7-June-2002
Breakdown: An Alternate Universe Weiss Kreutz Fanfic
by Nixerchan and bonnejeanne
Contact: nixerchan@aol.com and bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Category: AU
Pairings: Various, or to put it another way, most of them ^__^;;
Warnings: Weird premise, weird psychic powers, probably confusing plot, um, possibly some OOC, some violence, probably gratuitous use of pointless Japanese, what else... oh yeah, LEMON from time to time... poor Nixers, I'm such a corrupting influence... ^__~
Rating: NC-17
SUMMARY/PREMISE: What if the Weiss boys actually possessed psychic powers similar to Schwartz, which had been suppressed or erased from their memories?
AU TIMELINE: Picks up *almost* at the end of the OAV, just after the death of Gen. Norman Powell.
/something/ - may indicate thoughts, telepathy or other psychic contact.
'something' - indicates just thoughts.
Chapter 3: Resetting the Board
On the plus side, the dressing rooms of the old theatre were spacious and had cots. One the down side, they were cots after all. Nothing fancy, and probably not any better for Youji's back.
Recently abandoned, the structure had mostly been used for small groups doing Noh and Kyogen plays, and was crowded with costumes, masks, and set pieces. The rats weren't too bold and kept to the lower levels and out of the light.
Aya staked out one of the dressing rooms, pulling Ken in with him and making it clear the other two would have to find other spaces.
Omi, unabashed, pulled Youji into the adjoining dressing room cheerfully enough and started picking it up to make it habitable.
Youji only took a second look over his shoulder, before letting out a speculative "Hmmph?" and picking one of the cots to sprawl out over. Adjusting his sunglasses, he occupied himself in watching Omi and the inexhaustible source of energy the teenager seemed to have.
He folded his hands behind his head, taking in the rows of billowy costumes, the occasional froth of many feathers, but lacking the sequins and show of foreign costumes, relying more on color and folds to tell the character's story. /And just in walking distance to the stage,/ Youji mused.
"Appropriate," he murmured. Then louder, asked, "Where did you find this place anyway?"
"Mmmm... saw an article on the net about the demise of culture in modern Japanese society.... they listed a bunch of theatre companies dissolving..." Omi answered, looking satisfied at the slightly reshuffled room. He flopped on another cot. "So... what's up with Aya and Ken-kun? Looks.... interesting..."
"Mmm," Youji agreed, an almost invisible upturn to his lips, "I'd have bet you good yen that he'd have claimed that entire room as 'his,' slammed the door, and left the rest of us to vie for space here."
"Things have changed," Omi murmured, an almost wistful tone to his voice. He looked over at Youji, his eyes picking up nuances. "Sorry I wasn't there to help but you seemed to handle it okay...?"
"I'm not sure it was so much anything I did as something Aya didn't want to do," Youji said, watching the ceiling.
Omi filed this away thoughtfully. He knew there was a very urgent need for them to form some kind of plan, but there was also a need for a small time of quiet. It would have to be a very small time. Part of his mind had already started working on what he would need to do... completely infiltrate Kritiker's db, even the areas he'd left alone previously due to the extreme levels of security. Get enough information to help them pick the targets. But that would continue to roll through his head even while he was doing something else, or even sleeping.
Taking a moment to survey Youji, he thought about a feeling he'd been having. It was an unexpectedly good feeling, in the midst of this mess of tension and nervousness. It was the feeling of being closer to someone than he remembered feeling before with that person. He'd always felt like he kind of clicked with his partners, had worked hard to do so, and had found Aya the biggest challenge, of course, but even that was not beyond his abilities. But between last night and today...
Gently, he sent a feeling of warmth, relaxation and reassurance to the man in the other cot.
Gradually the blond man seemed to sink deeper into the bedding, a tiny furrow between his brow smoothing. His eyes slid partially close, not quite willing to slip away completely.
"I bet it's been hard to be the one," Omi said softly, not explaining or saying anything more specific.
Green eyes slid all the way closed at that. "There were times when it was easy to forget."
Omi felt the waves of self recrimination and old guilt easily. And slowly he began easing them, starting at the edges and melting them into the feelings of warmth and reassurance.
"It's almost a relief to get it all done and out, despite everything that's going to go with it," Youji said. It was almost tangible even. "The worst was talking Ken outta going with that chick. I wanted to buy him the tickets myself. Thinking about it now, might have been a mistake anyway. Aya was way beyond me when he walked though."
Feathering the edges of each layer of old bitterness, Omi nodded. "Mmm," he murmured, encouraging Youji to release more of the closely-kept tension.
"Should have seen all of this coming though," the tall assassin reached up and pulled the sunglasses off his nose, folding them blindly and twirling them between the fingers. The simple pattern offered a different sort of relaxation. "Should have just broke down and told each of you earlier, instead of having it go off like this... Could've been kept a secret."
...a different sort of...
Green eyes opened sharply cutting off some half thought about rambling, and mentally started to shake it off.
Omi sighed, feeling a slight twinge of guilt. He got up and wandered over. "Um, turn over."
"Omi, I know you mean well, but..." Youji said, the feeling slipping away more than enough confirmation. Even without it though, he couldn't seem to work up any anger.
"I just want to give you a back rub," Omi said, dropping down to sit beside the cot. "You... you don't have to carry all that around all the time..."
Youji watched the clear blue eyes for a moment before sitting up and shrugging off the overcoat. Without a comment, he laid it flat across the cot, and his glasses down beside it and switched onto his stomach. Stretching out a little, he asked, "You know, there's some philosophy out there that says we're defined by difficulties." Resting his chin on a forearm he added, "I appreciate the effort, but it really wouldn't be gone would it?"
Omi leaned over and placed his hands on Youji's back, and began a slow, if strong, massage, starting with his neck and shoulders and working slowly down. He didn't answer right away. The finally he murmured, "I don't know, Youji-kun. Maybe... in time," he finished, with a slightly wistful note of almost-hope. It was a gift he'd very much have liked to be able to give.
Tension knots that either hadn't quite been lulled by Omi's earlier persuasion or simply returned in its absence unwound slowly, pulling more than one murmur of appreciation from Youji. "You're good at this," the soft statement had a note of surprise to it.
A little extra warmth that had a slight tinge of momentary happiness spread out from Omi's palms. "Stop sounding surprised," he protested teasingly, but the sense of personal contentment, a purely moment to moment thing that Omi had learned to live for, spread along with his touch. This wasn't effort, it was simply unleashing something natural that normally was hobbled.
Leaning in, he pressed against the nerve bundles at the base of Youji's spine, circling slightly. His hands moved lower and he drifted for a moment, a warm glow of pure admiration for the slight curves leaking through the touch a second before he realized what was happening and tried to snap a filter on it.
The other was almost too focused on the previous feelings, now identified as foreign that seemed to seep through his own veins, a speculation on how often they were actually there, as true as what was on his outward appearance in comparison to how often, in his opinion they /should/ be. The second came lapping around the edges of that, eliciting surprise and a weird sort of fascination.
A second before commenting, he felt it ... dry up in presence. Taking it as embarrassment, he just let his eyes close again. Let him skim over it and write it off as youth. "Wasn't trying to," he protested. "You might consider a career in it."
Omi snorted softly, his fair cheeks showing the color while he tried to keep the emotion from getting across. It was a damn shame, part of him protested peevishly. Another thought brought a soft chuckle out as he worked his hands down one long leg and slowly back up.
Youji turned his head just enough to peek down at Omi. "Dare I ask?"
Cheeks still a little pink, he got a smirk for his trouble. Omi worked his way down and up the other leg and moved over to take one arm, unfolding it. He placed a wadded piece of blank paper in Youji's hand as he began massaging the arm.
Youji fairly pouted at Omi, recognizing the paper instantly. The younger assassin could feel the impishness and affection from beneath his fingertips. "Mou, and alas, there went my great plans and illusions, the great Youji isn't half as sneaky as his bishounen accomplice," he declared with all the trappings of drama, and let the crumpled paper fall.
Omi came close to just drinking the affection straight from the source, an instant backwash of happiness spreading back along his hands too quickly for him to control. The longer he got used to the ideas of what they were and the fact that it wasn't a secret among them, the harder it got to police his reactions. Getting up, he straddled Youji's back carefully, not putting any weight on him, so he could reach the other arm and complete the process.
Youji, for a second, struggled for a second wind. It was too easy to drown in a rush like that, to just get carried away. /Damn, that's addictive,/ was the only coherent thing he could come up with in the aftermath. He didn't protest at all, just shifted a little to give Omi the convenience of access. This was different than what Omi was doing before somehow. "Keep it up and you'll put me to sleep," he murmured.
Another, gentler wash of affection/warmth tinged with a barely perceptible wistfulness came in response. Hands on, exerting himself to give Youji whatever he could, the pulse of the emotion was too deep and to genuine to be mistaken for anything remotely casual.
For a moment, unvoiced, Youji's response was an unfocused confusion as his mind crowed with 'How long' and a louder 'why.' An urge to put up a block as feeble as it would be, was overridden almost instantly... and he just relaxed, almost unconscious of the connection that made itself almost subconsciously, opening up for whatever the empath wanted to see. Enough chance for a recoil if he wanted it.
It was the quickly aborted desire to block that resulted in an instant response, the "volume" of the emotional energy suddenly cutting way down like someone jerking a knob, but not before Youji caught what /Omi/ was trying to hide - an instant, *expected* acceptance of rejection. Taking a deep breath, Omi shifted quietly and moved down to the foot of the cot, starting to pull Youji's boots off to continue the gentle massage over his feet.
The feeling caused a burst of unfocused anger, directed at somewhere behind Omi, and another self aimed twist, a more than accurate knowledge of a miss. Words were too clumsy at times like these and he had long declared himself even more inept at any of empathy's forms. His talents just barely skimmed telekinesis and awareness. But..
Before Omi's hands made any progress with the tight boots, they were gently pulled out of his reach and tucked under as Youji sat up and leaned forward. Long fingers slid under Omi's chin tilting it up just slightly to meet a passing brush of the lips, a second try.
Omi's mouth opened in surprise and Youji could feel the sudden, almost painful flare of hope/fear as well as feel the boy's attempt to damp that down and a spasm of self-directed frustration.
"It's ok, Youji-kun," Omi said softly, exerting himself to resolve his own feelings quickly, a habit he'd tried to build. "Let me finish... I bet the foot rub will put you to sleep..."
Youji watched the younger boy directly, pulling back in respect for the fear. Still, his hand lingered a second longer than necessary. Efficiently, he caught the heel of the boot and pulled with the right leverage to make it look simple. After the first had dropped and the second was in the process of removal he finally said, "It was a reflex. I didn't mean to try and block you off."
Omi shook his head almost violently. "It's ok," he repeated, trying to find some words that sounded more clever and suddenly unable to access his vocabulary. His lips felt... he wanted... no, don't do that! Don't want, don't need, don't ask... Throat closing, he found himself struggling violently with his feelings, positive that if he didn't get them under control he was going to alienate one of the three people in the world he allowed himself to love...
"You're too worried about me tonight," Youji said quietly, watching the other, trying to find a visible way past a mask that Aya should be envious of. He picked up Omi's hand for a moment, in the moment to squeeze it forgetting the connection he'd left open. "It's okay, but tomorrow, I've got your back."
Omi looked at his hand in Youji's, his eye wide, blank windows as he tried to shove his feelings back into boxes uncomprehendingly. The gentle pressure seeped along the cracks of his barriers, most of them instantly pushed out from the inside by a hunger for any semblance of affection. "I know..." he whispered, trying to find something he could give in return and found it with sudden relief. Youji was suddenly enveloped in a warm spreading of pure, simple trust.
Youji just seemed to go blank in the face of it, overwhelmed, and drinking it in as much as another, smaller part tried to deny it, finding any logic it could. For just that moment, that part was told exactly where it could shove it.
He brought the hand in his up to his lips in a simple motion of reverence, pushed on by equal parts of awe and affection. "You just don't know do you?" he said, barely above a hoarse whisper. "So much perception and you can't see how beautiful you are all the way through."
Youji felt the instant flare of happiness from the simple physical gesture before his words came out. A hungry seeking of each lingering second of contact... but when he spoke, the reactions flowed like quicksilver... from an instant seeking of error at the 'you don't know' to a sudden stuttering blind/blank/frozen sheer denial at the rest. The combination of those few actions and words left Omi wide open for the other to feel the instant immediate rejection of the thought and what drove it - twin impulses of desperate desire and hope matched against equally powerful certainty of having each and every good thing taken away through his own failure. The tension between the two was unbearable and he felt the hand in his begin to tremble as Omi closed his eyes and bowed his head, instinctively hiding his face.
Youji placed his other hand over Omi's before letting it slide free. He tried to push aside a bittersweet regret, wishing that he had Omi's talent, to offer some sort of reassurance. The best he could do was resolve for patience. He gathered the smaller boy into a quick hug, a hand sliding down the back of his hair briefly. "Go on to sleep," he said, releasing him with reluctance, the scent of freesia still lingering a little. As an impulse he added, "There's nothing wrong."
It wasn't that easy to release, however... Omi's arms had wound around his body immediately, muscles almost spasming as he held on tightly. Once again Youji could feel the instant reaction to the physical contact, could almost feel it being absorbed thirstily, sliding effortlessly past every single barrier the boy had in place no matter how deadlocked it might be. On his knees beside the cot where Youji sat, he pressed against the older man, and his hands started to claw gently at his back. "N-nothing except I'm the wrong sex and a k-kid," he whispered and the tone was almost angry. "But I don't *feel* like a kid! I haven't felt like a child in a hundred years!"
Youji's arms wrapped back across Omi's shoulders, closing tighter at the words and tone. A secondary part of his mind worked over his memories, trying to recall the last time he, any of them, or anyone at all in particular had so much as touched outside of an accident. He closed his eyes, realizing how bare that search came up. "No such thing as the wrong sex," he said, voice coming from somewhere beside Omi's ear. "It's like saying there's a wrong way to love." /I've got a whole book of that,/ he added to himself, clumsily trying to push that out of 'sight' again. "There's just wrong intentions."
Omi shivered a little under the returned embrace, then leaned back finally, cupping his hands around Youji's face. His wide eyes were a little too shimmery but at the same time there was a *very* mature look in them as they fastened on his face. "My intentions are all wrong," he said, his voice hardly above the earlier whisper. Then he turned his head just a little and pressed his mouth to Youji's, his lips and tongue seeking almost desperately, not fumbling, just going for it as if it was a one-time chance that had to be taken regardless of the outcome.
Another surge of surprise ran along Omi's senses, and the kiss was returned without the finesse that one might have imagined, followed by a sort of relaxation that Omi had tried for two different ways in Youji. Long fingers curled then relaxed, and the mouth on his became coaxing, taking the desperation with a certain gentleness, that he couldn't remember using with any of those he'd dallied with since Asuka.
It took so very little... Omi was long past projecting or controlling anything that was passing between the two in their contact, it was just there, raw and unfiltered. As the kiss was returned, Youji felt that suddenly spreading happiness like the brief touches before, but this warmth continued to spread along his nerves and through his body as Omi's mouth responded to his, his body melting firmly against Youji's, his hands stroking through his hair and finally along his back. Whatever Youji did only added more energy to the flare of sensation/emotion, Omi's reactions matching with flawless instinct, enhancing each caress with instant response.
Youji pulled the younger boy up next to him, not breaking contact, and then pulled back, a lingering brush from the corner of the boy's mouth to the bottom of his ear, breath dancing along the sensitive skin there. He paused there, deliberately, finding some center of himself in it, and trying to remember what he didn't want in the flood of wishes - both his and Omi's.
There was a temptation there, whispering how good it would be to just dive right in, take what was being offered. Just like everyone else since... A thrill of tension and guilt ran through his frame, tightening his embrace around the other. Omi deserved a lot better than that.
"It's not like that..." Omi whispered reassuringly, the instinct to support and comfort quite beyond his conscious control. All the times he'd had to watch his partners' pain, doing nothing because he didn't know he *could* do anything... unable to show each of them how much he cared about them, except through his work, pushing and pushing to get the information, be there in time, hit the target before they could be hurt...
"Won't be," Youji answered, the reassurance intended for both of them. Long hands slid up Omi's back to rest, curled lightly on his shoulders as Youji leaned back a bit to look at the boy beside him. The paper, now discarded caught his attention for just an instant. "You can still probably do a lot better, you know," he said, letting a thumb brush across Omi's cheek.
Wide blue eyes fastened on Youji's face with singular focus. "Better?" he said, and gave a short, soft laugh. "You don't understand, Youji-kun." He resumed the embrace, resting his chin on Youji's shoulder and just being quiet there for a long moment. "We don't have to... do anything. This is... enough. I know you don't... it's not natural for you..."
"Baka," Youji murmured, a bit of a smile at the last comment. He paused, considering a tentative and unfamiliar emotion. "You can stay here tonight if you want," he offered, then gave something of a downward glance, "there isn't much room but," he shrugged.
Omi sighed and stayed where he was. "I would but... I have stuff to do while you're sleeping," he murmured, long used to spending the night time hours at work. Still keeping his chin on Youji's shoulder he said softly, "You were just... teasing me, right? With the teacher? Like I was teasing you..."
"A little tease, a little curiosity," Youji said. "You aren't always easy to understand, bishounen."
The chin resting on his shoulder nodded. There was a little flash of pleasure that Youji would be interested enough to be curious. " 'Bout what?"
"Hmm.. at that time? Just how much you were actually teasing, and if not, what I could arrange to make it go smoother and then make it look like Ken did it," Youji finished, listing it off like mental points, a little pride evident in the plan.
Youji felt the slight tingle of curiosity, then felt rather than heard a little internal, affectionate laughter that didn't make it out to sound or movement. "Make what go smoother? Me dating my math teacher?" The words allowed the feeling out and they ended with a chuckle.
"You never know," Youji returned, affecting the tones of an indignant lecture, "The stuffy looking types sometimes have the best imagination." Omi could hear the grin in Youji's voice as he continued, "Makes you wonder about katana-boy, ne?"
The amusement was perceptible, along with a slightly protective reaction quickly covered. Then Youji could feel the emotions flow into something of a different timbre. "I'm never going to date," Omi said, the words underscored with a commitment like a vow.
"You may change your mind later." Youji bit back on the naturally curious why. A flash of neat purple locks and a persistent, aggressive voice, was enough of a memory, and a guess.
Omi didn't bother to answer but the feeling simply confirmed, with no hint of a doubt or curiosity. "I can't date... people. They'll get hurt."
There really wasn't much to say to that, that wasn't a lie, or a lifestyle that Youji wouldn't recommend. 'If we make it out,' was unrealistic and 'maybe in ten years or so' was even more laughable in the light of the current situation. Settling for silence, Youji closed his eyes and stroked down the young boy's back.
The response to that touch was a relaxation and a warm... well... glow was the closest possible description. The emotions were threaded with hints of sexual longing, but Omi seemed to be channeling those threads away in a near reflex and simply accepting what he thought was being offered with something that was too primal to be gratitude.
For a long moment, they simply sat like that, a certain comfortable stillness filling the room. Youji was the first to draw back a little a sudden burst of curiosity, and some amusement. Green eyes darted for the wall that was shared by the other dressing room. "So they managed that without help?" a weird mix of curiosity, pride and surprise accompanied the question.
Omi blinked and turned to look at Youji and then glance at the wall. He'd been consciously blocking anything from that direction out of respect and a need to believe in his own ability to be courteous. Opening the perceptions that had always been with him but had rapidly escalated in more recent days, his cheeks flooded with red and he shut it down as quickly as possible. Swallowing, he simply nodded. The mixture of feeling was so intense and some of them so... specific that he had to put aside what he'd read to be examined later. Maybe much later.
Both of Youji's eyebrows shot up, taking in Omi's expression. Here he'd have figured that either one of them would have to be tripped onto whoever was trying to get their attention. /Ah, poor Sakura, probably never had a chance,/ Youji decided, /Would have been kinda creepy anyway./ "Saa, whatever works," he declared.
The blush was fading but slowly. "Um, yeah, well it seems to be," he managed, a bit breathless and suddenly... suddenly more than a little bit jealous.
A touch of impishness was Omi's only warning before Youji spoke up in his most innocent tones, "I'd offer you reference materials, but they went up with the RV."
Omi wrinkled his nose and then suddenly pushed Youji back on the cot and climbed on top of him. Sitting up, straddling the older blond's waist, he grinned a very wicked grin. "Oh those - seen 'em," he said. "There's lots better stuff than that on the net, Youji-kun, get with the times!"
"It's all clear to me... all that, 'mission research'," Youji returned, smirking. He let his hand reach up and slid down Omi's sides, the smirk widening just a little as he deftly sought out and found the ticklish spot below the ribs.
Omi squeaked and jumped back, almost falling off the foot of the cot backwards. "Hey, stop! No fair!"
"Of course not!" Youji returned, switching in a smooth motion to a crouch, ignoring the protest of the old cot, to push his advantage. "Love and war, bishounen."
Squirming away, Omi hooked a leg around Youji's in a wrestler's move to tip him backwards, pouncing on top of him immediately and bracing his hands on Youji's shoulders. "Make up your mind, biseinen!" he declared, and then bent down to kiss Youji, full-mouth, tongues and all, very quickly but with surprising skill. Then he bounced up and off the cot before Youji could react, tossing a smug look over his shoulder. "Take a nap, I got work to do!"
Youji stared after the boy a second coming the involuntary pulse of electricity that the other's actions caused. He gave a short laugh and negligently pulled a few costumes off of the rack to use as a makeshift blanket, "Let me know if you find anything good," he called, turning over onto his side to face the same rack.
Omi threw a slightly secretive look over his shoulder as he made for the door to go recover one of his stashed laptops. "I have," he murmured. "If I can just figure out how to get it." The door closed before Youji was sure he'd heard correctly.
TBC