Deep Inside of You part 9
Author's Note: Katze means cat in German. Katzchen means kitten. Yohji is not likely to make this linguistic fact known to Ken, given the circumstances.
"You know, Yohji, I’m not so sure this is a good idea," Ken muttered for perhaps the hundredth time since they’d left the older man’s apartment. Yohji just looked over his shoulder at the younger man trailing behind him and smirked at him.
"Too late now, Kenken, we’re already here," Yohji announced with irritating cheer.
Ken stopped moving, looking up in surprise at the dazzling neon sign of the club they stood outside. He could hear the music from here, heavy and pulsing bass that he could almost imagine was making the walls throb. There was a line of people stretching from the door all the way to the end of the block, and possibly around the corner, held at bay by two massive, grim-faced bouncers who seemed equally impervious to threats, invitations, and money. The people in line seemed to be mostly around Yohji’s age, and were dressed to kill.
Not that Yohji wasn’t. The tall blond was wearing black linen pants, of his trademark low cut style, that clung to his body like they were painted on, and a matching cropped black jacket that ended just below his ribcage. For once, his midriff wasn’t bare, but the tightly clinging golden top he wore was made of some translucent mesh material that might as well have just been body glitter for all it concealed. Ken himself had been forced to endure Yohji’s fashion sense, and was somewhat uncomfortable in the clothes the older man had selected for him. It also didn’t help that they were Yohji’s clothes, and so didn’t exactly fit Ken’s more robust and compact body. Yohji claimed that was all to the good, but Ken felt a little odd in the sleeveless blue spandex shirt and silver-gray linen pants he had on. At least the pants had wide cut legs and didn’t cling all the way down like Yohji’s did, although they were quite formfitting "where it counts," as Yohji had put it.
Ken shifted uncomfortably as Yohji ran his eyes over him again, a pleased, superior smirk settling on his face. "Damn, I’m good," Yohji declared, reaching out and repositioning a lock of Ken’s dark hair that must have somehow shifted position despite the truly staggering amount of gel Yohji had applied to it. Ken couldn’t quite figure out what Yohji had done to his hair that made it look artfully tousled instead of just messy, but Yohji seemed pleased with the results.
Ken looked back at the club again, and wondered why he was there. This wasn’t his usual sort of evening activity. If he had an evening to himself, which had frequently been the case since the end of Weiss, he usually just sat around the apartment watching TV or a video, maybe reading… It wasn’t thrilling, but it was relaxing.
That was what he kept telling himself, at least. But when Yohji had dragged him out of his apartment and downstairs to dress him up and take him out, Ken hadn’t protested much. Not at first. It had been kind of exciting, the thought of going out on one of Yohji’s infamous expeditions into Tokyo nightlife. And the thought that Yohji wanted to bring him along was nice, too. They didn’t really spend a lot of time together outside the flower shop, and Omi and Ken had both been unhappily anticipating the day when Yohji would follow Aya’s example and strike out on his own.
But as Yohji had forced him to try on practically everything in his closet, looking for "the right look," Ken’s enthusiasm had slowly begun to wane. And when Yohji finally had him dressed and primped to the point where Ken barely recognized himself in the mirror, the thought of actually leaving the building looking like he did had him blushing and ready to bolt for the safety of his room. Yohji had been implacable, though, in that way that Yohji had when he’d decided on a course of action. Yohji could be a hell of a lot more stubborn than Aya could ever manage, simply because Yohji wouldn’t even acknowledge anyone’s protests to his plans, unlike Aya, who tended to listen and then ignore. Yohji just didn’t hear any of Ken’s nervous attempts to excuse himself from the outing, and had blithely dragged the blushing young man out the door and tossed him into Yohji’s car, driving off into the city on such a circuitous route that Ken was almost certain Yohji was deliberately making sure Ken wouldn’t be able to find his way home by himself.
So now he was here, standing outside what was obviously a very popular club, dressed like the sort of person who went to such places, standing beside a man who was the sort of person who went to such places, and who also, as Ken knew all too well, had a decidedly wicked sense of humor sometimes…
"Tell me this isn’t all an elaborate plan to humiliate me," Ken demanded of his companion.
Yohji blinked at him in surprise, looking genuinely startled at the idea. "Kenken… would I do that to you?" Yohji asked incredulously.
"Yes," Ken grumbled, but felt slightly embarrassed at his suspicions.
Then Yohji grinned and shrugged. "Okay, so I would," he agreed. "But that’s not what I’m trying to do to you tonight, Kenken."
"Then what are you trying to do to me?" Ken asked warily.
Yohji laughed softly and slipped an arm around Ken’s bare shoulders, waving his other hand to indicate the masses of humanity moving around them. "I’m trying to show you that there’s more to life than Aya Fujimiya," Yohji informed him.
"Eh?" Ken muttered in confusion, frowning up at Yohji. The taller man smiled fondly at him and ruffled his hair a bit, then frowned and made a tsking noise at having messed up all his hard work.
Yohji tugged at a few stiff gelled locks for a moment, then shrugged and grinned. "You make ‘messy’ work, Ken-kun," he decided.
"I’m not sure that’s a compliment," Ken groused, as Yohji laughed again and started dragging him toward the front of the line, where the entrance to the club gaped like a black hole, sucking in the occasional reveler who met the bouncers’ unknown criteria. "Yohji, let go," Ken muttered, tugging at the wrist Yohji had firmly in his grasp. "They’re never gonna let me in…"
"Sure they will. You’re with me," Yohji replied reassuringly. Ken just frowned up at him, but Yohji kept walking forward until he ran into the outstretched hand of one of the massive bouncers.
The man held a clipboard, which Ken thought with a sudden sick feeling, looked more like a memo pad in the massive hand. "Name?" the bouncer rumbled in a voice that rivaled the bass line of the music rolling out from the club for depth and timbre.
"Yohji Kudo," Yohji replied calmly.
The man didn’t even glance at the clipboard. "Not on the list," he declared, and some of the hopefuls Yohji had pushed past to reach the door began jeering loudly at his apparent failure.
Yohji just blinked at the man in surprise. He seemed honestly baffled to be denied admission. "Maybe you didn’t hear me right," he said a bit more loudly. "My name is Yohji Kudo."
"Not on the list," the bouncer repeated calmly. At least Yohji’s persistence didn’t seem to be annoying the large man, for which Ken was grateful. But he wasn’t sure how long that would last. He tugged on the wrist Yohji still held immobile and muttered, "C’mon, Yotan, let’s just go someplace else."
"No," Yohji snapped, shooting an irritated frown at Ken. "I’ve gotten in here plenty of times, I don’t know why he isn’t recognizing my name tonight, it’s…" Yohji’s voice trailed off as he stared at Ken. "Son of a bitch knows you’re with me," Yohji murmured to himself.
"Huh? Who? What?" Ken muttered, but Yohji had already turned back to the bouncer.
"Okay, so it’s not Yohji, and it doesn’t seem to be Yotan either…what else…oh, you rotten, evil bastard…" Yohji pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment and heaved a sigh of pure annoyance. The bouncer continued to stand implacably before him.
"My name is…YoYo," Yohji muttered, watching the bouncer as a light blush spread across his own cheeks. YoYo? Ken wondered incredulously. The bouncer frowned slightly, as though considering.
"YoYo…?" the huge man repeated questioningly, apparently requesting more information.
Yohji sighed heavily in defeat. "YoYo…Katzchen," he muttered. Ken gaped at Yohji in confusion. Yohji glared at him. The bouncer stepped aside.
"Come right in, Katzchen-san," he offered, prompting cries of dismay and irritation from the crowd nearby.
Yohji smirked triumphantly back at them, and strode proudly into the club, dragging Ken along with him.
As soon as they were inside though, the taller man stopped and let go of Ken’s wrist so he could cross his arms angrily. Yohji glared around the crowded, dimly lit club, apparently seeking a target for his temper.
"Uh…YoYo…Ka…tu…shen?" Ken attempted to repeat slowly in amusement, realizing he was setting himself up to take the brunt of Yohji’s embarrassed anger, but unable to resist. Besides, he was curious as hell about this bizarre name.
"Don’t ask," Yohji snapped. "One of these days, I swear to God…" he muttered, turning and beginning to walk deeper into the club. Not wanting to get lost and abandoned, especially since he had no idea how to get home, Ken followed on Yohji’s heels. He couldn’t resist needling the obviously annoyed blond about this strange name, though.
"YoYo I can figure out," Ken observed, "but…Katushen?" he asked, trying again to pronounce the strange name. He didn’t think he’d gotten it quite right somehow.
"Katzchen," Yohji snapped. "It’s German."
"For what?" Ken asked, smiling slightly at the interesting possibilities that fact suggested for how Yohji had gotten this name.
"For cat," Yohji replied. "Now can we drop it?"
"Sure, sure, YoYo-kun," Ken agreed easily, laughing at Yohji’s growl. Teasing Yohji made him feel far less out of place than he had out on the street, even surrounded by scantily clad, drunken, sweaty men and women, pounding music and dizzying neon, strobes, and black lights. He trailed along in Yohji’s wake, and eventually found himself being pushed down onto a low circular booth seat in a dimly lit corner. He sat down and turned to see if Yohji was going to join him, or go get a drink, or dance. As he turned, though, another body separated itself from the masses pushing and sliding past their table, and wrapped itself around Yohji like a blanket.
Yohji rolled his eyes but Ken thought he saw the ghost of a smile as the taller man turned, the human blanket loosening its hold enough so Yohji could twist in its embrace and they ended up facing each other. This gave Ken a clearer view of the new arrival. At first he thought it was a tall woman, because of the hair, but when the newcomer purred something at Yohji in what definitely sounded like German, Ken recognized him easily enough.
"Dance with you?" Yohji replied incredulously, although his hands did settle on Schuldig’s hips, which were grinding slowly against him in time to the beat. "You’re lucky I don’t deck you for that little stunt at the door."
Schuldig said something else in German that made Yohji blink in open-mouthed surprise. In the dim light, Ken couldn’t tell if the older man was blushing, but something in his expression suggested it. While Yohji was off balance, Schuldig took the opportunity to plaster himself even closer against the Japanese man, and Yohji began swaying almost unconsciously with the rhythm of Schuldig’s body.
Ken wondered if he were going to have to look away again, like he had in the hospital. Either one of them by themselves could put on quite a show, he was sure. Together…he felt his own cheeks heating.
But before Ken could get really embarrassed, Yohji grabbed Schuldig’s arms and gently pushed the German away. "One of these days I’m going to have to explain to you the difference between a dance partner and cling wrap," Yohji informed the redhead wryly.
Schuldig smirked back at him. "If you think there should be a difference, you haven’t had the right dance partner," he replied smugly, thankfully switching to Japanese so Ken could follow the conversation.
Yohji rolled his eyes again and stepped a bit further away from Schuldig. "Behave yourself," the blond cautioned. "I’m not here alone tonight." He slid into the booth beside Ken by way of illustration.
Ken smiled nervously at Schuldig as the German turned to regard him with a faint smirk and narrowed eyes. "Yes, I see you’ve brought a date," Schuldig drawled, running his eyes up and down Ken’s body in a manner that was either crudely complimentary or urbanely insulting. Ken squirmed under that gaze for a moment, then frowned and sat up straight. Why should he let the German intimidate him? He scowled up at the older man, and Schuldig laughed delightedly at his belligerent expression. A tension that Ken hadn’t even been aware of until that moment faded as the German draped himself over a chair across from the Japanese men.
"You clean up pretty nice, Hidaka," Schuldig remarked neutrally, giving Ken yet another lookover. This time it was just a casual observation, though.
Ken suddenly found himself nervous again, and was grateful for the dimness that hid his flaming cheeks. "You, uh…look pretty good yourself," he replied politely.
It was true. Schuldig did look good. The German was dressed all in black, wearing a studded leather vest that was laced shut up the front, revealing a line of pale flesh behind the lacings. His upper arms were bare, and a bit more developed than Yohji’s, Ken could see. His forearms were sheathed in leather bracers of the sort you could conceal a knife in beneath a long-sleeved shirt. Ken wondered if they’d ever been put to that use. Then he wondered if they were being put to that use tonight.
"Don’t worry, Ken-kun, I’m unarmed," Schuldig purred, smirking in an entirely un-reassuring manner.
Never, Ken though flatly, and saw the German’s lips twitch slightly in response. Schuldig winked at him and turned to murmur something to Yohji in German. Since Ken didn’t understand the language, he continued to study the other man.
Schuldig’s long, wild hair was partially contained by a thin strip of silvery cloth that disappeared under the long tresses, although the ends trailed over one shoulder along with a fall of scarlet strands. The lighting in the club dulled the vibrant color of Schuldig’s hair a bit. Ken let his gaze slip to Schuldig’s face. The German had set his chin in his hand and was chatting away with Yohji, the two of them nattering like old women in that indecipherable guttural language. Ken studied the redhead’s profile, noticing how the side of the wide mouth turned up slightly in amusement or pleasure. The German’s face looked softer somehow, the sharp features more relaxed, less… Sardonic, Ken thought to himself with a small smile. That was a good word for Schuldig.
The German glanced over at Ken and smirked at him, probably having heard the thought. Ken felt his cheeks heat slightly again at having been caught studying Schuldig’s appearance.
"I’m going to go get a drink. You guys want anything?" Schuldig asked, rising gracefully and with the maximum possible amount of stretching and flexing of his lean body.
"A beer would be wonderful," Ken replied hopefully. Yohji echoed this request, and Schuldig nodded in acknowledgment before he sashayed off into the crowd.
It wasn’t until he checked out the rear view that Ken noticed the rest of the German’s ensemble.
"Yohji?" he asked quietly, stunned by the sight. "Is he actually wearing vinyl?"
"Mm-hmm," Yohji murmured distractedly, his eyes still fixed on the point where Schuldig had disappeared into the crowd. Ken wondered if the older man was waiting for the German to reappear.
Ken bit his lip thoughtfully, burning with curiosity over this encounter. It was blatantly obvious that this was hardly the first time Yohji and Schuldig had run into one another in a place like this, and considering what Yohji had said to the telepath about what had happened at the door…
Ken wondered just how often Yohji and Schuldig had been meeting here in secret.
Or was it really a secret? Yohji had a tendency to keep his private affairs to himself, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tell his friends things…if they asked. It was just that it had never occurred to Ken to ask Yohji if he now spent his evenings at nightclubs with Schuldig instead of the constant parade of women Weiss had grown accustomed to hearing about.
"So, um…do the two of you meet here often?" Ken asked, figuring better late than never.
Yohji turned back to him with a blank expression, looking momentarily dazed. Then he blinked, and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Ken, my mind was somewhere else. What were you saying?" he asked.
Yeah, and where exactly was your mind, Yotan? Ken wondered a bit nervously. He’d had his suspicions about Yohji’s strange distraction over the past few months, but knowing the older man had been spending time with Schuldig pretty much confirmed for Ken that whatever was happening to his friend was not natural, and had something to do with the telepath. He cursed himself silently for ever encouraging Yohji to seek out the redhead.
But Yohji had seemed so…lost, somehow, after he got back to his own body. Like there was something unresolved between him and Schuldig. Ken had been greatly relieved when Weiss hadn’t had to fight Schwarz in that last battle at Takatori’s headquarters. He wasn’t sure what it would have done to Yohji to have to fight Schuldig. He wasn’t sure if Yohji could do it. And he wasn’t sure what would have happened to his friend if Schuldig had been killed.
But now he had to wonder if maybe that wouldn’t have been for the best. If maybe Schuldig had some kind of hold over Yohji, and Ken had unknowingly encouraged his friend to walk into danger with open arms…
/ I’d hardly say open arms, Ken-kun / a familiar nasal voice remarked inside Ken’s head. Ken started slightly in surprise and Yohji gave him an odd look as he pulled out his cigarettes. The blond shook his head at Ken’s nervous smile as he lit one and inhaled deeply, letting smoke drift slowly from his nose.
Where are you? Ken thought, as loudly as he could. Why are you talking in my head?
/ There’s no need to yell, / Schuldig informed him peevishly. / I’m waiting for our drinks, and I’m bored. /
So why don’t you talk to Yohji? Ken asked curiously.
He sensed something like a mental wince from Schuldig. / Well…actually…it’s really more comfortable for us both if I stay out of his mind as much as possible. Especially in public. /
Why? Ken wondered.
/ Eh…I don’t think I’m going to answer that one, / Schuldig replied warily. / So, Ken-kun, what’s a nice boy like you doing in a trashy place like this? / Schuldig asked brightly, changing the subject.
Ask Yohji. He’s the one that dragged me here, Ken thought back irritably.
"Okay," Schuldig agreed, suddenly reappearing with three bottles of beer. He set two down on the table and took a long drink from the third, even as he nudged insistently at Yohji with one shiny-vinyl-clad knee to make room for him on the curved bench seat. Yohji rolled his eyes but obligingly shifted over a bit. Schuldig slumped down on the seat, leaning familiarly against Yohji.
Ken stared at his friend in surprise, but Yohji didn’t seem bothered by Schuldig’s closeness any more than he had when the German had first appeared. If anything, Yohji leaned into Schuldig slightly in turn, slipping one arm around the German’s shoulders to settle them both more comfortably.
Ken frowned slightly at the sight. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Yohji get that close to someone, not even one of the women he’d seen the blond with over the years. And he knew for damn sure he’d never seen Yohji get that close to a guy. Even with him and Omi, when Yohji was teasing them, he kept their contact brief and fleeting. Schuldig looked like he was settling in for a while, and Yohji didn’t seem to mind a bit.
/ It’s kind of a holdover from when he was stuck in my head, / Schuldig explained, meeting Ken’s confused gaze with solemn emerald eyes. / We’re both just…very comfortable being close to each other. More comfortable than we are apart, really. /
That was hardly reassuring to Ken.
But Yohji didn’t seem unhappy…
"So, YoYo, why did you bring Kenken along tonight?" Schuldig asked abruptly. Ken frowned at the nickname. It was bad enough when his teammates called him that, now Schuldig was doing it, too?
"Well, Schuschu…" Yohji drawled thoughtfully with a smirk. Schuldig scowled at him and reached inside Yohji’s jacket. From the expression of stunned agony on Yohji’s face, combined with the pained curse he spat out and the location of Schuldig’s hand, Ken guessed the blond’s nipple had been viciously assaulted. He winced in sympathy.
"Bitch," Yohji snapped.
Schuldig growled at him.
"Anyway," Yohji muttered, taking a calming sip of beer, "I decided Ken’s been moping around long enough. I mean, I liked Aya, but the jerk took off, and if he was too dumb to appreciate what he was leaving behind, well, screw him. Ken could do better anyway," Yohji declared.
"You think so?" Schuldig mused, smirking speculatively at Ken, who was blushing again.
"Definitely," Yohji stated. "I mean, he’s a nice guy, he’s hard-working, he’s…I don’t know, earnest or some shit…and hell, he’s pretty goddamn hot, too…" Yohji seemed to continue pondering Ken’s positive qualities, while Schuldig looked over at the younger man and studied him with a suddenly cold emerald gaze.
"Is he?" Schuldig murmured quietly, and Ken swallowed nervously at the look the German was giving him. The older man shifted position slightly, somehow pressing more closely to Yohji. There was a challenge in Schuldig’s posture, in the chill glare he directed at Ken.
"Sure!" Yohji agreed affably, apparently oblivious to the tension between the man who was practically sitting in his lap and the friend who was seriously considering getting up and running away and worrying later about how to get home. "I mean, he’s not my type, of course, but he’s a good-looking guy. Don’t you think so? You’re a better judge than I am," Yohji continued.
And as if a switch had been thrown, Ken felt that tension snap and disappear once again. Schuldig released him from that frozen stare to frown at Yohji. "You’re so full of shit, Kudo. You’re just as good a judge of male attractiveness as I am," he declared irritably. Yohji just rolled his eyes at this statement.
Schuldig’s frown deepened a bit, then he turned slowly back toward Ken, this time with a speculative smirk on his face. "Still, I have to agree, Ken-kun is pretty sexy," the German declared slowly. Yohji’s vaguely amused expression faltered, a frown hovering at the edges of his mouth. "He looks good in blue," Schuldig continued thoughtfully. "Did you dress him, Yohji-kun? I bet it was nice. I wouldn’t mind sliding that spandex down over his smooth skin… I bet it’s soft…warm to the touch… Did you help him squeeze into those pants? I’d like to take that zipper in my teeth and - "
"All right, we get the idea," Yohji snapped, abruptly pushing Schuldig away from him and standing up. He muttered something about getting another beer and stalked rapidly away.
Schuldig looked over at Ken and chuckled. "Don’t believe that beer story. He’s gonna go beat off in the bathroom," the German informed Ken with a smirk.
Ken frowned at the older man, trying to repress the not-at-all unpleasant images Schuldig’s words had brought to his mind. "Did you want to chase him away?" he asked instead of the burning question in his head, take the zipper in your teeth and do what?
Schuldig shrugged, apparently unconcerned by Yohji’s departure. "Eh, if he’s going to dish it out, he’s gonna have to learn to take it," the German declared flatly.
Ken studied the German closely for a moment, reviewing the short conversation in his mind. He smiled slightly in understanding. "You haven’t had sex yet," he concluded.
Schuldig blinked at him in surprise, then sighed wearily. "No, we haven’t," he admitted irritably. "Every time we get close, he suddenly remembers that he doesn’t like guys that way. What a load of bullshit. I thought he’d be over that by now, but he’s so...stubborn! He drives me nuts, one minute he’s almost responding, and the next he’s running away and…Argh! I don’t need to be wasting my time on him! There’s plenty of people around who wouldn’t have any trouble making up their minds whether or not they wanted me," Schuldig complained loudly.
Ken blinked in surprise at this frank proclamation. Why the hell is he telling me all of this? We don’t even know each other. We fought a few times, and there was that whole weird Yohji-inside-his-head thing, but…
"You’re the one who brought up sex," Schuldig muttered, shooting Ken an irritated glance.
"Uh, yeah, I did…sorry. It just occurred to me that you’re both acting like…" Ken trailed off in embarrassment.
"Like what?" Schuldig asked curiously.
"Well…like you want each other…but neither one of you is sure of your…claim. That stage in a…relationship where you get jealous and suspicious and nervous over every little thing, because you’re not sure yet where you stand," Ken attempted to explain.
Schuldig frowned. "Really?" he asked, sounding surprised.
Ken nodded.
"Huh," Schuldig muttered thoughtfully.
Ken frowned at the German, confused by the man’s behavior. Granted, he didn’t know Schuldig very well, but he hadn’t thought the volatile redhead would be the type to chat amiably about his relationship with a former enemy.
"Well, it’s the "former" part that makes the difference," Schuldig pointed out.
"Could you wait until I say something out loud before you answer me?" Ken snapped. The way the German kept responding to his private thoughts was getting annoying, if not downright unnerving.
"Sorry," Schuldig said, not sounding regretful at all. "I don’t mean to do it. But I can’t always tell the difference between what you say and what you just think unless I’m really paying attention," he explained.
"Why are you being so…nice to me?" Ken demanded abruptly. "Why are you explaining all this…stuff?"
Schuldig blinked at him in surprise and smiled wryly. "Because you appreciate honesty," he replied. "You like people to be open about their motivations. You don’t trust as easily as you used to, which is smart of you, but it makes it harder to make a good impression on you. I don’t usually go to the trouble of explaining myself to other people, but I want you to at least believe I don’t intend to harm Yohji."
"Why do you care what I think of you?" Ken asked in confusion.
"I don’t," Schuldig said flatly. "But you’re probably Yohji’s closest friend, and he does care what you think. That’s why he brought you here tonight. Well, that’s part of it. The whole moping over Aya thing was starting to bug him, too. But mostly he wanted you to meet me in…well, as close to normal circumstances as possible, I guess. He’s having a lot of issues about being my…friend, so he wanted your take on the whole thing. Basically, you could seriously screw up my life if I can’t manage to convince you I’m not a completely irredeemable bastard."
"You mean, if I decide you’re not good for Yohji, you’ll leave him alone?" Ken asked incredulously.
"Well, no," Schuldig admitted. "But…if you decide you don’t like me, and you tell Yohji he shouldn’t hang around with me… Well, I think he probably will anyway, but he’ll never be really comfortable. He’ll never be happy. It’s this whole friendship thing. If he knows you don’t approve, he’ll never stop questioning himself, and that gives me a headache like you wouldn’t believe," the German declared, rolling his eyes.
"So…you want me to like you?" Ken asked uncertainly.
Schuldig shrugged and looked off toward the crowded dance floor. Ken could see the slight tension in the older man’s body again, and it occurred to him that he hadn’t ever seen Schuldig as uptight as he’d been this evening. Even in the middle of a battle, the German had always been relaxed and confident, sure of himself. Now he was nervous.
"You…you saved Yohji’s life," Ken said thoughtfully, watching Schuldig for a reaction.
The redhead shrugged, still not looking at Ken. "If I hadn’t been trying to kill him, it wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place," he replied easily.
"He was trying to kill you, too," Ken pointed out. "And that day in the hospital…you could have killed him then, very easily. I remember how fragile his…link, or whatever it was, had gotten…it kept almost tearing through. You could have snapped it. He would have died then."
"Yeah, but he might have stayed inside my head forever, too," Schuldig stated, waving his hand as if to dismiss Ken’s words.
Ken remembered that day, remembered Schuldig saying something similar while he was inside Ken’s mind. And he remembered the conclusion he’d drawn then. You’re not worried for you, you’re worried for him.
Perhaps hearing the thought, Schuldig glanced over at Ken curiously.
"Yohji’s developed this sudden fondness for German metal and techno music," Ken informed the redhead.
Schuldig winced. "Sorry… I like my music loud. And preferably annoying to Brad," he explained.
"So he did…pick that up from you?" Ken asked.
"Probably, if he didn’t like it before. Personally, I’ve suddenly found myself obsessed with strawberry shampoo. I used to just pick up whatever I happened to grab off the shelf, but now it has to be strawberry…" Schuldig sighed and rolled his eyes again.
Ken couldn’t help grinning at that. Yohji had always used strawberry shampoo. He’d teased the older man about it any number of times, since it wasn’t exactly a masculine smell, but for some reason Yohji really liked it.
So apparently the changes in Yohji were not a one way proposition. The blond had affected Schuldig’s tastes as well. That was a bit reassuring to Ken.
"What are your intentions toward Yohji?" he asked abruptly, feeling like somebody’s father rather than a friend and coworker.
Schuldig smirked at him in surprised amusement. "Well, I could say my intentions are to screw him until he can’t walk straight…or vice versa, whichever he prefers. But I don’t think that would get me the Ken Hidaka Seal of Approval," the German observed wryly. He chuckled at Ken’s nod of agreement. "Well, I guess…I don’t know, really, Kenken. I…like him. I feel good when I’m around him. I’m attracted to him. I’m not trying to hurt him or anything, and I won’t push him…too much." He trailed off with an irritated sigh. "I’m not a precog, don’t ask me what the future holds," he muttered, finishing his beer and standing up. "Need another?" he asked, motioning to Ken’s nearly empty bottle with his own.
"Sure," Ken said. Schuldig nodded and turned away, melting into the crowd again.
A moment later, Yohji reappeared and slid back into the booth. He’d taken his jacket off, and tossed it onto the seat next to Ken, the gold shirt shimmering across his lean chest as he stretched his arms across the back of the seat.
"So…" Yohji said casually. "What do you think?"
"About what?" Ken asked innocently, wondering if Schuldig had been right about Yohji’s reasons for bringing him here.
Yohji glanced over at him, looking mildly annoyed, then went back to staring at the dance floor, just as Schuldig had been doing a few minutes earlier.
"See anything you like?" Yohji drawled, running his eyes over a few of the bodies gyrating closest to their table.
Ken shrugged and followed Yohji’s gaze. He wasn’t really interested in looking for companionship. For one thing, this really wasn’t the sort of place he would choose to meet people, and for another...well, Yohji might think he’d moped over Aya long enough, but Ken was quite prepared to continue moping for at least another month. Sure, his fling with Yuriko had helped him get over Kase, but Aya…Aya had been…different.
"Schuldig thinks you brought me here to pass judgment on him or something," Ken informed his friend.
Yohji stiffened slightly at his words. "Where’d he get a stupid idea like that?" the blond asked, a little too casually.
Ken smiled to himself. Schuldig, whatever his faults, certainly knew how Yohji thought. Which was really hardly surprising. "Yeah, I mean, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Why would you need my opinion?" Ken asked innocently.
"Precisely. I’m a grown man," Yohji agreed firmly, lighting up a new cigarette. He leaned back against the seat and smoked quietly for a moment. "But just out of curiosity, what do you think of him?" he asked disinterestedly.
Ken shook his head in amusement.
/ See? I told you so, / Schuldig announced.
Eavesdropping is rude, Ken thought back piously.
Schuldig gave a mental snort in reply, but was silent after that. Ken wouldn’t have bet money that the German had actually stopped listening, but at least he was considerately pretending to allow the other two their privacy.
"I think…he’s…not what I expected," Ken said slowly.
"What do you mean?" Yohji asked, blowing smoke rings.
Ken shrugged again. "I don’t know. I mean, when we were Weiss and he was Schwarz, he was like this nasty, evil guy…He had these weird powers, he really seemed to enjoy tormenting Omi…" Ken felt a twinge of guilt at that thought. Schuldig had done some awful things to Omi, and here he was, if not actually having a blast with the guy, at least not disliking him. It felt somewhat disloyal.
Ken shrugged away his sudden discomfort. Yohji and Schuldig would have to cross that bridge when they came to it, if they ever did.
"But I guess…he’s not so bad," Ken decided aloud. "He’s kind of obnoxious, but so are you, and I put up with you pretty well," he added, earning a swat from Yohji. He chuckled at the older man. "Look, Yotan, I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what you want to hear. He’s an assassin. So are we, when you get right down to it. Just because we’ve stopped killing doesn’t mean the blood has all washed away. You warned me about that when I was thinking about leaving with Yuriko, remember? We can’t walk away from what we are. And with him, you’ll never have to hide it. Never have to worry that you’re secretly defiling an innocent or some shit like that… Jesus, Yohji, I’m not some kind of shrink or anything. If you like being with him, and he makes you happy and doesn’t hurt you, then…what’s your problem?" Ken asked exasperatedly.
Yohji chuckled slightly. "Damned if I know," he replied, stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray. "Maybe I don’t have one."
"Yeah, right, not in this lifetime," Ken declared. "Face it, Kudo, you’re the most screwed up guy at this table."
"Oh, right, Mr. I-killed-my-best-friend-because-he-wanted-to-murder-me-to-further-his-twisted-ambitions," Yohji drawled.
"Yeah, I am right, Mr. I-only-fuck-women-but-I-jack-my-buddies-off-for-kicks," Ken shot back, finding it surprisingly easy to ignore the reference to Kase. It didn’t bother him like it once had.
"You cried like a girl," Yohji accused.
"You licked your fingers," Ken pointed out smugly. Yohji cringed slightly at the reminder.
"I don’t want to know, nobody think about it," Schuldig declared, setting a beer in front of Ken before sitting down beside Yohji again.
Ken immediately found himself vividly recalling that strange drunken experience two months earlier in Yohji’s apartment.
"Oh Christ…damn it, Hidaka, I said don’t think about it," Schuldig complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Ken chuckled and raised his bottle, thirstily chugging most of the contents.
"Like you don’t - " Yohji began sarcastically, only to yelp in pain as Schuldig smacked him on the back of the head. He glowered at the German, then announced, "Hey, but I’ll tell you what, Ken, we both lose now, because Schuldig is definitely the most screwed up guy at this table."
Ken raised an inquiring eyebrow at the scowling German.
"Shut up, Kudo," Schuldig snapped.
"Whatever," Yohji muttered, taking a sip of his beer. Schuldig drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, apparently not caring that his boots were on the seat. He set his chin on one knee and frowned at the table, beer bottle dangling from one hand.
Yohji ignored him for a moment, then heaved a long-suffering sigh and reached over, grabbing the redhead’s shoulders and pulling him over to lean against Yohji’s side. After a moment, Schuldig uncurled himself and relaxed against Yohji.
They look almost cute, cuddled up like that, Ken thought in bemusement.
/ Almost cute, huh? Story of my life. / Ken met Schuldig’s green eyes and smiled slightly at the German.
"I’ll go get the beers this time," Ken announced, standing up. "You two look like you need some ‘alone time.’" He ignored Yohji’s curses and Schuldig’s chuckles as he walked off toward the bar.
He missed Aya.
It would be nice to be held like that.