Fanfic Archive: Grocery List
May. 28th, 2009 09:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchan(Written: June, 2007)
Warnings: Bad Language.
Summary: Grocery shopping can strain even the best of friendships. When assassins are involved, it only makes things worse, as Aya and Yohji discover when they stop off to pick up a few things after a hard night's work.
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.
Grocery List
(a wk fanfiction by tex-chan)
"Why the hell didn't you take care of this before we left tonight?" Aya asked, barely managing to conceal the whine behind his words.
He frowned at his partner and, bracing himself against the building behind him, slid down so that he was sitting on the sidewalk. He stifled a groan as he felt the cold wet of the sidewalk through the seat of his pants and the scrape of hard concrete bricks through the back of his trench coat. Leather and concrete didn't mix - a life lesson he had learned through years of hard experience - and he hated to think what he was doing to the coat's back. It was a good bet he was scratching it all to hell and then some, but Aya figured that wasn't such a big deal - not after what the coat had already been through tonight. He fingered a tear in the shoulder, where a bullet had passed through the material, barely missing the flesh and bone beneath. It shouldn't be much of a problem for the leather workers to take care of a few scrapes at the same time they fixed the rest of the coat. Aya had no idea who Kritiker hired to do the work, but he couldn't help thinking whoever it was must have made a fortune off of them, already. Aya was surprised to find that the thought bothered him, just a little. It shouldn't have. He loved this coat, and it usually needed repair after one of Weiss's "outings". Still, the whole idea of it left a bad taste in his mouth - like some stranger was profiting off of him and his sins, but never getting their own hands dirty.
Whatever. Aya shook his head, forcing the stray thoughts from his mind. It didn't make any sense, and he didn't feel like trying to puzzle it out while he was sitting here on this cold, wet sidewalk. It had been a long day, and he was too damn tired for introspection. Instead, he turned his attention back to his partner.
Yohji was standing next to him, not even a foot away, peering in through the locked front doors of the 24-hour grocery store located a few blocks from the Koneko. He looked … well, pathetic. As pathetic as Aya had ever seen him look, and that was saying a lot, considering what they had been through together. He had seen Yohji shot, stabbed, close to bleeding to death, half-drowned … you name it, Aya had seen it. But this was the first time he had seen Yohji on the verge of a nicotine-withdrawal-induced freak out. It wasn't pretty.
Until a few seconds ago, Yohji had been pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the store, stopping every few minutes in front of the doors so that he could rattle them, as if he believed that would, magically, cause them to spring open. When that hadn't worked, he had kicked them, to no avail. The locks held, and, now, having run out of options, Yohji leaned against the doors, his hands cupped around his face, which he pressed to the glass so that he could see inside the store. Every so often, he would let out this odd, little noise - kind of a cross between a groan and a strangled whine. It reminded Aya of an animal caught in a trap.
The whole thing was funny. Or it would have been funny, if Aya hadn't been bone-tired and feeling the cold from wet concrete and bricks seeping into his body. It intensified every little ache and pain from their latest mission. He was miserable, and all he wanted was to get the hell off this street so that he could go home, take a hot shower, drink a hot cup of tea, and go to bed - where, hopefully, he would die so that he didn't have to wake up tomorrow feeling like shit. He couldn't help feeling bad for Yohji, he admitted, giving the older man a surreptitious, sidelong glance. He understood how Yohji felt. As much as he wanted to go home for a hot cup of tea, Yohji wanted to go home for a beer and a cigarette. Or a carton of cigarettes, depending on his mood. It was something Yohji needed, if he wanted to hang on to his sanity by forgetting about the things they had done tonight. Aya could empathize. He could more than empathize; he could understand it, at the very core of his being.
Still, he was tired. He was achy. And the sidewalk was damn cold. All of which worked to override his worry and empathy so that he fell back on what he knew best -- being irritated and pissy.
"I said …" Aya began, giving Yohji a glare-laced frown.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, fucking whiny bastard," Yohji grumbled, never moving an inch or taking his face away from the glass doors.
"So?" Aya asked, refusing to let Yohji off without answering his question. Someone had to take responsibility for making him sit on this cold, wet sidewalk, and Aya figured Yohji could play the sacrificial lamb tonight.
"Because I forgot!" Yohji yelled, throwing his hands up in the air and whirling away from the locked doors to turn on Aya with an almost feral-looking snarl. "Haven't you ever forgotten something? No, I guess not. You're Mr. Fucking Perfect in every way," he continued, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
Aya didn't bother answering. He stared at Yohji, giving him an eyebrows-raised look that quelled Yohji's tirade almost before it started.
"I … I had a lot to do, you know?" Yohji grumbled, almost under his breath.
The words came out sounding whiny and pathetic, making Yohji cringe. He hated sounding like that. Hell, he hated feeling like this, too. But he couldn't help it. He needed cigarettes and beer. Needed them. Or he was certain he would crawl out of his skin. He felt like he was halfway there, as it was, and, if Aya gave him any more shit, Yohji was sure he was going to do something he would regret -- like killing the younger man. He didn't want to kill Aya. He had grown fond of Aya, in spite of all the pissy moods and drama queen crap. Plus, he was sure Kritiker would be unhappy about it. Really unhappy. Still, this was an emergency, and if Aya wasn't part of the solution, he was part of the problem. So far, Aya hadn't done much to participate on the solution end of their situation.
Yohji shook his head, hard, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. That was just crazy talk. Nothing more. He couldn't kill Aya -- not without getting killed, in the process. But even if he could, he didn't want to. And that was that. It was a sign of how bad things were, of how much he needed his nicotine and alcohol fixes. He couldn't help it; the monkey on his back cracked its whip and told him to jump, and Yohji's first instinct, always, was to ask "How high?"
"I mean, anyone could forget," Yohji continued, his voice so low it almost didn't carry the foot or two to where Aya sat. "Water the plants, sweep out the back room, steal the alarm codes, restring my watches, kill a bunch of nasty-assed motherfuckers, buy cigs and beer. See? I managed to get most of it done. So, I forget one little thing. Is it really such a big, damn deal that I have to suffer for it like this?" He glared up at the heavens, spreading his arms out to the side as if beseeching whatever higher power watched over them, as he asked, "Well? Is it?!"
The heavens didn't answer. Instead, he heard Aya snickering, and he frowned over at the younger man.
"It's not funny," Yohji said, turning back around to press his face against the locked doors again. "Why the hell are they closed, anyhow? It's a 24-hour store, for crying out loud. They're supposed to be open … like, all the damn time."
"There's a sign," Aya said, barely stifling a yawn.
The full weight of his day had finally started to hit him, and Aya had a vague, passing thought about curling up and going to sleep right here on the sidewalk. He might have to, if Yohji continued this pathetic display for much longer. The store was closed. Why couldn't Yohji just accept that and move on? There had to be other 24-hour stores in the city; they could go find one of them and get Yohji's cigarettes and beer. Aya was about to say as much, when it dawned on him: he didn't want to find another store. He was tired and in a bad mood, and he wanted to go home. He guessed Yohji felt much the same way, which was why he remained there, standing on the sidewalk with his nose pressed against the glass doors, like a kid waiting for his favorite candy shop to open.
"Yeah, I saw it," Yohji replied. "It says: Closed for baby. What the hell does that mean, anyhow?"
Aya leaned his head back against the rough brick and closed his eyes as he replied, "Isn't it a married couple who owns this store? What's their name? Tanaka? Takani? Something. But, wasn't she pregnant? Maybe they're having the baby tonight."
"Well, that's fucking inconsiderate," Yohji said, the words riding out of his mouth on a derisive-sounding snort. "They're inconveniencing everyone … just for their own needs. Talk about selfish."
Aya frowned, although he didn't bother opening his eyes, "They're having a baby. Surely, you wouldn't begrudge someone being present at the birth of their child. It's kind of a big deal, in case you never realized it." He paused for a second or two before continuing, "Besides, it's not like there's an angry mob waiting out here to buy cigarettes and beer." He waved his hand in the air in front of him, as if to indicate the deserted sidewalk and street around them.
"We could go to another store," Yohji said, his tone hopeful.
He turned to regard Aya with his best take-me-home, puppy dog expression. Unfortunately, the effort was wasted, as Aya never bothered to look in Yohji's direction. He remained sitting against the building, head tilted back against the cold brick, and his eyes closed.
"No," he stated, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. It was a tone that told Yohji Aya had made up his mind; there would be no use in arguing the point.
Yohji, of course, argued, anyhow. He didn't care much about Aya's moods, which was probably the only reason the two of them got along as well as they did. They kind of ignored the worst parts of each other and, somehow, managed to figure all the rest out as they went along. Besides, Yohji wanted cigarettes and beer. No, he needed cigarettes and beer. He couldn't get through the night without them. He hated admitting that, even to himself, but, there it was. The truth lurking at the bottom of his soul. His very own, stupid monkey, jumping down off his back to bite him in the ass.
"Oh, come on! I'm driving. What difference does it make to you?" Yohji whined. "How can you be so fucking heartless?"
Aya cringed at the pathetic tone in Yohji's voice. He hated hearing it, and, even worse, it almost made him want to give in. But he refused. This night had been long enough, and he wanted it to be over and done, already. He had agreed to one store. One store. And then, home to his hot shower and even hotter cup of tea. It wasn't his fault Yohji's chosen store had decided to have a baby tonight.
"Because I'm tired. I'm cold. I'm covered in blood, and I hurt in places that … hell, I didn't even know could hurt. I've been shot at and almost blown up. Not to mention I had to work the fucking early shift today in the shop, and Omi dropped a pot of pansies on my foot, which, by the way, hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. It's enough. I want to go home. Now," Aya snapped, his tone matching Yohji's, whine for whine.
Yohji stared at Aya for several long seconds. He knew that tone of voice, and he recognized the stubborn set of Aya's face and the way he tilted his chin in the air, just slightly, just enough to make sure Yohji knew he would not change his mind. Yohji knew he was at the end of his own rope; he hadn't realized Aya was there, too. But now he knew, in no uncertain terms. To stand here and argue would be a pointless waste of time.
Except …
Yohji's brain seized upon the one tidbit of information that might swing this battle of wills in his favor. He had almost forgotten it in the midst of his panic over the cigarettes and beer, but now, he pulled his trump card out and played it with an almost ruthless joy.
"You know, we're out of tea, too," Yohji commented, carefully schooling his voice so that the statement sounded off-handed, as if it was of little importance.
Yohji jumped, startled by a soft, thump-thump sound. At first, he couldn't figure out what it was, but he soon realized it was Aya, banging his head against the store's wall. At the same time, Aya let out a low, strangled-sounding groan -- the kind of sound a man makes when he realizes his only lifeline to sanity has been cut before his very eyes. And, just for a moment, Yohji regretted bringing up the tea thing. Sure, Aya was going to find out, anyhow. And, yes, Aya was likely to freak out over it. It was a small thing, but, with the mood Aya was in … well, it wouldn't take much. Yohji would rather deal with a pissy, drama queen temper tantrum in the solitude and sanctuary offered by their apartment above the Koneko, as opposed to here, on a public sidewalk. The sidewalk and street were deserted now, but people lived near here. He was sure they would hear and call the cops, if Aya really got wound up.
To Yohji's surprise, Aya managed to bring his unraveling emotions under control. He took a deep breath, as if sucking all of it back inside himself, and, very slowly, he stood, bracing one arm against the wall behind him for balance. Even so, he swayed a little as he got to his feet, a telling physical manifestation of how tired Aya was.
"Fine, then," Aya said, nodding toward the door, "You're just going to have to pick the fucking lock. Because I need tea. Or I'll have to kill someone. Well, you know, someone else. And, I'm too tired for that shit."
Yohji grinned, unable to choke back a small snort of laughter.
"I thought you would never ask," he said, reaching into one of the inside pockets of his coat to retrieve his set of lock picks.
*********************************
The bell above the door jingled as Yohji pushed his way into the store's darkened interior. The bell wasn't loud; it gave off a small, tinkling sound that, normally, wouldn't even carry over the noise from the busy street and sidewalk. But tonight, the store was shrouded in that creepy kind of silence buildings get when they are devoid of life. People should be there. Sounds should be there. And the absence of these normal, expected things created a void that made the quiet feel that much more oppressive. Against that backdrop, the bell's cheerful tinkle seemed to boom out, big and loud, and it caused both Yohji and Aya to jump and look behind them, like two kids caught doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing.
The glow from the streetlights lining the sidewalk just outside the store filtered in through the front windows, coloring the displays in hues of bluish-white and silver. Aya and Yohji paused inside the front door as they waited for their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. It only took a few moments, and, then, a few moments more for each of them to scan the inside of the store and determine there wasn't any sort of video security system. They hadn't expected one. Really, they hadn't expected any kind of security system at all, not from such a small, independently owned store. It was an automatic action, more of a reflex than something requiring conscious thought on their parts, but they nodded meaningfully at each other, each one of them knowing the other had done a quick recon of the room and discovered no serious threats. Feeling more comfortable in their surroundings, Aya and Yohji walked into the store, their movements synchronized to the second through years of practice and hard experience. They paused in front of the counter and cash register.
"All right," Aya whispered, "Just like any other mission. Get in. Get what we need, and get out. No funny business, and nothing fancy." He glanced around the store before adding, "And don't break anything."
Yohji gave an exasperated-sounding sigh and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Who the hell died and left you in charge of the universe?"
Aya glared at him in response, prompting Yohji to shrug as he continued, "I'm not gonna break anything. Sheesh. These are nice people. I just want ciggies and beer, that's it," he whispered back at Aya.
"And tea," Aya reminded him, still in a whisper.
"Tea's your thing. And, why the fuck are you whispering? There's no one here," Yohji whispered back.
"I dunno," Aya replied, still not raising his voice above a whisper, "Why are you?"
Yohji groaned in frustration, but, instead of replying to Aya's question, he raised his voice to a normal level and said, "Let's split up, then. I'll grab the ciggies and beer. You get the tea and milk."
"Fine," Aya replied, also raising his voice to a normal level, even though the sound of it made him wince a little, it seemed so loud in the deserted store.
He and Yohji turned in opposite directions, each intent on fetching their designated items and getting the hell out of Dodge as quickly and quietly as possible. Aya had taken two steps toward the shelves containing his tea, when he realized what Yohji had said. He turned around to glare at the older man's retreating back.
"Milk?" he asked.
Yohji let out a sheepish sounding laugh. "Oh? Uh … didn't I mention? I was, maybe, supposed to pick up a few other things, too. You know, besides cigs and beer."
"And tea," Aya said.
Yohji had reached the coolers where the beer was stored. He didn't bother turning around to face Aya. He was too intent on deciding exactly what kind of beer he should buy, and he waved his hand behind his head in a dismissive gesture.
"Yeah, yeah," Yohji said, "And tea. Like you'd let me forget that."
Aya frowned at Yohji's dismissive manner, but decided not to fight with him. At least, not now. He was too tired, and, besides, he had made Yohji promise not to break anything. So, instead of following his first instinct, which was to pick up the nearest heavy item and aim it at the back of Yohji's head, Aya sighed and swallowed down his irritation. The faster they finished this ridiculous shopping spree, the faster he could get home.
"And milk," Aya said. He paused for a fraction of a second before continuing, "And?"
Yohji stared at the ceiling above his head, as if that would help him pull the rest of his shopping list out of the recesses of his brain.
"Yeah, milk. Ken said he didn't have any left for his cereal. And, um … orange juice?" Yohji said. He paused for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah. Orange juice. For Omi," he finished, turning back toward the cooler full of beer.
"That's it?" Aya asked.
"Yeah, that's it," Yohji replied.
"You sure?" Aya prompted.
Yohji turned around to glare at his partner. "I said so, didn't I?" he snapped.
"Actually, you said you needed cigarettes and beer. Period," Aya replied, his voice flat and dead-pan.
"Whatever," Yohji replied, giving Aya a sarcastic-looking smirk. "Just … you go get the milk, OJ and tea. I'll get the cigarettes and beer. OK? The sooner we do this thing, the sooner we can get home."
Aya frowned at Yohji, but the full impact of his unhappiness was lost, since Yohji had already returned his attention to the beer cooler, turning his back on Aya. Aya couldn't help but feel like he was getting the short end of the stick here. His half of the shopping list was a lot longer than Yohji's, and required a lot more wandering around the store and shelf surfing. But he didn't bother complaining out loud. Instead, he turned his attention toward finding his half of the list as quickly as possible. Later, when he had had a chance to shower and sleep, when he felt human again, he would come up with a suitable punishment for Yohji. That thought made Aya smile.
It didn't take Aya long to find what he needed, even in the dark. This store was near the Koneko, and they shopped here all the time, which meant he was familiar with its layout and contents. He grabbed his favorite brand of tea off of a shelf before moving toward another set of coolers in the back of the store, where he retrieved the milk and orange juice. He returned to the front of the store to find Yohji waiting for him, beating out an impatient rhythm with his fingers against the counter, next to the carton of cigarettes and six-pack of imported beer he had stacked there.
"All right," Yohji said, watching as Aya added the milk, tea, and orange juice to the pile on the counter. "So, how much are we looking at here?"
He added up the prices, stopping to count on his fingers a couple of times.
"5,000 yen? Is that right?" Yohji asked, looking to Aya for confirmation.
Aya frowned and shrugged, which Yohji took to be an affirmative response.
"Geez," Yohji complained, digging in his pocket for money, "When the hell did milk get so expensive?"
"I don't think it's the milk that's pushing things over," Aya commented, nodding toward the price tag on Yohji's carton of cigarettes.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever," Yohji snapped, favoring Aya with a sarcastic-looking smirk as he pulled a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket. "Well, crap," he muttered, tossing them onto the counter, "I'm short. I've only got 3,000. How much do you have?"
Aya sighed, but he rooted around in his pocket after his spare cash. He tossed it onto the counter without saying anything, and watched as Yohji counted it.
"We're still 500 yen short," Yohji said. "Now what do we do?"
"Put back the cigarettes," Aya replied, "And we'll have cash to spare."
"That is so not funny," Yohji said. "The cigs are non-negotiable. How about the tea?"
"You wanna die?" Aya asked.
Yohji sighed. "Fine," he said, after surveying their items for a few moments, "It has to be the milk, then. I know Ken said he was out, but … he could probably put beer on his cereal."
He looked up in time to catch Aya giving him a shocked, rather sick-looking expression. It almost looked like Aya had swallowed a goldfish, or like he had smelled something really, really unpleasant … or both.
"What?" Yohji asked, shrugging. "I've done it before. It's not bad. I mean, you know … it's not ideal, but it won't kill him. I think."
"Why not put back the juice?" Aya asked. "It's more expensive."
Yohji shook his head. "Uh, no. The OJ is for Omi and Omi is … well, kind of scary," he said, with a nervous chuckle.
"True," Aya replied, nodding his head in agreement.
"We could leave an IOU, and come back tomorrow to pay for everything," Yohji said, his tone sounding hopeful.
Aya rolled his eyes as he replied, his tone sarcastic, "Yeah, that's a fabulous idea. Dear Store Owner: We stopped by to pick up a few things after killing a whole bunch of people. Unfortunately, you were closed, so we broke in and just helped ourselves. But, we'll come back tomorrow and pay for everything. We promise. Oh, and congrats on the new baby."
"When you put it that way, it sounds silly," Yohji complained.
"That's because it is silly," Aya replied. He grabbed the money and moved behind the counter, to the cash register. "Go on … put the milk back," he ordered Yohji, as he punched in the price codes and totaled their order.
"Yes, Mother," Yohji sneered.
As he replaced the milk in the cooler, he heard the cash register ding, signaling the drawer had opened, followed by Aya's irritated muttering at finding the money inside in total disarray. When Yohji reached the front of the store, he found Aya pulling out stack after stack of bills, which he straightened and, then, replaced in the drawer.
"What are you doing?" Yohji asked.
"This cash drawer is a wreck," Aya replied, giving his head a slight, sharp shake to emphasize his irritation. "I mean, how can they run a business like this?"
Yohji sighed. "Can you put your OCD on hold for a few minutes here? We came for cigarettes and beer," Yohji said. "And tea," he added, in response to Aya's narrow-eyed glare of disapproval. "The point is, we got what we came for. Fixing their cash drawer to suit your own personal aesthetic wasn't part of the deal, OK? So, can we just go? I thought you wanted to get home, like, yesterday, or something. You've been whining about it all night."
Aya frowned, but said nothing. Instead, he hurriedly shuffled the last stack of bills into something passing for an ordered pile, and, then, stuffed the money back into place. He shoved the drawer closed, causing it to ding again, and both he and Yohji jumped at the noise. It was a silly, involuntary reaction, but the sound seemed loud and out of place in the quiet, dark store.
"I wasn't whining," Aya said, his voice low and his tone making him sound like an aggravated three-year-old.
"Yeah, right," Yohji replied. He leaned over the counter, "Are there any bags back there?"
Aya rummaged around under the counter and found a couple of bags. He tossed one to Yohji, for the beer and cigarettes, and put the rest of their groceries into the other one. Once their items were bagged, he followed Yohji out of the store. When they reached the sidewalk, Yohji shoved his bag into Aya's arms. Aya grunted in protest, struggling to balance everything as he watched Yohji lock the store. Once that was done, Yohji retrieved his precious beer and cigarettes, which were both in danger of falling to their doom on the sidewalk, and headed toward Seven.
"So, that went well," Yohji commented, leaning over to dump his sack of groceries in the back seat. He took Aya's bag, too, and put it inside the car, turning his back on Aya's glare of irritation.
"You suck," Aya replied, as he dropped into Seven's passenger seat with a barely-concealed groan of exhaustion.
"You know," Yohji said, starting the car, "We should send over some flowers. For the new baby."
"Yeah," Aya replied, snickering, "We can always send Ken. After all, he still needs to buy milk."
Yohji's low, throaty chuckle was lost in the growl of Seven's engine as the car pulled away from the curb and into the dark, deserted night. So, things hadn't gone exactly as planned. No doubt about it -- the impromptu shopping expedition had been a crappy way to end the evening. But Yohji resolved to put that behind him. After all, he had his cigarettes and beer now, and any mission you walked away from was a good mission, in his book. For tonight, Yohji was more than willing to leave things at that.
~End~
Warnings: Bad Language.
Summary: Grocery shopping can strain even the best of friendships. When assassins are involved, it only makes things worse, as Aya and Yohji discover when they stop off to pick up a few things after a hard night's work.
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.
"Why the hell didn't you take care of this before we left tonight?" Aya asked, barely managing to conceal the whine behind his words.
He frowned at his partner and, bracing himself against the building behind him, slid down so that he was sitting on the sidewalk. He stifled a groan as he felt the cold wet of the sidewalk through the seat of his pants and the scrape of hard concrete bricks through the back of his trench coat. Leather and concrete didn't mix - a life lesson he had learned through years of hard experience - and he hated to think what he was doing to the coat's back. It was a good bet he was scratching it all to hell and then some, but Aya figured that wasn't such a big deal - not after what the coat had already been through tonight. He fingered a tear in the shoulder, where a bullet had passed through the material, barely missing the flesh and bone beneath. It shouldn't be much of a problem for the leather workers to take care of a few scrapes at the same time they fixed the rest of the coat. Aya had no idea who Kritiker hired to do the work, but he couldn't help thinking whoever it was must have made a fortune off of them, already. Aya was surprised to find that the thought bothered him, just a little. It shouldn't have. He loved this coat, and it usually needed repair after one of Weiss's "outings". Still, the whole idea of it left a bad taste in his mouth - like some stranger was profiting off of him and his sins, but never getting their own hands dirty.
Whatever. Aya shook his head, forcing the stray thoughts from his mind. It didn't make any sense, and he didn't feel like trying to puzzle it out while he was sitting here on this cold, wet sidewalk. It had been a long day, and he was too damn tired for introspection. Instead, he turned his attention back to his partner.
Yohji was standing next to him, not even a foot away, peering in through the locked front doors of the 24-hour grocery store located a few blocks from the Koneko. He looked … well, pathetic. As pathetic as Aya had ever seen him look, and that was saying a lot, considering what they had been through together. He had seen Yohji shot, stabbed, close to bleeding to death, half-drowned … you name it, Aya had seen it. But this was the first time he had seen Yohji on the verge of a nicotine-withdrawal-induced freak out. It wasn't pretty.
Until a few seconds ago, Yohji had been pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the store, stopping every few minutes in front of the doors so that he could rattle them, as if he believed that would, magically, cause them to spring open. When that hadn't worked, he had kicked them, to no avail. The locks held, and, now, having run out of options, Yohji leaned against the doors, his hands cupped around his face, which he pressed to the glass so that he could see inside the store. Every so often, he would let out this odd, little noise - kind of a cross between a groan and a strangled whine. It reminded Aya of an animal caught in a trap.
The whole thing was funny. Or it would have been funny, if Aya hadn't been bone-tired and feeling the cold from wet concrete and bricks seeping into his body. It intensified every little ache and pain from their latest mission. He was miserable, and all he wanted was to get the hell off this street so that he could go home, take a hot shower, drink a hot cup of tea, and go to bed - where, hopefully, he would die so that he didn't have to wake up tomorrow feeling like shit. He couldn't help feeling bad for Yohji, he admitted, giving the older man a surreptitious, sidelong glance. He understood how Yohji felt. As much as he wanted to go home for a hot cup of tea, Yohji wanted to go home for a beer and a cigarette. Or a carton of cigarettes, depending on his mood. It was something Yohji needed, if he wanted to hang on to his sanity by forgetting about the things they had done tonight. Aya could empathize. He could more than empathize; he could understand it, at the very core of his being.
Still, he was tired. He was achy. And the sidewalk was damn cold. All of which worked to override his worry and empathy so that he fell back on what he knew best -- being irritated and pissy.
"I said …" Aya began, giving Yohji a glare-laced frown.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, fucking whiny bastard," Yohji grumbled, never moving an inch or taking his face away from the glass doors.
"So?" Aya asked, refusing to let Yohji off without answering his question. Someone had to take responsibility for making him sit on this cold, wet sidewalk, and Aya figured Yohji could play the sacrificial lamb tonight.
"Because I forgot!" Yohji yelled, throwing his hands up in the air and whirling away from the locked doors to turn on Aya with an almost feral-looking snarl. "Haven't you ever forgotten something? No, I guess not. You're Mr. Fucking Perfect in every way," he continued, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
Aya didn't bother answering. He stared at Yohji, giving him an eyebrows-raised look that quelled Yohji's tirade almost before it started.
"I … I had a lot to do, you know?" Yohji grumbled, almost under his breath.
The words came out sounding whiny and pathetic, making Yohji cringe. He hated sounding like that. Hell, he hated feeling like this, too. But he couldn't help it. He needed cigarettes and beer. Needed them. Or he was certain he would crawl out of his skin. He felt like he was halfway there, as it was, and, if Aya gave him any more shit, Yohji was sure he was going to do something he would regret -- like killing the younger man. He didn't want to kill Aya. He had grown fond of Aya, in spite of all the pissy moods and drama queen crap. Plus, he was sure Kritiker would be unhappy about it. Really unhappy. Still, this was an emergency, and if Aya wasn't part of the solution, he was part of the problem. So far, Aya hadn't done much to participate on the solution end of their situation.
Yohji shook his head, hard, forcing the thoughts out of his mind. That was just crazy talk. Nothing more. He couldn't kill Aya -- not without getting killed, in the process. But even if he could, he didn't want to. And that was that. It was a sign of how bad things were, of how much he needed his nicotine and alcohol fixes. He couldn't help it; the monkey on his back cracked its whip and told him to jump, and Yohji's first instinct, always, was to ask "How high?"
"I mean, anyone could forget," Yohji continued, his voice so low it almost didn't carry the foot or two to where Aya sat. "Water the plants, sweep out the back room, steal the alarm codes, restring my watches, kill a bunch of nasty-assed motherfuckers, buy cigs and beer. See? I managed to get most of it done. So, I forget one little thing. Is it really such a big, damn deal that I have to suffer for it like this?" He glared up at the heavens, spreading his arms out to the side as if beseeching whatever higher power watched over them, as he asked, "Well? Is it?!"
The heavens didn't answer. Instead, he heard Aya snickering, and he frowned over at the younger man.
"It's not funny," Yohji said, turning back around to press his face against the locked doors again. "Why the hell are they closed, anyhow? It's a 24-hour store, for crying out loud. They're supposed to be open … like, all the damn time."
"There's a sign," Aya said, barely stifling a yawn.
The full weight of his day had finally started to hit him, and Aya had a vague, passing thought about curling up and going to sleep right here on the sidewalk. He might have to, if Yohji continued this pathetic display for much longer. The store was closed. Why couldn't Yohji just accept that and move on? There had to be other 24-hour stores in the city; they could go find one of them and get Yohji's cigarettes and beer. Aya was about to say as much, when it dawned on him: he didn't want to find another store. He was tired and in a bad mood, and he wanted to go home. He guessed Yohji felt much the same way, which was why he remained there, standing on the sidewalk with his nose pressed against the glass doors, like a kid waiting for his favorite candy shop to open.
"Yeah, I saw it," Yohji replied. "It says: Closed for baby. What the hell does that mean, anyhow?"
Aya leaned his head back against the rough brick and closed his eyes as he replied, "Isn't it a married couple who owns this store? What's their name? Tanaka? Takani? Something. But, wasn't she pregnant? Maybe they're having the baby tonight."
"Well, that's fucking inconsiderate," Yohji said, the words riding out of his mouth on a derisive-sounding snort. "They're inconveniencing everyone … just for their own needs. Talk about selfish."
Aya frowned, although he didn't bother opening his eyes, "They're having a baby. Surely, you wouldn't begrudge someone being present at the birth of their child. It's kind of a big deal, in case you never realized it." He paused for a second or two before continuing, "Besides, it's not like there's an angry mob waiting out here to buy cigarettes and beer." He waved his hand in the air in front of him, as if to indicate the deserted sidewalk and street around them.
"We could go to another store," Yohji said, his tone hopeful.
He turned to regard Aya with his best take-me-home, puppy dog expression. Unfortunately, the effort was wasted, as Aya never bothered to look in Yohji's direction. He remained sitting against the building, head tilted back against the cold brick, and his eyes closed.
"No," he stated, his voice flat and matter-of-fact. It was a tone that told Yohji Aya had made up his mind; there would be no use in arguing the point.
Yohji, of course, argued, anyhow. He didn't care much about Aya's moods, which was probably the only reason the two of them got along as well as they did. They kind of ignored the worst parts of each other and, somehow, managed to figure all the rest out as they went along. Besides, Yohji wanted cigarettes and beer. No, he needed cigarettes and beer. He couldn't get through the night without them. He hated admitting that, even to himself, but, there it was. The truth lurking at the bottom of his soul. His very own, stupid monkey, jumping down off his back to bite him in the ass.
"Oh, come on! I'm driving. What difference does it make to you?" Yohji whined. "How can you be so fucking heartless?"
Aya cringed at the pathetic tone in Yohji's voice. He hated hearing it, and, even worse, it almost made him want to give in. But he refused. This night had been long enough, and he wanted it to be over and done, already. He had agreed to one store. One store. And then, home to his hot shower and even hotter cup of tea. It wasn't his fault Yohji's chosen store had decided to have a baby tonight.
"Because I'm tired. I'm cold. I'm covered in blood, and I hurt in places that … hell, I didn't even know could hurt. I've been shot at and almost blown up. Not to mention I had to work the fucking early shift today in the shop, and Omi dropped a pot of pansies on my foot, which, by the way, hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. It's enough. I want to go home. Now," Aya snapped, his tone matching Yohji's, whine for whine.
Yohji stared at Aya for several long seconds. He knew that tone of voice, and he recognized the stubborn set of Aya's face and the way he tilted his chin in the air, just slightly, just enough to make sure Yohji knew he would not change his mind. Yohji knew he was at the end of his own rope; he hadn't realized Aya was there, too. But now he knew, in no uncertain terms. To stand here and argue would be a pointless waste of time.
Except …
Yohji's brain seized upon the one tidbit of information that might swing this battle of wills in his favor. He had almost forgotten it in the midst of his panic over the cigarettes and beer, but now, he pulled his trump card out and played it with an almost ruthless joy.
"You know, we're out of tea, too," Yohji commented, carefully schooling his voice so that the statement sounded off-handed, as if it was of little importance.
Yohji jumped, startled by a soft, thump-thump sound. At first, he couldn't figure out what it was, but he soon realized it was Aya, banging his head against the store's wall. At the same time, Aya let out a low, strangled-sounding groan -- the kind of sound a man makes when he realizes his only lifeline to sanity has been cut before his very eyes. And, just for a moment, Yohji regretted bringing up the tea thing. Sure, Aya was going to find out, anyhow. And, yes, Aya was likely to freak out over it. It was a small thing, but, with the mood Aya was in … well, it wouldn't take much. Yohji would rather deal with a pissy, drama queen temper tantrum in the solitude and sanctuary offered by their apartment above the Koneko, as opposed to here, on a public sidewalk. The sidewalk and street were deserted now, but people lived near here. He was sure they would hear and call the cops, if Aya really got wound up.
To Yohji's surprise, Aya managed to bring his unraveling emotions under control. He took a deep breath, as if sucking all of it back inside himself, and, very slowly, he stood, bracing one arm against the wall behind him for balance. Even so, he swayed a little as he got to his feet, a telling physical manifestation of how tired Aya was.
"Fine, then," Aya said, nodding toward the door, "You're just going to have to pick the fucking lock. Because I need tea. Or I'll have to kill someone. Well, you know, someone else. And, I'm too tired for that shit."
Yohji grinned, unable to choke back a small snort of laughter.
"I thought you would never ask," he said, reaching into one of the inside pockets of his coat to retrieve his set of lock picks.
*********************************
The bell above the door jingled as Yohji pushed his way into the store's darkened interior. The bell wasn't loud; it gave off a small, tinkling sound that, normally, wouldn't even carry over the noise from the busy street and sidewalk. But tonight, the store was shrouded in that creepy kind of silence buildings get when they are devoid of life. People should be there. Sounds should be there. And the absence of these normal, expected things created a void that made the quiet feel that much more oppressive. Against that backdrop, the bell's cheerful tinkle seemed to boom out, big and loud, and it caused both Yohji and Aya to jump and look behind them, like two kids caught doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing.
The glow from the streetlights lining the sidewalk just outside the store filtered in through the front windows, coloring the displays in hues of bluish-white and silver. Aya and Yohji paused inside the front door as they waited for their eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. It only took a few moments, and, then, a few moments more for each of them to scan the inside of the store and determine there wasn't any sort of video security system. They hadn't expected one. Really, they hadn't expected any kind of security system at all, not from such a small, independently owned store. It was an automatic action, more of a reflex than something requiring conscious thought on their parts, but they nodded meaningfully at each other, each one of them knowing the other had done a quick recon of the room and discovered no serious threats. Feeling more comfortable in their surroundings, Aya and Yohji walked into the store, their movements synchronized to the second through years of practice and hard experience. They paused in front of the counter and cash register.
"All right," Aya whispered, "Just like any other mission. Get in. Get what we need, and get out. No funny business, and nothing fancy." He glanced around the store before adding, "And don't break anything."
Yohji gave an exasperated-sounding sigh and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Who the hell died and left you in charge of the universe?"
Aya glared at him in response, prompting Yohji to shrug as he continued, "I'm not gonna break anything. Sheesh. These are nice people. I just want ciggies and beer, that's it," he whispered back at Aya.
"And tea," Aya reminded him, still in a whisper.
"Tea's your thing. And, why the fuck are you whispering? There's no one here," Yohji whispered back.
"I dunno," Aya replied, still not raising his voice above a whisper, "Why are you?"
Yohji groaned in frustration, but, instead of replying to Aya's question, he raised his voice to a normal level and said, "Let's split up, then. I'll grab the ciggies and beer. You get the tea and milk."
"Fine," Aya replied, also raising his voice to a normal level, even though the sound of it made him wince a little, it seemed so loud in the deserted store.
He and Yohji turned in opposite directions, each intent on fetching their designated items and getting the hell out of Dodge as quickly and quietly as possible. Aya had taken two steps toward the shelves containing his tea, when he realized what Yohji had said. He turned around to glare at the older man's retreating back.
"Milk?" he asked.
Yohji let out a sheepish sounding laugh. "Oh? Uh … didn't I mention? I was, maybe, supposed to pick up a few other things, too. You know, besides cigs and beer."
"And tea," Aya said.
Yohji had reached the coolers where the beer was stored. He didn't bother turning around to face Aya. He was too intent on deciding exactly what kind of beer he should buy, and he waved his hand behind his head in a dismissive gesture.
"Yeah, yeah," Yohji said, "And tea. Like you'd let me forget that."
Aya frowned at Yohji's dismissive manner, but decided not to fight with him. At least, not now. He was too tired, and, besides, he had made Yohji promise not to break anything. So, instead of following his first instinct, which was to pick up the nearest heavy item and aim it at the back of Yohji's head, Aya sighed and swallowed down his irritation. The faster they finished this ridiculous shopping spree, the faster he could get home.
"And milk," Aya said. He paused for a fraction of a second before continuing, "And?"
Yohji stared at the ceiling above his head, as if that would help him pull the rest of his shopping list out of the recesses of his brain.
"Yeah, milk. Ken said he didn't have any left for his cereal. And, um … orange juice?" Yohji said. He paused for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah. Orange juice. For Omi," he finished, turning back toward the cooler full of beer.
"That's it?" Aya asked.
"Yeah, that's it," Yohji replied.
"You sure?" Aya prompted.
Yohji turned around to glare at his partner. "I said so, didn't I?" he snapped.
"Actually, you said you needed cigarettes and beer. Period," Aya replied, his voice flat and dead-pan.
"Whatever," Yohji replied, giving Aya a sarcastic-looking smirk. "Just … you go get the milk, OJ and tea. I'll get the cigarettes and beer. OK? The sooner we do this thing, the sooner we can get home."
Aya frowned at Yohji, but the full impact of his unhappiness was lost, since Yohji had already returned his attention to the beer cooler, turning his back on Aya. Aya couldn't help but feel like he was getting the short end of the stick here. His half of the shopping list was a lot longer than Yohji's, and required a lot more wandering around the store and shelf surfing. But he didn't bother complaining out loud. Instead, he turned his attention toward finding his half of the list as quickly as possible. Later, when he had had a chance to shower and sleep, when he felt human again, he would come up with a suitable punishment for Yohji. That thought made Aya smile.
It didn't take Aya long to find what he needed, even in the dark. This store was near the Koneko, and they shopped here all the time, which meant he was familiar with its layout and contents. He grabbed his favorite brand of tea off of a shelf before moving toward another set of coolers in the back of the store, where he retrieved the milk and orange juice. He returned to the front of the store to find Yohji waiting for him, beating out an impatient rhythm with his fingers against the counter, next to the carton of cigarettes and six-pack of imported beer he had stacked there.
"All right," Yohji said, watching as Aya added the milk, tea, and orange juice to the pile on the counter. "So, how much are we looking at here?"
He added up the prices, stopping to count on his fingers a couple of times.
"5,000 yen? Is that right?" Yohji asked, looking to Aya for confirmation.
Aya frowned and shrugged, which Yohji took to be an affirmative response.
"Geez," Yohji complained, digging in his pocket for money, "When the hell did milk get so expensive?"
"I don't think it's the milk that's pushing things over," Aya commented, nodding toward the price tag on Yohji's carton of cigarettes.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever," Yohji snapped, favoring Aya with a sarcastic-looking smirk as he pulled a wad of crumpled bills out of his pocket. "Well, crap," he muttered, tossing them onto the counter, "I'm short. I've only got 3,000. How much do you have?"
Aya sighed, but he rooted around in his pocket after his spare cash. He tossed it onto the counter without saying anything, and watched as Yohji counted it.
"We're still 500 yen short," Yohji said. "Now what do we do?"
"Put back the cigarettes," Aya replied, "And we'll have cash to spare."
"That is so not funny," Yohji said. "The cigs are non-negotiable. How about the tea?"
"You wanna die?" Aya asked.
Yohji sighed. "Fine," he said, after surveying their items for a few moments, "It has to be the milk, then. I know Ken said he was out, but … he could probably put beer on his cereal."
He looked up in time to catch Aya giving him a shocked, rather sick-looking expression. It almost looked like Aya had swallowed a goldfish, or like he had smelled something really, really unpleasant … or both.
"What?" Yohji asked, shrugging. "I've done it before. It's not bad. I mean, you know … it's not ideal, but it won't kill him. I think."
"Why not put back the juice?" Aya asked. "It's more expensive."
Yohji shook his head. "Uh, no. The OJ is for Omi and Omi is … well, kind of scary," he said, with a nervous chuckle.
"True," Aya replied, nodding his head in agreement.
"We could leave an IOU, and come back tomorrow to pay for everything," Yohji said, his tone sounding hopeful.
Aya rolled his eyes as he replied, his tone sarcastic, "Yeah, that's a fabulous idea. Dear Store Owner: We stopped by to pick up a few things after killing a whole bunch of people. Unfortunately, you were closed, so we broke in and just helped ourselves. But, we'll come back tomorrow and pay for everything. We promise. Oh, and congrats on the new baby."
"When you put it that way, it sounds silly," Yohji complained.
"That's because it is silly," Aya replied. He grabbed the money and moved behind the counter, to the cash register. "Go on … put the milk back," he ordered Yohji, as he punched in the price codes and totaled their order.
"Yes, Mother," Yohji sneered.
As he replaced the milk in the cooler, he heard the cash register ding, signaling the drawer had opened, followed by Aya's irritated muttering at finding the money inside in total disarray. When Yohji reached the front of the store, he found Aya pulling out stack after stack of bills, which he straightened and, then, replaced in the drawer.
"What are you doing?" Yohji asked.
"This cash drawer is a wreck," Aya replied, giving his head a slight, sharp shake to emphasize his irritation. "I mean, how can they run a business like this?"
Yohji sighed. "Can you put your OCD on hold for a few minutes here? We came for cigarettes and beer," Yohji said. "And tea," he added, in response to Aya's narrow-eyed glare of disapproval. "The point is, we got what we came for. Fixing their cash drawer to suit your own personal aesthetic wasn't part of the deal, OK? So, can we just go? I thought you wanted to get home, like, yesterday, or something. You've been whining about it all night."
Aya frowned, but said nothing. Instead, he hurriedly shuffled the last stack of bills into something passing for an ordered pile, and, then, stuffed the money back into place. He shoved the drawer closed, causing it to ding again, and both he and Yohji jumped at the noise. It was a silly, involuntary reaction, but the sound seemed loud and out of place in the quiet, dark store.
"I wasn't whining," Aya said, his voice low and his tone making him sound like an aggravated three-year-old.
"Yeah, right," Yohji replied. He leaned over the counter, "Are there any bags back there?"
Aya rummaged around under the counter and found a couple of bags. He tossed one to Yohji, for the beer and cigarettes, and put the rest of their groceries into the other one. Once their items were bagged, he followed Yohji out of the store. When they reached the sidewalk, Yohji shoved his bag into Aya's arms. Aya grunted in protest, struggling to balance everything as he watched Yohji lock the store. Once that was done, Yohji retrieved his precious beer and cigarettes, which were both in danger of falling to their doom on the sidewalk, and headed toward Seven.
"So, that went well," Yohji commented, leaning over to dump his sack of groceries in the back seat. He took Aya's bag, too, and put it inside the car, turning his back on Aya's glare of irritation.
"You suck," Aya replied, as he dropped into Seven's passenger seat with a barely-concealed groan of exhaustion.
"You know," Yohji said, starting the car, "We should send over some flowers. For the new baby."
"Yeah," Aya replied, snickering, "We can always send Ken. After all, he still needs to buy milk."
Yohji's low, throaty chuckle was lost in the growl of Seven's engine as the car pulled away from the curb and into the dark, deserted night. So, things hadn't gone exactly as planned. No doubt about it -- the impromptu shopping expedition had been a crappy way to end the evening. But Yohji resolved to put that behind him. After all, he had his cigarettes and beer now, and any mission you walked away from was a good mission, in his book. For tonight, Yohji was more than willing to leave things at that.
~End~