Pairing(s)/Characters: Aya x Yohji
Rating: PG-14 to R
Summary: Yohji has some existential thoughts on a mission.
Warnings: None (?)
Author's Notes: Written for wk_squee
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz and its characters are not mine, this is not written for monetary gain.
A second's hesitation, and he should have been dead.
Instead, he received a quick flash of reflective violet eyes, containing irritation and concern, and a face splattered with blood.
It didn't bother him. It should have.
Aya was a stream of living moonlight in the darkness, streetlamps shining through the windows illuminating brief glimpses of pale skin revealed beneath his clothes with the man's incessant movement. Three more targets down, mission over, the success completely attributed to the more focused swordsman.
Aya didn't speak to him on his way past to the door.
Yohji remained where he was, staring unseeingly at the carnage. The wire wrapped around his fingers was cutting into his circulation, even through the gloves.
"White fire will be sent from the heavens to consume your sinning flesh until only your black souls remain to be taken by the Devil as his concubines."
It was what the nutcase religious leader had said, right before Aya had cut him down. It irritated Yohji that a member of a crazy, zealous cult had almost been the one to have finally killed him. He was the most undeserving candidate Yohji could think of. The man's organization had been trading young girls like currency, using them as incubators for their spawn. Most of the children had been only just past puberty. If that weren't bad enough, they then made the abused girls into sacrifices, considering them impure after they gave birth. Other Kritiker teams were handling the aftermath of this mission, it transcended simple assassination. Weiss was only involved to deliver justice to men who had too many blood connections to people in high places to have ever received the sentencing they deserved.
The cult leader's words hadn't been what had distracted Yohji, however, or at least not directly. It had been the irony that had taken him, catching sight of Aya out of the corner of his eyes while the man spoke. Aya had been a blur of white and red in the shadows, surrounded by the silver sheen of his katana continuously darting out, leaving bodies covered in their own black blood on the floor. White fire striking through the dark.
If the man had truly believed what he had preached, he should have known that Aya would be the one to deliver retribution upon him.
Why was it that the guilty always thought that they were pure?
Yohji had recovered from his ironic observances to find a gun aimed at his head.
Yohji had almost been Aya's Asuka.
...if only he could convince himself that he was really that important to the swordsman.
Strong fingers clamped down on his arm. Aya was looking at him earnestly. Yohji was actually surprised that his partner had bothered to return for him, after how poorly he had performed. It was in their preliminary agreement, after all, that what they shared could not jeopardize either of them on missions. A shaky smile grew on his face, a manifestation of nerves and dark humor. Blue steel, flaming red hair, pale skin, Aya was fire embodied. "That man was confused." Yohji stated.
Aya's face conveyed clearly that he thought Yohji was insane. His expression turned dark. "If you ever become distracted by me on a mission again, and live through it, I will request to be transferred." His voice was flat.
Yohji lost his amusement. The mission was quiet, the location remote, they had a few minutes. He tugged at Aya's tense resistance until the smaller man was encased in his arms, carefully holding the katana away from Yohji's body. After a moment, Aya's forehead touched Yohji's bloodstained shoulder.
A sudden flash of new insight made Yohji's lips curl into Aya's wirey hair. "Maybe it does take white fire to cleanse a black soul," he murmured.
Aya tried to tug free at the words. Yohji didn't let him go, but allowed enough space for Aya to find him with his eyes. "That man was insane." He spat.
Yohji shrugged, and rewound the wire that had been dangling limp from his wrist since embracing Aya, the other hand still clamped tightly around the swordsman's shoulders.
"There's more than just black and white in this world." Aya's lips were thin. "There are many shades of twilight."
"I don't think anyone would believe me if I told them you were the hopeful one, baby." This mission had shaken him up, he finally admitted it. The girls, the gun, and the near-death experience, with the knowledge that he had almost killed Aya by making him perform both their jobs, left him a bit off center. He bent down and pressed his mouth to Aya's. The swordsman's lips were hot from the exertion of dispatching those they'd been sent to kill. Or it could have been that Yohji's were just colder - they were in a basement, after all, and Yohji had spent most of his time there standing still and blending into the shadows, watching Aya do all the work.
The younger man responded aggressively to the kiss. He must have sensed that Yohji was off balance, because that sort of reciprocation was a far cry from the lecture Yohji had expected to receive. Aya's tongue pressed into his mouth and tangled with Yohji's before he had the chance to do so first. Yohji brought the smaller man closer to his chest, hand sliding down the blood-slick leather coat to rest in the small of his back. His other hand dragged down the redhead's chest, moving lower, then sliding out from between them so that Yohji could press their bodies together. Aya was already hard from adrenaline, the feeling of him pressing into his groin helped Yohji move past his own inhibiting anxiety. Their hips bucked against one another, the easy drag of the smooth fabric of their mission gear teasing him into arousal.
Aya allowed the contact only for a moment before breaking free and stalking toward the door. He held Yohji in tow, however, their hands cemented firmly together.