Aya stared straight ahead, eyes concentrated on the trees and buildings whipping by on the sides of the road. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't ignore it. You never really had your nerves tried until you had to spend hours in a car with your teammates.

He should have never agreed to go on a road trip.

Yohji was next to him in the front seat. Smoking a cigarette. As always. The car was filling with smoke, and Aya had to fight not to cough.

"Open the window Yohji!" he snapped.

"But the wind will mess up my hair..." Yohji complained. "I spent an hour this morning trying to get the 'windblown effect' and now if real wind hits it, it will be ruined!"

Aya fought the urge to jerk the car into a ditch.

"Open the window, Yohji! If I get lung cancer from your smoke, I can't play soccer anymore!" That was Ken whining in the backseat, covering his mouth with one hand, clutching a soccer ball to his chest with the other. Couldn't the man go ANYWHERE without that soccer ball?

"So what if Kenken can't play ball with those little anklebiters anymore? What do you SEE in them anyway?" Turning around in his seat to face the back, Yohji blew smoke in Ken's face. Who then wailed and punched Yohji's shoulder for contaminating him.

Aya shot a look into the backseat. At least Omi was behaving himself. Out of the other three, the kid was actually behaving himself the best, while the other two bickered like babies. He was quietly playing some handheld videogame, having been yelled at a few minutes previous to shut off the sound effects on said game because they were distracting Yohji's search out the window for hot chicks in passing cars.

Ken was now kicking the back of Yohji's seat, whining about the window. Aya was tired of listening to the soccer player, so he reached over and cracked his own window open.

"Yohji, no more smoking in the car!"

"Yes, mother." Yohji said in a mock-meek tone. Crossing his arms and looking sullen, he took the butt of the cigarette from his mouth, cracked his window, and flicked it outside. He then propped one foot up on the dashboard and slouched in his seat.

"Yohji..." Aya warned. Yohji glared back indignantly. "Put your seat belt on!" Yohji made a face.

"What do you care if I get thrown through the windshield anyway?"

"You know he'd sit there in the hospital with you, complaining about it the whole time, Yohjikun!" Omi piped in from the backseat, behind Aya.

Aya grumbled. He really did have the urge to jerk the car into a ditch.

Not putting on his seat belt, Yohji turned on the radio and cranked the volume and bass up to full. The car began to shake.

"YOHJI!" Three voices in unison cried out a plea.

"Alright alright!" Looking disappointed, he turned down the volume to half and started drumming on the dashboard instead.

Aya wished he had his katana.

Ken was twirling the soccer ball in one of his hands now, idly tossing it back and forth between his palms. A moment later, Aya hit a speedbump on the road, and the ball went flying.

Right into Yohji's head.

"Itaiiiiiii!" He cried, exaggeratingly. "You messed up my HAIR, Ken!" He took hold of the ball and refused to give it back to the pleading soccer player in the backseat.

"Oi, you two..." Omi muttered, turning back to his game.

Ken was now proceeding to throw himself over the back of Yohji's seat, reaching for his soccer ball, which Yohji was holding just out of reach. Rolling down his window, the playboy held the soccer ball dangerously close to it.

"Nooooooooooo!" Ken screeched.

"Get off my chair or your precious soccer ball gets a walk on the road, Kenken!" Yohji threatened.

Aya really wished he had his katana.

"If you two don't SHUT UP, you can walk."

That shut them up. For a few minutes.

Yohji gave Ken back his ball, and the soccer player cradled it like a baby in the backseat, throwing a kick to the back of Yohji's seat every so often.

//So help me, Ken, if you get him started, I'll kill both of you.// Aya thought impatiently.

"No! Not my batteries!" Omi wailed from behind Aya.

"What NOW?!" Aya said, thinking about jumping through the windshield.

"My batteries, Ayakun! They ran out!" Omi dejectedly put his game up on the back window dash of the car and crossed his arms, sinking back into the seat with a pout on his face.

"Just look out the window." Aya muttered. //Before I throw you all OUT a window.// He added silently.

There was quiet for a few minutes. Then Yohji got restless.

"Why can't I drive?"

"Because I don't feel like being pulled over for speeding."

"C'mon Aya! Loosen up! Pull that stick out of your ass for once! I don't drive THAT fast!"

"No."

"Fine." Yohji said, pulling out another cigarette.

"No smoking in the car!"

Yohji reluctantly put the cigarette away. "Can't have ANY fun with you..." he muttered.

"Ayakun is right, Yohji. And you shouldn't smoke at all. It's bad for you." Omi piped his two cents in.

"Quiet, kid." Yohji muttered, turning to look out the window.

"Are we there yet?" Ken called, like a child.

"You're starting to sound like those rugrats you spend so much time with, Kenken," Yohji chimed.

"Better than acting like one..." he mumbled loud enough for Yohji to hear.

Aya'd had enough.

He pulled the car over on the side of the road. Yohji looked at him.

"Why are we st..."

Before he could finish his question, Aya leaned over across the seat, grabbed Yohji's head, and planted a rough, messy kiss on the playboy's lips.

That shut him up.

Yohji's eyes were wide, and he sat in his seat, buckled his seat belt, and stared straight forward.

Glaring at Omi and Ken in the backseat, whose eyes were wide as saucers, Aya settled back in his seat and pulled back onto the road. Ken clutched his soccer ball close to his chest while Omi stifled a giggle.

They were quiet the rest of the trip.