Youji\'s Daughter

Youji’s Daughter 7

By Nix Winter


Disclaimers: I don’t own Weiss Kruez, alas


Chapter Seven


Omi drove, a fact that irritated Youji greatly. Twenty miles separated the Kritiker medical facility from the town and neither of them really said much for the first ten. Omi pretended like it took his attention to drive. Youji pretended like he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned nor offended that he wasn’t the one driving.

A on his belly, as if he could protect his baby from his own inner demons, he started daydreaming about how to seduce Aya. They hadn’t really made love since this had happened and while Youji was willing to give up, cigarettes, booze, random women, killing pricks, and other various recreational vices, he wasn’t willing to give up sex with Aya. Before he knew it, a smile had seduced his lips. Head resting against the window, fingers against his lips, as if he held a cigarette, he imagined what kind of clothes he could wear and still look cool.

Of course, it was only one thought beyond to what kind of things he’d do with Aya after said clothes got taken off. Aya always had taken a very controlling position. It wasn’t something they spoke of, the exchange of power was a secret even below their relationship.

“What are you thinking about?” Omi asked, causally, just breaking the silence.

“About the meaning of being uke,” Youji said, smile wicked, green eyes watching Omi over the top of sunglasses.

Crimson flared over Omi’s cheeks. It just hadn’t been that long since the whole relationship had been a secret. It wasn’t like homosexual relations were that big of a taboo. Youji’s eyes narrowed, as he put clues together. Omi’s elbow on Ken’s shoulder, that smile, this blush, and a dozen other little things. “But I guess that’s something you’d know about, ne?”

The car sped up. Color on Omi’s cheeks went bright enough match the color Aya’s cheeks had had when Manx had played him a tape of what he’d said in the hall. Youji pushed his sunglasses up with the tip of a finger and promised himself he was going to listen to that recording again sometime, when he was alone. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“No,” Omi snapped, taking one hand, then the other from the wheel, flexing his fingers until a little of the tension slipped away. “I’m not uke.”

“Oh,” Youji taunted very soothingly. “So you’re seme?”

“Yes,” Omi said, cheeks re brightening, voice serious. “Ken wants to go both ways, but I’m afraid.”

‘Holy crap, Batman!’ Youji thought, glad his sunglasses were up. This was not a conversation he really wanted to be having with Omi. Maybe one cigarette wouldn’t be that bad. It was his car, after all. He could smoke in his own car. His fingers steady, he opened the glove box and took out a box of cigarettes. With one between his fingers, unlit, just held there, as if he could take a puff any time he wanted, he asked, “Why are you afraid?”

The blush was faded now, just a lingering souvenir of color. “Because once it hurt really badly. It bled.”

Youji rolled his unlit cigarette between his fingers. He was the keeper of demons, not like, any kind of parental/big brother figure, damn. His empty hand caressed the swell under his shirt and he remembered; he was starting over. His inner feelings and thoughts were all he had to build this new future on. How being pregnant, having life within him, gave him some purity, or maybe forgiveness, that he hadn’t had before, he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to really think about it too much, because if he did, he’d start thinking he didn’t have any right to be near someone so pure as an unborn baby. “Omi-kun, someone hurt you?”

Pure or not, if someone had hurt Omi, and they weren’t already dead, Youji would make them that way.

“Maybe,” Omi hedged.

“It’s an ugly word, you know, raped,” Youji said softly, tapping his cigarette against the window, just getting it ready for a smoke he wasn’t going to really let himself have. Hell, what was he supposed to say, ‘been there, done that’? Those kind of responses were about the worst he’d ever heard, not like he’d really talked to anyone about any of that. Suddenly, he realized he’d ever even told Aya. “When Aya touched me, I didn’t feel ugly anymore. You’re a wonderful guy, Omi.”

One hand on the wheel, Omi scratched the back of his head. “You’re braver than I am.”

The same finger that had pushed his glasses up, pulled them down. “Come again?”

“I mean you can deal with more pain than I can.” Omi’s eyes glanced down to Youji’s belly, then back to the road.

“It’s not supposed to hurt, Omi-kun,” Youji said, shifting uncomfortably. He could maybe deal with giving comfort over past trauma, but he wasn’t gonna give lessons in anal sex. “You don’t hurt Ken, do you?”

“No,” Omi said, softly, “I bet we can buy baby clothes and things. What kind of things does a baby need?”

Youji blinked at the change of topic. “Normal stuff? Clothes, toys, bottles. Definitely gonna need bottles. I want to get a rattle, and a few stuffed animals. Babies like stuffed animals.”

“Maybe a really big stuffed animal! Like a great big bear!” Omi said, cheerfulness coming back like a relighting birthday candle.

And they did get a big bear, and a pink stuffed rabbit, and what the lady at the store called a ‘layette’. They bought some rattles and a ‘baby’s first year’ book. They even got a book to record his pregnancy. Youji started crying then, and Omi lied with an angelic face that Youji’s wife was having a difficult pregnancy and he was having a sympathetic one. The clerk just about fell in love with him then, taking care of him as if he were the most precious man just ever.

Omi thought Youji was the only man who could make pregnant look sexy to women. If he hadn’t known how much Youji had been through in the recent weeks, he would have been very put out with him.

With all the baby stuff in the car, Youji introduced Omi to some real talent. Shopping for clothes, and getting one’s hair done. Youji strode out of the last shop, new manicure, hair done, black leather pants, loose green button up shirt, expensive and soft, flowing around him, and a poised kind of grace that promised if Aya had any remaining virtue, he wouldn’t have it for much longer.

Omi followed, in new jeans, cut and styled hair, new sunglasses, and just enough poise to not feel completely self-conscious.

Youji actually slept all the way back to the medical safe house, and Omi was glad to see Ken waiting for them out front.

He smiled, as he turned off the ignition and Ken’s smile broke out, shattering the gloom that had been clinging to him. This was the Ken that Omi had fallen in love with, caring and simple, open. Omi pointe the the sleeping Youji and Ken nodded.

The door opened carefully and Ken gently picked up the sleeping Youji. Ken hated how fragile Youji was, how little he weighed. Omi followed along and Youji didn’t even wake as Ken carried him to his and Aya’s room.

Only after they’d slipped Youji’s shoes off and left him to sleep, did Omi let Ken in on how much stuff there was to bring in. Then there were discussions about ugly words, the past, and being uke.

Maybe starting over wasn’t only for Youji.