by Chate Noire
Rating: PG
Warning: Some language.
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Author's Notes: I've only seen about 10 episdoes of Weiss Kreuz and I gotta admit it's not one of my favorites. I used it because I needed two guys living together, so the Weiss boys were a pretty obvious choice. So sorry if I've gotten the characters or the setting of whatever wrong; you may hit me on the head repeatedly with blunt objects. Also, posting for the first time in livejournal is like bootcamp. So sorry for the multiple uploads and general messiness.

Aya walked the silent streets of 4AM. The air was crisp with the cleanliness of a new day, first rays of light almost visible on the urban skyline. It was cold; it has been for several weeks, the winter finally making his first move over the golden red leaves that covered the streets since the end of summer. They were gone now, washed away by random showers of snow or cold rain that found their place within the graying clouds. The city smelled fresher after every rain. Cleaner, somehow, as though the sky's tears were enough to purge it of the filth that roamed its streets, even for just a little while.

Aya loved this time of year. It wasn't cold enough for your breath to freeze while still in your lungs, just enough to finally feel the winter. He tightened his long overcoat, breathed in the fading smell of rain, and smiled.


Their house was in the middle of a usually busy street. During the day they could hardly keep the masses of girls from filling the area around the flower shop, screaming and practically kicking for entrance, but at night it was quiet. Peaceful. It was one of Aya's favorite habits - to leave the shop in the capable hands of the other three Weiss members just before closing time, and return when the street was as empty as it was now. The wild contradiction made the silence all the more enjoyable.

He peered through the glass door, seeing nothing but the expected darkness of those small hours of the night. The other members of Weiss were familiar with Aya's fondness for late-night walks but none of them was much inclined to stay awake and open the door upon his return, so they made a habit of leaving a spare key just above the front door. Aya took a last, deep breath of the night's cool air, looking forward for a warm bed and a long sleep; it was a blissful Sunday, which meant no early waking-up, no work and thankfully, no customers on the female side. He reached above the door and paused. Narrowing his eyes, he tried again, brushing his gloved hand from side to side, coming up again with nothing. Surely it wasn't that long since his last night out that he'd forgotten where they used to put the key?...

His gaze moved from the door, around a large plant that stood by it, and towards the wide display window, decorated skillfully from the inside. There was a note taped to it:

We're out for the night, probably as long as tomorrow afternoon.
Left a key with Yohji.

See ya tomorrow!
Ken and Omi

And then, taped so that it slightly covers the first one:

Out for the night (sweetest babe ever)
Oni and Ken will let you in


Aya looked at the door, and re-read the notes. He then took a tired breath and let it out with a sigh. He wasn't sure which of them was the bigger idiot: Yohji for the complete lack of ability to do anything responsible, or Omi and Ken for trusting him to do it. Probably himself, he thought bitterly, for not making himself a bleedin' key and be done with it.

He tightened the coat around himself and sat on the doorsteps. It might've been his imagination, but he definitely felt the air growing colder and starting to leisurely bite through his skin. Wishing he'd remembered to take a scarf, Aya pulled his turtleneck as high up as he could, managing to almost cover the lower half of his face with it. He hugged himself, rested his chin on his knees and sighed

Could it possibly get any worse?...

A soft thunder rolled slowly through the gray sky and a single cold raindrop landed on the tip of his nose.

...Of course.

Aya heaved himself up and scurried away to look for a temporary cover, his bitter mumbling fading around the street's corner and into the rain.


Yohji woke up to a dark room. Half a candle was still burning on the night stand, and he vaguely recalled lighting it earlier. He turned around and jumped a little in surprise as he caught sight of the girl sleeping next to him. Ah, yes. It all came back to him now. The dinner, the walk home, the meaningful nudges and touches, the candles, the, quite the usual. He glanced at the girl again. Wasn't she much more attractive yesterday? Was he a hell of a lot more drunk? The half-naked man collected his clothes and left the room without the slightest sound, a talent he'd picked up after years of practicing precisely this type of getaway operations.

The walk home was short but wet, and Yohji was glad he picked a chick who happened to live not far away from his own house. Luckily he never gave her his address, so this enjoyable little fact hopefully won't come back to kick him in the rear. It was nearly seven in the morning when his keys jingled in the lock, and he entered the quiet entrance hall and shut the door behind him, leaving the sounds of rain and an awakening morning behind him.


The shower was a welcome one. He cranked the hot water up all the way and basked in the joy that is modern plumbing. The remainders of last night's action, whatever the hell /that/ was all about, were washed away, and his body felt warm and relaxed, just in time for a morning coffee and then straight back to bed. He opened the bathroom door, letting out a thick cloud of steam, when he heard a determined knock on the front door. It must have been going on for some time, because by now it sounded almost desperate, hardly-contained banging begging to be let in. Yohji sighed irritably and climbed down the stairs towards the door. "I'm coming, damnit!"

The knocker must've heard him, for the knocks were cut short and an expectant silence hung in the air.

"You know, they usually just leave the goddamn newspaper by the door and go, you idiot." Yohji turned the key, opened the heavy door, and found himself face to face with a soaking wet, slightly bluish and entirely pissed off Aya. The man was leaning on the doorframe and simply staring at him, raindrops falling from the tips of his hair and coat, his purple eyes piercing through his own. His stare was so cold it was a wonder the flowers in the next room didn't all wither and die.

Yohji, ever the sensitive guy, giggled.

"Aya, you baka, you look like a drowned puppy. What the hell have you been doing?"

The redhead was still leaning against the door, whether to support his own weight or as way of stopping himself from lunging at Yohji and killing him with his bare hands.

"I was walking through the rain, Yohji. For three hours."

Yohji appeared confused. "Well, why the hell didn't you come home?"

"I did, Yohji." He finally lifted himself and entered the house. It was his walk, or his stare, or the way he said Yohji's name so deliberately, that made the other man take a defensive step back, and keep that distance. "I had some trouble getting in." Aya's eyes bore into Yohji's, trying to convey a certain message the other man was continuously failing to understand.

"Well what the hell do you want from me?" Yohji shoved his hands into his pockets innocently, and then his face fell. He dug out a small key with a red keychain aptly labeled "spare" and held it in front of him. "Oh," he said quietly. He glanced sideways at Aya and then his face broke into a smile.

"Well, most important thing is you're home now, right? Never mind the past."

Aya's eyes widened in a combination of shock and fury, but before he had a chance to reply, most probably violently, an altogether different look washed upon his features, and he leaned aside quickly, letting out an awkward-sounding "Ih'Kkttsstg!"

Yohji stared at his turned back. "Was that..." he began laughing, "was that a sneeze?"

When the red-haired man straightened up to look at him, finger rubbing softly under his nose, Yohji was laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing. A second later he was having even more trouble breathing, as a furious Aya held him against the wall by the throat, his eyes speaking of all manners of pain.

"I walked through the goddamn rain for three hours, Yohji, because /you/ forgot to leave a goddamn key! Is it too much to ask for /some/ consideration, just the tiniest thought of anyone except yourself--Iieeshheeoo!" The sneeze took him by such surprise he didn't even manage to turn away.

"Dude, that's disgusting." Yohji freed himself from Aya's grip which had gone limp after the sneak-sneeze struck and walked towards the living room. "Why don't you save the drama for Takatori and leave me alone. So I forgot to leave you a key. Big fuckin' deal..."

Hearing as there's no response, Yohji dared to look back at the redhead. He was still standing in the hall, one hand wiping rainwater out of his hair and face, the other rubbing his nose uselessly, trying to get the rising tickle to die down. Alas, it was far too strong for him to vanquish, so he gave up and let the feeling take over, play mercilessly upon his features and especially his nose. It twitched, tickled, flared, and then --

"You are looking so ridiculous."

Somehow, it was enough for Aya to forget all about the desperate need to sneeze. His contorting face suddenly wore a threatening look and he leapt at Yohji, knocking him over the sofa and onto the floor, where he continued to beat him, venting out all the anger he built up in three hours of wetness and cold. Eventually Yohji sighed, grabbed his opponent by the shoulders and effortlessly knocked him to the carpet.

"You must really be sick, if you let me beat you so easily," he said, whether he was taunting or sincerely showing concern remained a mystery.

Aya waved him away, and turned to the side to sneeze against the furry carpet a tired, stifled "Ieeekktssh!" and another "Ihkktsshxgt!". He sighed and sat down, releasing a third "khi'Ktchhst!" between his bent legs.

He remained seated, his eyes closed. He hadn't even taken his coat off, and was still almost as cold as he was when he entered. Sitting down was a mistake...he'd never be able to get up again.

Suddenly he felt a violent tickle against his nose. He looked up and to his utter disbelief saw, and more annoyingly, felt, Yohji brushing a long ornamental feather under his nostrils. He couldn't contain it long enough to inquire, and simply burst with the uncontrolled reaction, trying as hard as he could to keep them quiet.

"Hii'kttshtss! hhngxtch! hi..hih...hi'Iikitch! hngmmpt!"

"I had to hear it have the silliest sounding sneeze, you know?"

Aya's expression was the weirdest combination of rage and sneeziness when he shot an attempt at a deadly look at Yohji. He was wet and cold and sneezing because of this man, and he dares to make fun of him! And for God's sake, to enjoy and add to his misery! Aya was so infuriated he could kill him, if it wasn't for that damned tickling...

"Hiieessh! Hiihtchst! Huh..huh...HaaEeeshooo!"

They were getting harder to contain, the vicious effects of the feather still having their way with his sensitive nostrils. Each sneeze seemed to bring another two along, making this an endless torture. Aya let them loose, big cold-induced sneezes, more than helped by Yohji's deviousness.

"HiieeaaShaa! Eiisheeoo! Eiishhoo! Hihuh-hihuh-hu...hiHIASSCHoo!"

The slightest pause allowed him to press the back of his hand against his nose roughly and hold back the rest of it for a while. He stood up shakily, violet eyes peering at Yohji over a fisted hand, and punched him so hard the man lost balance and nearly flew backwards. Aya gave him a final sniff of both victory and tickle-taming, spun on his heels and went up to his room. The ceiling shook slightly when he shut the door with a little more than enough enthusiasm.

Yohji supported himself with one arm, and rubbed his jaw with the other.

"Was I out of line?" he mumbled to no one in particular. He jumped to his feet and, setting the offensive feather back in its decorative vase, climbed the stairs.


Yohji stood in front of Aya's closed door, a box of tissues in one hand and the other ready to knock. He made sure there were no sounds that might indicate violence from the inside; one Aya-punch was quiet enough for one day, thanks very much. His knock was probably the most polite he'd ever managed, but he took a couple steps back just in case.

The door opened, and Yohji took another instinctive step away from it upon seeing his roommate's expression. It was one he'd gotten used to in really personal missions or very heated fights, but not ever towards any of the Weiss members. He tried to smile apologetically, and raised the tissues a bit.

"I brought you some--"

Aya's voice was hoarse with congestion and concentrated anger when he yelled at him, the words spilling out without so much as punctuation or pause for air.

"If you don't get the hell out of my face right now I swear to God you'll have a hard time seeing the light of day for at least the next two weeks, you goddamn selfish egotistical bastard you're lucky to be bleedin' alive with your goddamn lousy sense of fuckin' humor, if it wasn't for this damned cold I'd rip that useless head of yours off your scrawny little neck and grind it with my teeth, you goddamn stupid fuckin' sonovabitch!"

The door slammed against the frame like a final note in the Symphony of Angry. There was a moment of silence in which Yohji stared at the closed door, trying to piece everything Aya just threw at him into complete sentences, the box of tissues still in his raised hand.

Then he heard a muffled "Iiiessshee!" from inside the room. A quiet second later, the door opened again and Aya stared at him, if possible, even more furiously than before. Then he growled, snatched the tissues, and slammed the door shut behind him.

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