Before going out with Aya, Yohji had thought Heaven would be a beautiful redhead smiling and dancing and snuggling. He had been so very, very wrong. Heaven was a gorgeous redhead glaring as he danced, threatening amputation to anyone who touched. Heaven was that redhead letting Kudou Yohji guard his back.
Which he did. As carefully as he’d ever done on a mission, and as fiercely. And every time he glared, he gave a silent snarl of “mine!” that felt so damn good, Yohji was having maybe the best night ever. For anyone. It helped that 1) he looked fantastic, in metallic green, skin-tight and missing the midriff, of course, Yohji wasn’t into that modesty thing. And 2) that he had, by far, the most beautiful date in Tokyo.
Aya, to Yohji’s delight, seemed to be forgetting that he was into modesty. For one thing, Aya could dance. Oh, he’d known the man could learn, Abyssinian’s grace in dealing death had a counterpart in Ran, after all. But Aya hadn’t needed to learn. All he’d needed was three shots of Jameson, willingly knocked back since darling Aya-chan had made her brother promise he would have fun, and Aya never broke a promise.
Speaking of fun–Yohji tapped Aya’s shoulder, jerked back before his fingers got disconnected. “Another drink?” he yelled over the music. Aya turned, Yohji’s eyes widened. God, he was the luckiest man on the planet, his stunned mind stuttered. Again.
On a normal day, Aya’s eyes were incredible. But Aya-chan hadn’t been satisfied with that. She had used her influence and her make-up and lined those eyes with black, reddened the pale lips and put glitter on the high cheekbones, taking the redhead from gorgeous to just-try-and-remember-to-breathe. And in those pants, that made even Yohji wonder how he’d gotten into them without help, and that shirt, that Aya unzipped in one place as he danced, then buckled somewhere else in one long more-tease-than-strip…
This was Ran, Yohji knew. Abyssinian was the one doing the glaring, but the cold and lethal swordsman could never have danced like this, would not tease and flaunt and taunt the drooling mob around them. Who would have thought a couple drinks was all it took to bring Ran out?
But it wasn’t just the alcohol, was it? Yohji was no fool, though he acted one more often than not. He knew why Ran hid, why the killer Aya stood in his place. Oh it was tangled, yes, what wasn’t, where Ran/Aya/Abyssinian was concerned? But at the root was the fact that Aya did what Ran could not. Ran was a gentle soul, Aya doused himelf in blood for Aya-chan. Ran was a sensitive boy who had seen his family murdered, who could not risk any more hurt. Aya was the heartless bastard who faced the world.
Yohji was honored and absolutely melted that it was Ran who stood before him now. Until the redhead folded his arms and gave the blonde a half-strength shi-ne glare. That was all Aya.
“Kudou, don’t tell me you’re drunk already!”
Yohji shook his head with a grin. Well, he was, but on something far more intoxicating than whiskey. “Not yet, but that’s easily fixed!” He grabbed Aya’s hand, delighted that the redhead let him, and pulled to the bar.
“If you get drunk, Kudou, I’m stopping! Someone has to drive!”
“Mou, Ayan, have I ever wrapped the Seven around anything?”
“There’s a first time for everything,”Aya shot his words back at him. “Yotan.”
Yohji staggered in shock. “Fujimiya! Did you just make–a joke?”
Ran flushed a little, but smiled a little, too. Again Yohji was completely charmed. Ran looked down, and took his hand from Yohji’s. The blonde blinked a little sanity back, and turned to hail the bartender.
“I…wanted to thank you,” the redhead said, barely audible as he slid onto a stool. Yohji blinked some more, and leaned closer. It had nothing to do with the desire to shove Aya against a wall and ravish him. He just wanted to hear better.
“For what?”
“Bringing me here,” Aya answered as the bartender poured their shots. “I know this isn’t your type of place. You gave up your fun to make sure I was comfortable.”
What? Did he honestly think Yohji wasn’t enjoying–oh. Oh shit. Oh damn. This ‘type of place’ was a gay club. Aya didn’t realize Yohji was bi. Well, why would he? Yohji had never flaunted the men as he did the women. Damn, there was a difference between being trusted and being safe! Aya-chan should feel safe with him. And Omi and Ken, though he liked to tease. But Aya–hell. Was that why Ran had dared to come out to play?
Aya thought Yohji going out with him was a sacrifice? “Aya…” Careful, Yohji, say it carefully but say it quick, or Ran would feel lied to– “Aya, I’ve been here before.”
“You–have?” Damn it, damn, the man was icing over before his eyes, not angry, just surprised and protective–
“I like beautiful things,” Yohji said. “All beautiful things. And you, Aya–you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Aya would have rejected that. Ran was stunned. Yohji could have shouted for joy, he hadn’t blown it, Ran was still in evidence, beautiful and nervous, but trusting.
Painfully trusting. God this was scary. There was a reason beyond the legalities that Yohji didn’t go out with anyone under eighteen. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, he only wanted experienced partners who knew how the game was played. Now, though–he didn’t want to play any games with Ran. That only made this all the more terrifying. It would be far too easy to hurt this incredibly sensitive, shyly trusting, stunningly beautiful innocent. Who was also, in some way he’d thought he understood but really didn’t, one of the bloodiest killers in Japan, the most determined, stubborn, decisive man he’d ever met, the cold and efficient Abyssinian–
Agh! Freak out later, Yotan! Now he leaned with excruciating slowness to kiss Ran. Giving him all the time in the world to avoid him, to decide if he wanted to, but Yohji had to try. Not to make the attempt after saying something like that was an insult in itself.
Ran wasn’t dodging, oh wow–
“Kawaii!” squealed a too-damn-familiar voice. “Look at the sweet little kitties!”
Yohji jerked back, Aya slid off the barstool, someone’s forgotten swizzle stick in his hand. Balinese wondered what Abyssinian meant to do with that, decided he didn’t want to know. He grabbed Aya’s wrist.
“Not here!” He tossed his hair and glared at the interruption. “Go away, Schuldig. And…Crawford?!?” Oh my God, Crawford in club gear? Was that really Crawford, in red leather pants and sleeveless top, no glasses and a red velvet choker?
There wasn’t a chance Ran was around when Schwarz was. So it must be Aya standing there with his mouth hanging open. Much like Yohji’s. Crawford grinned, and that was scary enough to snap Aya back to Abyssinian. He wrenched his wrist from Yohji, the blonde blocked him with his body.
“Damn it, Aya, not here!”
“Outside,” the redhead snapped. Schuldig shook his head. He was all in gold lame, even his headband. And he had a diamond in his navel, showing below the three buttons of his long vest.
“Thank you for the kind offer, Abyssinian, but we came to dance.” He ran an eye over Aya’s body. “Though it has been…delicious…running into you.”
Aya tensed even more, Yohji leaned to his ear.
“They’ll dock your pay!” he blurted. Aya-chan was the lever, as always. “We’re not on a mission, Aya, if we fight Schwarz in a public place you’ll be lucky to get paid for months!” The redhead relaxed. A miniscule amount, but he did accept Yohji’s point.
“Aww,” Schuldig said, shoving Yohji into Aya to get to the bar. “You two are just so cute together!” He snagged their shots, handed one to Crawford. “Thanks for the drinks, pussycat.”
Damn. And the night had been going so well. But Yohji knew when to cut his losses.
“Let’s go, Aya.” Yohji sighed as the redhead glared at him.
“I will not be run off by Schwarz.”
“No, don’t leave!” Schuldig agreed. “We could have so much fun!” He tossed back the shot, smirked at Crawford. “Ne, Crawford-san?”
“An evening out does sound appealing.”
Yep, that was Crawford.
“Then let’s dance, Aya.” Drinking any more would be a very bad idea. Damn it. Sometimes Yohji really, truly hated his life. Even more than usual. But at least tonight Mastermind wouldn’t be using his freaky powers to steal Yohji’s date. Though he’d almost like to see him try. Aya still clenched the swizzle stick.
The redhead accepted the suggestion, and for a few minutes the evening headed back towards heaven. But then Schuldig and Crawford came to the dance floor, and Aya glared and stiffened up, Schuldig smirked and waved, and Yohji almost fell over on discovering stick-up-his-ass Oracle could dance. Not as well as Schuldig or even Aya, but good enough to make a striking partner for the German. And, of course, they synched perfectly, years of working together as well as their abilities let them anticipate each other–
“Oi!” Yohji yelped, as Aya yanked him closer. “Aya–“
”Dance,” the redhead growled, slipping his arms around Yohji’s shoulders. “Just dance, Kudou.”
Okay, so maybe Schwarz showing up was a good thing.
***
Schuldig smirked at the Weiss kitties just for the principle of it, he wasn’t feeling very snide. Brad was using him, and while he didn’t mind that so much, the “coincidence” of running into Abyssinian and Balinese proved this night wasn’t going to go where he’d hoped it would. Besides that, the blonde and the redhead had looked entirely too cuddly when he first spotted them. He’d carefully not agreed to the deal, since he had no intention of doing what Kudou wanted even if somehow that slut charmed the pants off Abyssinian. But he still needed to win. It was a matter of–snort–honor.
“Relax,” Brad said in his ear. “This isn’t work.”
“It sure looks like it,” Schuldig retorted, but pasted on a smile. He clamped his mouth on demanding why Brad hadn’t just told him. He was an assassin, damn it, not some whiny teenage drama queen.
He’d leave that to Kudou.
“Call it a gift from me,” Brad said, as if he were the one who could read minds. “Is there anything you would rather do than spend an evening with me, annoying them?”
Schuldig’s smile stretched to sincere. And suggestive. “Perhaps,” he said, sliding closer to dance against the brunette, “just one thing.”
Brad chuckled in his ear, and didn’t move away.
A couple hours and a lot of Schnapps later, Schuldig decided he didn’t give a damn about the Weiss boys anymore. Brad hadn’t forgotten them, he sent drinks, which the silly kittens drank. Kudou had tried to refuse the first round, but Schu had given Fujimiya a shove in the pride, and he had taken both. After that Kudou took his share, just to keep the redhead from getting schnockered. Alone, anyway. When last spotted Balinese was wearing the stupidest grin ever, and Abyssinian was using the blonde to stay on his feet. Not even the redhead’s determination could stand up to that much Glenlivet.
Really, Brad had style.
And he had an ass, and Schu had his hands on it, and he really, truly, didn’t give a damn where the Weiss kitties had vanished to.