Internal Revenue Service

A/N: Can't bring myself to beg. But demanding. I can do that some more. Review. Now.

Talking to Aya
Moody Blue

That same night…

“Come on Aya! You owe us one! It’s not like you pull your own weight around here! At least help us make Brad do our taxes!” Yohji whined. He and Schu were getting a little desperate. Plan B was a total waste unless they could somehow stomach the idea of cute neo-pet peeps sex, and that was not happening any time soon, so they were back to Plan A again—get Brad to do the taxes by convincing Aya to go on a date with him.

Aya turned his icy gaze on his old teammate and began pulling out a Japanese rose from the assortment of flowers in his wheelbarrow.

“Whoa! Whoa!—Just hear us out! No need to get violent!” Yohji and Schu both backed up and the German made vaguely placating gestures with his hands.

“Aya-kun, Brad’s not nearly as psychotic as Farfie or as...er…confused as Ken! He could be good for you!” Schu pointed out, “Besides, when was the last time you got laid? Seriously? With the size of that tree shoved up your as—“

Yohji quickly cut his Nookie-bear off before he got himself decapitated by a flying lemming yodeling the American National Anthem. “What Schu meant to say is that it wouldn’t hurt you to socialize a little. Loosen up! Live a little! All your charities are great and everything…and I understand you’re probably trying to work through protective issues what with Aya-chan not needing you any m—Eep!”

Yohji found himself cut off by a pair of pruning shears being suddenly held threateningly under his chin.

Aya’s glare had gone from ‘murderous’ to ‘Takatori, SHINE’ levels.

“Easy Aya! That’s my third favorite part of him!” Schu hastily snatched the wickedly pointy scissors from the other red-head’s hands.

“Hn.” Aya emoted, clearly stating, for those fluent in Aya speak, “Don’t make me neuter you both with your own toenails.”

Yohji and Schu both made disgusted faces and Schu lowered his hands protectively over his groin.

Aya growled. Who did these idiots think he was? Some kind of whore they could sell out for their own benefit? They could at least have the decency to try to sell him out for sex. He was worth more than a lousy date. Who were they to talk about his social skills anyway? He thought he’d been getting much better. They’d always said how he was too introverted and that his way of openly threatening people’s lives discouraged their customers. No way was he giving up the death threats, and his mother had always told him if he couldn’t say something nice, then he shouldn’t say anything at all. He’d decided to compromise. Now he said it with flowers. It generally worked pretty well too, his prospective victims were usually far too confused or shocked to keep doing whatever annoying thing they’d been previously engaged in. They didn’t flee the restaurant and he didn’t have to dodge Schu’s super fast telepathic attacks when he had to break the “No katana in the bar” rule.

(Rule number 43 for anyone who’s interested. It came right between ‘No disembodied limbs left in plain sight’ and number 44, ‘Don’t follow the good tippers home and slice them into little bitty pieces, no matter how many times they hit on you when you made it plain you weren’t interested.’ Aya got around 44 by cutting the lechers into medium sized pieces and setting their remains on fire.)

“AYyYAaAaaa…” Yohji whined.

“NO.”

‘What are we gonna go now? He’s never going to agree to this…and if we keep it up…’ Yohji thought at his lover with a mental wince and his own protective gesture over his jeans.

‘Don’t think about it! Mein Gott!’ Schu’s mental whimper gave Yohji a jolt of pain through his head. ‘He’s a vicious one!’

‘Ouch! Nookie-bear!’ the blond winced, watching as Aya evidently decided they weren’t going to annoy him anymore and began heading over to the bar to straighten his charity jars. He’d put a new one out this morning—a little kid named Jimmy needed a frontal lobe transplant or something—Schu was getting annoyed with all the jars, people had started mistaking some of them for his bar-tending tip jar.

The two lovers settled themselves on the edge of a pool table and Aya made his way upstairs, probably to his apartment. “What are we going to do if we can’t get Brad to do our taxes?” Schu sighed, “We’ll never get flavored lube again!”

Yohji patted him consolingly on the back—and the rump. “Umm…plan C?”

“We don’t have a plan C!”

“We could try the boys again…”

They both shuddered in disgust at the thought.

They thought in silence for a while.

“Wait! What if we bribe Aya to help us bribe Brad?” Schu suddenly exclaimed.

“…How are we going to do that? We don’t know if we have enough money for our normal brands of cigarettes, let alone a bribe for Aya! His bribes don’t come cheap!” Yohji knew this from experience; he’d lost nearly three months worth of assassin’s wages once when he’d had to get Aya not to tell Omi what had happened to the kid’s pet goldfish. If there was anything scarier than Aya in a cold rage, it was a heartbroken Omi. His big-eyed guilt trips were almost as bad as his new neo-pet thing…and that was bad.

Badbadbadbad…ew…mental mouthwash. ><

“…What if we offer to let him bring his katana back into the bar again? He was really pout-y for ages when we put that rule into effect,” the German suggested.

They looked at each other in horror with the visions of the results of that bribe running through their heads.

“We could…er….um………………….I got nothing.” Yohji sighed, putting his head in his hands. “We’ll never get our taxes done! The IRS will be after us! We’ll be audited, and then we’ll have to kill the auditor and then that awesome picture of the kittens playing pool on our wall will be ruined, and Omi and Nagi will end up in pink dresses and the bar will be a total disaster!” he wailed.

Schu blinked, trying to figure out where most of that had come from. “Um, Pookums…I don’t think that’ll happen, we’ll figure it out...Hey! What if we offer him some room to open up a new flower shop! He must have liked that if he’s still doing all those death arrangements, right?”

Yohji sniffled and loosened the death grip he’d gotten on his lover when he’d had his little panic-y bits. “…I guess it’s worth a try.”

In true coincidental anime fashion, Aya came back downstairs at that moment, wearing his new mission clothes and caring his katana “discretely” in a guitar case in with one hand, and a couple pieces of paper in the other. Yohji KNEW he was still taking missions!—the sneaky little—he’d had to have some sort of income to pay for the flowers and the money he spent on making copies of flyers every week.

Schu slid off the pool table and sidled over to block Aya’s exit from the bar. “Aya-kun! Look—" the German paused to watch Aya affix one of the pieces of paper in his hands to the wall—a reminder to have your pets spayed or neutered—then he continued, “what if we give you space for a new flower shop? Will you go on one, eensey-little date with Bradley then?”

“Hn.” Aya snarled. Would these morons ever leave him alone? He shouldered past Schuldig and glided out the door before they could accost him again.

“…Was that a ‘yes’?” Yohji asked, coming up behind his lover and sliding his arms around his Nookie-bear’s waist. “I hope that was a ‘yes’”

“That was definitely a ‘yes.’ We’re definitely taking that as a ‘yes’” Schu affirmed.

“Great…now all we’ve got to do is get the boys out of the second story front room…”

“…”

Stay tuned: Yohji and Schu can’t what?!? Next Chapter:
Oh No!
Heartbreak Hotel

A/N: Uh, hi guys...We would listen to her if we were you...Tart X is kinda scary sometimes...~The other Tarts.