Tug

The smell of alcohol was just a subtle taint to the medley of leather and roses, a whiff of tangy metal running throughout the air in the room.

Missions and cover, darkness and normalcy mixed into a strange concoction that Yohji wasn't sure he liked. It didn't smell like Aya's room usually smelled, whenever the man's door opened or Yohji was on rare occasion let inside.

His teammate was propped on his bed, a glass of what smelled like straight vodka clutched in white knuckles set upon a coaster on the bedside table.

Still proper. Yohji thought wryly.

And what irony. He was sober.

Don't you remember, Aya?

The redhead's words, uttered softly, but not silently enough for asssassin's ears.

Right after he had kissed him.

Only again if you're sober, Yohji.

It was wonder enough that he was still alive. But that was an open invitation, and a challenge, if he had ever heard one.

"Leave, Kudoh." Aya growled the words from beneath his bangs, not lifting his bowed head.

Yohji did just the opposite, taking a step further inside the room and shutting the door. "You remember what you told me, Aya?"

"Leave."

The note of panic in the tone, a hardly detectable higher pitch at the beginning of the word, gave Yohji pause. He changed tactics. "She's safe now. You should be happy."

"She's dead to me." Aya responded, and this time the despair was evident. "That's wrong," he muttered, more quietly. "I'm dead to her."

"You can visit, you know."

Yohji watched the man's back slump beneath his black tee. The skin was raised into goosebumps beneath the cloth, although he couldn't tell whether it was because he was chilled from that night's mission or simply irritated. After a moment of silence, he supplied, "But you won't."

Aya glanced at him then, narrow slits of violet flashing for just a moment. "She's safe now."

It was always like this with Aya. The man was never straight with anyone, unless giving direct orders. So far buried in his mind that it made Yohji's head hurt to contemplate what Aya's thoughts were like, how he had changed from the incomprehensible smiling boy in the photo on his dresser to the hunched form before him. So lost in his own misery that he forget that it was his right to reclaim his life.

Yohji cleared his throat, determined. "So, you remember what you told me?"

There was another moment of silence, so long that Yohji almost turned to leave, defeated. Before he could, Aya demanded, "When?"

Yohji smiled, but refused to let himself chuckle. Nothing would get him kicked out faster. "Oh, maybe three weeks ago. I was drunk off my ass."

Aya went still on the bed. The glass, in a steel grip, was still full to the brim, Yohji noticed.

He stepped closer, and it brought him around the corner of the bed. Aya's profile was almost trembling. "You said only again if I'm sober, Aya. Do you remember that?"

No response.

"Looks like I taught you some bad habits, Aya." Yohji drew closer to him, still a safe distance to run if need be. "Well, I'm sober tonight."

Before the other assassin could react, Yohji moved forward, pressing his lips to Aya's quickly and firmly. One hand was buried in the redhead's hair. It was three seconds of bliss before Yohji was knocked onto his ass on the floor, Aya propelled to his feet.

"What are you doing!" Aya shouted.

"Taking what you promised me." Yohji stood up hastily. He held up his hands even as he scurried towards the door. "Look," he said quickly. "The same holds true for you, all right? Only again if your sober."

"What makes you think -" Aya spluttered. He looked down. Most of the drink had spilled to the floor and down the leg of his jeans, although the glass was still in one hand.

"Damn you, Kudoh..."

Yohji was never the smartest, he reflected, as he took a step forward again. "You didn't fuck up, Aya. You saved her. You killed Ta..." No, definitely not the brightest. "You killed the man who did this to your family." He brought a hand up to touch Aya's cheek, just below his eye. He flinched, half expecting a blow. None came. "You won."

"I'm not drunk."

"Then what are you doing? What's this?" He nudged the glass.

"It seemed like..."

Yohji filled in the blank himself. It seemed like a good idea. It seemed like it would help.

You always do it, so it must help....

And he thought Aya never paid attention to him.

"I don't like alcohol." Aya said, finally.

Yohji blinked.

This, he reflected, was not someone he had ever expected to find in this room.

His eyes flicked to the photograph on the dresser.

Aya looked up at him then, eyes steely. "Get out, Yohji."

Yohji decided he'd rather not. Deftly, he swung one knee between Aya's legs and pushed him backwards onto the bed. He followed the man down before he started struggling, his weight keeping him pressed to the covers. "Well then," he said a little breathlessly, "If you're not drunk, and I'm not drunk, then I guess it's a go-ahead." He made sure to move his leg, just a little, against Aya's crotch.

"Get off me!" Aya snapped, but his voice was low.

Scared they'll hear you, eh, Aya? Yohji thought grimly.

Well, that worked for him. He reached one hand down and replaced his knee.

"What do you think -" Aya's face was definitely more worried than Yohji had ever seen it.

"Tell me you really don't want this," Yohji whispered, and slowly lowered his lips down.

Not to his mouth, of course, Yohji assumed he'd be bitten. Instead he kissed his neck, and was gratified to hear a soft noise come from the redhead's throat. "You promised me, didn't you?" He whispered.

"Didn't think I'd remember? I wasn't that drunk, Aya. You showed me you cared that night." Yohji stopped his administrations, suddenly serious. Aya went still below him. His eyes were closed. "Tell me you don't want this. I'll leave."

Aya's mouth opened, then closed again. Slowly his eyes opened. They were confused when they met Yohji's.

Yohji smiled. "You didn't do anything wrong. Remember what you told me? 'Not your guilt.' Remember?" He loosened the grip he had on the man's wrists, then reached one hand up to brush blood-red bangs away from his face.

The only response was Aya's breathing, quick and shallow.

Then, suddenly, the man's free hand shot up to grab Yohji's hair. Yohji started back, ready to spring off of him, when Aya pushed his head down, grip solid. "There's no forgivence for my sins." Aya hissed, breath hot against his face.

Yohji contemplated him for a moment, then relaxed. "But I'm going to make sure there's a reward for your good deeds." He bent down before Aya could reply and fiercely kissed him.

1...3...5...6...

Well, at least he'd made a new record...

But Aya didn't shove him off, and instead began to move beneath him. Not struggling.

Not struggling.

Aya's hand tightened in his hair, then abrubtly Yohji found himself on his back, straddled by a suddenly responsive younger man.

Ha.

It was strange to think of Aya, stoic, straight-laced, angry Aya, in those terms.

His head was suddenly yanked back, exposing his neck. Yohji took in a quick breath. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was about to get slaughtered.

"Is that so," Aya said, words tense.

Yohji met his eyes, challenging him. He could meet a worse end. "Yeah. That's right."

Aya ground against him, crotch against crotch, and Yohji bucked up. Lips were applied suddenly to the bare flesh of his neck.

Well. He didn't mind doing it this way, but not with Aya. Not when it would just be another game, another play at control.

Wiggling his hips, he suddenly thrust his weight sideways, ending up on top again.

"What are you doing?" Aya demanded, regarding him, face flushed.

"Relax." Yohji demanded right back.

"If you think you're-" Aya's voice raised.

Yohji kissed him again, and tugged down his pants. The hand not holding him down found Aya's hardness, and began stroking.

Aya's fist tightened in his hair. His eyes, a hint of anger still burning in them, finally flickered, then relaxed at the edges. He let out a groan.

Yohji's head was starting to hurt, but he bared his teeth at the pain, watching Aya begin to writhe beneath him. "That's right. You deserve this," he whispered.

Aya came with a bit-off shout, then fell against his comforter. Yohji wiped his hand against the rest of the mess on his shirt. There had been worse things on it.

He fell against Aya, not about to ask for reciprocation, and before the man could protest clutched him to his chest. The man wasn't aware of the mess on it anyway.

Aya's breathing was hard against his stomach. Yohji kissed his cheek before the man could shove him off. "Okay, Aya?" He asked. He shifted so that his weight lay more against the bed.

Finally, Aya cracked open one eye, then shut it again. "Yes."

Yohji smiled, and willed his own hard-on to go away. Like that would work.

He contented himself with pulling Aya closer to him, and closed his eyes. Aya didn't move.

It was a start.