, and fell into a false pout. He was authentically irritated, though - he had one more cigarette left, before he had to run his ass to the store.
"Oi, Ayan. Didn't your parents ever tell you to play nice with others, not take things that aren't yours, all that?"
"You're going to be missing something actually attached to you, if you smoke in here again, Kudoh." Aya's voice was also flat.
Maybe Aya was a sci-fi, Yohji mused. Then he could be a robot. Cowboys were supposed to be kind of emotional, weren't they?
Yohji pushed to his feet, as if he hadn't heard the shorter man. He stretched. "Hm. Well, I'm dateless, amazingly, boys. Katrina cancelled. I think I'll go get us a movie. Requests?"
"Oh, hell, no." Ken said. It must have been Yohji's imagination. He sounded alarmed. He dropped his broom, the clatter drowned out Omi's tsk. "I'm going with you. The last time you went by yourself you got The Blob. I am not watching another piece of crap."
"You could just ask me nicely, yanno, Kenken," Yohji grabbed his keys from the table.
"That's what I did last time!" Ken growled. "Also, you never paid me back. You owe us pizza."
"Oi, oi, no money lost between friends, right?" Yohji sighed theatrically.
xxxxx
The door shut behind Yohji and Ken. A moment later the Seven roared to life, and the sound of the garage door lifting sputtered into the shop.
Omi placed his hands on his hips, eyebrows drawn down. "They didn't let me ask for a movie!"
Aya glanced over. Omi's expression smoothed out a second later, falling into a sigh. The youngest Weiss picked up Ken's abandoned tools and began finishing closing the shop.
Aya looked down at his foot, then moved it. The cigarette was a disgusting pile of ash on the floor. He finally gave a small sigh of his own, and went to take the broom and tray from Omi.
Yohji had been analyzing them all again. He'd felt the man staring him down. He wasn't so oblivious.
And Kudoh is not as smooth as he thinks he is. He swept up Kudoh's leavings and dumped them in the trash.
He did that a lot these days, Aya noticed. Aya presumed he was looking for something in them, but he could only guess at what.
Humanity? It's what he would look for in him, if he were Yohji.
No wonder he kept looking.
"Aya-kun? Are you okay?" Omi's voice broke into his thoughts.
Aya passed the broom back to him. "Fine." He replied shortly.
He wasn't about to admit that it bothered him to be sized up by Yohji, and found lacking.
xxxxx
"So," Yohji announced, plopping down on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, sprawling one hand to the side behind Omi's head. "Where's our resident ice princess?"
Aya appeared almost on cue from behind Yohji, making the ex-detective wince. He covered it with a wink. "Speaking of the handsome devil!"
Aya sent a frigid look his way, and sat stiffly in the wooden desk chair.
Yohji decided his "sense of humor" was becoming finely honed, as the odds with him ever acting on his "sense of humor" became narrower before his eyes.
He had Teret's, he decided. A special variety of "Aya-Teret's."
"It's more comfortable over here on the couch, baby..."
"Yohji!" Omi snapped, looking like a ruffled baby chick. "Start the damned movie!"
"Oi, oi, now you sound like Ay-"
The movie clicked on. "Shut the hell up," Ken cut Yohji off, remote in hand.
Yohji rolled his eyes in the dark at Ken's uncalled-for irritation. He was just teasing, yeesh. Everyone in that house had a brick-sized chip on their shoulder, though in Aya's case it was an iceberg.
"Brokeback Mountain." Aya's flat voice broke into the opening credits.
"It got excellent reviews," Yohji said defensively.
Ken was looking irritated and embarrassed at the same time, slouched down on the couch with his arms crossed defensively. Omi was leaning forward, face intent.
"Oh!" The youngest Weiss cried. "I've been wanting to see this!"
Yohji threw a grin back at Aya. "See?"
Aya's eyes flicked past Yohji. "I thought you went with him to watch what he got, Ken."
"He said it was about cowboys!" Ken saud edgily. "I only read the description in the car."
"Hn." Aya got up and stalked out of the room.
Yohji watched him go, genuinely surprised, twisting around on the couch.
Well, shit.
That didn't fit in with his sense of humor. His masochistic sense of humor told him that it was amusing that he had a hard-on for Aya the Unattainable. It was downright hilarious that Kudoh Yohji, out of everyone in the city of Tokyo, had fallen for the one man most likely to gut him rather than fuck him. His sense of humor was ironic as well. It kept him clinging to that shred of hope that said if he could goad the man, if he could break through that shell, he might actually have a chance. It was fun making Aya the Unattainable squirm.
It was just plain fucking depressing if he was Aya the Straight.
xxxxx
Aya slammed an open hand against the wall once he got to the kitchen.
What the hell was Kudoh playing at.
He was mocking Aya.
The come-ons, the teasing. It had all intensified recently. Now, bringing home a well-known gay movie for the men to watch.
Yohji knew.
He knew about him. He wanted to publicly humiliate him, by goading him into confessing. Or maybe he just wanted to torture him. It would be nothing new for Yohji. The man was bored; he cared about nothing. It must amuse him greatly to be in on it. To know that Weiss's swordsman -
Was it a mannerism? Had Yohji actually been that great of a detective? Or was it just that Aya was not as secretive as he thought himself to be? Had Yohji seen eyes on him every time he left with a date?
Aya tilted forward, touching his forhead to the wall.
He hadn't acted on it. He pushed Yohji away. He'd done all he could to keep this from interfering with Weiss.
Why wouldn't Yohji just take it as flattery?
Why did he try so hard to torture him?
Aya slapped the wall again. Bastard!
It wasn't important. He'd told himself that since he woke in the man's bed. He had other things to worry about. He would just let Yohji play his games. Let him be the one to come off as a fool. Even if Yohji suspected, he didn't know for sure.
It wasn't important. Whatever Aya felt, whatever his inclinations - he had more problems to deal with than Yohji making his life hell, for the hell of it.
xxxxx
So if Aya wasn't a gay cowboy, Yohji thought pathetically to himself, that answered his earlier question. Aya was a good-ol-robotical sci-fi movie. With no romance in it or anything. Just violence. Lots of violence.
Maybe he was the Terminator. He was sure as hell adept at shooting Yohji down.
It was about halfway through the movie, and Aya still hadn't returned. Yohji's foot tapped impatiently on the side of the couch. Omi of course was thoroughly engrossed. Ken was even looking interested, or at least his arms were spread to either side of him, propped on the back of the couch. At least, Ken-ken no longer looked like a five-year-old being forcefed medicine.
Dammit.
He knew he should leave well enough alone. Cut his losses and all that crap. But it just wasn't adding up to him. Not like Aya walked around with rainbow diddlyboppers planted in that red hair of his or anything, but it never crossed Yohji's mind once that he could be straight. And yet, why the fuck else with that reaction? Even Ken was sucking it up!
"Gonna go get a beer," Yohji mumbled. "You kids want anything?"
"No thanks." Ken muttered, but didn't look away. Omi threw a smile his way and waved him off.
Yohji slipped up the stairs.
xxxxx
Aya was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, book propped on bent knees, when the knock came on his door.
It was too gentle to be Ken or Omi. Yohji was the only one who would show him consideration, because he was the only one who would dare to try and suck up to him when he wanted something. Omi would ask forthright or bargain; Ken rarely bothered him.
It hadn't been long enough for the movie to have ended.
Whatever Yohji had to say, Aya was certain he didn't want to hear it.
He flipped the page, and tried to not to let the knowledge of Yohji's presence bother him.
xxxxx
Aya wasn't quiet enough, Yohji heard the faint sound of pages rustling and quiet breathing through the door.
Well, fuck.
Was it that he was pissed he'd finally realized he'd been living in a house full of queers? Surely even Aya should have noticed that a bit sooner. Ken's crush on Omi hadn't exactly been all that subtle, and Omi, for all his traipsing around with that creepy schoolgirl-slash-sister-slash-whatever she'd been, never struck Yohji as even moderately straight. Sorry, not with shorts that short, kiddo.
He was getting off-track. He rapped again with his knuckles against the door. "Oi, Aya."
Silence.
I didn't mean to offend you...thought you knew it was just teasing...god, you're breaking my heart, baby, don't you know it?...
"God, Aya, you can be such a fucking prick!" Oh, great. Good one, Kudoh.
The door opened abruptly. Yohji stumbled through but managed to catch himself on the frame. Aya looked murderous.
"It was just a movie!" Yohji's voice had a tinge of whine.
"If I am a fucking prick, Kudoh, it's none of your business." Aya stated coldly. His eyes were slits.
"...what?"
"It doesn't concern you!" Aya snapped.
Yohji was lost. "A-Aya...oh, hell." Yohji ran a hand through his hair and stepped inside to lean against the wall. His apology was not going how he'd planned.
"Get out of my room!"
Yohji slammed a fist against the wall by his side. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable!" He bit out, refocusing on the redhead.
Shit, Aya was gorgeous angry. Which was all the time. Which might explain a lot.
"Look, I'm sorry if you have a problem with...with...well, fuck, Aya, it's my problem and I guess I shouldn't have thrown myself at you, it's just, and don't take this the wrong way, but some part of me thought I really had a chance..." Yohji gave a softly bitter laugh. "I guess I was wrong. But we're still Weiss, I'm still the same Yohji...though I guess I've never exactly been your favorite person, eh, Ayan?"
Yohji was beginning to feel sick. Explaining it aloud to Aya made him realize the full extent of his idiocy.
He steeled himself and met Aya's gaze again.
The man's violet eyes were wide and his face, for once, was open.
What Yohji saw there was the last thing he'd ever expected to see.
Hope.
...desire?
"...Aya?" Yohji swallowed heavily and took a step forward.
"I'll kill you if you're mocking me, Kudoh. You have no right."
"Shit! No, Aya. Really? All this...you thought I was...shit! No!" Yohji took another step forward, Aya took a reflexive step back toward the other wall. Yohji's fingers closed around Aya's bicep. It was warm beneath his touch.
"I'll run you through with my katana." Aya stated darkly.
Yohj crinkled his eyes in an expression that was almost more pain than humor. "I can't say I'm especially loving life as it is, so I'm not sure that's the threat you want it to be."
Aya's mouth thinned dangerously.
"But," Yohji hastened to add, "I think I could. I mean, with you. With you, I think I might care if you kill me."
Yohji Kudoh, ladies' man, did not, apparently, translate into men's man. Gravel was smoother than that line.
Aya was mulling. His face had formed an expression close to thoughtful and farther away from homicidal than Yohji had dared to hope.
"You've been serious."
"It's been killing me all on its own, Ayan. How much I've wanted you." Yohji leaned forward, backing Aya up to the wall. He leaned his forhead against Aya's, one hand trapping the redhead's paler one against the wall, fingers interlocking.
Aya was silent. He was letting his personal space be intruded into, however, and Yohji was having a hard time of not taking that as permission, then and there, to call an end to the conversation.
After a moment, Aya met Yohji's eyes again. "I thought you were trying to humiliate me."
Yohji's breath caught.
How the hell had Aya gotten that from flirting?!
"Never!" Yohji breathed forcefully.
Words weren't doing much. He leaned in, and his sense of humor must have turned morbid, because he pressed his lips hard against Aya's own, and thrust his tongue inside, all without Aya's permission.
But - Fuck - Aya was kissing him back.
Strong, lithe fingers were threading through his hair.
And - Fuck! - he was suddenly on his back on Aya's bed, the redhead straddling him, and clothing was coming off.
Aya was beautiful when he smiled.
xxxxx
Freshly showered, Aya made his way downstairs. The smell of coffee told him Kudoh had finally gotten up. There was a note on the counter - 'went shopping, be back soon, took Ken-kun' in Omi's neat letters.
The kitchen was silent. After some investigation, Aya stepped quietly down the stairs to the mission room. Sure enough, Yohji was sprawled out on the couch. He looked up when Aya entered, his face relaxing into an easy grin.
It wasn't Kudoh's usually smile, Aya noted. There was less to it.
"I will watch that movie with you," Aya stated.
Yohji's expression turned into a grin. He slid into a sitting position and snatched the remote from the coffee table, flicking on the television. "The boys wanted to take it back, but I thought we'd keep it around for a while," he commented.
"Hn." Aya said, still in the doorway.
"Come over here," Yohji invited softly, watching him. There was a flicker of wariness on the ex-detective's face, and that's what did it.
With a glance upstairs - but Ken and Omi weren't around to see, they'd gone out - he walked over to the couch and sat.
Yohji relaxed and wrapped an arm around him. After a moment, Aya tucked his legs beneath him, and settled in.
xxxxx