Weiss Kreuz: Crawford/Yohji
Jul. 31st, 2007 08:37 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: A Slow Realization
Author/Artist: D aka![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wk_recomend
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: SEX!! WOO!!
Word count: 12,100
Summary: Brad might have an advantage with his precognition, but that doesn't mean he's quick on the uptake.
A/N: Um…heh. This one sort of took off and I just had to hold on. ^_^
Prompt: Weiss Kreuz, Crawford/Any: up against a wall - one night in Bangkok.
part i
Part II
Yohji woke up to phantom hands caressing him, dream lips brushing against his skin and heat pooling between his thighs because of it. This was the sixth, seventh time? Yohji had lost count of how many times he had dreamt, not of his on again, off again lover, but of a taller man, an older man.
Contrary to popular belief, Yohji did have a preferred type of lover and Aya just did not fit it anymore. Sure, Aya was attractive and yes, Aya had a hard body, but Aya only acted like he liked Yohji when they were in bed. Aya never stayed after and Aya wasn't gentle – there was nothing soft about Aya except for his hair.
Yohji liked hard bodies and gentle hands. Lips that were pliant and soft as they kissed him. He liked older men who wanted him for him, not just for the sex. He wanted to be liked all of the time, not just some of the time. He wanted a man who would talk with him, not at him, not judgmental and harsh. Yohji didn't like feeling less than anyone and he didn't like feeling bad about himself.
During his destructive phase, Yohji didn't care who he bedded, he just needed the closeness, no matter how false or contrived. It was a way for him to like himself a little, a way for him to feel like he could actually connect with another human being. For a short while, he felt wanted and desired, felt like he could be somebody. And even though it always left him feeling worse, he continued to seek out that nightly reassurance.
Now that Yohji was moving on, now that he was learning to be at peace with himself, Yohji was becoming dissatisfied with his arrangement with Aya because it wasn't what he wanted. Of course, he wasn't going to fool himself and believe that he could find something better, but it was hard to get in the mood anymore when Yohji could never get inside that wall of superiority and judgmentalness that Aya wore around him like a cloak. But this was the best he could get, he supposed, given his line of work, and when even Omi told him that he was damned lucky, well, Yohji usually spent that night drowning his disappointment in lots and lots of beer.
There wasn't much about Aya that matched Yohji's type; the man Yohji had been dreaming about was a much closer match – physically, if nothing else. But there wasn't much soft or gentle about the leader of Schwarz, either. And really, Yohji reminded himself as he flopped back onto the bed, there could be anything under that tailored suit. A beer belly, a spare tire, and flabby thighs of doom or worse: man boobs. Crawford always kept his suit coat buttoned up tight, after all. But, his mind supplied, it didn't seem plausible that fat and flab adorned that body from the way Crawford moved, and that was what Yohji's fantasies ran away with.
He couldn't help wondering what Crawford was like in bed, though, and it was with those thoughts flowing through his mind that he wrapped a hand around himself and delved into a fantasy.
Yohji plunked his lazy ass, as Aya had called him earlier, on the bar stool and ordered a drink. He'd asked Aya to stay and hold him the night before, wanting to make something happier for himself. Aya had laughed and called him a girl. When Yohji had turned his back to Aya and told him to go away, Aya had patted his shoulder.
"Don't be like that, Kudo. You're a grown boy, you can handle the night alone." But Yohji was alone, even when Aya was sweating and grunting on top of him, and Yohji's thoughts would drift, his fingers twitching.
Yohji gritted his teeth, hurt and angry. "Just go, Aya. Leave me alone."
Aya had been a particular jerk to him earlier that day and so Yohji had sought out the solace of stiff drinks and a dark bar. He was well past buzzed, blazing headlong into drunk, drinking away his anger, when someone slid onto the stool beside him. He glanced up curiously, did a startled double take that had him on his feet, gaping at the man beside him calmly ordering a drink.
Crawford's jacket was unbuttoned and there was no vest underneath. Yohji could see his shirt tucked into his pants, could see the belt, could even see the top of his slacks above the belt. The material wasn't rolled over, so whatever was under that suit had nothing to do with fat or flab.
Crawford asked something, his voice smooth and faintly amused – nothing at all like what he sounded like as the leader of Schwarz. Yohji declared that he was just surprised and slid onto his stool, wrapping his fingers around a new drink. He'd already consumed half of it before it sunk in that Crawford was the one to buy him this drink. By then, he didn't care, as Crawford was getting away from his teammates as well. Yohji empathized with that and really was too drunk to do anything but commiserate with a fellow having similar problems, in a roundabout not exactly similar way. Gone were the sharp edges to Crawford's expression when opposing Weiss, and Yohji found himself listing toward Crawford as the night wore on and the number of drinks he consumed grew larger.
He'd always been a touchy-feely drunk, and now was no exception. It wasn't like he liked the man; after all, who likes the man who repeatedly tried to kill you? But sitting here in this bar beside someone who didn't seem like he was laughing at him before he shot Yohji in the head was a breath of fresh air. The conversation didn't lull and Yohji found himself smiling more often than not. Crawford had taken off his jacket at some point during the evening and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and frankly, Yohji could barely tear his gaze away from his forearms. He trailed a finger up one strong forearm before flicking at a button on Crawford's jacket.
"Why do you always button up when working?" Crawford raised an eyebrow curiously. "I've seen pictures of you, you know, and you're always buttoned up." Yohji leaned into Crawford's personal space and confided: "I like the unbuttoned look better."
Crawford chuckled and Yohji liked the way it sounded, smooth and buttery. "I can't have my jacket hanging free. It could get caught on something or grabbed." Yohji entertained messy thoughts of what he'd do if he caught Crawford, and he knew vaguely that the others wouldn't agree. In fact, he probably wouldn't agree in the morning when his hangover was drilling holes in his head.
The bartender announced last call and Yohji jumped at one last drink. He felt good and had enjoyed talking with the other man. He was disappointed when he finished his drink and the evening was unavoidably over. He was too drunk to really wonder if he'd care that he had just had drinks with a man who'd tried to kill him.
He wasn't really in control as Crawford guided him to the exit. It made a nice excuse as he got to lean heavily on Crawford. Part of him – the part that enjoyed his nights of pleasure-seeking – wanted Crawford to take him home and fuck him. And the alcohol silenced any part of him that did not agree with this desire. He insisted, as he always did, that he could drive, that he wasn't too drunk to get behind the wheel. He didn't plan on driving, never did, though he had his special moments when he didn't care about anything at all. It was really a test to see who might actually care about him. Most people left him to his own devices, and he'd never had the chance to ask Aya. But a few people, like Asuka, would either drive him home or get him a cab. He tested Crawford out of sheer morbidity alone, already trying to remember where his cell phone was so he could beg someone for a ride home.
A large yellow blob stopped in front of him and Crawford's smooth voice said something about a cab, and strong hands were helping him in and he didn't get over his shock until the cab was slowing to a stop in front of his apartment. He didn't know how the driver knew where to go, just remembered peering up at Crawford through the open back door. When he staggered out of the vehicle and to the driver's window to pay, the cabbie looked at him funny and explained that his friend had already paid.
Yohji went to bed that night disconcerted and woke up with a headache added on. He stumbled into the backroom of the flower shop at 11:30 in the morning – he was rather impressed with himself for managing to be functional before noon. Aya leveled a scathing look at him.
"Hey, Aya? Can you give me a ride to my car?" Yohji shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and tried to look charming.
"Get too drunk last night? How'd you even manage to get home?" Aya hefted a box of vases to the storage shelf. "Shouldn't you lay off already? Be responsible."
Yohji stepped back, stung. "I'm being responsible, Aya." Yohji bit out, anger rising. "I'm not even scheduled until 2:00 and I didn't drive last night. Why do you have to be such an ass?"
Aya raised a pointed eyebrow and Yohji suddenly found himself comparing Crawford and Aya. "You had Omi worried again last night. And your blatant disregard for yourself is not encouraging in our work."
"Omi had Omi worried last night, not me. What does it matter to you or Omi how I cope? It's my business, not yours, and I never asked for either of you to butt in. I'm sick of your disdain and Omi's childishness." The enemy looked better at this point, more understanding and human than half of the team Yohji had been placed on. "You know what, Aya? I don't need you. I'll go ask Ken for a ride." He turned on his heel and swept into the shop, immediately spotting Ken, and ignoring Aya's soft reply.
There weren't any customers in the shop, so Yohji didn't bother putting on a happy smile, merely flagged Ken down and asked for a ride. "Sure." Ken shrugged. "My break is in thirty. You mind waiting?"
"Of course not. Thank you." Yohji clapped Ken on the shoulder. "I'll buy you lunch."
Aya walked in, interrupting Ken's excited exclamation. "I said that I would take you, Yohji."
"I told you, I don't need you. Ken's taking me, so you won't have to put yourself out," Yohji managed pleasantly while Ken snickered knowingly. Yohji was thinking of strong hands and a solid body and a cab that was paid for.
"It is the honorable thing to do."
Yohji furrowed his eyebrows, snapping at Aya. "Honorable? You don't know the meaning of honorable. When you and I go out, I order my third drink and you leave me there. You abandon me, Aya; you wash your hands of me. You wanted to know how I got home last night? A gentleman got me a cab. He also paid for it when he didn't have to. I didn't ask for his help, he offered it of his own accord. You know what, Aya? That's honor." He felt satisfied and not a little wanted, though he wasn't sure how happy he was to know that it was a member of Schwarz to finally inspire that feeling in him.
He knew that he was in and out of consciousness. There'd been a solo mission – he was starting to take more and more of those. He could remember lots of guards and a tailored suit. Gunshots; and he was whole after them, couldn't remember dodging either. He remembered strong hands, just like when Crawford got him that cab, only there wasn't any alcohol involved this time.
After, he remembered a bed, though it didn't smell like anything, so it wasn't particularly comforting. But he was comfortable, safe with those strong hands, smooth voice and soothing caresses. He heard Crawford speaking firmly on the phone, business, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was comforting and lulled Yohji back into sleep. He woke to Crawford's warm hand on his cheek, his voice soft, murmuring questions that Yohji slurred answers to.
Another time, Crawford was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face in profile, his hand on the other side of Yohji's thighs. Yohji could feel the warmth from him as he leaned against Yohji's legs and it made Yohji feel like someone cared, like he was someone who could be cared about. He smiled, closing his eyes again, remembering the strength in that profile, the hope that one day that warmth might be with him every night was strong as he slipped into sleep once more.
When he opened his eyes the last time, he was greeted with the sight of Crawford slumped shirtless in a chair asleep. His breath caught at the expanse of skin in front of him. Crawford was built, well muscled, definite ridges of muscle without the appearance of trying to break through his skin. There was still flexibility in his body, which was apparent in how Crawford moved, how he was settled in that chair.
He felt an overwhelming sense of security, a sense of being watched over as he realized that Crawford fell asleep while watching over him during his recovery from a concussion, he discovered as he probed cautiously at his temple. He sat up slowly, watching Crawford breathe in his slumber. He really was an attractive man, and Yohji was aware that he ought to be thinking of other things, not how much he wanted to run his fingers over Crawford's chest. He wondered what Crawford's first name was.
Crawford twitched suddenly, startling awake, blinking and sitting up. Yohji watched him openly, fingers picking at the hem of the blanket as he tried to kill the impulse to molest his enemy. Though to be fair, he never really believed in the whole good and evil, enemies-for-all-eternity bullshit that the others seemed to like so much. Yohji was much more of a realist and had never really known how to mesh with the shining idealism that blood only seemed to strengthen.
When Crawford left, Yohji stared after him at the closed door, fists knotted in the sheets, feeling strangely alone. He wanted Crawford to come back. For which he immediately scoffed at himself. He didn't like Crawford; no matter how alive he seemed to make him feel. Crawford may be good at playing drinking buddy or doctor, but his deeds were hardly worth ignoring. It was the deed that made the man. But, Yohji frowned down at his hands, Crawford's deeds also included healing him, watching over him overnight.
His head throbbed and he knew that he was thinking too hard about this. He was also quite sure that he didn't need to think so hard about this. There was nothing to think about. And maybe if he told himself that often enough, he'd actually start to believe it.
Aya strode into his bedroom, all cold edges and something already to say. Yohji turned away, not in the mood to deal with anyone after the general bitching out he'd received from Omi right before Omi cast off his anger and guilelessly blinked up at him with big wet eyes and proceeded to lay it on thick with the poor me, how could you worry me so guilt trip. Yohji'd lost it, shouting that it had been a damned solo mission, or had Omi forgotten just what the word solo meant.
"When will you learn not to upset Omi?" Aya snapped; a lovely opening to a conversation Yohji would rather strangle someone than have.
"When will you learn that I don't do anything to upset Omi? Omi upsets himself by sticking his nose where it doesn't belong." Yohji dragged his narrowed gaze to Aya, matching him for coldness. "I know that I sure as hell don't feel a part of Omi's grand family that he's forcing up our asses. If he wants up mine so bad, he can at least kiss it first." That had been the general gist of the conversation after Yohji had told Omi where to stick it, that Omi was just looking out for his family. Yohji hadn't felt too special for not having been included in making that decision.
"You certainly have a way of saying things."
"It's a gift." Yohji said drolly. "I thought that I told you I didn't want to talk to anybody."
"Who said I am up here to talk?"
Yohji scowled. "I told you I didn't need you anymore, so go away. I don't want you." He'd finally gotten a glimpse of what it could be like for him and he liked it, craved it, and wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything before. He had dreams, remembering the heat of Crawford as he leaned against his legs, comfortable and like he belonged. And for that night, he did, and Yohji yearned to have that back. He was going to go out and find that in a package just as attractive as Crawford, without the homicidal tendencies, of course.
He watched Aya huff his way out of his room, stood up and locked the door. He was going to take what he wanted and leave what he didn't far, far behind.
He had tried the nightclubs for a while, but all he was finding there were desperate people looking to lose themselves in sex and delusion. Yohji wanted more than that. He tried the pool halls and the game halls, but found people there that were taken or too wrapped up in their games to pay any attention to the outside world. He even tried Ken's soccer games, but all he found there were fathers and couples.
During all of the time he spent in those endeavors, there was one thing that kept appearing, coming out of no where, and that was Crawford. Yohji would see him at the coffee shop while taking a smoke break or grabbing breakfast before heading into the shop for his shift. He'd see Crawford at the grocery store, of all places, picking up some cheese. He'd stopped beside Crawford, looking pointedly at the block of cheese in his hand, unable to resist.
"You are so weird." Crawford turned, raising an inquiring eyebrow while Yohji stifled a nervous laugh. He jerked his chin at the cheese. "Cheese. Only Americans and Europeans eat that. The rest of the world has much better taste." Yohji smirked, raising his own eyebrow as Crawford gave a smile.
"It's not for me, actually. Lactose intolerant." Yohji started in surprise at that. It only made Crawford more touchable, for some reason, and Yohji's gaze dropped to his chest, as though he could see under his shirt at what Yohji now knew was hidden underneath.
"Then who is it for?"
"Schuldig. I swear he eats this stuff just to make my stomach turn."
Yohji smiled at that. Then he took the plunge, one of the questions he'd wanted answered for a while. "What is your name?"
Crawford raised an eyebrow. "It is Brad." There was a wry look on his face, as though he were humored by the act of giving out his name to an enemy. Or maybe just giving it out at all.
"Brad." Yohji tested and smiled, relaxing. "I like it."
Brad laughed, leaned forward slightly. "I am glad that my name meets with your approval."
After that, Yohji usually ended up in a conversation with Brad every time they were in the same place. He always walked away feeling happy, even to the point of Ken noticing. Ken brought over a six pack of beer one night and asked what was making Yohji so damned happy.
Yohji laughed. "Just met someone nice, believe it or not." Yohji still couldn't quite believe that he was describing Brad Crawford as nice. But it wasn't something that he regretted, by any means. It just took a while to let the past actually die, and his past was walking into the grave without prompting.
"Well, I hope you stick with them, because they're doing well by you." Ken toasted with his beer can and a wide grin.
"Yeah." Yohji smiled into his beer. "I don't know, though."
Ken looked at him curiously. "Don't know what?"
"If he's really a good person. I mean, I know that he's not."
Ken turned his can in his hands. "Does it matter, Yohji? He's nice to you and he makes you happy." Ken looked over at him. "But if he hurts you, I'll kill him." Yohji could only smile helplessly at that. Trust Ken to set him straight.
"Bangkok, huh?" Yohji showed his most charming smile to Manx. "You're finally rewarding me with all of the pretty Thai girls I can get my hands on, aren't you?"
Manx crossed her arms over her chest, unamused. "A Japanese politician will be traveling to Bangkok to check up on the state of the sex ring he funds. You need to take him out while he's out of the country. We also need you get enough information that we can pass it onto Thai authorities so they can shut down the racket."
"A solo gig, huh? Pretty hefty for just one person." Yohji frowned at the folder in his hands. It contained profiles for the politician as well as the contacts he was likely to be seeking out while abroad. He didn't speak Thai, or whatever Bangkok-ese was called.
"Because it is out of the country, we cannot risk exposure by sending more than one person." Manx tilted her head, voice softening just a touch. Sometimes, Yohji was impressed with her acting skills. If he was less jaded by everything, he might actually think that she cared. "We were unable to get you any backup. But we do have plenty of contacts. If you run into trouble, we'll be able to at least get you out ASAP."
"Reassuring. Really." Yohji closed the folder with a sigh. "I'll do it. When do I leave?"
Manx gave a sphinx smile and handed him his travel itinerary. "Tomorrow."
"Joy."
Yohji turned around, lost. He was somewhere in Bangkok, but he didn't know where, and his English wasn't good enough to find him his way back. He'd been trailing the politician but had gotten overwhelmed by the unfamiliar city he hadn't had time to case before the politician had gotten in town. He made a few notes in his notebook, stuffed it into his back pocket and turned around once more to look for that pastry shop when he ran into Brad. Quite literally, in fact. Yohji blinked up at Brad, rubbing his nose.
"What are you doing here?" Yohji asked. "You aren't stalking me, are you?"
Brad laughed. "I'm here on business, actually, though I'll confess to crossing the street when I saw you."
Yohji started to smile, then remembered why he was in Bangkok to begin with. "What kind of business?" He eyed Brad suspiciously.
"Personal." Brad matched his gaze evenly. "Why?" He asked after a while of watching Yohji.
"Tell me you aren't working in a sex slavery ring." Yohji pleaded. He didn't want Brad to be caught up in this, he liked Brad, he wanted Brad, but this would be too much. Yohji wasn't some sort of saint by any means, but there were some things he wouldn't be able to live with. And selling women and children after stealing them from their homes?
Brad reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a checkbook stuffed neatly with a clipped bundle of receipts. Brad handed everything to Yohji. "I don't get involved in sex ring or slavery rings." Yohji flipped through the papers Brad handed him. They were all banking accounts and financial receipts. "Certain accounts of mine need to be visited in person every year." Brad touched the checkbook with his finger. "That is why I am here. Strictly personal."
Yohji actually felt himself sag with relief. He folded everything up, sticking it carefully back into the checkbook before handing it back to Brad. "Good. Thank you. I'm glad you aren't involved."
"You are here on business, then?" Yohji nodded. "That makes certain things more clear. Are you free at all? Perhaps tonight? For dinner?"
Yohji frowned. "I need to try to get to Yoshimoto tonight."
Brad stepped forward, placing his mouth near Yohji's ear. A tingle ran up and down Yohji's spine and he fought not to shiver pleasantly. "Not tonight. He'll be too heavily guarded and you won't get everything you need. Tomorrow will be better."
Yohji frowned more deeply. "I thought that you weren't involved."
He could feel Brad's smile as he straightened, tapping the frame of his glasses. "I am not. But that doesn't mean I am blind." Yohji knew, by now, of Brad's foresight, and given some of the fights that Weiss and Schwarz had been in, Yohji wasn't too keen on dismissing it as pure fantasy.
Yohji's frown deepened. "I suppose this is what you meant by certain things being clear?"
"Yes. I was trying to figure out why you'd be after someone who was reportedly out of the country."
"And you saw me going to dinner with you?"
Brad smiled. "No. I just took advantage of the opportunity." Yohji found himself smiling back.
Dinner was at the top of the Baiyoke Sky Hotel. Yohji marveled at the rotating view from the highest spot, floating high above Bangkok. The city was a warm glow all around them, but as stunning as the view was, Yohji found himself paying more attention to Brad. The evening was hot, but not too hot to enjoy the open air of the roof top bar. Dinner was served to them shortly, but Yohji couldn't be bothered to remember what it was he had actually eaten as he was too busy flirting with Brad to retain anything trivial like food.
Desert was very memorable, as they traveled down the seven floors to get to the observation deck, unable to keep their hands off of each other on the way down. Soon enough, Yohji ended up with his back pressed against cool glass and Brad finally sliding inside him, filling him, holding him, wanting him. Yohji clung to Brad and didn't want the feeling to end.
"Stay with me tonight?" Yohji looked up at Brad's words from wiggling back into his pants. Brad was half dressed; his shirt still hanging from his forearms and Yohji felt desire flow through him again, too soon, but still there. It didn't take long for Yohji to decide as he craved the closeness that Brad was offering him. He gave a smile, suddenly not feeling assured, but he took a step toward Brad anyway, trailing a finger along the slash of fabric across skin.
"I'd like that. Just one night, though?" Yohji prepared himself for Brad to verify that it was only for this one night. This strange courtship that Yohji was hoping had been a courtship would come to an end tonight, but at least Yohji would have this night, would sleep in Brad's bed.
Brad smiled with what seemed like a spark of hope. "One night in Bangkok, yes. I do return to Tokyo tomorrow. But I am hoping that this will continue when you return from your mission."
Yohji couldn't breathe.
Epilogue
Brad reclined next to Yohji, propped up on his elbow and slowly stoking Yohji's hip. They'd returned to Brad's room after their time in the observation deck, taken a shower together, with Yohji all but clinging to him, which Brad had not so secretly enjoyed. They'd had a leisurely bout of sex in the bed before finally falling asleep for the night. Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky outside, the pale light causing the window to glow faintly. Yohji shifted in his sleep and Brad slid his hand down his stomach, pulling Yohji closer to him. He pressed a kiss to Yohji's shoulder.
Yohji yawned, stretching under Brad's arm as he woke up. Brad watched him, finally feeling like there was nothing missing. Yohji blinked up at him and smiled, turning under his arm and pressing up against him.
"Morning." Yohji murmured into his chest. Brad stroked his hair.
"Good morning."
Yohji stilled under his hand before shifting to gaze up at him. "You really want to continue this?"
Brad murmured, rubbing a lock of Yohji's hair between his fingers, sliding his leg between Yohji's. "Yes I do. I'll treat you well. I'll be there for you. Everything that I want out of this, I'll give to you."
Yohji's fingers found his neck, slid up to his jaw and caressed him, seeking out his lips and his cheek, the dip of his temple, sliding into his hair before Yohji wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "I'll give you everything you want."
Brad rolled into Yohji, pressing his face where Yohji's neck sloped into his shoulder, tightening his arm around Yohji, sliding his other arm under Yohji to cradle his head. Yohji's arms clutched at him as he pressed kisses to Brad's skin. Yohji shifted against him.
"I know I have a job to do, but you've said my window of opportunity isn't until tonight and you leave this afternoon." Yohji gave a lopsided smile. "I don't suppose we have time for more leisurely exploration?"
Brad smiled into Yohji's skin and slid his hand down to grasp Yohji's ass. "We can always make time for that."
back to part i
Author/Artist: D aka
wk_recomendRating: NC-17
Warnings: SEX!! WOO!!
Word count: 12,100
Summary: Brad might have an advantage with his precognition, but that doesn't mean he's quick on the uptake.
A/N: Um…heh. This one sort of took off and I just had to hold on. ^_^
Prompt: Weiss Kreuz, Crawford/Any: up against a wall - one night in Bangkok.
part i
Yohji woke up to phantom hands caressing him, dream lips brushing against his skin and heat pooling between his thighs because of it. This was the sixth, seventh time? Yohji had lost count of how many times he had dreamt, not of his on again, off again lover, but of a taller man, an older man.
Contrary to popular belief, Yohji did have a preferred type of lover and Aya just did not fit it anymore. Sure, Aya was attractive and yes, Aya had a hard body, but Aya only acted like he liked Yohji when they were in bed. Aya never stayed after and Aya wasn't gentle – there was nothing soft about Aya except for his hair.
Yohji liked hard bodies and gentle hands. Lips that were pliant and soft as they kissed him. He liked older men who wanted him for him, not just for the sex. He wanted to be liked all of the time, not just some of the time. He wanted a man who would talk with him, not at him, not judgmental and harsh. Yohji didn't like feeling less than anyone and he didn't like feeling bad about himself.
During his destructive phase, Yohji didn't care who he bedded, he just needed the closeness, no matter how false or contrived. It was a way for him to like himself a little, a way for him to feel like he could actually connect with another human being. For a short while, he felt wanted and desired, felt like he could be somebody. And even though it always left him feeling worse, he continued to seek out that nightly reassurance.
Now that Yohji was moving on, now that he was learning to be at peace with himself, Yohji was becoming dissatisfied with his arrangement with Aya because it wasn't what he wanted. Of course, he wasn't going to fool himself and believe that he could find something better, but it was hard to get in the mood anymore when Yohji could never get inside that wall of superiority and judgmentalness that Aya wore around him like a cloak. But this was the best he could get, he supposed, given his line of work, and when even Omi told him that he was damned lucky, well, Yohji usually spent that night drowning his disappointment in lots and lots of beer.
There wasn't much about Aya that matched Yohji's type; the man Yohji had been dreaming about was a much closer match – physically, if nothing else. But there wasn't much soft or gentle about the leader of Schwarz, either. And really, Yohji reminded himself as he flopped back onto the bed, there could be anything under that tailored suit. A beer belly, a spare tire, and flabby thighs of doom or worse: man boobs. Crawford always kept his suit coat buttoned up tight, after all. But, his mind supplied, it didn't seem plausible that fat and flab adorned that body from the way Crawford moved, and that was what Yohji's fantasies ran away with.
He couldn't help wondering what Crawford was like in bed, though, and it was with those thoughts flowing through his mind that he wrapped a hand around himself and delved into a fantasy.
Yohji plunked his lazy ass, as Aya had called him earlier, on the bar stool and ordered a drink. He'd asked Aya to stay and hold him the night before, wanting to make something happier for himself. Aya had laughed and called him a girl. When Yohji had turned his back to Aya and told him to go away, Aya had patted his shoulder.
"Don't be like that, Kudo. You're a grown boy, you can handle the night alone." But Yohji was alone, even when Aya was sweating and grunting on top of him, and Yohji's thoughts would drift, his fingers twitching.
Yohji gritted his teeth, hurt and angry. "Just go, Aya. Leave me alone."
Aya had been a particular jerk to him earlier that day and so Yohji had sought out the solace of stiff drinks and a dark bar. He was well past buzzed, blazing headlong into drunk, drinking away his anger, when someone slid onto the stool beside him. He glanced up curiously, did a startled double take that had him on his feet, gaping at the man beside him calmly ordering a drink.
Crawford's jacket was unbuttoned and there was no vest underneath. Yohji could see his shirt tucked into his pants, could see the belt, could even see the top of his slacks above the belt. The material wasn't rolled over, so whatever was under that suit had nothing to do with fat or flab.
Crawford asked something, his voice smooth and faintly amused – nothing at all like what he sounded like as the leader of Schwarz. Yohji declared that he was just surprised and slid onto his stool, wrapping his fingers around a new drink. He'd already consumed half of it before it sunk in that Crawford was the one to buy him this drink. By then, he didn't care, as Crawford was getting away from his teammates as well. Yohji empathized with that and really was too drunk to do anything but commiserate with a fellow having similar problems, in a roundabout not exactly similar way. Gone were the sharp edges to Crawford's expression when opposing Weiss, and Yohji found himself listing toward Crawford as the night wore on and the number of drinks he consumed grew larger.
He'd always been a touchy-feely drunk, and now was no exception. It wasn't like he liked the man; after all, who likes the man who repeatedly tried to kill you? But sitting here in this bar beside someone who didn't seem like he was laughing at him before he shot Yohji in the head was a breath of fresh air. The conversation didn't lull and Yohji found himself smiling more often than not. Crawford had taken off his jacket at some point during the evening and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and frankly, Yohji could barely tear his gaze away from his forearms. He trailed a finger up one strong forearm before flicking at a button on Crawford's jacket.
"Why do you always button up when working?" Crawford raised an eyebrow curiously. "I've seen pictures of you, you know, and you're always buttoned up." Yohji leaned into Crawford's personal space and confided: "I like the unbuttoned look better."
Crawford chuckled and Yohji liked the way it sounded, smooth and buttery. "I can't have my jacket hanging free. It could get caught on something or grabbed." Yohji entertained messy thoughts of what he'd do if he caught Crawford, and he knew vaguely that the others wouldn't agree. In fact, he probably wouldn't agree in the morning when his hangover was drilling holes in his head.
The bartender announced last call and Yohji jumped at one last drink. He felt good and had enjoyed talking with the other man. He was disappointed when he finished his drink and the evening was unavoidably over. He was too drunk to really wonder if he'd care that he had just had drinks with a man who'd tried to kill him.
He wasn't really in control as Crawford guided him to the exit. It made a nice excuse as he got to lean heavily on Crawford. Part of him – the part that enjoyed his nights of pleasure-seeking – wanted Crawford to take him home and fuck him. And the alcohol silenced any part of him that did not agree with this desire. He insisted, as he always did, that he could drive, that he wasn't too drunk to get behind the wheel. He didn't plan on driving, never did, though he had his special moments when he didn't care about anything at all. It was really a test to see who might actually care about him. Most people left him to his own devices, and he'd never had the chance to ask Aya. But a few people, like Asuka, would either drive him home or get him a cab. He tested Crawford out of sheer morbidity alone, already trying to remember where his cell phone was so he could beg someone for a ride home.
A large yellow blob stopped in front of him and Crawford's smooth voice said something about a cab, and strong hands were helping him in and he didn't get over his shock until the cab was slowing to a stop in front of his apartment. He didn't know how the driver knew where to go, just remembered peering up at Crawford through the open back door. When he staggered out of the vehicle and to the driver's window to pay, the cabbie looked at him funny and explained that his friend had already paid.
Yohji went to bed that night disconcerted and woke up with a headache added on. He stumbled into the backroom of the flower shop at 11:30 in the morning – he was rather impressed with himself for managing to be functional before noon. Aya leveled a scathing look at him.
"Hey, Aya? Can you give me a ride to my car?" Yohji shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and tried to look charming.
"Get too drunk last night? How'd you even manage to get home?" Aya hefted a box of vases to the storage shelf. "Shouldn't you lay off already? Be responsible."
Yohji stepped back, stung. "I'm being responsible, Aya." Yohji bit out, anger rising. "I'm not even scheduled until 2:00 and I didn't drive last night. Why do you have to be such an ass?"
Aya raised a pointed eyebrow and Yohji suddenly found himself comparing Crawford and Aya. "You had Omi worried again last night. And your blatant disregard for yourself is not encouraging in our work."
"Omi had Omi worried last night, not me. What does it matter to you or Omi how I cope? It's my business, not yours, and I never asked for either of you to butt in. I'm sick of your disdain and Omi's childishness." The enemy looked better at this point, more understanding and human than half of the team Yohji had been placed on. "You know what, Aya? I don't need you. I'll go ask Ken for a ride." He turned on his heel and swept into the shop, immediately spotting Ken, and ignoring Aya's soft reply.
There weren't any customers in the shop, so Yohji didn't bother putting on a happy smile, merely flagged Ken down and asked for a ride. "Sure." Ken shrugged. "My break is in thirty. You mind waiting?"
"Of course not. Thank you." Yohji clapped Ken on the shoulder. "I'll buy you lunch."
Aya walked in, interrupting Ken's excited exclamation. "I said that I would take you, Yohji."
"I told you, I don't need you. Ken's taking me, so you won't have to put yourself out," Yohji managed pleasantly while Ken snickered knowingly. Yohji was thinking of strong hands and a solid body and a cab that was paid for.
"It is the honorable thing to do."
Yohji furrowed his eyebrows, snapping at Aya. "Honorable? You don't know the meaning of honorable. When you and I go out, I order my third drink and you leave me there. You abandon me, Aya; you wash your hands of me. You wanted to know how I got home last night? A gentleman got me a cab. He also paid for it when he didn't have to. I didn't ask for his help, he offered it of his own accord. You know what, Aya? That's honor." He felt satisfied and not a little wanted, though he wasn't sure how happy he was to know that it was a member of Schwarz to finally inspire that feeling in him.
He knew that he was in and out of consciousness. There'd been a solo mission – he was starting to take more and more of those. He could remember lots of guards and a tailored suit. Gunshots; and he was whole after them, couldn't remember dodging either. He remembered strong hands, just like when Crawford got him that cab, only there wasn't any alcohol involved this time.
After, he remembered a bed, though it didn't smell like anything, so it wasn't particularly comforting. But he was comfortable, safe with those strong hands, smooth voice and soothing caresses. He heard Crawford speaking firmly on the phone, business, perhaps. Whatever it was, it was comforting and lulled Yohji back into sleep. He woke to Crawford's warm hand on his cheek, his voice soft, murmuring questions that Yohji slurred answers to.
Another time, Crawford was sitting on the edge of his bed, his face in profile, his hand on the other side of Yohji's thighs. Yohji could feel the warmth from him as he leaned against Yohji's legs and it made Yohji feel like someone cared, like he was someone who could be cared about. He smiled, closing his eyes again, remembering the strength in that profile, the hope that one day that warmth might be with him every night was strong as he slipped into sleep once more.
When he opened his eyes the last time, he was greeted with the sight of Crawford slumped shirtless in a chair asleep. His breath caught at the expanse of skin in front of him. Crawford was built, well muscled, definite ridges of muscle without the appearance of trying to break through his skin. There was still flexibility in his body, which was apparent in how Crawford moved, how he was settled in that chair.
He felt an overwhelming sense of security, a sense of being watched over as he realized that Crawford fell asleep while watching over him during his recovery from a concussion, he discovered as he probed cautiously at his temple. He sat up slowly, watching Crawford breathe in his slumber. He really was an attractive man, and Yohji was aware that he ought to be thinking of other things, not how much he wanted to run his fingers over Crawford's chest. He wondered what Crawford's first name was.
Crawford twitched suddenly, startling awake, blinking and sitting up. Yohji watched him openly, fingers picking at the hem of the blanket as he tried to kill the impulse to molest his enemy. Though to be fair, he never really believed in the whole good and evil, enemies-for-all-eternity bullshit that the others seemed to like so much. Yohji was much more of a realist and had never really known how to mesh with the shining idealism that blood only seemed to strengthen.
When Crawford left, Yohji stared after him at the closed door, fists knotted in the sheets, feeling strangely alone. He wanted Crawford to come back. For which he immediately scoffed at himself. He didn't like Crawford; no matter how alive he seemed to make him feel. Crawford may be good at playing drinking buddy or doctor, but his deeds were hardly worth ignoring. It was the deed that made the man. But, Yohji frowned down at his hands, Crawford's deeds also included healing him, watching over him overnight.
His head throbbed and he knew that he was thinking too hard about this. He was also quite sure that he didn't need to think so hard about this. There was nothing to think about. And maybe if he told himself that often enough, he'd actually start to believe it.
Aya strode into his bedroom, all cold edges and something already to say. Yohji turned away, not in the mood to deal with anyone after the general bitching out he'd received from Omi right before Omi cast off his anger and guilelessly blinked up at him with big wet eyes and proceeded to lay it on thick with the poor me, how could you worry me so guilt trip. Yohji'd lost it, shouting that it had been a damned solo mission, or had Omi forgotten just what the word solo meant.
"When will you learn not to upset Omi?" Aya snapped; a lovely opening to a conversation Yohji would rather strangle someone than have.
"When will you learn that I don't do anything to upset Omi? Omi upsets himself by sticking his nose where it doesn't belong." Yohji dragged his narrowed gaze to Aya, matching him for coldness. "I know that I sure as hell don't feel a part of Omi's grand family that he's forcing up our asses. If he wants up mine so bad, he can at least kiss it first." That had been the general gist of the conversation after Yohji had told Omi where to stick it, that Omi was just looking out for his family. Yohji hadn't felt too special for not having been included in making that decision.
"You certainly have a way of saying things."
"It's a gift." Yohji said drolly. "I thought that I told you I didn't want to talk to anybody."
"Who said I am up here to talk?"
Yohji scowled. "I told you I didn't need you anymore, so go away. I don't want you." He'd finally gotten a glimpse of what it could be like for him and he liked it, craved it, and wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything before. He had dreams, remembering the heat of Crawford as he leaned against his legs, comfortable and like he belonged. And for that night, he did, and Yohji yearned to have that back. He was going to go out and find that in a package just as attractive as Crawford, without the homicidal tendencies, of course.
He watched Aya huff his way out of his room, stood up and locked the door. He was going to take what he wanted and leave what he didn't far, far behind.
He had tried the nightclubs for a while, but all he was finding there were desperate people looking to lose themselves in sex and delusion. Yohji wanted more than that. He tried the pool halls and the game halls, but found people there that were taken or too wrapped up in their games to pay any attention to the outside world. He even tried Ken's soccer games, but all he found there were fathers and couples.
During all of the time he spent in those endeavors, there was one thing that kept appearing, coming out of no where, and that was Crawford. Yohji would see him at the coffee shop while taking a smoke break or grabbing breakfast before heading into the shop for his shift. He'd see Crawford at the grocery store, of all places, picking up some cheese. He'd stopped beside Crawford, looking pointedly at the block of cheese in his hand, unable to resist.
"You are so weird." Crawford turned, raising an inquiring eyebrow while Yohji stifled a nervous laugh. He jerked his chin at the cheese. "Cheese. Only Americans and Europeans eat that. The rest of the world has much better taste." Yohji smirked, raising his own eyebrow as Crawford gave a smile.
"It's not for me, actually. Lactose intolerant." Yohji started in surprise at that. It only made Crawford more touchable, for some reason, and Yohji's gaze dropped to his chest, as though he could see under his shirt at what Yohji now knew was hidden underneath.
"Then who is it for?"
"Schuldig. I swear he eats this stuff just to make my stomach turn."
Yohji smiled at that. Then he took the plunge, one of the questions he'd wanted answered for a while. "What is your name?"
Crawford raised an eyebrow. "It is Brad." There was a wry look on his face, as though he were humored by the act of giving out his name to an enemy. Or maybe just giving it out at all.
"Brad." Yohji tested and smiled, relaxing. "I like it."
Brad laughed, leaned forward slightly. "I am glad that my name meets with your approval."
After that, Yohji usually ended up in a conversation with Brad every time they were in the same place. He always walked away feeling happy, even to the point of Ken noticing. Ken brought over a six pack of beer one night and asked what was making Yohji so damned happy.
Yohji laughed. "Just met someone nice, believe it or not." Yohji still couldn't quite believe that he was describing Brad Crawford as nice. But it wasn't something that he regretted, by any means. It just took a while to let the past actually die, and his past was walking into the grave without prompting.
"Well, I hope you stick with them, because they're doing well by you." Ken toasted with his beer can and a wide grin.
"Yeah." Yohji smiled into his beer. "I don't know, though."
Ken looked at him curiously. "Don't know what?"
"If he's really a good person. I mean, I know that he's not."
Ken turned his can in his hands. "Does it matter, Yohji? He's nice to you and he makes you happy." Ken looked over at him. "But if he hurts you, I'll kill him." Yohji could only smile helplessly at that. Trust Ken to set him straight.
"Bangkok, huh?" Yohji showed his most charming smile to Manx. "You're finally rewarding me with all of the pretty Thai girls I can get my hands on, aren't you?"
Manx crossed her arms over her chest, unamused. "A Japanese politician will be traveling to Bangkok to check up on the state of the sex ring he funds. You need to take him out while he's out of the country. We also need you get enough information that we can pass it onto Thai authorities so they can shut down the racket."
"A solo gig, huh? Pretty hefty for just one person." Yohji frowned at the folder in his hands. It contained profiles for the politician as well as the contacts he was likely to be seeking out while abroad. He didn't speak Thai, or whatever Bangkok-ese was called.
"Because it is out of the country, we cannot risk exposure by sending more than one person." Manx tilted her head, voice softening just a touch. Sometimes, Yohji was impressed with her acting skills. If he was less jaded by everything, he might actually think that she cared. "We were unable to get you any backup. But we do have plenty of contacts. If you run into trouble, we'll be able to at least get you out ASAP."
"Reassuring. Really." Yohji closed the folder with a sigh. "I'll do it. When do I leave?"
Manx gave a sphinx smile and handed him his travel itinerary. "Tomorrow."
"Joy."
Yohji turned around, lost. He was somewhere in Bangkok, but he didn't know where, and his English wasn't good enough to find him his way back. He'd been trailing the politician but had gotten overwhelmed by the unfamiliar city he hadn't had time to case before the politician had gotten in town. He made a few notes in his notebook, stuffed it into his back pocket and turned around once more to look for that pastry shop when he ran into Brad. Quite literally, in fact. Yohji blinked up at Brad, rubbing his nose.
"What are you doing here?" Yohji asked. "You aren't stalking me, are you?"
Brad laughed. "I'm here on business, actually, though I'll confess to crossing the street when I saw you."
Yohji started to smile, then remembered why he was in Bangkok to begin with. "What kind of business?" He eyed Brad suspiciously.
"Personal." Brad matched his gaze evenly. "Why?" He asked after a while of watching Yohji.
"Tell me you aren't working in a sex slavery ring." Yohji pleaded. He didn't want Brad to be caught up in this, he liked Brad, he wanted Brad, but this would be too much. Yohji wasn't some sort of saint by any means, but there were some things he wouldn't be able to live with. And selling women and children after stealing them from their homes?
Brad reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a checkbook stuffed neatly with a clipped bundle of receipts. Brad handed everything to Yohji. "I don't get involved in sex ring or slavery rings." Yohji flipped through the papers Brad handed him. They were all banking accounts and financial receipts. "Certain accounts of mine need to be visited in person every year." Brad touched the checkbook with his finger. "That is why I am here. Strictly personal."
Yohji actually felt himself sag with relief. He folded everything up, sticking it carefully back into the checkbook before handing it back to Brad. "Good. Thank you. I'm glad you aren't involved."
"You are here on business, then?" Yohji nodded. "That makes certain things more clear. Are you free at all? Perhaps tonight? For dinner?"
Yohji frowned. "I need to try to get to Yoshimoto tonight."
Brad stepped forward, placing his mouth near Yohji's ear. A tingle ran up and down Yohji's spine and he fought not to shiver pleasantly. "Not tonight. He'll be too heavily guarded and you won't get everything you need. Tomorrow will be better."
Yohji frowned more deeply. "I thought that you weren't involved."
He could feel Brad's smile as he straightened, tapping the frame of his glasses. "I am not. But that doesn't mean I am blind." Yohji knew, by now, of Brad's foresight, and given some of the fights that Weiss and Schwarz had been in, Yohji wasn't too keen on dismissing it as pure fantasy.
Yohji's frown deepened. "I suppose this is what you meant by certain things being clear?"
"Yes. I was trying to figure out why you'd be after someone who was reportedly out of the country."
"And you saw me going to dinner with you?"
Brad smiled. "No. I just took advantage of the opportunity." Yohji found himself smiling back.
Dinner was at the top of the Baiyoke Sky Hotel. Yohji marveled at the rotating view from the highest spot, floating high above Bangkok. The city was a warm glow all around them, but as stunning as the view was, Yohji found himself paying more attention to Brad. The evening was hot, but not too hot to enjoy the open air of the roof top bar. Dinner was served to them shortly, but Yohji couldn't be bothered to remember what it was he had actually eaten as he was too busy flirting with Brad to retain anything trivial like food.
Desert was very memorable, as they traveled down the seven floors to get to the observation deck, unable to keep their hands off of each other on the way down. Soon enough, Yohji ended up with his back pressed against cool glass and Brad finally sliding inside him, filling him, holding him, wanting him. Yohji clung to Brad and didn't want the feeling to end.
"Stay with me tonight?" Yohji looked up at Brad's words from wiggling back into his pants. Brad was half dressed; his shirt still hanging from his forearms and Yohji felt desire flow through him again, too soon, but still there. It didn't take long for Yohji to decide as he craved the closeness that Brad was offering him. He gave a smile, suddenly not feeling assured, but he took a step toward Brad anyway, trailing a finger along the slash of fabric across skin.
"I'd like that. Just one night, though?" Yohji prepared himself for Brad to verify that it was only for this one night. This strange courtship that Yohji was hoping had been a courtship would come to an end tonight, but at least Yohji would have this night, would sleep in Brad's bed.
Brad smiled with what seemed like a spark of hope. "One night in Bangkok, yes. I do return to Tokyo tomorrow. But I am hoping that this will continue when you return from your mission."
Yohji couldn't breathe.
Brad reclined next to Yohji, propped up on his elbow and slowly stoking Yohji's hip. They'd returned to Brad's room after their time in the observation deck, taken a shower together, with Yohji all but clinging to him, which Brad had not so secretly enjoyed. They'd had a leisurely bout of sex in the bed before finally falling asleep for the night. Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky outside, the pale light causing the window to glow faintly. Yohji shifted in his sleep and Brad slid his hand down his stomach, pulling Yohji closer to him. He pressed a kiss to Yohji's shoulder.
Yohji yawned, stretching under Brad's arm as he woke up. Brad watched him, finally feeling like there was nothing missing. Yohji blinked up at him and smiled, turning under his arm and pressing up against him.
"Morning." Yohji murmured into his chest. Brad stroked his hair.
"Good morning."
Yohji stilled under his hand before shifting to gaze up at him. "You really want to continue this?"
Brad murmured, rubbing a lock of Yohji's hair between his fingers, sliding his leg between Yohji's. "Yes I do. I'll treat you well. I'll be there for you. Everything that I want out of this, I'll give to you."
Yohji's fingers found his neck, slid up to his jaw and caressed him, seeking out his lips and his cheek, the dip of his temple, sliding into his hair before Yohji wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "I'll give you everything you want."
Brad rolled into Yohji, pressing his face where Yohji's neck sloped into his shoulder, tightening his arm around Yohji, sliding his other arm under Yohji to cradle his head. Yohji's arms clutched at him as he pressed kisses to Brad's skin. Yohji shifted against him.
"I know I have a job to do, but you've said my window of opportunity isn't until tonight and you leave this afternoon." Yohji gave a lopsided smile. "I don't suppose we have time for more leisurely exploration?"
Brad smiled into Yohji's skin and slid his hand down to grasp Yohji's ass. "We can always make time for that."
back to part i
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Date: 2007-08-01 03:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 03:37 am (UTC)And thank you for the awesome editing job you did...that I totally forgot to mention in my header. ^_^;;
D
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Date: 2007-08-01 03:42 am (UTC)*goes to reread all the hot bits, which would be all of it* ;)
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Date: 2007-08-01 03:43 am (UTC)D
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Date: 2007-08-01 06:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 01:15 pm (UTC)D
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Date: 2007-08-01 07:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 01:16 pm (UTC)Thank you very much. :D
D
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Date: 2007-08-01 11:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 01:18 pm (UTC)Yeah, there's not much Craford/Yohji out there, but Yohji sort of threw himself at me for this prompt. (I think he was just in it for the Thai girls ~_______^)
I am gladthat you liked this. :D
D
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Date: 2007-08-01 01:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 01:39 pm (UTC)That is an awesome theory, but I suppose we'll never know ~________^ *is a tease* ~_^ Thank you very much for your kind praise, I am happy that you liked it. :D
D
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Date: 2007-08-01 02:29 pm (UTC)Oh but I do like that icon oh yours ^_^
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Date: 2007-08-02 01:58 am (UTC)Ooooooooh! That sounds like a very sweet costume you are working on, and I envy you for being able to work with faux leather. I tried doing Kadaj from Advent Children, and while it is passable, it didn't come out nearly as well as I had hoped/expected. Good practice, though. :D
While you find yourself lame for not watching Saiyuki yet? I find myself lame for not seeing Bleach yet. :D Definite plans to watch it, though. Right after Samurai Champloo. :D
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Date: 2007-08-02 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 10:50 pm (UTC)I am actually going to write some future scenes, I don't know if that will be one of the scenes, but you never know. ^_^ At this point, I don't know what I'll write, I just know that I really want to continue this story. ^_^
D
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Date: 2007-08-03 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 06:25 am (UTC)Very much looking forward to more of this.
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Date: 2008-06-21 02:19 pm (UTC)squee! and you're going to continue! *hug*