Fanfic Archive: Couch Potato
May. 28th, 2009 06:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: October, 2006)
Warnings: Bad Language.
Summary: What could be more fun than a day off, doing nothing more strenuous than watching TV? Well, nothing -- until a missed cable payment leaves our heroes with nothing to watch except the nature channel. Is it enough to ruin a perfect day off?
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Couch Potato
(a writing challenge response for Yohji / Nature)
Yohji stretched as he made his way down the stairs, toward the living room. This was going to be a good day; he could already tell. The shop was closed, freeing him from the necessary evil of his "day job". Score one point for today. For once, the apartment had been quiet, and no one had asked him to do anything that morning, which meant he had been able to sleep in until what he considered a decent hour. He checked his watch. Yep -- noon, when the day should start, in Yohji's opinion. Getting up any earlier was barbaric and wrong, on so many levels. Score two points for today. In a moment of stupid, guilt-induced weakness earlier in the week, he had agreed to help Ken this afternoon -- something about an extra soccer practice for his little league team and needing someone to chauffer kids and pick up drinks and snacks. Yohji had no idea why he had offered to help; maybe he had been drunk at the time. Whatever the reason for his unexpected largesse, he had been dreading it all week. Two hours spent outside, watching a bunch of kids run around like maniacs -- not Yohji Kudou's idea of a good time. Lady Luck was watching over him, though; the day had dawned gray and rainy. He knew Ken would have to cancel practice. Oh yeah, score one more point for today. Add it all up, and you had one bang-up, damn fine day on your hands. Maybe, even one for the record books.
It was about time for it, too. Things had been tough the past several weeks. Kritiker had been pushing them to the breaking point and beyond -- five missions in, roughly, a month's time. It didn't sound like much, but they had gotten almost no background information on any of the jobs, which had added up to a lot of hours spent doing research and gathering intelligence. Because of their crazy schedule, they had had to run each mission on a tight timetable. It had meant long strings of sleepless nights spent in planning and surveillance, leading up to the brief adrenaline rush accompanying the kill, only to fight off the fatigue that always came with a mission's conclusion so they could start from the beginning on the next job. No breaks. No down time. They were all exhausted. Their nerves were starting to fray under the strain and pressure that came with the constant need to remain at the top of their game, mentally and physically.
Even Aya and Omi, the workhorses of the team, were starting to wear down under the stress. Omi had skipped school so often during the past month that Aya had had to go to the principal's office to offer an explanation. Yohji couldn't help chuckling under his breath as he imagined that meeting. They all thought it ridiculous that Omi needed a "guardian" for school purposes; Omi had been living on his own since an early age, and he had been working as an assassin longer than any of them. Plus, Omi was more responsible than most people. Heck, Yohji freely admitted Omi was a lot more responsible than he was; he figured stuff like that should count for more than chronological age. But, school administrators tended to be a short-sighted lot, from what Yohji had seen through his own personal experiences, which meant they would insist on a guardian, no matter how silly and pointless it was. Normally, it wasn't a big deal, having to act as Omi's "guardian". It wasn't like he got into a lot of trouble at school or anything. But, on those rare occasions when there was a problem, Aya always ended up sitting through a long lecture about Omi's future and how they should safeguard it. As if any of them had a future, anyhow. Aya wasn't the most pleasant person to deal with, even on normal days; Yohji couldn't imagine what a disaster the conference must have been this time, with Aya suffering from the grumbly version of "spaced out" that sleep deprivation caused. Yohji laughed again as he got a very vivid mental picture of Aya, sitting across from the principal's desk, glaring and saying nothing -- for two hours. What a fun time that must have been -- not.
Yohji paused to light a cigarette, frowning as he thought about Aya. From what he had seen, Aya was more strung-out tired than the rest of them put together. Omi was the team's intel officer, but Aya was their field leader, which meant a lot of the load fell on his shoulders when it came to setting up the mission parameters. Plus, Aya went beyond anal-retentive with mission preparation. He would study and plan out every possible outcome and set-back, just to make sure the rest of the team came through each job alive. It was one reason they trusted him like they did, but it also meant a lot of late nights. And, instead of begging off of his flower shop duties, he had been pulling double shifts in order to let Omi get some extra sleep and to give him time to make some attempt at keeping up with his schoolwork.
As near as Yohji could figure, Aya had been running on, maybe, four hours of sleep a night for the past month. It wasn't like he was keeping track, Yohji told himself. He couldn't care less how much sleep Aya was getting each night. It wasn't any of his business. In spite of the mental chiding, Yohji couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable over the realization that he knew, almost to the minute, how much sleep Aya had been getting. If he allowed himself, he could probably list the times when the younger man had gone to bed and gotten up, too … not to mention the shifts he had worked in the flower shop. Yohji started to wonder what that might mean, but he shook his head, forcing the thoughts from his mind. It didn't mean anything. He only noticed because they were teammates, nothing more. The little voice in the back of his subconscious whispered at him, reminding him he never paid attention to Omi or Ken this way. Yohji frowned -- an eyes-narrowed, irritated expression -- and told his little voice to stuff it. It didn't matter why he kept track of Aya. He just did, and it was a good thing, too, considering how piss-poor the younger man was at taking care of himself.
Yohji pulled his wandering thoughts back to the problem at hand. Aya hid his exhaustion well, but, in the past couple of days, Yohji had caught him doing some very un-Aya-like things. The day before yesterday, he had watched as Aya zoned out while watering the plants in the shop, drowning two bushes and some kind of flowery-looking pot plant. After that fiasco, Yohji had taken the hose away from him, sending him to the back room to work on filling the day's orders. Twenty minutes later, he had gone back to check on him, only to find Aya slumped over the work table, asleep. He remembered thinking he should cart Aya upstairs. After all, it would have been better for Aya to sleep in his own bed. In the end, though, he hadn't had the heart to do it. It had resulted in a day's worth of delayed orders, as no one else could use the table with Aya sleeping there, but neither Ken nor Omi had complained. They had avoided the back room, giving Aya a few hours of peace and quiet. For his part, Yohji had taken the sales receipts and called each customer, explaining that their order would be unavoidably delayed and offering either a refund or a sizeable discount on a future purchase. Once Aya figured out what he had done, Yohji knew he was in for an earful of bitching, but what the hell did he care? It's not like they were running this shop to make money, anyhow. He had expected for all kinds of shit to hit the proverbial fan that night, when Aya had gone over the books. But, if he had noticed the promised discounts and delayed orders, he hadn't said anything -- and that wasn't like Aya, either.
Last night, their mission had gone off without a hitch, and they had managed to make it home before midnight -- early for them. Yohji had a vivid memory of all four of them dragging their tired, aching bodies up the outside stairs leading to the kitchen door, only to find a package waiting for them. It was disguised as a regular mail pouch, but the markings were unmistakable -- a message from Kritiker, which meant another job.
While the rest of them had griped and cursed about Kritiker, Aya had said nothing. He had picked up the mission file and followed them into the house. About halfway up the stairs, Yohji had turned around to tell Aya something, thinking the younger man was right behind him. But he hadn't been, which had prompted Yohji to head back to the kitchen, believing Aya had stopped to review the new file. Yohji had expected to rip Aya a new one for pushing himself so hard. Instead, he had pulled up short, just outside the kitchen door, when he had heard Aya dialing the phone. It had been a short conversation, and Yohji had only heard one side of it. But, it had been enough for him to realize Aya had called Manx to demand some much-needed time off for the team. And, he knew Aya had paid for their down time -- by agreeing to take on three solo missions.
Yohji remembered feeling surprised, although, once he thought about it, he couldn't figure out why. After all, everything from Kritiker had a price attached to it. Yohji had turned around and headed back upstairs without saying anything. A few minutes later, he had heard Aya stop off at Omi's and Ken's rooms, to tell them the new mission had been cancelled. He remembered how overjoyed his two teammates had been. But, when Aya had stopped by to tell him the same news, Yohji hadn't been able to summon up any reaction. The idea that Aya had had to pay such a high price for their days off left him feeling cold, right down to his soul. He knew Omi and Ken had no idea. If they had even suspected the truth, Yohji knew they would have refused the time off, just as he would have, given the choice.
Whatever. They hadn't been given a choice in the matter, so there wasn't any use bitching about it after the fact. Besides, now that he knew what was going on, there wasn't any way he was letting Aya do any of those missions by himself. He didn't care if he had to follow the younger man all over town for weeks; if that was what it took, then so be it. Until those missions were done, he was Aya's unofficial shadow, and that was that.
In the meantime, Yohji intended to make the best of his unexpected break. He already had a day of sloth-like activities planned. He had checked the cable listings before coming downstairs, and had discovered several of his favorite movies playing, so he intended to commandeer their sofa and television for the duration. If he was lucky, he could talk Omi into fetching him snacks and beer so he wouldn't have to move off the couch for the rest of the day. It was a simple plan, but, after the hellish month they had had, a day playing couch potato seemed about as close to perfect as you could get.
And, for the moment, he didn't have to worry about Aya. He had peeked into the younger man's room on his way downstairs, and Aya was very much asleep. The phrase "dead to the world" popped into his mind, but Yohji pushed it aside. He didn't like the idea of the words "dead" and "Aya" in the same sentence. Call it superstition or whatever you wanted, but it gave him the creeps. He shuddered and flicked some ash from the end of his cigarette over the banister and onto the carpet below, shoving all thoughts of Aya and the three extra solo missions out of his mind. Sure, he might have to worry about that stuff later on, but, right now, he wasn't going to let it ruin his day off. Kritiker already had a stranglehold on enough of his time. They didn't need any more.
Yohji yawned as he stepped over the last stair, careful to avoid it because it squeaked. A few more long strides brought him to his destination, and, with a grateful sigh, he sank onto the battered sofa. His hand traveled down between the cushions in search of the remote -- not a conscious movement on his part, just something he did without thinking about it. After all, that was where the remote stayed, most of the time.
Oh yeah, now this was the life of leisure he deserved to be living on a more regular basis. No demands on his time. No missions to plan. Nothing to do, except relax and watch some great movies on the boob tube. Yohji grabbed the TV schedule off the coffee table, double-checked the times and channels, leaned back, and clicked the remote's "ON" button.
And … nothing happened. The TV came on, but the screen was black, except for a little message at the bottom informing him the channel was not available for his viewing pleasure and apologizing for any inconvenience this might cause.
"… the Hell?" Yohji muttered, frowning at the television.
Maybe he had gotten the channel wrong. Yohji checked the schedule again, and shook his head as he confirmed he did, indeed, have the correct information. He glared at the television, as if an angry look from him would be enough to make his show appear. But, of course, nothing happened. The hated "this channel unavailable" message continued to blink at him from the darkened screen. It was like Fate was mocking him.
Yohji shook the remote control and tried another channel. Same result -- black screen with the "unavailable" message of doom blinking at him.
He glared at the television again, and banged the remote on the sofa's arm before trying another channel. Still nothing. With a snarl of frustration, Yohji clicked through every station, only to find the same dark screen and irritating message each and every time. Except one. At the tail end of his channel surfing, he managed to locate one working station -- a nature channel.
Yohji leaned backward, so that his head hung just a bit over the back of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling. Maybe he expected some kind of revelation to descend upon him from the heavens to explain why things had to work out this way. Or, maybe, he just wanted the answer to that age-old question: "Why me?" But, whatever answers he had expected didn't manifest themselves. All he saw was cracked, yellowing plaster and a couple of cobwebs.
How the hell could this happen? Wasn't there some kind of universal law about this stuff? Not the law that says "Anything that goes wrong will happen on Yohji Kudou's day off" … but a kinder, gentler law -- one that would allow him to sit on the sofa like a slug for an entire day of movie-viewing fun, one that would let him enjoy something, for once. It was almost too much to take. Somewhere, in the rational part of his brain, Yohji knew he was being melodramatic. This was no big deal; it was just one of those things, and he should roll with the punches life handed him.
Screw that.
Yohji told that part of his brain to shut the hell up and followed his heart, instead. And, his heart told him this was a big deal. A very big deal, bordering on catastrophic. Oh, sure, it wasn't like a typhoon had decimated a small island or anything. But, it was right up there. Maybe somewhere between "Bubonic Plague" and "Running out of Cigarettes After The Store Closed".
Yohji sighed -- a tired, resigned sort of sound. Well, whatever. He wasn't going to let this ruin his perfect day off. Scratch that. His almost perfect day off. He shrugged and tossed the remote to one side, where it slid back between the cushions. He shifted around until he was slouched down so that it looked like he and the battered piece of furniture had melded together to form one entity. He put his feet up on the coffee table and settled in for a day of slothful TV viewing. It might not be the movies he had planned on watching, but, heck, it was still television, right?
The commercial ended, and some kind of animal home video show came on. After the opening credits and theme song, there was a video of a big, hairy, black and white dog chasing a soccer ball around a field. The dog bumped the ball with its nose; it batted at the ball with its paws; it tossed the ball in the air and raced after it, at top speed. The animal played with gusto and seemed mindlessly happy, as if it lived for nothing more than being out there, under a blue sky and chasing a ball around a field.
Against his will, Yohji began to enjoy watching it. He didn't want to. He wanted to sit here and grumble, albeit mentally, about his awful luck in only being able to watch the nature channel. He wanted to fume and pout about missing the movies he had planned on seeing. But, the dog's happiness was infectious, almost as if it reached through the television screen and slapped down Yohji's pissy mood. After about ten minutes, he wasn't watching the show because it was the only thing on; he was watching it because he wanted to, not that he would ever admit that out loud -- to anyone.
He was so engrossed in the dog's televised playtime that he didn't hear the squeal of the old floorboards as Omi stepped off the last stair and came up behind him.
"What'cha watching?" Omi asked, leaning over the back of the sofa to squint at the television.
Yohji jumped, surprised at hearing his teammate's voice so close beside him.
He started to reply with the standard, "Nothing," when a sudden inspiration hit him.
"I'm watching Ken play soccer," Yohji replied with a chuckle and a snarky grin.
For some reason that he didn't want to dwell on, the idea of Ken as a goofy-looking, overly cheerful dog just seemed fitting, and it struck him as damn funny.
"Uh, that's a dog," Omi commented.
He continued to lean over the back of the sofa, but he shifted sideways enough so that he could give Yohji a rather dubious look. It was clear he thought the older blond had lost his mind.
Before Yohji could reply, the dog's owner tossed the ball in the air. The dog raced beneath it and jumped straight up, head-butting the ball before it hit the ground.
"Oh," Omi said, coming around to slouch onto the sofa next to Yohji, "That does look like Ken. How weird is that?"
"I know," Yohji replied, unable to hold back a snicker. "It's almost enough to make me understand the attraction of soccer."
"Are you kidding? Soccer rules the universe!" Ken's voice sounded out from behind them, eliciting laughter from both Yohji and Omi.
Ken frowned as he hit the last step, making sure he stomped on the squeaky floorboard. The old wood squealed under his foot, loud enough to drown out his companions' snickering. He stopped behind the sofa, as Omi had earlier, and leaned over its back.
"What the hell're you guys watching, anyhow?" Ken asked, frowning at the screen, where the dog was still engaged in its exuberant display of athletic prowess.
"We're watching you play soccer," Omi replied with a smirk and a teasing wink.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny," Ken said. "That dog doesn't look anything like me."
He reached over and mussed Omi's hair, smiling when his friend hissed in irritation and slapped his hand away. Ken was still snickering as he climbed over the back of the sofa to settle down in between Omi and Yohji, forcing both of his teammates to move aside, with much grumbling, in order to accommodate him. Ken felt something poking him from beneath the cushions, and he grunted as he shifted aside and probed around, looking for the object of his irritation. After a couple of seconds, he came up with the remote control, which he tossed onto the side table at Omi's end of the sofa. He put his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the battered cushions, echoing Yohji's relaxed, lazy posture.
The three of them watched in silence for a while. Each man was engrossed in the scenes on the TV and lost in his own thoughts. The house around them was quiet, except for the sounds of the television and the drumming of rain against the window panes at the far end of the room. It was a companionable, homey sort of scene. They were all content for the moment; they were warm and dry; they were out of the weather; they knew they wouldn't have to go out and kill anyone tonight, which, in turn, meant they would all be safe and sound once morning rolled around again. In their line of work, that type of knowledge meant everything.
Yohji glanced sideways at his two companions, using his peripheral vision to look at their profiles out of the corner of his eye. The room was semi-dark, because of the gray day outside, and the light from the television played across their faces. Somehow, it made them look a lot younger. Yohji wasn't sure why, but seeing them like that made him a little sad. Perhaps it was the weather, but he felt a slight melancholy descend over him. It was a strange, bittersweet feeling. Not really sad, but, yet, not happy, either. Kind of in between, in a way.
In that second, Yohji realized this was one of those moments in which you can live a whole life. It was the kind of moment in time that passes by so quietly, you never hear it come, and you never realize it has gone. But, once it's gone, you feel empty and alone, and you know you'll spend the rest of your life just trying to get back to this place, to these feelings, to this one, small moment in time. For a few fleeting seconds, he wished he could stop time right here, just so nothing would ever change. Just so he could be like this with people that he cared about. Just so he would never have to grieve over losing anyone else. Just so he would know they were all here, all accounted for, and all safe and sound.
The sound of Ken's laughter jerked Yohji away from his thoughts and back to the present, where the golden moment had ended. A poignant, bittersweet feeling welled up inside him. Maybe it was regret more than sadness, although Yohji couldn't help thinking that was a little bit selfish of him. Whatever the feeling, he pushed it aside without dwelling on it too much. He had a strong sense that he could get mired down into more negative stuff than he could wade out of, if he allowed himself to linger there.
He turned his attention back to the television. The scene had changed to a video of a huge iguana. It was greenish-gray with a row of sharp-looking spines running down its back, and, even with the video's poor quality, Yohji would have guessed it was at least four or five feet long, counting its tail. The camera followed as it lumbered along what looked like a garden path. Its movements were slow and deliberate, and, every few paces, it stopped and stared at the camera.
"It's Yohji!" Ken blurted out, in between bouts of snickering like a loon.
Yohji glared at Ken. The dog was one thing. It really had looked like his soccer-loving teammate. At least, Yohji thought so. But, this was going too far. Besides, there was no way that lizard even remotely resembled him. If he was going to look like an animal, he was sure it would be something studly -- something with good hair, at least. He intensified his glare when Omi, who was unable so speak through his fits of laughter, nodded in agreement.
"You've gotta be freaking kidding me!" Yohji snapped. "No way that lizard looks anything like me."
"You look just like that -- in the mornings before you've had your coffee," Omi said, managing to bring his snickering under control long enough to utter the words.
Yohji continued to glare at his two companions. Yes, the dog had been funny. But, this was NOT. Not when it was his honor on the line, after all.
"You guys are out of your freaking min…"
Yohji's voice trailed off as he stared at the screen. The iguana, which had been lumbering along the pathway all this time, stopped to investigate something. It bent down and nosed at a small object on the side of the path. When it looked back up at the camera, it held a smoldering cigarette in its mouth, and Yohji could have sworn he was seeing a look of smug reptilian satisfaction. It reminded him of … well, himself.
"Nevermind," Yohji said, with a sigh.
He shot one last glare at Omi and Ken when they burst into a fresh fit of giggles. Sure, he had just been wishing he could freeze time and capture this moment forever, but, now, all he wanted to do was beat the ever-loving crap out of his two laughing teammates. Yohji figured that's what he deserved, for allowing himself to dwell on those types of feelings. It was better to live in the moment, without thinking things through too much -- especially if you were Weiss, which meant everything in your life could change in a moment's time.
The picture on the television screen changed once more. This time, the video showed a raccoon sitting outside a patio door. The animal was large, furry, deceptively cute, and seemed entranced by a ray of sunlight glinting off of some shiny object just inside the door. After a few moments of rapt staring, the raccoon went into action. It felt along the bottom and side of the door, checking for an opening. Finding none, it reared up on its hind legs, reaching for the door knob. At first, it seemed like all hope was lost for the furry critter; he was too short. The raccoon sat back on its haunches for a few seconds, sizing up the situation, before scampering off camera. The camera continued to watch the patio door, but Yohji, Omi, and Ken could hear scraping sounds. In a minute or two, the raccoon was back, pushing a medium-sized cardboard box. It shoved the box into place and climbed on top. Now, when it stood on its haunches, it reached the doorknob with ease. The raccoon had to fiddle with things a bit, but, it didn't take long for him to turn the knob and push the door open. He scrambled down from the box and disappeared inside the house. After a brief absence, he returned, clutching his shiny prize -- a dangly gold earring -- in his mouth.
"It's Omi!" Yohji and Ken yelled at the same time.
Both were practically doubled over with laughter.
"Oh, yeah," Yohji managed to choke out, pointing at the TV screen, "Put a keyboard in that raccoon's paws, and you'd have our chibi hacker, for sure. Just look at those problem solving skills!"
Ken nodded his agreement, "Not to mention the whole hoarding thing. Have you seen how many comic books Omi keeps stashed under his bed and in his closet?"
Yohji gave Ken an eyebrows-raised, questioning look.
"And, just what were you doing looking under Omi's bed?" he asked.
Ken blushed and muttered, "Shut up," as he looked away.
Omi waited until his teammates' laughter had dried up a bit. He could tell they were expecting some kind of negative reaction out of him, but he was determined not to play along with their game. Besides, there were worse things to be compared to than a raccoon -- a really smart, resourceful, cute raccoon.
Omi shrugged, "Doesn't bother me. It's not so bad being smart, resourceful, and cute as heck."
"Yeah, but raccoons can be pretty vicious, too," Ken commented.
Omi shrugged again.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he replied.
Yohji sighed and shook his head.
"Damn, kid … you're no fun. No fun at all," he muttered, almost under his breath.
Omi laughed as he said, "That's the point, right?"
Ken's voice cut off any response Yohji might have made.
"Look! Kitties!" he exclaimed, pointing at the television screen.
Yohji blew a stream of smoke in Ken's general direction as he eyed the excitable jock with a dubious expression.
"Tell me again how old you're supposed to be? Like, three? Four?" Yohji sneered.
"What're you talking about?" Ken asked, his expression that of innocence personified and his tone indicating he had no idea what Yohji meant.
"Please tell me you're fucking kidding," Yohji replied, with a shake of his head.
"What?" Ken asked, his tone becoming a bit more strident as irritation got the better of him.
"Ken," Omi supplied, "No grown man should ever use the term "kitties". It's just so … so …"
"Ridiculous," Yohji offered.
Omi shrugged in silent assent.
"Screw you," Ken retorted. "I can say "kitty" if I want to."
"And, we can make fun of you for it," Yohji replied, laughing as Ken directed an obscene gesture his way.
"Oh, wait," Omi cut in, "This cat kind of reminds me of someone."
Yohji and Ken forgot their bickering and looked back at the TV. It seemed like the show had switched to some kind of video footage of a couple of guys who were trying to see how big of a fish cats can carry. The two guys set up a small, wooden platform near some overgrown bushes and grass -- an area known to have a large population of feral cats. As they worked, the camera panned over to the bushes and caught a shot of one of the resident felines. It was reddish-orange and rather scruffy in appearance. Its face was marked with battle scars, and it was missing the top half of its left ear, giving it a rather lop-sided appearance. It wore a grumpy expression on its face -- a look that would easily pass for "cat rage". As the shot panned in on it, its eyes narrowed ever so slightly as it hissed at the camera. The two guys finished setting up the platform, deposited a large fish onto it, and went out of the shot. The sounds of rustling bushes indicated they were hiding in the nearby undergrowth. For several long minutes, there was complete silence as the guys waited to see if any cats would come out to retrieve the fish. Finally, the grumpy-looking orange cat sauntered out of its hiding place. It crouched over the fish, sniffing the dorsal fin and prodding at the fish's side. Then, it looked right at the camera, gave another eyes-narrowed hiss, turned around, and sauntered off in the opposite direction.
"Holy crap, it's Aya!"
Yohji, Omi, and Ken screamed out the words at almost the same time, immediately dissolving into the kind of uncontrollable laughter that makes your sides ache. Each of them struggled to say something else, and each failed. They could do nothing more than point at the television screen, helpless with laughter and unable to speak.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Yohji, Omi, and Ken jumped as Aya's deep voice boomed out from behind them. As one, they turned around to regard him with guilty expressions on their faces. Ken looked away, blushing in shame. Omi snickered and gave a half-hearted wave of greeting, which Aya returned with a perplexed-looking stare. Yohji choked off a final, nervous-sounding laugh and cleared his throat.
"Uh, sleep well?" he asked, lifting up his sunglasses to swipe at the tears that had gathered in his eyes during his laughing fit.
Aya didn't reply, other than to give the older man an eyebrows-raised look that indicated he wasn't going to be sidetracked off his earlier question -- and he wanted an answer.
"So, how long've you been standing there, anyhow?" Omi asked.
His voice was nervous and uncertain, as if he had been caught doing something wrong, and he cringed at the sound of it. It wasn't like they had done anything wrong … or, really, even that mean. Sure, they were making fun of Aya, but no one else had been exempt from their impromptu little game. Why should he feel so guilty over the thought of Aya catching them making fun of him? It hadn't mattered to Yohji or Ken, so why would it matter to Aya? It was nothing, right? Just a little teasing between friends.
Except, Omi couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, it did matter. Maybe it was because Aya tried so hard to keep everyone at a safe distance -- something that made him seem strong and invincible, but, at the same time, also made him seem vulnerable. It didn't make any sense, and Omi didn't take the time to try and puzzle through it right then, either. It didn't matter why he felt this way. He just did. He was afraid they had hurt Aya's feelings, and, for some reason, Omi found that mattered to him. It mattered a lot. And, from the shame-faced expressions both Yohji and Ken wore, he guessed it mattered to them, too.
"Not long," Aya replied. He paused for a fraction of a second before repeating his earlier question, "What're you doing?"
Yohji cleared his throat as he said, "Uh, we're watching TV. Some nature channel."
"Why?" Aya asked.
"It's educational," Omi replied, his words coming so quickly that they almost sounded like the truth, instead of a convenient excuse.
Aya's expression indicated, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't convinced.
"Eh, screw it," Yohji muttered. He sighed and, with a sheepish-sounding laugh, said, "It's the only thing on. None of the other channels work. I guess we forgot to pay the cable bill this month."
"Oh, crap!" Ken exclaimed, cutting off Aya's reply. He slapped his right fist into the palm of his left hand as he continued, "I knew I forgot to do something!"
Aya glared at Ken, prompting Yohji to comment, "It's no big deal, though. I mean, sure, we only have one channel … but it is educational." He waved his hand in the general direction of the television, as if to add emphasis to his statement.
Aya followed Yohji's casual gesture and frowned at the TV. The scene had changed again -- this time to a video of a group of monkeys in a rainforest. As Aya watched, one of the monkeys grabbed a large piece of fruit and bashed another monkey over the head with it.
Aya sighed -- a world-weary, resigned sort of noise -- and shook his head in disbelief as he replied, "Yeah, I can see that. Very. Educational."
He wasn't quite able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he grabbed the remote from the side table and clicked the television off. He tossed the remote back down and turned to walk away, heading toward the kitchen.
"So, where 'ya going, anyhow?" Yohji called after him, when he noticed Aya carrying his favorite pair of boots in one hand and his jacket folded neatly over his other arm.
Aya paused in the kitchen doorway.
"Out," he replied, without turning around.
"Cool," Yohji said, uncurling himself from the sofa before Aya could move any farther away. "I'm coming with."
"I don't remember inviting you," Aya said, turning to give Yohji an eyes-narrowed glare.
"I know. I invited myself. Isn't that fun?" Yohji said, returning the glare with his best lady-killer grin.
That smile was usually enough to melt the heart of anyone standing within a several foot radius, but it didn't have the desired effect on Aya.
The younger man shrugged and continued into the kitchen, stopping at the table.
"Then uninvite yourself," he commented, sinking into the nearest chair so that he could pull on his boots. "I don't need a chaperone."
Yohji rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, almost as if he expected someone from Heaven to explain to him why Aya was such a pissy bastard. Any normal, sane person would have been put off by Aya's attitude, but Yohji refused to be deterred. He had already decided Aya wasn't going anywhere without company, whether he liked it or not.
"Look," Yohji snarled, leaning against the doorjamb, "I'm not going to sit here and argue with you, you little shit. I know what you did."
A look of panic flashed through Aya's eyes as he glanced around Yohji and back into the living room, as if trying to see whether Ken and Omi had caught the implications of Yohji's statement. Luckily, his two younger teammates were arguing about who was more at fault over the delinquent cable bill. There was no way they had heard Yohji over their teasing bickering. The last thing he needed was for them to find out he had traded himself for their small bit of vacation time. He would never hear the end of it. It was bad enough Yohji had figured it out.
Aya regained his composure enough to glare at Yohji as he commented, "You shouldn't eavesdrop on people's conversations. It's not healthy." He kept his voice as even as he could, but, even so, there was a slight tremble at the edges of his words.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Yohji replied, waving his hand through the air in front of him -- a dismissive gesture that indicated just how seriously he took Aya's implied threat. "The point is," he continued, "You're not doing those jobs by yourself. I won't tell Omi and Ken. But, I'm not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself so we can have a few stupid days off. It's not worth it. So, I'm your back up, and that's that."
"Look," Aya said, intensifying his glare, "I don't need …"
"It's settled," Yohji said, cutting Aya's sentence off short. "I'm not arguing about it."
Aya sighed. "Fine," he replied.
He finished pulling on his boots and stood up.
"Bring your wallet," he ordered, stomping, first, one foot and, then, the other, to make his pants legs fall into place over the tops of his boots.
"My wallet?" Yohji asked. "What for?"
"If we're gonna play "Me and My Shadow", you're buying me lunch. You owe me that much, just for putting up with you. And, for the cat thing, too," Aya replied, with a slight, teasing smirk.
Yohji couldn't help laughing. He had hoped Aya hadn't seen the cat video, but, all the same, he had had a sneaking suspicion Aya had watched the whole thing. He had been a little bit afraid of hurting Aya's feelings with the comparison. He knew Aya pretty well -- maybe better than anyone did -- but, even so, he was never sure how the younger man would take those types of jokes, especially when he was as tired and stressed out as the past month had made all of them. Now, though, he realized he shouldn't have worried so much. It might be hard for anyone else to see it, but he could tell Aya had found the whole thing amusing. Plus, it had given him a chance to bust Omi's and Ken's chops. Yohji knew Aya had gotten a kick out of that. He could see it in the younger man's eyes.
"You know," Yohji commented, as he crossed the kitchen to pull on his own shoes, which were waiting by the door, "That cat really did look like you. And, it had the attitude down, too. Seriously. If you died and came back as a cat -- you would be that one."
As he pulled the door open and stepped through it into the gray, rainy day, Aya turned around to give Yohji a wicked grin … and hissed -- a perfect imitation of the cat they had just seen on the nature channel.
Yohji's laughter seemed to hang in the air behind him as he followed Aya outside, pulling the door closed with a decisive-sounding thud.
In the living room, Omi and Ken stared at each other with shocked, dumfounded expressions. They had stopped bickering just in time to hear Aya's parting hiss, which confirmed that he had, indeed, seen the cat video and heard them comparing him to the disgruntled feline. At the worst, they might have expected Aya to throw the mother of all temper tantrums, or, maybe, that he would have remained silent because they had hurt his feelings. They never would have expected Aya to make a joke out of the whole thing. Maybe they had imagined it.
"Did … Aya just make a joke?" Omi asked Ken, his voice a bit hesitant and uncertain, as if he was afraid Ken's response might tip the delicate balance in his world.
"I … I think so," Ken replied.
They stared at each other in silence for another long couple of minutes.
"That was … weird," Omi commented.
Ken nodded his agreement as he said, "I … I think I'd better go pay the cable bill. This nature channel thing can't be good for us."
~End
Warnings: Bad Language.
Summary: What could be more fun than a day off, doing nothing more strenuous than watching TV? Well, nothing -- until a missed cable payment leaves our heroes with nothing to watch except the nature channel. Is it enough to ruin a perfect day off?
Legal Stuff: As always, this story is intended to express one fan's genuine appreciation of Weiss Kreuz and its characters. It is just for fun and not for profit. If you have any rights in the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.
Yohji stretched as he made his way down the stairs, toward the living room. This was going to be a good day; he could already tell. The shop was closed, freeing him from the necessary evil of his "day job". Score one point for today. For once, the apartment had been quiet, and no one had asked him to do anything that morning, which meant he had been able to sleep in until what he considered a decent hour. He checked his watch. Yep -- noon, when the day should start, in Yohji's opinion. Getting up any earlier was barbaric and wrong, on so many levels. Score two points for today. In a moment of stupid, guilt-induced weakness earlier in the week, he had agreed to help Ken this afternoon -- something about an extra soccer practice for his little league team and needing someone to chauffer kids and pick up drinks and snacks. Yohji had no idea why he had offered to help; maybe he had been drunk at the time. Whatever the reason for his unexpected largesse, he had been dreading it all week. Two hours spent outside, watching a bunch of kids run around like maniacs -- not Yohji Kudou's idea of a good time. Lady Luck was watching over him, though; the day had dawned gray and rainy. He knew Ken would have to cancel practice. Oh yeah, score one more point for today. Add it all up, and you had one bang-up, damn fine day on your hands. Maybe, even one for the record books.
It was about time for it, too. Things had been tough the past several weeks. Kritiker had been pushing them to the breaking point and beyond -- five missions in, roughly, a month's time. It didn't sound like much, but they had gotten almost no background information on any of the jobs, which had added up to a lot of hours spent doing research and gathering intelligence. Because of their crazy schedule, they had had to run each mission on a tight timetable. It had meant long strings of sleepless nights spent in planning and surveillance, leading up to the brief adrenaline rush accompanying the kill, only to fight off the fatigue that always came with a mission's conclusion so they could start from the beginning on the next job. No breaks. No down time. They were all exhausted. Their nerves were starting to fray under the strain and pressure that came with the constant need to remain at the top of their game, mentally and physically.
Even Aya and Omi, the workhorses of the team, were starting to wear down under the stress. Omi had skipped school so often during the past month that Aya had had to go to the principal's office to offer an explanation. Yohji couldn't help chuckling under his breath as he imagined that meeting. They all thought it ridiculous that Omi needed a "guardian" for school purposes; Omi had been living on his own since an early age, and he had been working as an assassin longer than any of them. Plus, Omi was more responsible than most people. Heck, Yohji freely admitted Omi was a lot more responsible than he was; he figured stuff like that should count for more than chronological age. But, school administrators tended to be a short-sighted lot, from what Yohji had seen through his own personal experiences, which meant they would insist on a guardian, no matter how silly and pointless it was. Normally, it wasn't a big deal, having to act as Omi's "guardian". It wasn't like he got into a lot of trouble at school or anything. But, on those rare occasions when there was a problem, Aya always ended up sitting through a long lecture about Omi's future and how they should safeguard it. As if any of them had a future, anyhow. Aya wasn't the most pleasant person to deal with, even on normal days; Yohji couldn't imagine what a disaster the conference must have been this time, with Aya suffering from the grumbly version of "spaced out" that sleep deprivation caused. Yohji laughed again as he got a very vivid mental picture of Aya, sitting across from the principal's desk, glaring and saying nothing -- for two hours. What a fun time that must have been -- not.
Yohji paused to light a cigarette, frowning as he thought about Aya. From what he had seen, Aya was more strung-out tired than the rest of them put together. Omi was the team's intel officer, but Aya was their field leader, which meant a lot of the load fell on his shoulders when it came to setting up the mission parameters. Plus, Aya went beyond anal-retentive with mission preparation. He would study and plan out every possible outcome and set-back, just to make sure the rest of the team came through each job alive. It was one reason they trusted him like they did, but it also meant a lot of late nights. And, instead of begging off of his flower shop duties, he had been pulling double shifts in order to let Omi get some extra sleep and to give him time to make some attempt at keeping up with his schoolwork.
As near as Yohji could figure, Aya had been running on, maybe, four hours of sleep a night for the past month. It wasn't like he was keeping track, Yohji told himself. He couldn't care less how much sleep Aya was getting each night. It wasn't any of his business. In spite of the mental chiding, Yohji couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable over the realization that he knew, almost to the minute, how much sleep Aya had been getting. If he allowed himself, he could probably list the times when the younger man had gone to bed and gotten up, too … not to mention the shifts he had worked in the flower shop. Yohji started to wonder what that might mean, but he shook his head, forcing the thoughts from his mind. It didn't mean anything. He only noticed because they were teammates, nothing more. The little voice in the back of his subconscious whispered at him, reminding him he never paid attention to Omi or Ken this way. Yohji frowned -- an eyes-narrowed, irritated expression -- and told his little voice to stuff it. It didn't matter why he kept track of Aya. He just did, and it was a good thing, too, considering how piss-poor the younger man was at taking care of himself.
Yohji pulled his wandering thoughts back to the problem at hand. Aya hid his exhaustion well, but, in the past couple of days, Yohji had caught him doing some very un-Aya-like things. The day before yesterday, he had watched as Aya zoned out while watering the plants in the shop, drowning two bushes and some kind of flowery-looking pot plant. After that fiasco, Yohji had taken the hose away from him, sending him to the back room to work on filling the day's orders. Twenty minutes later, he had gone back to check on him, only to find Aya slumped over the work table, asleep. He remembered thinking he should cart Aya upstairs. After all, it would have been better for Aya to sleep in his own bed. In the end, though, he hadn't had the heart to do it. It had resulted in a day's worth of delayed orders, as no one else could use the table with Aya sleeping there, but neither Ken nor Omi had complained. They had avoided the back room, giving Aya a few hours of peace and quiet. For his part, Yohji had taken the sales receipts and called each customer, explaining that their order would be unavoidably delayed and offering either a refund or a sizeable discount on a future purchase. Once Aya figured out what he had done, Yohji knew he was in for an earful of bitching, but what the hell did he care? It's not like they were running this shop to make money, anyhow. He had expected for all kinds of shit to hit the proverbial fan that night, when Aya had gone over the books. But, if he had noticed the promised discounts and delayed orders, he hadn't said anything -- and that wasn't like Aya, either.
Last night, their mission had gone off without a hitch, and they had managed to make it home before midnight -- early for them. Yohji had a vivid memory of all four of them dragging their tired, aching bodies up the outside stairs leading to the kitchen door, only to find a package waiting for them. It was disguised as a regular mail pouch, but the markings were unmistakable -- a message from Kritiker, which meant another job.
While the rest of them had griped and cursed about Kritiker, Aya had said nothing. He had picked up the mission file and followed them into the house. About halfway up the stairs, Yohji had turned around to tell Aya something, thinking the younger man was right behind him. But he hadn't been, which had prompted Yohji to head back to the kitchen, believing Aya had stopped to review the new file. Yohji had expected to rip Aya a new one for pushing himself so hard. Instead, he had pulled up short, just outside the kitchen door, when he had heard Aya dialing the phone. It had been a short conversation, and Yohji had only heard one side of it. But, it had been enough for him to realize Aya had called Manx to demand some much-needed time off for the team. And, he knew Aya had paid for their down time -- by agreeing to take on three solo missions.
Yohji remembered feeling surprised, although, once he thought about it, he couldn't figure out why. After all, everything from Kritiker had a price attached to it. Yohji had turned around and headed back upstairs without saying anything. A few minutes later, he had heard Aya stop off at Omi's and Ken's rooms, to tell them the new mission had been cancelled. He remembered how overjoyed his two teammates had been. But, when Aya had stopped by to tell him the same news, Yohji hadn't been able to summon up any reaction. The idea that Aya had had to pay such a high price for their days off left him feeling cold, right down to his soul. He knew Omi and Ken had no idea. If they had even suspected the truth, Yohji knew they would have refused the time off, just as he would have, given the choice.
Whatever. They hadn't been given a choice in the matter, so there wasn't any use bitching about it after the fact. Besides, now that he knew what was going on, there wasn't any way he was letting Aya do any of those missions by himself. He didn't care if he had to follow the younger man all over town for weeks; if that was what it took, then so be it. Until those missions were done, he was Aya's unofficial shadow, and that was that.
In the meantime, Yohji intended to make the best of his unexpected break. He already had a day of sloth-like activities planned. He had checked the cable listings before coming downstairs, and had discovered several of his favorite movies playing, so he intended to commandeer their sofa and television for the duration. If he was lucky, he could talk Omi into fetching him snacks and beer so he wouldn't have to move off the couch for the rest of the day. It was a simple plan, but, after the hellish month they had had, a day playing couch potato seemed about as close to perfect as you could get.
And, for the moment, he didn't have to worry about Aya. He had peeked into the younger man's room on his way downstairs, and Aya was very much asleep. The phrase "dead to the world" popped into his mind, but Yohji pushed it aside. He didn't like the idea of the words "dead" and "Aya" in the same sentence. Call it superstition or whatever you wanted, but it gave him the creeps. He shuddered and flicked some ash from the end of his cigarette over the banister and onto the carpet below, shoving all thoughts of Aya and the three extra solo missions out of his mind. Sure, he might have to worry about that stuff later on, but, right now, he wasn't going to let it ruin his day off. Kritiker already had a stranglehold on enough of his time. They didn't need any more.
Yohji yawned as he stepped over the last stair, careful to avoid it because it squeaked. A few more long strides brought him to his destination, and, with a grateful sigh, he sank onto the battered sofa. His hand traveled down between the cushions in search of the remote -- not a conscious movement on his part, just something he did without thinking about it. After all, that was where the remote stayed, most of the time.
Oh yeah, now this was the life of leisure he deserved to be living on a more regular basis. No demands on his time. No missions to plan. Nothing to do, except relax and watch some great movies on the boob tube. Yohji grabbed the TV schedule off the coffee table, double-checked the times and channels, leaned back, and clicked the remote's "ON" button.
And … nothing happened. The TV came on, but the screen was black, except for a little message at the bottom informing him the channel was not available for his viewing pleasure and apologizing for any inconvenience this might cause.
"… the Hell?" Yohji muttered, frowning at the television.
Maybe he had gotten the channel wrong. Yohji checked the schedule again, and shook his head as he confirmed he did, indeed, have the correct information. He glared at the television, as if an angry look from him would be enough to make his show appear. But, of course, nothing happened. The hated "this channel unavailable" message continued to blink at him from the darkened screen. It was like Fate was mocking him.
Yohji shook the remote control and tried another channel. Same result -- black screen with the "unavailable" message of doom blinking at him.
He glared at the television again, and banged the remote on the sofa's arm before trying another channel. Still nothing. With a snarl of frustration, Yohji clicked through every station, only to find the same dark screen and irritating message each and every time. Except one. At the tail end of his channel surfing, he managed to locate one working station -- a nature channel.
Yohji leaned backward, so that his head hung just a bit over the back of the sofa, and stared at the ceiling. Maybe he expected some kind of revelation to descend upon him from the heavens to explain why things had to work out this way. Or, maybe, he just wanted the answer to that age-old question: "Why me?" But, whatever answers he had expected didn't manifest themselves. All he saw was cracked, yellowing plaster and a couple of cobwebs.
How the hell could this happen? Wasn't there some kind of universal law about this stuff? Not the law that says "Anything that goes wrong will happen on Yohji Kudou's day off" … but a kinder, gentler law -- one that would allow him to sit on the sofa like a slug for an entire day of movie-viewing fun, one that would let him enjoy something, for once. It was almost too much to take. Somewhere, in the rational part of his brain, Yohji knew he was being melodramatic. This was no big deal; it was just one of those things, and he should roll with the punches life handed him.
Screw that.
Yohji told that part of his brain to shut the hell up and followed his heart, instead. And, his heart told him this was a big deal. A very big deal, bordering on catastrophic. Oh, sure, it wasn't like a typhoon had decimated a small island or anything. But, it was right up there. Maybe somewhere between "Bubonic Plague" and "Running out of Cigarettes After The Store Closed".
Yohji sighed -- a tired, resigned sort of sound. Well, whatever. He wasn't going to let this ruin his perfect day off. Scratch that. His almost perfect day off. He shrugged and tossed the remote to one side, where it slid back between the cushions. He shifted around until he was slouched down so that it looked like he and the battered piece of furniture had melded together to form one entity. He put his feet up on the coffee table and settled in for a day of slothful TV viewing. It might not be the movies he had planned on watching, but, heck, it was still television, right?
The commercial ended, and some kind of animal home video show came on. After the opening credits and theme song, there was a video of a big, hairy, black and white dog chasing a soccer ball around a field. The dog bumped the ball with its nose; it batted at the ball with its paws; it tossed the ball in the air and raced after it, at top speed. The animal played with gusto and seemed mindlessly happy, as if it lived for nothing more than being out there, under a blue sky and chasing a ball around a field.
Against his will, Yohji began to enjoy watching it. He didn't want to. He wanted to sit here and grumble, albeit mentally, about his awful luck in only being able to watch the nature channel. He wanted to fume and pout about missing the movies he had planned on seeing. But, the dog's happiness was infectious, almost as if it reached through the television screen and slapped down Yohji's pissy mood. After about ten minutes, he wasn't watching the show because it was the only thing on; he was watching it because he wanted to, not that he would ever admit that out loud -- to anyone.
He was so engrossed in the dog's televised playtime that he didn't hear the squeal of the old floorboards as Omi stepped off the last stair and came up behind him.
"What'cha watching?" Omi asked, leaning over the back of the sofa to squint at the television.
Yohji jumped, surprised at hearing his teammate's voice so close beside him.
He started to reply with the standard, "Nothing," when a sudden inspiration hit him.
"I'm watching Ken play soccer," Yohji replied with a chuckle and a snarky grin.
For some reason that he didn't want to dwell on, the idea of Ken as a goofy-looking, overly cheerful dog just seemed fitting, and it struck him as damn funny.
"Uh, that's a dog," Omi commented.
He continued to lean over the back of the sofa, but he shifted sideways enough so that he could give Yohji a rather dubious look. It was clear he thought the older blond had lost his mind.
Before Yohji could reply, the dog's owner tossed the ball in the air. The dog raced beneath it and jumped straight up, head-butting the ball before it hit the ground.
"Oh," Omi said, coming around to slouch onto the sofa next to Yohji, "That does look like Ken. How weird is that?"
"I know," Yohji replied, unable to hold back a snicker. "It's almost enough to make me understand the attraction of soccer."
"Are you kidding? Soccer rules the universe!" Ken's voice sounded out from behind them, eliciting laughter from both Yohji and Omi.
Ken frowned as he hit the last step, making sure he stomped on the squeaky floorboard. The old wood squealed under his foot, loud enough to drown out his companions' snickering. He stopped behind the sofa, as Omi had earlier, and leaned over its back.
"What the hell're you guys watching, anyhow?" Ken asked, frowning at the screen, where the dog was still engaged in its exuberant display of athletic prowess.
"We're watching you play soccer," Omi replied with a smirk and a teasing wink.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny," Ken said. "That dog doesn't look anything like me."
He reached over and mussed Omi's hair, smiling when his friend hissed in irritation and slapped his hand away. Ken was still snickering as he climbed over the back of the sofa to settle down in between Omi and Yohji, forcing both of his teammates to move aside, with much grumbling, in order to accommodate him. Ken felt something poking him from beneath the cushions, and he grunted as he shifted aside and probed around, looking for the object of his irritation. After a couple of seconds, he came up with the remote control, which he tossed onto the side table at Omi's end of the sofa. He put his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the battered cushions, echoing Yohji's relaxed, lazy posture.
The three of them watched in silence for a while. Each man was engrossed in the scenes on the TV and lost in his own thoughts. The house around them was quiet, except for the sounds of the television and the drumming of rain against the window panes at the far end of the room. It was a companionable, homey sort of scene. They were all content for the moment; they were warm and dry; they were out of the weather; they knew they wouldn't have to go out and kill anyone tonight, which, in turn, meant they would all be safe and sound once morning rolled around again. In their line of work, that type of knowledge meant everything.
Yohji glanced sideways at his two companions, using his peripheral vision to look at their profiles out of the corner of his eye. The room was semi-dark, because of the gray day outside, and the light from the television played across their faces. Somehow, it made them look a lot younger. Yohji wasn't sure why, but seeing them like that made him a little sad. Perhaps it was the weather, but he felt a slight melancholy descend over him. It was a strange, bittersweet feeling. Not really sad, but, yet, not happy, either. Kind of in between, in a way.
In that second, Yohji realized this was one of those moments in which you can live a whole life. It was the kind of moment in time that passes by so quietly, you never hear it come, and you never realize it has gone. But, once it's gone, you feel empty and alone, and you know you'll spend the rest of your life just trying to get back to this place, to these feelings, to this one, small moment in time. For a few fleeting seconds, he wished he could stop time right here, just so nothing would ever change. Just so he could be like this with people that he cared about. Just so he would never have to grieve over losing anyone else. Just so he would know they were all here, all accounted for, and all safe and sound.
The sound of Ken's laughter jerked Yohji away from his thoughts and back to the present, where the golden moment had ended. A poignant, bittersweet feeling welled up inside him. Maybe it was regret more than sadness, although Yohji couldn't help thinking that was a little bit selfish of him. Whatever the feeling, he pushed it aside without dwelling on it too much. He had a strong sense that he could get mired down into more negative stuff than he could wade out of, if he allowed himself to linger there.
He turned his attention back to the television. The scene had changed to a video of a huge iguana. It was greenish-gray with a row of sharp-looking spines running down its back, and, even with the video's poor quality, Yohji would have guessed it was at least four or five feet long, counting its tail. The camera followed as it lumbered along what looked like a garden path. Its movements were slow and deliberate, and, every few paces, it stopped and stared at the camera.
"It's Yohji!" Ken blurted out, in between bouts of snickering like a loon.
Yohji glared at Ken. The dog was one thing. It really had looked like his soccer-loving teammate. At least, Yohji thought so. But, this was going too far. Besides, there was no way that lizard even remotely resembled him. If he was going to look like an animal, he was sure it would be something studly -- something with good hair, at least. He intensified his glare when Omi, who was unable so speak through his fits of laughter, nodded in agreement.
"You've gotta be freaking kidding me!" Yohji snapped. "No way that lizard looks anything like me."
"You look just like that -- in the mornings before you've had your coffee," Omi said, managing to bring his snickering under control long enough to utter the words.
Yohji continued to glare at his two companions. Yes, the dog had been funny. But, this was NOT. Not when it was his honor on the line, after all.
"You guys are out of your freaking min…"
Yohji's voice trailed off as he stared at the screen. The iguana, which had been lumbering along the pathway all this time, stopped to investigate something. It bent down and nosed at a small object on the side of the path. When it looked back up at the camera, it held a smoldering cigarette in its mouth, and Yohji could have sworn he was seeing a look of smug reptilian satisfaction. It reminded him of … well, himself.
"Nevermind," Yohji said, with a sigh.
He shot one last glare at Omi and Ken when they burst into a fresh fit of giggles. Sure, he had just been wishing he could freeze time and capture this moment forever, but, now, all he wanted to do was beat the ever-loving crap out of his two laughing teammates. Yohji figured that's what he deserved, for allowing himself to dwell on those types of feelings. It was better to live in the moment, without thinking things through too much -- especially if you were Weiss, which meant everything in your life could change in a moment's time.
The picture on the television screen changed once more. This time, the video showed a raccoon sitting outside a patio door. The animal was large, furry, deceptively cute, and seemed entranced by a ray of sunlight glinting off of some shiny object just inside the door. After a few moments of rapt staring, the raccoon went into action. It felt along the bottom and side of the door, checking for an opening. Finding none, it reared up on its hind legs, reaching for the door knob. At first, it seemed like all hope was lost for the furry critter; he was too short. The raccoon sat back on its haunches for a few seconds, sizing up the situation, before scampering off camera. The camera continued to watch the patio door, but Yohji, Omi, and Ken could hear scraping sounds. In a minute or two, the raccoon was back, pushing a medium-sized cardboard box. It shoved the box into place and climbed on top. Now, when it stood on its haunches, it reached the doorknob with ease. The raccoon had to fiddle with things a bit, but, it didn't take long for him to turn the knob and push the door open. He scrambled down from the box and disappeared inside the house. After a brief absence, he returned, clutching his shiny prize -- a dangly gold earring -- in his mouth.
"It's Omi!" Yohji and Ken yelled at the same time.
Both were practically doubled over with laughter.
"Oh, yeah," Yohji managed to choke out, pointing at the TV screen, "Put a keyboard in that raccoon's paws, and you'd have our chibi hacker, for sure. Just look at those problem solving skills!"
Ken nodded his agreement, "Not to mention the whole hoarding thing. Have you seen how many comic books Omi keeps stashed under his bed and in his closet?"
Yohji gave Ken an eyebrows-raised, questioning look.
"And, just what were you doing looking under Omi's bed?" he asked.
Ken blushed and muttered, "Shut up," as he looked away.
Omi waited until his teammates' laughter had dried up a bit. He could tell they were expecting some kind of negative reaction out of him, but he was determined not to play along with their game. Besides, there were worse things to be compared to than a raccoon -- a really smart, resourceful, cute raccoon.
Omi shrugged, "Doesn't bother me. It's not so bad being smart, resourceful, and cute as heck."
"Yeah, but raccoons can be pretty vicious, too," Ken commented.
Omi shrugged again.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," he replied.
Yohji sighed and shook his head.
"Damn, kid … you're no fun. No fun at all," he muttered, almost under his breath.
Omi laughed as he said, "That's the point, right?"
Ken's voice cut off any response Yohji might have made.
"Look! Kitties!" he exclaimed, pointing at the television screen.
Yohji blew a stream of smoke in Ken's general direction as he eyed the excitable jock with a dubious expression.
"Tell me again how old you're supposed to be? Like, three? Four?" Yohji sneered.
"What're you talking about?" Ken asked, his expression that of innocence personified and his tone indicating he had no idea what Yohji meant.
"Please tell me you're fucking kidding," Yohji replied, with a shake of his head.
"What?" Ken asked, his tone becoming a bit more strident as irritation got the better of him.
"Ken," Omi supplied, "No grown man should ever use the term "kitties". It's just so … so …"
"Ridiculous," Yohji offered.
Omi shrugged in silent assent.
"Screw you," Ken retorted. "I can say "kitty" if I want to."
"And, we can make fun of you for it," Yohji replied, laughing as Ken directed an obscene gesture his way.
"Oh, wait," Omi cut in, "This cat kind of reminds me of someone."
Yohji and Ken forgot their bickering and looked back at the TV. It seemed like the show had switched to some kind of video footage of a couple of guys who were trying to see how big of a fish cats can carry. The two guys set up a small, wooden platform near some overgrown bushes and grass -- an area known to have a large population of feral cats. As they worked, the camera panned over to the bushes and caught a shot of one of the resident felines. It was reddish-orange and rather scruffy in appearance. Its face was marked with battle scars, and it was missing the top half of its left ear, giving it a rather lop-sided appearance. It wore a grumpy expression on its face -- a look that would easily pass for "cat rage". As the shot panned in on it, its eyes narrowed ever so slightly as it hissed at the camera. The two guys finished setting up the platform, deposited a large fish onto it, and went out of the shot. The sounds of rustling bushes indicated they were hiding in the nearby undergrowth. For several long minutes, there was complete silence as the guys waited to see if any cats would come out to retrieve the fish. Finally, the grumpy-looking orange cat sauntered out of its hiding place. It crouched over the fish, sniffing the dorsal fin and prodding at the fish's side. Then, it looked right at the camera, gave another eyes-narrowed hiss, turned around, and sauntered off in the opposite direction.
"Holy crap, it's Aya!"
Yohji, Omi, and Ken screamed out the words at almost the same time, immediately dissolving into the kind of uncontrollable laughter that makes your sides ache. Each of them struggled to say something else, and each failed. They could do nothing more than point at the television screen, helpless with laughter and unable to speak.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Yohji, Omi, and Ken jumped as Aya's deep voice boomed out from behind them. As one, they turned around to regard him with guilty expressions on their faces. Ken looked away, blushing in shame. Omi snickered and gave a half-hearted wave of greeting, which Aya returned with a perplexed-looking stare. Yohji choked off a final, nervous-sounding laugh and cleared his throat.
"Uh, sleep well?" he asked, lifting up his sunglasses to swipe at the tears that had gathered in his eyes during his laughing fit.
Aya didn't reply, other than to give the older man an eyebrows-raised look that indicated he wasn't going to be sidetracked off his earlier question -- and he wanted an answer.
"So, how long've you been standing there, anyhow?" Omi asked.
His voice was nervous and uncertain, as if he had been caught doing something wrong, and he cringed at the sound of it. It wasn't like they had done anything wrong … or, really, even that mean. Sure, they were making fun of Aya, but no one else had been exempt from their impromptu little game. Why should he feel so guilty over the thought of Aya catching them making fun of him? It hadn't mattered to Yohji or Ken, so why would it matter to Aya? It was nothing, right? Just a little teasing between friends.
Except, Omi couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, it did matter. Maybe it was because Aya tried so hard to keep everyone at a safe distance -- something that made him seem strong and invincible, but, at the same time, also made him seem vulnerable. It didn't make any sense, and Omi didn't take the time to try and puzzle through it right then, either. It didn't matter why he felt this way. He just did. He was afraid they had hurt Aya's feelings, and, for some reason, Omi found that mattered to him. It mattered a lot. And, from the shame-faced expressions both Yohji and Ken wore, he guessed it mattered to them, too.
"Not long," Aya replied. He paused for a fraction of a second before repeating his earlier question, "What're you doing?"
Yohji cleared his throat as he said, "Uh, we're watching TV. Some nature channel."
"Why?" Aya asked.
"It's educational," Omi replied, his words coming so quickly that they almost sounded like the truth, instead of a convenient excuse.
Aya's expression indicated, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't convinced.
"Eh, screw it," Yohji muttered. He sighed and, with a sheepish-sounding laugh, said, "It's the only thing on. None of the other channels work. I guess we forgot to pay the cable bill this month."
"Oh, crap!" Ken exclaimed, cutting off Aya's reply. He slapped his right fist into the palm of his left hand as he continued, "I knew I forgot to do something!"
Aya glared at Ken, prompting Yohji to comment, "It's no big deal, though. I mean, sure, we only have one channel … but it is educational." He waved his hand in the general direction of the television, as if to add emphasis to his statement.
Aya followed Yohji's casual gesture and frowned at the TV. The scene had changed again -- this time to a video of a group of monkeys in a rainforest. As Aya watched, one of the monkeys grabbed a large piece of fruit and bashed another monkey over the head with it.
Aya sighed -- a world-weary, resigned sort of noise -- and shook his head in disbelief as he replied, "Yeah, I can see that. Very. Educational."
He wasn't quite able to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he grabbed the remote from the side table and clicked the television off. He tossed the remote back down and turned to walk away, heading toward the kitchen.
"So, where 'ya going, anyhow?" Yohji called after him, when he noticed Aya carrying his favorite pair of boots in one hand and his jacket folded neatly over his other arm.
Aya paused in the kitchen doorway.
"Out," he replied, without turning around.
"Cool," Yohji said, uncurling himself from the sofa before Aya could move any farther away. "I'm coming with."
"I don't remember inviting you," Aya said, turning to give Yohji an eyes-narrowed glare.
"I know. I invited myself. Isn't that fun?" Yohji said, returning the glare with his best lady-killer grin.
That smile was usually enough to melt the heart of anyone standing within a several foot radius, but it didn't have the desired effect on Aya.
The younger man shrugged and continued into the kitchen, stopping at the table.
"Then uninvite yourself," he commented, sinking into the nearest chair so that he could pull on his boots. "I don't need a chaperone."
Yohji rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, almost as if he expected someone from Heaven to explain to him why Aya was such a pissy bastard. Any normal, sane person would have been put off by Aya's attitude, but Yohji refused to be deterred. He had already decided Aya wasn't going anywhere without company, whether he liked it or not.
"Look," Yohji snarled, leaning against the doorjamb, "I'm not going to sit here and argue with you, you little shit. I know what you did."
A look of panic flashed through Aya's eyes as he glanced around Yohji and back into the living room, as if trying to see whether Ken and Omi had caught the implications of Yohji's statement. Luckily, his two younger teammates were arguing about who was more at fault over the delinquent cable bill. There was no way they had heard Yohji over their teasing bickering. The last thing he needed was for them to find out he had traded himself for their small bit of vacation time. He would never hear the end of it. It was bad enough Yohji had figured it out.
Aya regained his composure enough to glare at Yohji as he commented, "You shouldn't eavesdrop on people's conversations. It's not healthy." He kept his voice as even as he could, but, even so, there was a slight tremble at the edges of his words.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Yohji replied, waving his hand through the air in front of him -- a dismissive gesture that indicated just how seriously he took Aya's implied threat. "The point is," he continued, "You're not doing those jobs by yourself. I won't tell Omi and Ken. But, I'm not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself so we can have a few stupid days off. It's not worth it. So, I'm your back up, and that's that."
"Look," Aya said, intensifying his glare, "I don't need …"
"It's settled," Yohji said, cutting Aya's sentence off short. "I'm not arguing about it."
Aya sighed. "Fine," he replied.
He finished pulling on his boots and stood up.
"Bring your wallet," he ordered, stomping, first, one foot and, then, the other, to make his pants legs fall into place over the tops of his boots.
"My wallet?" Yohji asked. "What for?"
"If we're gonna play "Me and My Shadow", you're buying me lunch. You owe me that much, just for putting up with you. And, for the cat thing, too," Aya replied, with a slight, teasing smirk.
Yohji couldn't help laughing. He had hoped Aya hadn't seen the cat video, but, all the same, he had had a sneaking suspicion Aya had watched the whole thing. He had been a little bit afraid of hurting Aya's feelings with the comparison. He knew Aya pretty well -- maybe better than anyone did -- but, even so, he was never sure how the younger man would take those types of jokes, especially when he was as tired and stressed out as the past month had made all of them. Now, though, he realized he shouldn't have worried so much. It might be hard for anyone else to see it, but he could tell Aya had found the whole thing amusing. Plus, it had given him a chance to bust Omi's and Ken's chops. Yohji knew Aya had gotten a kick out of that. He could see it in the younger man's eyes.
"You know," Yohji commented, as he crossed the kitchen to pull on his own shoes, which were waiting by the door, "That cat really did look like you. And, it had the attitude down, too. Seriously. If you died and came back as a cat -- you would be that one."
As he pulled the door open and stepped through it into the gray, rainy day, Aya turned around to give Yohji a wicked grin … and hissed -- a perfect imitation of the cat they had just seen on the nature channel.
Yohji's laughter seemed to hang in the air behind him as he followed Aya outside, pulling the door closed with a decisive-sounding thud.
In the living room, Omi and Ken stared at each other with shocked, dumfounded expressions. They had stopped bickering just in time to hear Aya's parting hiss, which confirmed that he had, indeed, seen the cat video and heard them comparing him to the disgruntled feline. At the worst, they might have expected Aya to throw the mother of all temper tantrums, or, maybe, that he would have remained silent because they had hurt his feelings. They never would have expected Aya to make a joke out of the whole thing. Maybe they had imagined it.
"Did … Aya just make a joke?" Omi asked Ken, his voice a bit hesitant and uncertain, as if he was afraid Ken's response might tip the delicate balance in his world.
"I … I think so," Ken replied.
They stared at each other in silence for another long couple of minutes.
"That was … weird," Omi commented.
Ken nodded his agreement as he said, "I … I think I'd better go pay the cable bill. This nature channel thing can't be good for us."
~End