Note!!: This fic has a soundtrack! Hehe ^^ It isn't a songfic, but the songs in it both inspired it and are important to it, especially (in order of appearance) Belsunce Breakdown (Bouga), Toca's Miracle (Fragma) and I Turn to You (Melanie C - Radio Mix). The final song isn't crucial, but for completeness' sake: The Next Episode (Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, et al). The songs are well worth finding, especially if you like dance music, and you'll enjoy the fic a lot more if you at least know what they sound like! As for the lyrics to the title song, *sweatdrop* I pulled them off the Internet, and I dunno if they're accurate or not... it's kinda hard to tell (Marseillais dialect... wai), but they're not important, just the music is ^_-
Also, this isn't a New Year's fic (kinda obvious from the date, ne?). That is, it wasn't written for New Year's, it was indirectly inspired by mine, and written afterwards, and I really could have set it at another time to be seasonal, but I didn't wanna. ;P I think it's OK to read it at any time of year, tho', seeing as it's just fluff! ^_~ (And OOC and silly as heck!)
Jaa, without further ado...!
Belsunce Breakdown
"There's. No. Mission."
Youji grinned uneasily. The passing thought that Aya could do 'menacing' with the same three words in such a panoply of ways quirked his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, pondering how best to answer the identical question for the seventeenth time. He opened a rose-stained mouth and took a deep breath.
"Ahh... no."
Violet eyes narrowed to stabbing sharpness. "Explain."
Well, at least a fourth word had entered the equation. "Uh... it's that... well, we thought you wouldn't come, otherwise."
"You were right." Aya's tone could have reigned in a volcanic eruption.
"Maa, but; well--" Youji was at a loss. Silently, he cursed Ken and Omi for running inside as soon as they'd arrived, leaving him to deal with this. He huffed in exasperation. "Aya, what the hell else were you planning to do on New Year's Eve? This is a lot better than spending it crawling around ventilation ducts on a mission, na? Sou darou?!"
Aya glared at him. "I'm leaving."
"A-aah, chotto!" Youji cried, grabbing the redhead's arm as he pushed past. He managed to hold fast even when his teammate turned on him with murder blazing in indigo eyes. "Aya," he protested. "We came in Ken's car, and this place is two hours' drive from Tokyo!"
"I'll walk."
"Don't be stupid--!"
"Let. Go. Now."
The brunet quailed, fingers unfurling reluctantly from the silver-clad arm. "You can't walk," he muttered.
The stormy expression on Abyssinian's face seemed to indicate he concurred. "How long?"
Mint eyes blinked. "Till three or four in the morning at least--"
"You bastards!" Aya snarled. "You couldn't guess that I hate this, this--" he gestured furiously at the mass of people in the huge, high-ceilinged ballroom beyond the foyer in which they stood. People were dancing, drinking, mingling, generally enjoying themselves. "--type of thing?!" Aya finished, mad enough to spit.
"You'd have fun--" Youji broke off at another pointed amethyst glare. His hands fell to his hips, a frown of his own marring his face. "Fine, maybe you wouldn't. But you're stuck here now, and you're dressed for it, so what are you gonna do?!"
Aya folded his arms and glared daggers. Youji groaned inwardly. He could have--no, had foreseen such a reaction. There had been the off-chance, though, that the monosyllabic redhead could be cornered into enjoying himself--maybe with the help of a little alcohol--which was why Youji had suggested to his younger teammates that they bring him. The mission scam was the most viable plan the three of them had come up with. The data-folder they'd hastily thrown together had worked well enough to get Aya into party clothes: A tight, ribbed, high-necked sleeveless black shirt that opened all the way with a decorative silver zipper sporting a large loop where the key rested at his throat; a silver sleeves-only jacket; and a pair of form-hugging black leather pants with a belt of linked silver rings. Improvised details about a Thai drug cartel had gotten him as far as the foyer of this hotel before he demanded who the target was, Ken and Omi bolted, and Youji, well...
"I hate you," Aya hissed.
Youji scowled back at the shorter man, starting to catch his mood. "You hate everyone. So whaddya want from me?"
Lavender eyes narrowed further, pale fingers tightening on silver cloth. "Somewhere to wait this out."
"Fine," Balinese returned, tone equally icy if not more glacial. He spun sharply on his heel and headed inside. His teammate followed after two beats, trying to burn holes in his back.
They walked briefly around the perimeter of the marble-floored room, passing huge trays of colourful and elaborate appetizers, and tables that sparkled with gem-like arrays of glass-bottled, rainbow-hued liqueurs.
"Here," Youji announced, coming to a halt and gesturing petulantly to the crimson-carpeted staircase behind him. "A friend of a friend of mine owns this place--they barely use this room. You go up there, you probably won't see a soul all night. Which, I assume," he scowled quite skillfully. "Is what you want."
Aya scowled back--not to be beaten at his own game--then practically stomped up the stairs. Youji watched him disappear, then turned with a low utterance of disgust and made a beeline for the bar.
"A~ra, looks like it didn't go so well." Omi nudged Ken. The older boy looked up at the approaching third member of Weiß and hid a smirk.
"I told you it wouldn't work."
Omi rolled his eyes. "Try not to gloat too loud; he looks pissed."
"OK, OK..." The brunet turned away to get his face under control, returning with what passed for a serious expression. "Better?" The blond shrugged. Ken looked again at the tall, lanky figure making his way through the milling throng. He shook his head--the expression on the older man's face was much more becoming their leader than him. "What a waste, na?"
Omi nodded. "It's not as though he wouldn't have come anyway, or like he wouldn't have dressed up, but..." Balinese had really outdone himself this time. His entire outfit was soft leather. The pants were black, tight over ankle-high boots. He wore a black, short, sleeveless vest that was pretty much for decoration only as it buttoned only once around the centre of his chest, leaving sleek abs and toned pectorals almost entirely bare. Over his shoulders was an open coat of very thin white leather that flared behind him around his calves, long sleeves ending in a triangle over the back of each hand, looping between index and middle fingers and around his thumbs to hold fast. The wide black band about his throat was leather, too, his earrings large gold hoops. Full lips were just a little pinker than usual, and there was a faint dusting of orchid above each eye that glittered subtly as he turned. Even the chestnut glory of Youji's hair, which, deeming perfect, he usually left alone, had been adorned--sewn with myriad tiny, translucent amber beads that caught the chandelier light in a fiery starscape.
Ken was about to comment further when their friend finally reached them, a drink in each hand. "Uh, Youji--"
"Youji-kun, you're not supposed to mix drinks..."
The older Weiß gave his young teammate the Eye. "Minors should keep their advice on liquor to themselves." He downed the Scotch on the rocks in his left hand in two long gulps, shuddered, then downed the Martini in the other. He squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders hunching.
"Y-Youji--" Ken began.
The tall brunet straightened suddenly, face clearing. Emerald eyes shone a bit too bright as the usual crooked smile stretched across his face.
"Let's dance, kittens."
The music was too loud--downstairs people's ears had to be bleeding. The reception part of the evening had passed; now the chandeliers had been extinguished, the darkness above and below broken by frenetically moving multi-coloured lights, speckled by their refractions off several mirror-balls. There was a powerful strobe, too, but it was off at the moment.
The 'room' in which Aya sat--or, more appropriately, lurked--was really only a balcony. It stretched over roughly a third of the gargantuan dance floor below, edged by a marble bannister slightly lower than chest-height. The bank of lights responsible for the rainbow-stained epilepsy of the evening was just above and a metre or so beyond, and several large control panels squatted to the far right, wires running up along the far wall and across the ceiling. Luckily, the lighting seemed to have been entirely pre-programmed, and no one had come upstairs thus far.
"Youji... korosu," Aya muttered darkly, glaring at the nearest mirror-ball for lack of a better target. "Ken mo, Omi mo. Korosu." The words were swallowed immediately by the relentless throb of the music. Even without a speaker at this level, the volume was high enough to be a physical presence; the floor shook, the air hummed, he could feel his ribcage vibrating.
And people enjoy this. Crimson brows quirked in irritated incredulity. Here, at the far back of the balcony Aya sat, slumped in a chair against the wall, arms crossed, face set in lines of evil intent. Multiple rechecks of his watch had only gotten him to eleven o'clock, an hour and a half that had taken forever made worse by the promise of continuance till near dawn.
Idle rummaging behind a stack of boxes in one corner had unearthed a crate of Johnnie Walker Black Label, one mostly empty bottle of which sat next to him on the plush carpet that covered this half of the balcony. The slitted amethyst eyes had taken on an extra gleam of intoxication, though nothing else about the assassin betrayed how much alcohol he'd imbibed. Unfortunately, it hadn't served to relax him; rather his mood had gotten steadily more morose as he drank.
Aya loathed this type of affair, always had. Even as a teenager in high school he had shunned social gatherings at all costs. He had never enjoyed crowds, never seen the appeal of carousing with people he hardly knew. Throughout his life there had been few people outside his family he could stand, and their company he enjoyed strictly by themselves or not at all. Lovers--he had had a few--invariably sought him out; usually they were coworkers, or men he'd met through his various part-time jobs. They, too, he had on his own terms. Solitude was worth breaking for one or two, for the sake of intimacy, not for a throng of anonymous faces he had no interest in learning.
Furthermore, this atmosphere. How could it pass for pleasant? You couldn't hear yourself, much less speak to anyone else, people were packed together like sardines, and the entire scene looked like an LSD nightmare.
And god damn it, he was bored stiff. If he'd known something like this was going to happen, he'd have brought a book. A crimson brow raised. Of course, if he'd known, he'd be in his apartment right now, not in danger of losing his hearing.
Aya stood and paced the length of the balcony bottle in hand. He surveyed the room below for the third or fourth time, head propped on his elbows. People-watching wasn't something he usually engaged in unless he was seeking a target, but anything was better than letting the repeated pattern of shifting lights drive him slowly mad.
Swirling pools of red, blue, green and yellow lit the dancers briefly, a few at a time. Well, if it could be called dancing--by in large people seemed to be swaying, flailing or bouncing without much connection to the music or anything resembling grace. There were exceptions. In a few places the crowd had parted to make way for one or two who could actually pick out the rhythm and move to it. Some of them were quite athletic, really something to watch, as sequins and glitter drew every flung arm and kicked leg as sparkling arcs through the darkness.
Room-temperature liquor burned its way down his throat as he watched. He couldn't decide what he made of the taste, but had no desire to relinquish his hold on the bottle. As a rule, Aya never drank, so the effects intrigued him. As the golden fluid dwindled he could feel a certain slackening of his muscles--not to the point of relaxation, but noticeable. It wasn't altogether unpleasant.
Violet eyes narrowed as they raked the crowd. Strange he hadn't noticed before, but there were barely any women here. He scanned the room again. No, he amended, there were, but almost all of them were dancing with each other, or alone.
Youji must be having a horrible time, he mused, some measure of satisfaction tugging the corners of his lips upward. It looked as though Abyssinian had not been the only dupe this evening--Bombay and Siberian had obviously conned the notorious playboy Kudou Youji into a night of women who weren't interested in him and men who were. Well, good for them; the bastard deserved it. Not that he didn't want revenge on them, too.
The bottle paused against his lips. But he said a friend of his owned this hotel. Aya blinked, then peered over the bannister with renewed interest. Where were his teammates? Orchid eyes followed the brightest spotlight as it circled the floor, finally yielding a group of three near the far wall. Those eyes widened, lax fingers almost letting the bottle slip before he fumbled to catch it.
Well. What the hell do you know...?
Omi bit his lip, blue eyes huge and bright with excitement and more alcohol than anyone his age and weight should have consumed in an hour. He swayed slightly to the bass-beat, at the edge of the crowd of dancers, but his attention was riveted on the two young men just beyond it, against the wall.
"Hnnh... Ken, yamete yo..."
Cornflower eyes glittered, drinking in the sight of the taller brunet bent under the shorter, shoulders against the wall, kept upright in that awkward position only by the muscular arm around his waist. Ken was eating at Youji's neck, the older man's head was flung back, slender arms wound under his teammate's for balance. With the hand that wasn't busy pulling Youji's hips tight up against his own, Ken stroked a path down Youji's back, lingering over the subtle curve of his rear, then along his thigh to pull that long, slim leg up alongside his hip.
"You're making Omi jealous."
The youngest Weiß abandoned the dance floor to stand closer to his companions, a lascivious smile betraying the angelic face. "Oh, I don't mind watching, Youji-kun," he purred, sliding up behind the older man as Ken pulled him away from the wall. "Although I'd prefer to be helping out..."
"A--nhh... N-no fair, you two," Youji managed breathlessly as the blond moulded himself to his back and slid delicate hands up under his vest. "That's... double-teaming..." He arched, mouth open as Omi caressed a nipple and Ken dipped his tongue into the hollow of his collarbone.
Chocolate eyes met ocean behind Youji's back, matching conspiratorial smiles quirking his younger teammates' lips. "But Youji-kun," Omi began, in the poutiest, most 'innocent' voice he could manage while rocking his small hips suggestively against the older man's rear. "We just wanted to cheer you up..."
The green eyes were closed, all muscles in the ex-detective's body gone lax with intoxication and lust. "Hunh...?"
Siberian took advantage of those open lips and kissed his older friend deeply, smiling against his cheek as he withdrew. "We don't like to see you mope."
Youji's arms tightened around Ken's back, his hips beginning to move slightly in response to Omi's, a bit too disoriented to really tell one boy from the other. "I was moping?"
The teenager brushed aside his coat and nuzzled at the exposed skin of his side. "Aya-kun really was unfair with you..."
"Aya--" Youji stiffened slightly between his two teammates, lucidity creeping through hazed senses. A long sigh escaped him. "What a mistake that was, na?"
Ken bit gently at his ear. "You were just trying to be nice," His tongue jabbed at the lobe, making the fine gold ring bob. "It's not your fault he's an antisocial killjoy."
"Mou--" Youji began to protest.
"--And it's almost midnight," Omi added with practiced casualness. "So if he wants to be alone, you can stay with us."
"Midnight...?" Youji repeated, not making the connection.
"New Year's Eve, Yotan," Ken chuckled against his skin.
Verdant eyes blinked. "Shit!" Youji exclaimed, fumbling and swaying to regain equilibrium on his own two feet. His teammates loosed their arms from about him, all smiling innocence as he turned to them.
"What's wrong, Youji-kun?"
"I forgot all about him! I dragged him here, and now he's sitting upstairs in the dark by himself, and it's--what time is it?!"
"11:32," Ken supplied. "Why so worried?"
"Ohhh, man," Youji groaned, seeming completely sober now. He smacked his forehead. "I meant to leave him to stew for a while, not all night! He must be so pissed off right now... I gotta go get him."
"Are you sure?" Omi asked earnestly, as if he didn't already know the answer. "Because we can keep you company." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Ken nodded agreement, grinning.
Youji sighed, then smiled wryly, ruffling that blond head. "You're supposed to be with the one you love at midnight, Omittchi," He winked at the both of them. "I don't want to get in the middle of that."
"But Youji-kun," Cupid's-bow lips curved impishly. "You just were in the middle of that!"
The tall brunet reddened slightly. "True... but not at midnight!" He started to push his way around the side of the dance-floor, towards the balcony staircase at the far end of the room.
"Come back if he's a jerk!" Ken called after him. Youji nodded and waved back at him before disappearing into the crowd. The older boy wound his arms around the younger, giving him a half-amused, half-annoyed look. "Do you believe we just gave Youji up that easily?"
Omi giggled. "Wanna take bets on whether we really did or not? Five to one we pick him up again at the bar in fifteen minutes, max."
Ken looked thoughtful. "I don't know... a lust-crazed Youji is a force to be reckoned with."
"We certainly did our part as far as that's concerned!" The blond licked his lips suggestively, fitting himself more tightly to the brunet's tightly muscled body.
The soccer-player bent to catch those lips, laughing as he did. "The rest is up to him..."
"Hn," Aya muttered, mildly annoyed when the lights shifted and plunged his three teammates back into darkness. He glanced at the Scotch bottle in his hand, abandoning it when he found it empty, then wandered back to fish out and uncap another. He took a long draught.
Lids over lavender eyes fell to half-mast, pale face pensive. He'd known about Ken and Omi, obviously, but had never figured either of them for the type to share. Much less with Youji, who had had at least Aya entirely convinced of his flaming heterosexuality. Really, though, it wasn't like Abyssinian to be taken in by words. Despite Youji's constant flirtation with anything female, and frequent declarations of devotion to the opposite sex, of all the Weiß assassins, he was the one whose looks, dress, manner and overall allure were the most suspect. Maybe that was why he felt the need to overcompensate.
Aya shrugged, caring less about the reason than the conclusion. His brain was a bit too fogged to identify why Youji being gay--or was it bi?--made a difference. It changed something, but he couldn't remember what.
He shrugged again, then felt a mild wave of vertigo. He blinked at the second bottle, a crimson brow raising at the golden line tilting back and forth near the middle. Now how did that happen already...? Aya set it down quickly before he could lose any more motor coordination. Don't need broken glass...
The redhead swayed back to the centre of the room, wondering what he should do with himself. Maybe find some water--or coffee, was that what you were supposed to drink? He didn't relish the idea of having to see anyone any more than before. His brows drew in annoyance. It was just like goddamned middle school--the few times he'd been stupid enough to let a friend drag him to one of these stupid affairs. Admittedly, those had been worse--almost no one danced, just sat in gender-segregated herds around the edges of the floor, twittering inanely about who should ask who to slow.
Downstairs, there was movement, but here on the balcony it was much the same as he remembered. He was alone, assaulted by over-loud music and dizzying lights. And dark rooms--no matter how gaudily interrupted--had never been anything but depressing to Aya. He'd chosen the wrong profession, perhaps, for someone who hated the dark; but when you were moving through it, armed and purposeful, it wasn't so bad. Just sitting in it, alone... it brought on thoughts and memories for which he had no tolerance.
The current song, something dark and brooding by Penicillin--he recognized it from the CDs Omi played in the shop--faded out. A simple strain of piano music floated up from the speakers, minor key but quick, a repeated sequence of four notes. It was accented a moment later by a maracca, setting up a complementary rhythm behind it, then a second strain of piano, also minor key and even faster, wove its way between the existing notes.
Aya's left shoulder twitched. There was something vaguely exhilerating about those simple melodies as they braided themselves together. His shoulder twitched again, the sensation travelling down his arm, ruffling his fingers.
"D'où j'sors d'une ronde, Belsunce Breakdown"
A deep, forceful voice. Not a language he knew, but it didn't matter, backed up as it was by the bass starting up in the background.
"D'où j'sors d'une ronde, Belsunce Breakdown"
The vibrations rippled over the floor and up through his body, making him want to move...
"Tout part et vient d'ici
Tu contestes?
Prépares ton testament gars..."
Bass-beat.
I don't dance, was something he had asserted often. But then, there had always been people to witness and scorn, before. There was no one else up here...
"Belsunce: fleuron des quartiers Phocéens.
Coincée entre la gare et le Vieux Port..."
"Oops, sorry," Youji inclined his head in apology for the fiftieth time.
"No problem." The gaijin he'd bumped nodded back in acceptance, tossing long, orange tresses over one shoulder. The grin he gave Youji--more of a leer, really--sent him quickly on his way.
Damn. It was impossible to fight your way through the crowd without tripping over people's feet, bumping into stray elbows, getting whacked by errant hips... He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally came within sight of the balcony staircase.
"WAH!" Balinese yelped as a slender arm wrapped around his midriff, pulling him sharply back against someone shorter. He whirled, alarm giving way to surprise as he recognized the third gorgeous redhead of the night.
"Manx!"
Bright red-painted lips curved upwards, navy-lined ocean eyes creasing in amusement as she withdrew her arm. "Looks like we have a friend in common, Kudou-san," she drawled, his real name sounding out of place in her voice.
Youji blinked, then gaped openly as he recognized the beautiful, raven-haired goth attached to Manx's arm. "B-Birman?!"
"Konban wa," Birman smiled, drawing Manx's errant arm around her waist. "What are you doing alone at almost midnight?"
Balinese tried hard to pull his jaw off the floor, brain fumbling over itself trying to process, a. the picture of Persia's two composed, business-minded messengers in full club-hopping attire, and b. said messengers wound in each other's arms and blatantly a couple.
"E~tou..." he began, trying not to notice the tapered white fingers creeping down past Birman's black leather-clad waist. He swallowed. "Um?"
Manx chuckled lightly. "Midnight, Kudou-san, you're supposed to be with someone."
"Eh?" Jade eyes came back into focus, hard purpose locking down his face. "Sou da! Excuse me, ladies!" He struggled through the last few people on the fringe of the dance-floor, his path to the staircase clear at long last. He turned and grinned back at the two secretaries before making a dash for them. "Don't think I'm not going to tease you about this later!" he called.
Birman giggled, leaning up to steal a quick kiss from her red-haired lover. "He's going to tease us?"
"That shade of eyeshadow looks good on him, don't you think?" the other woman mused, only slightly smirking.
"Thought I'd never get through that mess alive," Youji breathed, leaning briefly against the wall of the narrow staircase. Some of the noise from below faded as he mounted the stairs, two at a time, the current song's lyrics becoming discernible.
"On n'est pas les plus à plaindre
A domicile comme à l'extérieur,"
Youji shrugged, it wasn't one he knew. Wasn't English, maybe French. Dance music had a way of crossing borders, no matter the language; and the guy throwing the party had a thing for Euro-pop. He was beginning to formulate the proper apology--excuse, that is--for Aya when his head came level with the marble floor of the balcony. He looked up.
And turned to stone.
"On sévit sur les cafards comme le Baygon
D'où j'sors d'une ronde Belsunce Breakdown"
The strobe struck up again, throwing the balcony into slow-motion, a rapid series of still-frames, each more surreal than the last. Crimson and silver flashed through the air, light struck the silver links of a belt, the fine gold pendulum of an earring, shone on pale skin that seemed to glow through the darkness.
"D'où j'sors d'une ronde Belsunce Breakdown
D'où j'sors d'une ronde Belsunce Breakdown"
A slender frame wove through the shadows, movements blinding under the strobe. Every gesture matched the melody--shoulders and arms twisting to the piano, thick-soled booted feet moving lightly to the maracca, torso and hips swaying to the bass.
"D'où j'sors d'une ronde Belsunce Breakdown
D'où j'sors d'une ronde Belsunce Breakdown"
Masaka...
It was perfection. The most skillful dance he'd ever witnessed. Not for its complexity, the difficulty of the manoeuvers, but for the flawless assimilation of movement to music, a complete and total surrender to rhythm.
"Pour l'heure,
chacun s'occupe comme il peut
à représenter le quartier, ouais,
le quartier"
Youji watched in awed silence. Kuso... the hell didn't he want to come for? He can dance better than anyone here! Emerald eyes traced the smooth, gracefully shifting contours of that body hungrily. And I left him to himself up here?! What a waste!
"Certains font des tee shirts,
Et d'autres sont champions, ou chanteurs reconnus
Tout ça sort de la rue
Hein, qui l'eut cru? Pas eux en tout cas"
Damn, who would've believed it? It was hard to reconcile this image of Aya with the sullen, tight-lipped redhead he was used to. It was definitely a change from the near-homicidal mood he'd been in when they'd parted earlier that evening. Youji managed to tear his eyes away from his teammate to cast around the balcony. It was hard to see under the blinding flash of the strobe, but... A-ha. The detective snorted wryly as the empty bottle on its side by the railing winked back at him. And... yappari, there was another, half-drained by the wall. The brunet shook his head reprovingly. Really, Aya, if you know you can't hold your liquor... A guilty grin tugged at his lips. And if I hadn't let him alone to bore himself to death...
The redhead seemed oblivious to his presence, entirely wrapped up in the dance. So, maybe he wasn't perfectly suited to the party scene--say what you like, no one came for the music or the dancing alone. You came either to enjoy the person you were with or find someone new. This time two years ago, Youji had come alone and spent the night with a man whose name he couldn't remember now, if he'd ever known it. Last year, he'd been quite contentedly caught between Ken and Omi--not for the first or last time, either.
Things had changed considerably for the ex-detective in the last year. As much fun as a night with both his younger teammates was, he wasn't satisfied with that any longer. Kudou Youji had no insecurities as to his prowess as a lover, so he didn't doubt that Ken and Omi thoroughly enjoyed including him. But the threesome they so often formed was just for fun, and being the third man intruding on a serious relationship got to be a little much, sometimes. He'd known he needed to find someone of his own, he'd been looking. And then, they'd gotten a new member.
A small sigh escaped parted lips as jade eyes lingered on the shut-eyed concentration of that high-cheekboned, delicate-featured face. Aa. From moment one, he'd been hooked. Even if his initial impression had been shattered the second the redhead had opened his mouth. But then, that was part of why he was so taken with Aya. The younger assassin was so much more than he appeared. Behind that pale beauty was a man as hard and solid as diamond, an intelligence sharp as the katana he carried--hell, how many bankers' sons did you run into who could actually wield the family heirloom? Sou. There was more to Aya than the monosyllabic incarnation of ill-humour most people saw. The Abyssinian slipped every now and again, if you were watching close enough. Slipped and let show some of the identity he so jealously guarded. Only rarely. Times like now, for example.
Aya came to a swaying stop, looking mildly bewildered as the song faded out and another, faster-paced but quieter, began to take its place. The strobe shut down, the entire room flooded with constant light for the first time since the reception. It was low, and blue-cast, punctuated once again with the swirling spotlights, but the prior cloak of darkness had disappeared.
Youji started as hooded violet eyes speared him. His mouth went dry. "You... knew I was here the whole time, didn't you?"
The volume had fallen and there was no ground-shaking bass, but if Aya had actually understood him, he had to have read his lips. The redhead nodded, face blank. Youji swallowed, unsure what to do next. Maybe now was the time for that apology he'd never finished formulating... Orchid eyes were steady on him. Then the corner of that generous mouth twitched upwards, and Aya spun away from him.
Emerald eyes blinked.
E--Eeeeee?! He stared at the silver and black-clad back as Aya began to move again. He felt a little light-headed all of a sudden. Ken must have slipped him something, there was no other explanation. Because... there was no way on Earth that that had just been... from Aya... an... invitation?
Because from anyone else in the world, there would have been no mistaking it. That direct look, hint of a smile, and now the way he was twisting to the slowing beat with his back turned...
A small, anticipatory shiver rippled through him. What the hell. Aya was younger and shorter than him and had enough Black Label running through his veins to floor Youji. His inhibitions were obviously somewhat addled, so there was a chance, right...?
"Let me tell you, you know, I, I need a miracle
I need a miracle
It's more than physical, what I need
To feel from you"
Balinese mounted the remaining stairs, moving to join Abyssinian near the centre of the balcony. Hesitantly, he slid in front of his flame-haired teammate, heartbeat hammering against his chest, starting very slowly to move his own shoulders to the beat.
Gracefully slanted eyes appraised him, then that same half-smile lit the heart-shaped face. Youji's eyes widened. Shinjiraren. He really had seen it. A slow answering smile curved full, glossed lips, Balinese's body relaxing somewhat. In that case... let's see if you can dance tandem as well as solo...
"Tell me that you understand
And you'll take me as I am
You'll always be the one
To give me everything"
Aya watched him for a moment as his movements became more complex. The taller man began with only his upper body, a smooth rippling motion flowing up from his waist, through his shoulders and out along his arms. Fine-boned hands chased the notes through the air, twisting through it in patterns that conjured Spain, or Arabia, perhaps. Smouldering green eyes fell to half-mast, then that long neck relaxed, head rolling back over his shoulders, oak-silk tresses falling behind him.
Youji took a step back, then another, added the graceful roll of his hips and followed the slower back-beat of the song with his legs. Aya followed.
"Just when I thought no one cared
You're the answer to my prayers
You lift my spirits high
Come on and rescue me"
Shinjiraren... It couldn't have been choreographed better. It had taken Aya barely a moment to learn his rhythm and mould himself to it. He matched Youji perfectly, but his movements were his own. Rather than copying Balinese's moves as so many of his partners did, he complemented them. The redhead's body followed the quicker tempo, his arms and legs drew patterns around and between Youji's, keeping close but not touching. The brunet's heart sped up, emerald eyes glittering, unable to keep a smile of sheer delight off his face.
"You're excellent," he breathed, as Aya's face passed next to his, the proximity standing all the tiny, near-invisible hairs on his cheek on end.
"Not bad either," the deep voice returned, warm breath against his ear making him shiver.
"I didn't know you liked this kind of music."
"Never heard it before."
Fine chestnut brows lifted. "Uso."
"Iie."
"You're telling me you danced like that to a song you'd never heard before? And this one, too?" Aya shrugged. Youji's eyes widened in startled appreciation. "You're a natural." He changed his movements slightly, experimentally, saw Aya follow him with jointless fluidity. "Where did you learn?"
"I didn't."
Youji tilted backwards and Aya leaned over him, turning to the side as Youji did, matching him flawlessly. It was an ability to act and react perfectly, to see his partner's moves coming and immediately decide how best to assimilate. Recognition dawned. "You're fighting me."
The redhead shrugged again. "It's all I know."
Jade eyes shone back at him. Of course, it was no less than he should have expected from a kendoka as skilled as Aya. That battle-intensity was focussed on him, but with none of the animosity. It was... exhilerating. "Will you never cease to surprise me, Aya?"
A crimson brow lifted. "You surprised me yourself."
"How?"
"I hardly expected to see you necking with both Ken and Omi at once."
"Wh-what?!" Youji broke tempo, faltering a moment. His eyes became impossibly huge. "Y-you saw that?"
The redhead smiled, looking almost predatory all of a sudden. "Bird's-eye-view," he intoned, watching Youji somewhat awkwardly resume moving, for lack of a better reaction.
Youji's head spun, all the alcohol he'd consumed suddenly reasserting its presence. A bright flush scrawled itself across his cheeks. "I, uh--"
"So how involved with them are you?"
Youji blinked. "I--" Masaka. He couldn't be-- "Not much!" he answered hastily. He stared at the zipper of Aya's shirt, the violet eyes too intent to face head-on. "Just now and then... they're together, you know that."
The redhead seemed satisfied with that reply. "What of your obsession with women?"
"That's only half the story, Aya, I thought you realized that." His breath caught. Aya wasn't actually doing what he thought he was... was he?
The distance between them seemed to be have become a tangible thing--a fixed two inches that could neither be breached nor widened, holding them together rather than apart. When Youji moved back, Aya followed, when Aya withdrew, he was pulled after him. Even without touching, somehow, his skin was afire with excitement as though those pale arms were wrapped around him, strong hands pushing aside his clothes...
"So in other words, you're unattached."
"E--Ee," Youji assented, pulse pounding in his ears.
Unseen by his dance partner, a smirk stretched Aya's lips. This was breaking precedent for him, but for some reason that fact registered as only minimally important. The movement of that lanky body so close to his own and the quickening breaths he could see moving that perfect chest were a bit too pleasant for him to play his usual waiting game. He didn't feel like seeing how long Youji would take to make the first move.
"That's the way you are, I suppose."
"Huh? What--what way?"
Aya kept his face neutral as Youji finally gathered the nerve to look at him. "More interested in sex than relationships," he shrugged slightly. "Disdainful of commitment."
"That's not true!" An adorable frown hovered between chestnut brows, mouth almost pouty. "I'm not..." He fumbled. "Just because you haven't seen me--"
"I just did."
"Not what I meant!" He huffed in aggravation. "Damn it, Aya, don't judge my tendencies if you were too dense to notice me chasing you for the past six months."
The redhead's turn to be surprised. "Nani?"
"Exclusively," Youji affirmed, with a slight jut of his chin. "How many women have you seen me with lately, anyhow?"
"Last Monday, a blonde."
"S-sonna..." Youji protested. "That was for a mission! Strictly reconnaissance!"
One scarlet brow lifted. "You were out all night."
Youji blinked, a strange expression crossing his face. "You... waited up?"
A twinge of annoyance snagged Aya's mouth. He didn't answer.
"Nothing happened," Youji said, unsure why he felt the need to clear that and almost angry with himself for it. "I went to a bar afterwards, got trashed. Hung around till dawn then hauled myself back during your shift. I wasn't having the greatest night."
Aya opened his mouth for a snide retort, then paused and thought a moment. Come to think of it, the frequency of Youji's dates had thinned a little lately. Six months of abstinence, though? Not a chance. And... "You weren't chasing me."
"I was!" The brunet flipped his hair back indignantly. "Most people can't ignore me being that attentive for a week, much less six months." Clover eyes narrowed. "You are gay, right?"
Aya snorted. Then he reached up and grabbed a handful of those oak-brown strands.
"Mmf--" Youji's mouth fell open in utter shock, then was quickly occupied with other things. He was Kudou Youji, who was never at a loss when it came to sex--but the fact that Aya was kissing him... so goddamn deeply and so well... it was a little unbalancing. Scratch that, he was having trouble standing up.
Abyssinian gloated inwardly as he felt the distance between them abruptly disappear, the brunet's body falling softly against his. A second later, one slender arm wound around his neck to hold tightly for balance, and a warm palm came to rest against his chest. He resisted the impulse to slide an arm around that enticing willow-waist, pull the taller man hard against him, throw him down... He smirked into the lips that were bruising against his own as he tasted that sweet mouth. He might be breaking precedent somewhat, but he was still Fujimiya Aya. Things had to be done right.
Youji gasped as slender fingers loosed his hair, that hot mouth drawing away from him. Suddenly self-conscious, he snatched his arms back, staring down at Aya, both of them now stock-still. "OK..." he breathed warily. "What was that?"
The lights flashed and began spinning again, the minor-key pulse of a new song rising dark and swirling around them.
Aya's tongue darted out, briefly running along his lips. Youji shivered. "You don't know?"
"You... Aya..."
"Yes...?"
The taller man shivered again as the shorter leaned up towards him, their cheeks just shy of brushing. "Wh-what are you doing...?"
"You have to ask?"
Their bodies were again a static two inches apart. A thrill danced over Youji's skin. "I'm just... making sure. You want...?" he trailed off.
"You were chasing me for six months, you say?"
"A-aa," Youji assented breathlessly, the lights, the music, the drinks and Aya's proximity making him dizzy. Even this close it was hard to believe that he might actually--
Aya moved back so they were almost eye-to-eye, but for the height difference. A cocky expression that seemed out of place lit those elegant features. "One has to admire such diligence--" Youji's knees felt suddenly unreliable. "Maybe even reward it."
"When the world is darker than I can understand..."
"Aya...?"
The corners of the redhead's mouth drew upwards. His eyes darted down for confirmation, noting smugly that he'd already gotten the brunet's 'attention'. His gaze slid upwards, along the slender arms hanging at Balinese's sides. Good... It seemed the older assassin understood. He'd said he'd wanted him--and whether six months was an exaggeration or no, that was a point in his favour. His lovers had to be enthusiastic, and damned grateful for what they were getting. Youji was that, at least. But furthermore, anyone he deigned to get involved with had to understand that Aya led. It was not touch, but be touched; not kiss, but be kissed; submit, not dominate. There could be no other way.
A flicker of understanding crossed those emerald eyes. Slowly the long, leather-sheathed legs folded, lowering him to his knees on the marble floor. A dark flush coloured Youji's cheeks and he looked quickly down, dark hair screening his face.
Aya's smirk widened. Ohhh, yes. He did understand. This was a far cry from the posturing playboy he was used to, but it was a change he fully approved of. Youji had always been beautiful, but with his head bowed, star-scattered oaken locks falling about his face, slender body gracefully bent in such an uncharacterstically humble position...
"When nothing turns out the way I planned..."
Oi, what the heck am I doing...? Youji wondered abruptly, still feeling disoriented and beginning to doubt he could blame it all on the alcohol. It wasn't that he was unused to the uke role--on the contrary, he was usually on the bottom when with another man. But to go as far as to kneel? This is a little much, isn't i-- He caught his breath as two strong fingers tilted his chin up. He lost it again at the expression in Aya's eyes, an irrepressible shudder running through him. God damn but he'd waited long enough to see Aya look at him like that... It was worth kneeling, or whatever the hell else it took...
"When the sky turns grey and there's no end in sight..."
Aya smiled. Forest-green eyes sparkled back at him. He wasn't in the habit of seeking out lovers, else he might already have made a bid for Youji. Still, that the older assassin had been available to him for what he claimed at least was quite a while, seemed a waste. All the more reason to enjoy himself now. Aya bent slowly towards him, savouring the expectant catch in the brunet's breath, the long lashes fluttering closed in attent. Maybe being tricked into coming to this party hadn't been such a bad thing...
"When I can't sleep through the lonely night..."
Youji sighed softly as their lips touched a second time, very slowly. He resisted the urge to reach up and tangle his fingers into that crimson mane. Aya wanted to control this, and he was willing to let him, but... damn it, after all the time he'd spent waiting for this, fantasizing about this, it was hard to keep completely still.
Strong hands descended on his shoulders, pushed him down till he was sitting on his heels. He felt Aya following him down, closing the gap between them, but didn't open his eyes till the redhead released his mouth. Half-lidded violet eyes met his. "Aya," he couldn't help smiling up at the Weiß leader as he knelt up in front of him, one knee either side of Youji's folded ones. "I'm glad we got you here."
The redhead acknowledged this with a bare twitch of an eyebrow as he finally reached for that enticing stretch of bared abdomen. "Let's see if you can convince me, too..."
"Nnh..." Emerald eyes slid shut again as one fine-boned hand feathered up under Youji's vest. Aya's second hand moved up and around behind his teammate's back to support him as his spine relaxed under his explorations. A tingle ran up the redhead's arm, spreading warm through his body. It'd been a while. Abyssinian wasn't chaste by any stretch of the imagination, but life--and death--had gotten in the way of any romantic or sexual pursuit for a long time. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't touched another man, non-violently, that is, since well before his entry into Weiß.
"Keep your hands there," Aya ordered quietly, feeling a certain tightening in his stomach when Youji nodded minutely, then let his head fall back, moist lips parted. The vulnerable stretch of that graceful neck was too appealing to ignore. His skin tasted sweet, overlaid pleasantly with the faint salt of sweat.
The brunet sighed again, chest rising and falling against Aya's own. Aya felt his heartbeat quicken in response. Maybe it had been too long. Or maybe Youji just was as good as he seemed.
Smooth skin was soft under his fingers, ridges of abdomen and pectoral firm just beneath. Aya pressed a little closer, making Youji shift his arms back to brace himself. His lips met the broad leather band around the slender neck. He snagged it with his teeth and tugged experimentally--it was quite secure. Could be useful later...
Even teeth bit lightly into a glossed lower lip as Aya's fingers found and exploited the more sensitive skin of Youji's chest. He hoped the smile he knew he was wearing wasn't quite as wolfish as it felt. He kissed the underside of Youji's chin, savouring another beautiful catch in the taller man's breath. "Are you always so responsive?"
A small chuckle. "Only for you."
The redhead snorted. "I'm sure."
A crimson eyebrow lifted as another proof of 'responsiveness' made itself felt between them. Youji was obviously more than ready, and his own leathers were beginning to be rather constraining. They were both drunk, so maybe it was in their best interests to accelerate the foreplay a little...
"Wah!" Youji yelped as he was toppled abruptly onto his back, arms falling haphazardly to either side, chestnut tresses fanning out around his face. Aya straddled his hips, one hand already busy with the single button of his vest, the other pushing aside one shoulder of his thin overcoat. The brunet gave the redhead a rakish smile as he regained his composure. "Yeah, I have that effect on people."
"Ho~?"
"Can't be helped," the detective sighed dramatically, tossing his head to one side. "I--ahh..." the thought trailed off as Aya's head dipped to take advantage of the sudden absence of vest, stabbing a quickly hardening nipple with his tongue. "Mou, Aya," he pouted. "Let a guy finish a sente--ohh, you're good at that..."
Aya laughed quietly, enjoying the taste of Youji, his smell, his increasingly ragged breaths. Either it was the alcohol, or the older man was really sensitive. Whatever the case, it made it a lot of fun to toy with him...
Youji leaned up to let his teammate slip his opened vest and coat over his shoulders, pulling his arms out quickly before lying back down. He heard the garments land in a slump of leather somewhere across the balcony.
"Gah--cold," he protested, as his bare back hit the marble floor.
"Shh," Aya commanded, a firm but gentle push to his stomach dictating he not move. The redhead's attention was fixed on his belt--then, that undone, the fly of his pants. The pale face waxed pensive as Aya wrestled the close-fitting leather sheath over Youji's hips. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Youji propped himself up on his elbows, feline slitted green eyes regarding him. "Ah? Nan deshou?"
"Where in hell do you get your clothes?!"
Muffled laughter shook that beauitful, slender form. Youji winked. "Professional secret."
"Sou ka." Aya huffed in triumph, rising slightly to strip the brunet's pants the rest of the way off. A negligent flick of his arm sent them to join the rest of the discarded clothing.
Appraising violet eyes ran over that lithe body, now clad only in a pair of thin, black silk boxers--which did nothing to conceal a sizeable erection--and the broad band circling his neck. A spasm of desire shot from Aya's groin throughout his body. He was almost at a loss for where to begin... There was that stretch of abdomen, that smooth, perfect chest, those beautiful, frail-seeming arms, rounded shoulders, graceful neck, those long, long, sleek legs...
Smouldering emerald eyes gave him a look that said the older assassin would be purring if he could. "Saa, Aya," he drawled lazily. "Those pants are starting to look uncomfortable..."
They were, too.
"May I?"
Youji was out from under him and on all fours in front of him before he could answer either way. Aya sat down heavily, but caught Youji's face with both hands before he could kiss him. He leaned close, speaking against the other man's lips, brushing them as he did, "You may..." his smile was wicked. "But don't use your hands."
"Ho~" A matching smile curved Youji's full mouth. His tongue darted out to lick Aya's lips in compensation for the kiss he was being denied. "Knew I was right about you."
"In what way?" Aya wondered, succumbing and taking the swollen lips presented him with a passion-fuelled roughness.
Youji clung to his lower lip as he drew back, running his tongue once more along the inside before releasing him. "Closet sukebe."
Aya snorted, then transferred his hands from his teammate's face to his shoulders. He lifted his eyebrows expectantly. Youji grinned back at him, then bent his head and leaned forward to catch the loop of the zipper at the redhead's throat in his teeth.
Youji faltered a moment. I don't believe I'm actually... He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wanting scent to anchor him in reality. He blinked, an incredulous smile twisting his lips. Aya wore Obsession. The ex-detective suppressed a laugh of delight. Something as conventional as men's cologne seemed to have no place with the creature of flame and ivory before him. But it was a scent that had always driven him wild--though he couldn't have said exactly why. He breathed it in again, memorizing it; it mixed well with Aya's natural scent, became something more. It was sweet, but earthy, and extremely masculine... very Aya. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it before--he was attentive to these kinds of things--but then, outside of duty, where sweat and blood and a million other less pleasant things were too strong to tell, he never got close enough to Aya to learn his scent.
He tugged gently, pulling the zipper slowly down. He forced to the back of his mind the increasing ache between his legs that was only worsened by the sleek ridges of muscle he was gradually revealing. He needed to concentrate on getting Aya undressed, first.
The zipper caught at the bottom, then tugged free and the thin, ribbed fabric fell open. Youji bit his lip, swallowing the moan of longing that was fighting to be free of his throat. Sure, Aya wore tight clothes a lot of the time, but seeing him without was a different story altogether. Yeesh, and I haven't even gotten the damn shirt off him yet...
He placed a kiss just above the navel on that tight stomach, then ran his lips up along the centre of Aya's torso. He couldn't resist. He leaned over and lapped quickly at one tiny pink nipple. Aya growled and the fingers on his shoulders tightened. He smirked and took it into his mouth, rolling gently, feeling the soft flesh stiffen under his tongue. Aya growled again and pushed him back.
"Hurry up, Youji."
"Hai, hai," the detective sighed. He rose halfway and snagged Aya's collar, pulling the thin garment, along with the silver half-jacket, over one shoulder, stretching them down so the redhead could pull out his arm, then repeating with the other side. He dropped them to one side and looked up.
Violet eyes held a certain amused challenge. "Think you can manage?"
Youji glanced down at the tight leather pants and ran his tongue pensively over his teeth. He looked back, flashing a confident grin. "Kudou Youji is a multi-talented man, sit back and watch me work."
The wide-linked chain belt was no problem--the clasp was a simple matter of lips and tongue. The button of Aya's pants... Youji opted to bite top and bottom of it, and pull the cloth back. It took a little manoeuvering, but it popped free at last. The zipper, well, it barely took a nudge before 'interior pressure' made it fly open. The cotton-tented evidence of Youji's efficacy poked out from the leathers, demanding attention.
Green eyes assessed quickly--a measure of both smugness and relief flashing through their depths. Aya was definitely big enough to be seme--long and wide enough to be a very satisfying lover. Just not quite big enough to rival Youji. But frankly, that was a good thing. He didn't relish the thought of being split open by anyone hung like he was. Say what you like, being that endowed, it was a good thing he preferred to be uke!
Pushing aside unnecessary thoughts, Youji pulled open the slit in Aya's boxers and opened his mouth.
"Ohh.... god..." Aya rasped, head falling back. One hand fumbled back to better support himself, his other instinctively finding its way to that mass of chestnut hair.
Orchid eyes slid shut, his breaths becoming ragged. "Nnh... Youji..."
He was vaguely aware of rapidly pulsing lights playing against his closed lids. Even more distant, he heard that the music had stopped and the crowd downstairs had begun a raucous countdown. Nothing could have been farther from his attention.
Wet heat, silken tongue. Subtle friction against his length, beaded tresses brushing his stomach... "God..." he repeated, fingers tightening in Youji's hair, hips thrusting up involuntarily. Multi-talented indeed... Maybe it was time, but he couldn't remember anyone as good at, well...
Exquisite tension radiated through his body, pulling all consciousness to one definable point--No.
It took a massive act of willpower, but he managed to push Youji back.
"Not... yet..." he gasped, the half-lidded, lust-drugged look the older assassin gave him doing nothing to help his desperate situation. He toppled the taller man for the second time, rising halfway to half-pull, half-kick off his pants and boxers. Unceremoniously he yanked off the silk mockery Youji was wearing, as graceful legs lifted to cooperate, and settled himself between them.
"Took too long," he growled, kissing Youji's mouth, then haphazardly all across his face. His hands ran quickly down the brunet's sides, then lifted those narrow hips. "Knew you wouldn't be able to manage the pants."
Youji laughed softly. "I beg to differ," he spread his legs further, arching his back enticingly. "You said not to use my hands. All I used was my mouth, and," he nodded smugly at Aya's discarded leathers. "You'll notice you're no longer wearing your pants."
Aya's laugh came out almost as a snarl. "Touché." He kissed the other man again, deeply, as he positioned himself. Slim arms wound around his back, the slender body arching up towards him, hips angled to best accomodate him. "Youji, I--"
Warm breath spilled across his ear. "Ready, Aya. I'm all yours."
"Aanh--!" Aya's lips closed over Youji's, swallowing that first agonized cry of pain of entry. Balinese's tongue twined eagerly with his, drawing him into his mouth even as long legs crossed behind his back and pulled him deeper into his body.
"Aya... A-ya..."
Abyssinian closed his eyes again, briefly. All was heat, and friction, and skin. Sweet pull around his sex, silk skin beneath his lips, soft arms around his neck. Hard heat pressed against his abdomen, staccato heartbeat drumming counterpart to his own, elegant curve of lower back under his fingers.
Downstairs, the countdown had finished, the roar of upraised voices somehow barely seeming to reach them on the balcony. Music started up again, something American, low, obnoxiously obscene and completely irrelevant. The only thought Aya could spare was that he was glad the lighting had remained constant... Youji's face, drawn as it was in a mixture of acutely concentrated pain and ecstacy, was startlingly beautiful...
...And he wasn't going to last too much longer.
Gathering the lanky brunet in his arms, he lifted him almost to a sitting position, propping him against one of the wider supports for the balcony's bannister. He shifted his knees under his partner, the taller man's legs falling either side of his lap, gripped the slender hips and thrust into him for all he was worth.
"Ahh~" One of Youji's arms slipped from around Aya's shoulders to brace himself against the bannister, his other tightening round Aya's neck. Then... "Aya!!" The green eyes snapped wide open, looking panicked.
"What?" Aya panted back, almost incoherent but nevertheless amused it'd taken Youji this long to figure out where they were.