Coming of Age

A thin tendril of cigarette smoke curled lazily upward through the early morning air. The sound of chirping birds greeting the slowly rising sun echoed and re-echoed off the close-set walls of the alleyway, becoming louder and more cheerful with every refrain.

The holder of the cigarette winced, and brought his free hand to his head as if in pain. Emerald eyes framed by honey-coloured locks glared balefully at the sun.

"Ch'." Youji cursed softly, wondering what the hell he was up so early for anyway. He'd had a restless night, finally waking up just as dawn began to lighten the Tokyo skyline, unable to sleep further.

Outside his door, there was the patter of running feet, accompanied by Omi's high-pitched chattering. He winced again, ground his cigarette out on the windowsill, and rolled over, pulling the covers up over his head in an effort to deny the existence of the outside world.

As usual, it didn't work. Omi's voice drifted to him again, accompanied by the clatter of utensils in the kitchen and a deeper rumble that was Aya answering. From the other end of the apartment, he could hear the shower running, Ken's singing carrying clearly over the sound of the water. Grumbling, he sat up and tossed the coverlet aside.

Shivering in the chilly February air, he hurriedly scrambled into his usual tight jeans and crop top. Then, finding he was still freezing, he reluctantly yanked a pull-over sweater on. Shoving his feet into a pair of well-worn shoes, he raked fingers through his shoulder-length hair. Quickly he tied it back, letting his customary two locks dangle at the sides of his face, softening the harsh planes there. He checked the mirror to see the final result. 'Not bad - not anything to go lady-hunting in, but good enough for early morning. They'll all be so shocked to see me up this early, they aren't gonna notice my clothing anyway.'

Now only one thing stood between him and the door - the brightly wrapped and beribboned box sitting on the corner of his dresser. He regarded it with a mournful look for several moments. 'Okay... so it's the kid's birthday. No big deal - certainly nothing to get this worked up about. So he's turning eighteen. So what?'

'So, you don't have the excuse of his age to hide behind any more,' whispered a small, insidious voice at the back of his mind.

Youji cursed aloud, snarling at himself in the mirror. That little voice had been getting extremely annoying of late. "I'm not hiding behind anything," he growled, fisting his hands in his pockets. "Omi is Omi... and I wouldn't be attracted to him whether he was seventeen, eighteen, or a hundred." Grabbing the festive package, he stormed out of the door before the little voice could make any more of the snide comments it seemed so fond of.

Sauntering into the kitchen, he found Omi happily munching away on his favourite brightly coloured, sugary cereal, while Aya silently read the newspaper and sipped his morning coffee. Ken sat at the third chair, chewing on toast and what looked like a bowlful of slop, but which Youji knew from past experience was actually oatmeal. Omi looked up as he entered, and the boy's entire face lit up all at once.

"Ohayo, Youji-kun! You're up awfully early this morning. Do you want anything for breakfast?"

Youji snagged an apple while pulling the empty chair to him with one foot. Turning it around with a twist of his wrist, he sat down, propped his elbow on the back, and bit into the apple with a hearty crunch. "No thanks, Omi. You know I'm not much of a breakfast person." Bringing his other hand out from behind his back, he plopped the gift down on the table in front of the youngest Weiss member. "Here ya go. Happy birthday, kiddo."

Omi's eyes brightened, and he tore into the box with all the pent-up enthusiasm of a puppy dog with its first chew toy. 'He really doesn't seem eighteen,' Youji thought to himself, watching the blush crawl across the younger boy's face as he stared at his gift.

Overcome by curiosity at the look on Omi's face, Ken leaned over to get a better look. "What is it, Omi?"

"It's a screensaver program," Youji murmured, slouching down more comfortably and grinning at the flustered look on the boy's face.

"So?" Ken snatched the box away despite Omi's gulping protest, and scanned the back. "Over a thousand naughty pictures of some of the prettiest girls world wide..." he stopped reading aloud and began to chuckle. "Figures. Typical Youji."

Omi blushed a little harder. "Y-youji-kun!" he stuttered. "Demo... where am I going to put this? I can't put it on my school computer, my teachers would kill me! And it's hardly appropriate for the Weiss mission computer..."

Youji arched a casual eyebrow at him. "And what about that laptop you've got tucked away in your room? The one you sit up on till all hours of the night, surfing the net for porn?"

Omi's eyes widened. "I do NOT!" he protested vehemently, looking around at the others as if for support. "I don't!" he claimed again, sounding more and more agitated with every word.

Youji let a tiny smirk cross his face. "Methinks the lad doth protest too much," he tossed off lightly. How he loved teasing the younger assassin! Omi was just so cute when he was blushing and stuttering like that...

'So sexy...'

The smirk disappeared instantly, and his hand clenched around the apple hard enough to bruise it badly. He forced the smile back to his face, praying the others hadn't noticed his momentary slip.

Omi was still sputtering protests, and each time the blush would begin to fade, he'd glance at the rather racy picture on the front of the package and the whole thing would begin anew. Ken was laughing outright at this point, and even Aya was hiding a smile behind his newspaper.

By the time Omi had calmed down enough to continue eating, it was nearly time to open shop. It being a Sunday, they were splitting the shifts - Ken and Omi opening, and Youji and Aya for the second half. Youji grimaced - with no school, the throngs of fangirls plaguing the shop would likely be worse than normal, despite the chill in the air.

'And since when did I ever pass up a chance to see pretty girls?' he wondered at himself, as he helped the others clean up the breakfast dishes. 'Even if most of them are under eighteen...' His fingers brushed against Omi's as they both reached for the washcloth, and Youji yanked away as if burned. "Gomen nasai," he muttered to Omi's questioning look. Turning away, he waved as he headed back to his room. "I'm gonna take my time this morning. Have fun in the shop. Oh, and Omi," he turned back, willing his expression steady as he stared into the deep blue eyes which threatened to drown his soul, "Happy birthday."

Youji sighed for the fifty-second time in five minutes - he'd been counting. It seemed as if he just couldn't concentrate on anything today. Pretty girls surrounded him, even a few older women who'd come into the shop out of curiosity. Normally, he'd have been having a ball, flirting and making dates and thinking about what he might do to impress them more. But there was just something off with his charm today, and he and the women both knew it.

He refused to think that it might be due to a certain blue-eyed blonde's coming of age. He was NOT attracted to guys, and that was that. Finis, owari, the end. No matter how old they were.

As if to belie his mental affirmation, the object of the day's obsession entered the store, Ken trailing along behind him, and Youji felt a familiar stirring in his groin. Cursing under his breath, he turned away.

Not being able to see Omi didn't prevent the boy's chatter from reaching him, however. He tried to focus on something, anything else, but found himself drawn back to listening again and again.

"... still not sure I should really wear this, Ken-kun!"

"Relax, Omi, I told you, it looks great on you! And that store attendant sure agreed with me..." Youji could hear the grin on Ken's face, and the blush on Omi's. He wondered what they were talking about.

"Demo..." Omi still sounded unconvinced. Youji couldn't resist peeking over his shoulder, to see what they were talking about. Omi was holding several bags in his hands, and even from the other side of the store, Youji recognized the names of some fairly expensive, racy boutiques. He arched an eyebrow in surprise. What were Ken and Omi doing shopping in stores like those?

"Hey, you asked me to help you, and I'm telling you, you looked great!" Ken nodded vigorously. "If you don't believe me, why don't you model them, and see if the girls agree with me?" There was a loud chorus of eager agreement from the fangirls at the suggestion, and Omi blushed harder.

"I can't do that!" he protested, much to the girls' dismay. Youji wandered nonchalantly over.

"What's going on?" He asked, his voice as smooth as velvet. He tried his best to hide his curiosity, while still attempting to peek into the bags. He couldn't see anything but tissue paper.

Ken grinned. "My present to Omi, is that I'm taking him clubbing tonight, since he's finally legal." Youji arched an eyebrow at the idea of Ken going clubbing. "But he didn't have anything to wear," the younger boy continued, "So I took him shopping."

"Aya-kun gave me the money as his present," Omi offered, still blushing, and trying his best to ignore the squealing schoolgirls who were begging to see. Aya nodded shortly, a tiny smile for the youngest Weiss member on his face.

Youji peered again at the names on some of the bags, and tried to imagine what might be contained inside them. Most of the stores were known for catering to the more... exotic tastes... and some of the images conjured up by his hentai mind were enough to make a saint nosebleed.

Fortunately, before he could make a fool out of himself by leaping over the counter to grab Omi and make wild, passionate love to him right there on the floor, as his hormones were screaming at him to do, he was brought back to reality by a tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to see Ken grinning knowingly at him.

"Oi, Youji! You were out in space. Planning your date tonight?"

Youji sniffed superciliously, shrugging off Ken's hold. "As it happens, I don't have any plans for tonight." At the chorus of eager proposals from the girls, he hastily amended his statement. "At least, not any that I'd share with you, Ken-ken!"

Before the girls could erupt in another bout of swooning, there was the sound of a bell at the back of the shop. All four Weiss members perked up - there was only one thing that could mean. Manx was in the back, with a mission.

Youji and Aya hastily shed their work aprons, and all four quickly excused themselves from the main room, leaving the shop to Momoe's smiling ministrations. The protesting exclamations of the girls followed them all the way to the back of the building where the stairway was, and Youji couldn't help but grin.

As they had known she would be, Manx was awaiting them, tapping one foot in a show of studied impatience. No sooner had they settled into their accustomed places before the TV then she popped the tape in and began the briefing.

It was nothing unusual. A small-time kidnapping ring, neither particularly dangerous nor professional in their methods. Youji didn't even recognize the name of the leader of the ring. It wouldn't take more than two of them to complete this one.

Manx confirmed his suspicions with her first words as she snapped the tape off. "I'd like Aya and Ken on this one, preferably. Siberian undercover, with Abyssinian as backup. Youji, your fighting style is unsuited for this mission, and Omi..." she smiled briefly at the youngest member. "You deserve a day off on your birthday, at least."

Omi's eyes widened. "Demo..." he bit off whatever he was going to say, shuffling his feet and trying to hide his disappointment.

Manx arched one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "What is it, Omi?"

Ken answered for him. "I was supposed to take Omi out tonight, to celebrate. I promised him a week ago."

The statuesque red-head frowned. "I understand, but the mission must come first. If you truly feel it's important, we can substitute Balinese for Siberian, but..."

"No, no!" Omi hastily interrupted. "It's fine, Manx! Of course the mission is more important. We'll just go tomorrow, ne, Ken-kun?"

Ken looked slightly abashed. "Actually, I've got soccer practice tomorrow... but Tuesday for sure!"

Omi blinked. "Demo, I have cram school on Tuesdays! And you have night shift in the shop on Wednesday..."

"I'll take him."

It took Youji a moment to recognize his own voice, and then he cursed himself roundly for speaking. What on earth was he thinking?

Omi turned a pathetically pleased and hopeful look on his older teammate. "Hontou ni? Youji, you'd take me out?"

Don't fall for the puppy-dog eyes, Youji cautioned himself sternly. He opened his mouth to apologize and retract the offer.

"Of course, Omi. Can't have you disappointed on your birthday, after all." Damn and double damn. That was NOT what he'd meant to say. Curse those puppy-dog eyes, anyway!

Omi practically bounced up and down, he was so obviously happy. "Arigatou! Youji-kun, arigatou yo!"

Ken added his own thanks. "You're a lifesaver, Youji. I'll make it up to you later, Omi, I promise."

Manx nodded decisively, before Youji could steel himself to protest that he hadn't meant it. "It's settled then. Abyssinian and Siberian stay behind for the rest of the briefing." She unbent enough to wink at the youngest Weiss. "Have a good time, boys. And please, try not to get into too much trouble."

As Youji slunk out of the room with an over-eager Omi nearly flying up the stairs ahead of him, he prepared himself for a long night of trying not to watch the gorgeous teen dancing in his new clothes, while getting very, very drunk. He sighed, and resigned himself to the inevitable. After all, how bad could it really BE?

The tall heartbreaker was completely oblivious to the three smirking grins exchanged behind him.

Youji stared at himself in the mirror for the twentieth time that night, trying to decide if he'd finally settled on the right outfit. Behind him, various articles of clothing, ranging from sloppily casual to outrageously sexy, were scattered over the floor and bed. He blew a piece of his hair out of his face, frustrated with himself over his efforts.

"It's not like you're going on a god-damned date with him, Kudou!" he muttered to himself. "You've gotta look good for the ladies, of course... and no sense disappointing the kid by dressing down." He bit his lip, trying once more to justify his half-subconscious desire to look his best.

The emerald green crop-top he wore was his usual style, but the colour enhanced his wide eyes more than his normal black did. In his opinion - backed up by many of the women he'd dated - his eyes were his best feature, followed by his honey-brown hair. He silently thanked whatever gaijin in his ancestry had seen fit to grant him those genes, while continuing to frown over his latest choice of clothes.

He'd keep the shirt, he finally decided, but it left his arms too bare. He didn't want to wear a jacket over it - despite the February chill in the air, it would be hot in the dance club, and he didn't want to have to worry about keeping track of a coat. He made a mental note to mention that to Omi before leaving, rummaging through his drawers for something to break up the lightly tanned expanse of skin.

His fingers touched soft leather, and he grinned triumphantly as he pulled out a set of calfskin gloves. They came just to his wrists and were fingerless, the black, supple leather clinging to his palms and the backs of his hands like a second skin. They flared slightly at the wrist, drawing attention to his slim but muscled forearms. Best of all, they were a perfect match to the skin-tight black leather pants he'd poured himself into earlier.

He posed, hands on his hips, and chewed his lower lip a bit. He needed one more touch - something a little flashy, to make him stand out in the crowd, and then he'd be ready to go. But what?

Eyes sparkling, he dug into the drawer once more, and pulled out a glittery gold tube. His last lady-friend had been very fond of highlighting chunks of her hair with this 'hair mascara', and had persuaded him to try some. He'd liked the effect, bought a tube, and then had promptly forgotten its existence - until now.

Using the enclosed brush, he carefully streaked his hair with the subtle golden glitter. The overhead light caught the sparkles and bounced off them, creating a haloing effect, which would be even more pronounced in the flashing lights on the dance floor.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, he sighed and flung himself down in his chair, absently admiring the way the strategically placed cutouts in the leather pants gaped to show off more skin. Now all he had to do was decide WHERE to take the kid.

Most of the places he frequented were far too outré to be appropriate, whether or not Omi was legally of age for them. He wanted to show the kid a good time, not frighten him out of any further experiences.

Of the rest that he knew, he discounted all but two on the basis of the clientele. There were plenty of wolves out there in human skins, and although Omi was more than capable of handling himself on a mission, he was still an innocent when it came to some of the darker aspects of humanity. He had the disturbing habit of trusting someone until it was proven that person couldn't be trusted. He'd be eaten alive.

Of the last two choices, Youji finally settled on the Raven. The dance floor was smaller, but the music was better and the drinks considerably less watered down. He'd need that, the way this night was shaping up. Not that he was going to get drunk enough to let his guard down - oh, no. Keeping his control up around Omi was difficult enough as it was.

'Why don't you just quit pussyfooting around the subject and admit that you want him?'

Youji snarled. God damn that little voice, anyway. He was NOT going to get involved with Omi, dammit!

He finally emerged into the hall, a little surprised he hadn't heard Omi banging on his door before now. He'd taken even longer to get ready than he usually did, but judging from the light on under the bathroom door, he'd still beaten Omi.

"You okay in there?" He called through the wood, just a little concerned. Omi's bright reply reassured him.

"I'm fine, Youji-kun! I'll be right out!" There was the sound of shuffling, then the light beneath the door was blocked. Youji raised an eyebrow when the younger assassin still didn't emerge.

"Omi?"

"Youji-kun? Please promise me you won't laugh?"

The eyebrow rose even further. He'd never known Omi to be self-conscious about his looks before. Though, he had seemed nervous in the store earlier, come to think of it. What on earth had Ken coaxed him into buying?

At a half-whimper from the other side of the door, he realized he hadn't answered. "Of course I promise, Omi," he blurted, berating himself for increasing the kid's nervousness. "Ken-ken may be a slob when it comes to dressing himself, but he hasn't got a half-bad eye for fashion despite that," he added. "I'm sure you look great!"

Slowly, the door cracked open, and one wide eye peered out at him. Youji blinked. Was he seeing things, or was there just a touch of eyeliner highlighting those baby-blues?

Omi shoved the door open the rest of the way abruptly, and stepped out into the hall where Youji would be able to see him better. The slightly defiant stance and expression detracted not at all from the charm of the blush staining his cheeks a delicate pink. Youji caught his breath at the overall effect, and couldn't prevent himself from giving the boy a thorough once-over.

Butter-soft suede encased shapely legs, clinging tightly to his upper thighs before flaring gently. It was just the right shade to match his hair, which had been brushed until it shone even beneath the dim hall light. The dusky blue silk of his shirt was an exact match for his shining eyes, billowing out around his slim chest in a way that practically begged anyone looking to reach out for a touch of the soft fabric. Equally inviting was the wedge of golden skin revealed by the unbuttoned shirt, drawing the eye down to where it was tucked into the tight pants, making you want to look further. Youji manfully suppressed the urge to do just that, and finally managed to close his mouth.

Omi was shifting nervously from foot to foot before him. "Well?" he asked, his voice high and reedy with emotion.

Youji swallowed, hard, and managed to sound reasonably steady. "You look... great. Really good, Omi." It was not the leather or PVC outfit he'd been expecting, given the names on the bags - and yet somehow, this had an even stronger erotic effect than the skimpiest leather could ever have achieved. The subtle shading of the eyeliner was the perfect last touch, making his eyes look just a bit older, while still emphasizing his innocence. He wondered where Omi had learned to apply the makeup so well.

"Manx did it for me," the boy replied to his unspoken question, blushing a little harder. "She convinced me it would look good. Does it?"

"Oh, yeah," Youji replied before he could stop himself, the words ringing with just a little too much sincerity. He fought down a blush and tried again. "You look perfect. You're gonna kill every girl there the moment you walk in the door. I might have to start being jealous of you!"

Omi's blush, which had just begun to fade, returned full force. "Youji-kun!" he protested, laughing. "Save your flirting for the girls!"

Youji bit back the instantaneous response of 'I was NOT flirting!' by sheer force of will, and turned abruptly. "Let's go, shall we? The night is young, and the women await!" 'And I am going to spend every minute flirting with THEM, and not with him!' Youji promised himself silently. He only hoped it was a promise he'd be able to keep.

At the Raven, pounding beats and flashing strobe lights were the order of the night. From the outside, it looked like a hole-in-the-wall dive, but the interior gave a much different impression. The walls were draped in black fabric which, when hit at just the right angle with the flashing lights, reflected back a myriad of opalescent colours. The bar, which stretched all along one wall, was inset with thousands of pieces of polished obsidian glass. The carpeting around the tables in the lounging area was a rich sable shade, matching the dyed leather seats of the chairs. The dance floor was patterned in dark marble and slate, somehow polished so that dancers had just enough traction to keep their feet, while still being shiny enough to reflect the lights in a dizzying swirl of colours. Though most of the dancers wore clothes that matched their surroundings, Youji and Omi weren't the only bright splashes in the crowd.

The music was far too loud for casual conversation, but Omi's wide eyes, ecstatic grin and bouncing gait let Youji know the younger boy was pleased with his choice. This was obviously nothing like the under-age clubs he'd been to on missions in the past. He was glad - roped into this or not, he honestly wanted his friend to have a good time on a day this important to him. Omi shouted something at him, and he strained to catch the words.

"What do we do now?"

The taller man let a slow cat's smile stretch across his face, and with a hand on his companion's shoulder, steered him towards the bar. He leaned down and put his mouth near Omi's ear so he wouldn't have to shout to be heard. "Now I buy you the traditional first drink, and you go out and dance to your heart's content. Sound good?"

Omi nodded enthusiastically, still trying to take in everything at once. After subtly elbowing their way to the packed counter, Youji ordered for them both, confident Omi wouldn't know where to start on the exotic-sounding drink menu. Besides, he knew just the drink for the starry-eyed boy.

"Sex on the Beach for me," he named his favourite drink, "And a Mudslide for the birthday boy here." The bartender nodded and grabbed the appropriate bottles as Youji slid the bills across the shiny surface.

"What is it?" Omi asked curiously as the frothy brown concoction was placed before him.

"Irish Cream, Kahlua, and Vodka," Youji told him, savouring the first sip of his own drink. "Try it, you'll like it!"

Omi took a tentative sip, licked his lips, and grinned. "It's good!" he affirmed, taking a larger gulp. The smooth liquid left the barest hint of a mustache on his upper lip, and Youji had to fight a sudden urge to lean over and lick it off him. He finally beat his hormones back into submission, only to suppress a groan as Omi's own pink tongue flicked out to do the job instead. He half-turned away, and took a larger mouthful from his glass, hoping to cool himself off. Instead, the alcohol slid down into his stomach, where it created a soft, warm sensation to match the hotter one rapidly forming in his groin. "Let's grab a table," he shouted, grateful for the darkness which covered the flush on his face.

"Un!" Omi led the way this time, his sweet, smiling face and artlessly eager expression melting away the blocking crowd in a way Youji's elbows had never managed to do. The taller assassin reflected again that Omi was a hentai's perfect wet dream, for sure.

Somehow they managed to find an empty table for two, and Youji slung himself casually over the high chair. Omi hopped up onto his, tipping his glass up for another swallow of the sweet drink, eyes sparkling as he took in everything around him. The beat of the current dance song was strong and steady, pounding and pulsing in a way that drove the need to dance into a listener's body. Omi was hardly resistant to its charms, his slender body already swaying with the beat.

"Go on and dance!" Youji shouted, gesturing at the dance floor to be certain his meaning was understood. "I'll stay and watch the drinks."

Omi's eyes widened, and he grinned a thank you at his older comrade before heading for the floor. Youji watched as the teen wove his way through the crush of the crowd, only to be halted at a knot of people around a pool table that refused to give way. He could see the look of frustration on Omi's innocent face, and the sudden brightening as he apparently saw a way out of his dilemma. Grabbing the waist-high ebony railing that ran along the edge of the dance floor, Omi waited for a break in the flow of dancers before agilely vaulting over the barrier. He landed easily on his feet, blushing as a few watchers applauded the smooth maneuver, and immediately merged with the gyrating crowd.

Youji swallowed hard, before taking another gulp of his drink. On second thought, maybe he needed something with a bit stronger alcohol content after all. Anything to get the image of that smooth, tight, leather-encased ass as it swung over the railing out of his mind...

By midnight, the crowd had thinned out a little, leaving the hard-core regulars more space to move around. Youji was still slumped at their table, not having budged since the night had begun, except to renew their drinks and make a few brief trips to the men's room. Omi had spent the vast majority of his time on the dance floor, his seemingly inexhaustible reserves of energy earning him more than a few admiring glances from those around him. He proved to have a natural affinity for the dance, swaying and moving in perfect time to the driving beat, his limbs moving in an unconsciously graceful and provocative manner.

More than a few - men and women - had taken those movements as a subtle invitation, and approached the boy. All had been turned aside with a sweet smile and gentle shake of a blond head, so ingenuously done that even the most determined had left with a soft, almost quizzical smile on their face. Only once had Youji thought he might need to interfere, and his actions quickly proved unnecessary - with the typical reaction Omi's innocent manner provoked in the soft-hearted, he was fiercely protected from the slimy predator by half the dance crowd. The shark had been sent packing with his tail between his legs, and Omi's protectors had basked in his soft, shining smile of thanks.

At the stroke of midnight the music abruptly changed, losing its pounding rhythm and settling into much gentler tones. The melody wound teasingly around haunting refrains, speaking wordlessly of lost loves and cruel realities and the spark of hope that drove one through it all. Youji jumped a little in surprise - he'd forgotten about this particular aspect of the Raven, since he usually wasn't here long enough to hear the after-midnight music. With a sigh, he finished off his beer and waited for Omi to make his way off the dance floor. Time for them to go - this was couples music, not for two guys out on their own. He firmly squelched the thought that HE would like to dance with Omi to this before it could take root.

Glancing around, he was surprised to find his young teammate still on the dance floor. Eyes wide, he watched as Omi slowly wrapped slender arms around his own whipcord frame, cornflower eyes sliding closed as he swayed from side to side in time with the melody, holding himself closely. The expression on his face had to be unconscious - no one, not even someone as naïve and open as Omi was, would ever allow such a look of naked, aching longing to show before strangers.

Youji swallowed hard, feeling a reaction in his gut that he hadn't expected. It wasn't just the lust that had plagued him for so long, though there was a healthy measure of that included - it was a fierce, all-consuming desire to wipe that terribly lonely look off of Omi's face; to hold the boy tight and whisper that he would never let go, that they'd never be apart and lonely again. It spoke to him on a primitive level, reaching out to the same core of heart-wrenching solitude that had been with him since the moment of Asuka's death. Suddenly he knew that he was in WAY over his head... and that he wasn't going to be able to deny his own attraction to the boy any longer.

Others were being similarly affected by the intensity of Omi's solitary dance. Couples around him were slowing and even stopping their movements to watch him, expressions varying from equal longing to sympathetic understanding to glittering appreciation for what they had that the boy did not. Those truly in love clung to each other, whispering soft words of reassurance that their partners would never feel that way again, while Youji saw more than a few tears on the faces of those similarly alone. He was more than a little startled to feel the wetness on his own cheeks, and to realize that he was one of those crying.

With a swipe of his gloved hand against his face, he wiped the incriminating evidence away and harshly suppressed his reaction. He couldn't completely quell the ache in his chest though, as the sorrowful melody slowly segued into one more cheerful and romantic. With a visible sigh, Omi opened his eyes and unwound from his self-embrace, blushing a little as he realized others had been watching. He made his way carefully across the floor to the stairs, wobbling only a little despite have experimented with several of the more colourfully named drinks over the course of the evening. Plopping down in his chair across from Youji, the teenager yawned hugely, covering it with his hand.

"Ready to go?" Youji inquired, glad that there was no catch in his voice. Omi seemed oblivious of the effect he had produced in the patrons of the club, and especially in his teammate. He nodded, smiling almost shyly at Youji as he stood and waited patiently for the older boy to unwind from his chair.

Youji found his own steps more than a little unsteady as he hailed a cab outside the club, and was glad he'd decided not to use his car that night. He piled the sleepy birthday boy into the back, took one look at the condition of the front passenger seat, and opted to sit in the back as well. Giving the cabbie directions to the Koneko no Sumu, he settled back against the seat for the drive.

A warm weight at his shoulder caused him to look down in startlement, to find Omi leaning his head sleepily against him. Wide eyes blinked up at him, struggling a little to focus. "Is this okay, Youji-kun?" Omi asked, looking like he might not have the strength to obey if Youji told him to sit up again.

"It's fine," the older man answered quietly, allowing himself the guilty pleasure of Omi's lithe body against his. Omi snuggled up to him a little more, sighing softly with some emotion Youji couldn't quite identify.

When the ride was over five minutes later, he had to prod the younger boy to wakefulness before they could leave the car. Leaning the nodding teen against the wall, he turned to pay the driver.

When he turned back, he found that the cold air had revitalized his companion somewhat, and wide blue eyes were watching him with an odd expression. There was still a hint of the earlier longing, mixed with a curiously apprehensive tightening around his mouth and eyes.

Youji led the way up the stairs to the apartment they shared above the shop, kicking off his shoes with little regard for where they would land. He knew the moment the door opened that they were alone, the others apparently still out on the mission. Behind him, Omi was still unnaturally quiet, and Youji couldn't quite bring himself to put it down to exhaustion or tipsiness. There was definitely something bothering his friend, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what it was.

Finally, he made it to his room, Omi still trailing silently along behind him. Pausing at his door, Youji snuck a concerned look back. "Ja, oyasumi, Omi," he finally said, uncertain of what else to say. "Happy birthday."

A faint smile brushed over the childish features, barely a shadow of his usual sunny grin. "Hai. Oyasumi, Youji-kun. Arigatou for taking me out!" Omi reached out and rested his hand on his doorknob.

Youji had just started to open his own door when Omi startled him by saying, "Youji-kun? Anou... can I ask you something?"

Raising an eyebrow, Youji turned and leaned against his doorjamb, crossing his arms over his chest and regarding the other assassin. "Of course, Omi. What is it?"

Omi fidgeted, his normally direct gaze focused anywhere but Youji's face. "Eto... did... did you... do you really think I look good, like this?" he blurted finally, a strong blush rising to his ivory cheeks.

Youji blinked. "Of course," he replied, confused. "I wouldn't have said so, if I didn't think so."

Omi blushed a little brighter, but forged on with whatever it was he was trying to ask. "Would you say I was... am... attractive?" Hesitant eyes met Youji's for a brief moment, before returning to study the patterns of the carpet with seeming fascination.

Youji's brain scrambled to make sense of this odd, late-night conversation. He didn't think he was THAT drunk, just a little buzzed, but this was totally beyond his current comprehension. He had no idea where Omi was going with this. "Aa," he agreed, saying perhaps a little more than he should have in his fuzzy state. "You're very attractive, baka. Or didn't you notice the dozen or so people who were trying to get into your pants tonight?"

Again, the blush deepened, Omi's hands fidgeting nervously with the hem of his silk shirt. The movement drew Youji's eyes downward, and he found his gaze lingering on the slight bulge in the tight leather that cradled the boy's sex, wishing his skin was cupping that sensitive flesh instead of some dead cow's. He shook his head, blushing himself, and sternly directed his attention back to the conversation.

"Do... do YOU find me attractive, Youji?" Startled to hear his name without the honourific from Omi for the first time, Youji nearly missed the import of the boy's statement.

"Wh-WHAT?" he finally burst out, shocked.

Omi raised miserable eyes to him, wetness trembling on dewy lashes as he suddenly turned away. "Never mind," he muttered, fumbling with his door. "I shouldn't have said anything..."

"Wait a second." Youji placed his hand on Omi's shoulder and turned him gently around, still trying to catch up with what was happening. "Why would you want to know THAT? I'm a guy, Omi..."

Omi bit his lip and kept his gaze lowered, his face filled with equal parts guilty longing and shameful desire. Youji felt a flash of heat in his groin, and struggled to ignore it.

"I..." Omi's voice was barely above a whisper, and Youji had to lean in to hear it. "I..." Glancing up, Omi took in the proximity of the older youth's face to his, and abruptly took advantage of it. He surged upwards, pressing his lips against Youji's in an unpracticed, clumsy kiss. His hands came up to clench at Youji's broad shoulders, fisting in the material of his shirt as if to hold him there.

Youji was frozen for several moments, unable to react to this startling development. Part of him - well, most of him, to be honest - was more than willing to return that desperate embrace, urging him to open his mouth and kiss the boy properly. The tiny fragment of him that was still coherent was screaming at him about age differences, drunken states and gay issues. He was torn between his desire and his stubborn refusal to admit an attraction to this gorgeous young boy in his arms.

As the moment dragged on and Youji still didn't respond, Omi's hands began to tremble, his entire body shaking slightly with the force of his emotion. The tears that had been threatening broke free, sliding slowly over rounded cheeks, to mingle into the kiss and lend it a salty taste.

Youji finally managed to pull away at that, his heart thundering in his ears as he straightened. Omi looked devastated as he pulled away, sweet features crumpling into despair. "Please," he whispered, shimmering eyes slowly leaking more tears staring up at Youji. "Please don't hate me. I... I've loved you... for so long... I just couldn't stand it anymore!"

Shuddering, Youji finally managed to process what was happening. Omi was in LOVE with him, or thought he was, and thought that Youji would hate him for it - and all the while Youji had been struggling with his own forbidden emotions, avoiding too close a friendship with the other boy for fear that it would make his attraction too obvious, afraid Omi would be disgusted by him. Suddenly it didn't seem to matter so much that they were both guys, that Omi was four years younger than him, that they were dark shadows in a darker world, stained with the blood of dozens. He was back on the dance floor, enthralled by Omi's solitary dance, wanting only to hold him and love him.

And then he was holding him, his mouth pressed fiercely against upturned lips, trying to convey all his emotion and desire with only his touch. His arms crept around Omi's shoulders and waist, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together. Omi responded eagerly, opening his lips for Youji's invasion, tasting of alcohol and mint and chocolate and a musk that was purely Omi's own essence. Youji drank it in, feeling like a starving man suddenly presented with a feast, not wanting to waste single moment of this impossible chance.

When they finally broke apart, they were both reeling, clutching at each other to steady themselves. It was far more than the alcohol affecting them, and they both knew it. "Naze?" Omi gasped, seeming unable to believe that what was happening was real. "Youji, naze?"

"I love you," Youji was shocked to hear himself whisper in reply. He had not spoken those words since Asuka, had sworn he would never speak them again - and yet, and yet, they were so perfect here, and now, sounding indefinably right when spoken to this person, this boy who held his heart.

"Youji..." Omi's eyes were still filled with tears, but somehow Youji knew they were tears of joy this time, instead of sorrow. He buried his face in Youji's shirt, inhaling deeply and winding his arms firmly around the taller man's waist. "I never thought - never dreamed I'd ever hear you say that."

"I never thought I'd hear me say that, either," Youji admitted a little wryly. "But here I am, saying it... and I think you know me well enough to know that I don't say something like that lightly. I love you, Omi, even though I didn't know it until tonight. You're stuck with me for the duration, kid."

"Hidoi!" Omi blinked up at him with mock-hurt eyes. "I am not a kid! I'm eighteen now, you can't even claim I'm under age anymore."

Youji chuckled. "So you are. Suman ne." He still couldn't really believe he was standing there, Omi pressed up against him in a close embrace. This went against everything he believed about himself - so why did it feel as though he'd finally found the meaning for his life?

Omi's hurt expression shifted into a shyly needy one. "Youji?" He began, a little breathless. "Would you... would you stay with me? Tonight?" Seeing the surprise on Youji's face, he hastily added "We don't have to do anything! Hontou ni! I just... I just want to be close to you... to know that it wasn't a dream when I wake up..."

Youji hushed the hesitant stream of words with a finger on the younger assassin's lips. "Wakatta, Omi. I'll stay." Omi's lips slid along his finger as the other smiled, the friction of the motion sending heated sparks skittering along Youji's spine. Briefly, he wondered if he would be able to 'just hold' his new lover for the entire night.

Omi chose that exact moment to yawn hugely, and the sight made Youji yawn as well. Giggling, Omi grinned sleepily up at him. "I'm ready to pass out. Come in?" He opened the door behind him, his movement still holding a touch of uncertainty.

Youji followed him, clasping the younger boy's hand and squeezing his fingers in an act of reassurance. "I'm tired too. Let's get some sleep, ne?"

Omi nodded, and led him shyly to the bed. It was smaller than Youji's own, the sheets simple cotton with a warm, downy duvet thrown over them. The young blond turned down the sheets and comforter, and then hesitated, looking oddly vulnerable as he peered over his shoulder at his older companion.

"Nothing you don't want to do, Omi," Youji reassured him. "We'll go as far as you want to, that's all. We've got a lifetime to explore - I'm not in a hurry." His libido disagreed with him heartily, but the soft, utterly sincere smile he received in return was worth holding off his hormones for.

By the time they had managed to finish blushing their way through getting their clothes mostly removed, they were both yawning almost constantly. Youji slung himself into the bed with his back against the wall, arms wide open, and Omi obediently crawled in after him. They snuggled together happily, listening to their heartbeats mingle and their breathing merge as they drifted off to sleep.

'Tomorrow is soon enough to take this to the next level,' Youji found himself thinking. 'Or the next day. Or next week, even. Holding him like this makes me feel complete, at peace with myself... and I know I'll never be alone again.'

Leaning a little closer, he buried his face in his new lover's sweetly-scented hair, and murmured, "Oyasumi, Omittchi. Itoushi. Zutto ni ai shiteru." For the first night in months, both White Hunters slept free of nightmares, safely wrapped in the protection of their love.

Return to Weiss Kreuz Page

Return to the Main Index

Email Miko no da