Ch. 12: "Wishful Thinking"

Notes: Yes, I know the series ended differently. But you know me, I always gotta tweak the story line... =pp so I guess this is kinda AU. I mess a lot with the concept of the story. ^.^; Those with weak stomachs, don't proceed. *Sweatdrop*
Disclaimer: WK does not belong to me. Neither do the lyrics that proceed each chapter- they're taken from various songs from the "Queen of the Damned" soundtrack. Don't sue. =pp

Your name
Your flesh
We are

"Hashikata wants to see us."
Schuldich looked up from where he was busy creating a work of art with some frozen broccoli he'd found in the freezer. "Now?"
"In an hour." Crawford glanced at his Rolex. "We're leaving in fifteen minutes. Tell-" His eyes fluttered and he took an unsteady step forward, reaching out to grab the doorframe.
Schuldich watched with mild interest from the table, broccoli project forgotten.
After a moment the American straightened, composing himself quickly. "We're going to be attacked on the way," he said calmly, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "So keep your guard up."
"Fun fun," Schuldich said dryly, rising to his feet as Crawford turned and exited the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
Crawford ignored the question. "Tell Nagi to get Farfarello ready."
Schuldich scowled and flicked the topmost broccoli piece with a finger, sending the rest of the frozen vegetable pieces tumbling. Oi, chibi. Gotta see the boss-man in fifteen minutes. Fetch Marilyn Manson.
I'm studying, Nagi responded pointedly.
How nice. I'll alert the media. Now be a nice boy and go fetch Farfie. You can play with your coloring books later.
Go screw yourself, Nagi snapped back irritably. But a moment later Schuldich heard the other boy head down the hall.
"It's so hard to find good help these days," Schuldich sighed dramatically as he wandered into the living room where Crawford was calmly loading his gun. He flopped himself on the couch and flipped idly through one of Nagi's technology magazines. "Geez, what kind of geek reads this stuff?" he huffed after a moment, tossing the magazine carelessly across the room and gazing up at the ceiling. Hmm, fifteen minutes to kill. What should he think about to amuse himself?
He began rooting through his memories of the night before, and his lips curved in a smirk as he thought back to his encounter with Balinese.
Pressing the other man to the desk, holding him helpless, watching the man's face twist in desperation and frustration... Mmm.. What he wouldn't give for a piece of that ass. He snickered to himself. Kudou was sexy and damn well aware of the fact. He could do with a lesson in humility. He ran his fingers lightly along his abdomen, imagining pinning the assassin underneath him and...
Schuldich flicked his gaze towards the source of the voice. Nagi stood in the doorway to the den, a slightly disgusted look on his face. He was looking pointedly at the German's hand, still running back and forth across his own abdomen. "Did you plan on jacking off next?"
Schuldich raised his eyebrows coolly at the other boy. "Mind your business, chibi," he said a trifle sharply, dropping his hand and letting it hang casually off the side of the couch. Crawford's eyes danced with muffled amusement, though his expression was smooth. Schuldich scowled darkly at him before turning a smirk on Farfarello, who had emerged behind Nagi. "Anyway, it would probably do Farfie here some good. He could use a little help in that department. He probably doesn't even know the difference between a girl and a guy." He snickered.
I've seen you before, Farfarello responded calmly.
Schuldich caught a fleeting glimpse of himself in Farfarello's memory- sprawled on his bed, playing pocket pool, unaware that the Irishman had paused in the doorway to watch with an expressionless face. He sputtered, sitting up abruptly. "Omae-!! That was private, you hentai!"
Nagi was grinning widely, pleased that the madman had managed to fluster their partner. "Maa, Schuldich," he said pleasantly, "I didn't know you were exhibitionist."
"Urusai!!" Schuldich snarled, furious with himself for reacting so badly. It wouldn't have bothered him as much if it hadn't been for the fact that he had been daydreaming about screwing Kudou's brains out that day as well. He glowered at Crawford. "Well?" he demanded. "Aren't you going to do something about this??" The corner of Farfarello's lip twitched in faint amusement.
"Why don't you go take a cold shower, Schuldich?" Crawford suggested mildly.
Schuldich proceeded to tell them all exactly what he thought of them at that point.


Yohji yawned, wiggling a finger in his ear as he watched the girls who milled around the shop. Mou... why did he have to watch the counter today? For once he wasn't interested in flirting with anything that wore a skirt. He was tired as a dog from the previous night's mission, confused about the whole Manx thing, and...
He was in one of those moods again.
Some days all he wanted to goggle at was a pair of pert breasts and a swaying skirt. But on days like this...
His eye wandered more and more towards the long, graceful legs and pale beauty of Aya; the adorable kid-like face of Omi; and the lithe, sleek frame of Ken.
Mou.. it wasn't his fault they rarely got male customers. Who else was he supposed to look at on days like these?
It was a closely guarded secret of his that he could swing just as easily towards a slender, attractive male as he could a beautiful, shapely woman. No one on his team knew about it, and he was determined to keep it that way. What he did some nights when he wasn't seeking a woman's company was none of their business.
But lately someone had been making it their business.
He scowled darkly as he used a hundred yen piece to pick under his nails. Schuldich, that damned Nazi bastard, had wriggled the thought out of his head at some point, and delighted in throwing it in his face on every mission. Just like last night, when he had...
He felt his face flush and muttered a colorful curse. It pissed him off to no end that the German had found out his secret, and what made him even angrier was the helpless fact that Schuldich was dangerously close to turning Yohji's head. He couldn't help it if the bastard happened to be that damn good looking. He couldn't help it if the little slime ball enjoyed "accidentally" brushing his hands or his knee where they didn't belong during a tussle in the middle of damn missions. It made him want to scream with frustration. Part of him wanted to bash the man's face in, but the other part of him wanted to shove the German up against a wall and wipe that arrogant smirk off his face by screwing him silly.
Hmm, that was a nice mental image..
Gahhh, this wasn't helping! He tossed the yen hurriedly back into the register and forced himself to smile at the giggling girl who came forward with a little potted plant. What would his team think if they found out he had wet dreams about other men? That he'd even had one a few times of that.. that NAZI? They'd be disgusted, and probably worse- they'd want him kicked out of Weiß.
No way. No way was that happening. He'd cut off Schuldich's pretty head with his wire before he'd let that happen. Weiß was... all he knew now. He had nowhere else to go.
"Come again," he said with forced cheerfulness, waving as the disappointed customer left. Obviously she'd been hoping to get a hot date tonight. Ah, the dreams of the young...
"Yohji." Aya was watching him coldly. "Snap out of it and do your job."
Yohji made a face at him. "Oh butt out," he snapped irritably. This was not the right time for Aya to go all ice man on him. He was tired, he was pissy, and he was horny, damn it.
Aya's eyes narrowed dangerously. Omi, sensing that World War III was on the wind, quickly intervened. "Ah- Aya-kun! Can you help that girl with those tulips? Domo. Yohji-kun, can you hand me that watering can, please?"

Ken watched as his younger friend diffused the brewing fight, and shook his head. Everyone was so tense. Part of it had been the mission, but the majority of it had to do with the news Farfarello had brought- and the vampires themselves.
He frowned to himself as he swept absently at the floor with the frayed broom he'd brought down from his room. Holding it reminded him of last night, when he had tried unsuccessfully to use it as a weapon against the madman of Schwarz.
The scarred man made him uneasy- even terrified him sometimes -but at the same time, he couldn't get Aya's words out of his mind. "Why didn't he hurt you?"
Why? Did Farfarello enjoy "playing" with him so much? And then there was this whole "pet" thing... What was that supposed to mean?
The bell above the door rang, and he turned with a half hearted smile to greet their newest customer. "Irrashai..." He trailed off, a little startled. A male customer- and unaccompanied by a girlfriend. That was rare.
A good looking man, actually. He was tall, probably slightly taller than even Yohji, his golden hair pulled back in a limp ponytail, his oval face framed by long bangs. He reached up to remove a pair of stylish sunglasses as he paused in the doorway, bright blue eyes adjusting to the dimmer light.
He flicked Ken a brief, uninterested look before heading for the counter, his cream colored Gucci suit looking sharp on his lithe form. His chin was nicked with an old scar, and he had the look of a fighter- he certainly carried himself with the precise, arrogant attitude of one. He ignored the flustered girls waiting in line and leaned his knuckles on the counter to look Yohji in the eye.
Ken didn't like him.
Apparently neither did Aya, by the way he was watching the man suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.
Yohji raised his eyebrows at the man before him, fingers busy counting the bills in the register, though his gaze was locked with the stranger's. "Irrashai. One of my friends could help you if you're looking for something; but there are other people in line."
The tall man ignored that. "I'm looking for someone," he said in a quiet, aloof voice. He spoke like he was better than everyone else. Ken liked him even less. "A Ken," the man continued. "A Hidaka Ken."
Ken blinked and exchanged a surprised, puzzled look with Omi across the shop. Aya's mouth twitched in the beginnings of a frown. Yohji caught the expression out of the corner of his eye and smiled graciously at the strange man. "Is that so? Could I ask who's come to see him?"
As Yohji stalled, Aya approached Ken, keeping his eyes on the bundle of tulips he was carrying. "Ken. Do you know him?"
"I-iya," Ken said, shaking his head. "Never seen him before. Seems like an ass though, doesn't he?"
"Here." Aya pulled the dark red ribbon from the boquet and offered it. "Wrap this around your neck." Ken stared blankly at him, and Aya shook it slightly, impatiently, in front of his face. "Do it. Cover your scars."
Ken blinked and hastily took the satin ribbon, tying it around his throat. He glanced towards the glass window to make sure it didn't look too obvious. It was almost the same color as the logo on his t-shirt. In the window he saw the reflection of Omi casually tugging a patterned bandanna from around a large group of roses and tying it around his neck.
"Just point him out to me," the blond American was snapping impatiently. "I was told he works here." Ken winced at his accent. Who had taught this bozo how to speak Japanese?
Yohji's smile was polite but insincere. "He called in sick," he lied easily. "I could leave him a note, though, if you want."
The bell above the door jingled again, but no one looked this time. All eyes were on the two tall men at the counter.
The stranger made an impolite noise in the back of his throat and turned away in disgust, his eyes darting around. They landed on Omi- or more precisely, on the bandanna he'd just tied around his neck. He pushed a girl aside and headed towards the young boy in long, confident strides.
Omi watched him come, eyes wide with feigned politeness and honest puzzlement, the nervousness carefully stowed away. "May I help you?"
The man reached for the bandanna without speaking.
Omi dodged backwards quickly, stepping out of reach, his fingers tightening on his watering can. "Sir?"
Aya had already dumped the tulips on the nearest surface and was trying to get through the packed crowd towards the two of them. Ken edged slightly behind a large fern, glancing around frantically for a weapon.
A vampire- it had to be! Jesus, when Farfarello had warned him that the little buggers would start coming out of the woodwork looking for him, he'd never thought they'd have the nuts to actually march into their own shop! And anyway, it was daytime!
"Ch-chotto!" Omi gasped as the man seized the front of his shirt and yanked him forward.
Yohji came around the counter quickly, snatching up a shovel leaning against the wall.
"Remove that bandanna," the man growled. "At once."

"H-hai..." Omi stuttered, reaching up hastily to untie the knot. He tugged at it, but it was too tight. The blond man impatiently smacked his small hand away, ignoring his startled cry, and grasped the bandanna, prepared to rip it off.
Then he hesitated. Ken stared, waiting for the other man to continue, but it was as if... he was frozen in place. His eyes bulged and sweat appeared on his forehead as if he was struggling to move, but... He remained motionless.
"Omi." A calm, quiet voice said from behind Ken. "Come over here."
Ken turned slowly, his heart pounding in his ears. Hadn't another customer arrived while the American was questioning Yohji? Then it was...
Omi wrenched himself away from the man with a little huff and turned towards the customer with an anxious look on his face. "I told you not to come here," he protested, fear flickering in his eyes as he glanced frantically towards Aya.
Everyone was staring at the boy in the doorway. No one said anything.
Nagi gave a little sigh, reaching up to push his dark hair from his eyes. "Kuradan. I said come here. Get away from that man- he's dangerous."

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