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Aya slammed the drawers and cabinets shut, not even trying to be quiet. He hadn't slept well and he'd be damned if he was going to let Yohji sleep in. The bastard. Aya wasn't sure who he was more angry at, the blond or himself. Now he was trying to make one goddamned pot of coffee, and he couldn't find anything...

A loud slam roused a certain bleary eyed assassin upstairs and he shook his head. Yohji cocked his head, listening for a few moments, and surmised that the object of his dreams last night was down in the kitchen... throwing a more mature version of a tantrum. "Childish," the blond groaned and rolled over. He wasn't going to let the redhead get to him this morning. Yohji rolled over and covered his head with a pillow.

Aya had moved to cursing aloud as he found there was no more ground coffee. So he dragged out the coffee grinder and plugged it in. He filled it with whole beans and pushed the button savagely. The grinder made a satisfyingly aggressive sound, and soon the coffee was suitably pulverized. It suited Aya's mood. He finished setting up the coffeemaker, then sat at the table to wait for it to brew.

His solitude was broken by a somewhat tired voice, "Aya? What the hell was all that racket?" Ken moved to the table and pulled out the chair, straddling it, "I have to coach the kids today and was hoping to get a little more sleep."

Aya glared at Ken, but tried to soften his voice. "Sorry. We were out of coffee."

Rolling over, Yohji growled in disgust. The redhead had gotten his wish. Sitting up in the bed, the blond grabbed his towel and took a quick shower. Then, he dressed in jeans and t-shirt. 'May as well run my errands since I'm awake,' he thought foully. Barefoot, the blond slowly descended the steps and went into the kitchen.

Aya refused to look up from his cup of coffee as Yohji walked in. He knew it was the blond, though, no mistaking those footsteps. He considered and discarded several biting greetings, and settled for silence.

"Morning, Ken," Yohji drawled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Aya didn't even look up at his entrance. Fine. Let the redhead be pissy. The blond took a seat opposite Aya and sipped his caffeine, "Someone care to explain why it sounded like the otaku invaded?"

"We were out of coffee." Aya said shortly. They were saved from further conversation by the entrance of the youngest Weiss member.

"Morning, guys!" Omi fairly bounced in. Then he took in the tension-filled room. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Yohji said, pulling his cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and drawing one from the box, "Except a bunch of noise. Maxwell House wasn't what I woke to this morning..."

"Fuck off, Kodou. And don't smoke in here." Aya said shortly, waving away the smoke.

Yohji glared at him and took a deliberate drag from his, now lit, cigarette, "Aya, don't fucking order me around."

Aya glared at Yohji. "I'm just sick of you acting like you own the place."

Green eyes remained fixed on the cigarette, "I could say the same to you, Aya." If Yohji looked at the redhead, he was going to blow a gasket. He was irritable enough as it was. "Why don't you stop your fucking temper tantrum, Aya... I'm starting to think I'm living with a bunch of kids."

From his side of the table, Ken looked between the two of them, his blue eyes flicking back and forth, "Uh... Did we miss something here?"

Omi tried to interject. "Yohji, Aya, it sounds like you two have some issues... can we help?"

There was a derisive snort, "No issues... Just tired of the 'pissy princess' act that Aya seems so fond of." Yohji took another pull on his cigarette, still pointedly not looking at the second oldest team member.

"Yes, well, maybe I'm tired of the fucking playboy prince dragging his ass in here at all hours, waking me up," snarled the redhead, slamming down his coffee cup.

Ken rolled his eyes and leaned over to Omi, "Sounds like Yohji was out late... again."

"My nocturnal habits are not anyone else's business." Yohji was starting to fume, but buried it. He didn't want Aya to know that he was getting to him this morning.

Omi nodded. "I thought I head something last night. But Aya, Yohji isn't that loud, usually."

Aya snorted. "You sleep soundly, then Omi. And your room is farther away." He turned to Yohji. "And you have now made your nocturnal habits my business," he said significantly. The other two boys looked confused.

The blond leaned across the table, "Oh? That worried about me, are you? Or is it the fact that I'm getting some and you're stuck home... alone... nightly?"

Aya smiled then, but the expression had no humor. "Maybe 'getting some' isn't enough for me, Yohji. Maybe I have some standards."

"I've got standards," Yohji growled, grabbing his boots and slipping them on, "My partners have to be clean. They also have to be perfectly willing. The slightest hint of drunkenness and I'm out." He tugged hard on the second boot, "Maybe it wouldn't hurt you to give in to your needs once-in-a-while, Aya."

"Clean and willing? That's not much of a standard. But then, I'm not surprised. Not all of us are slaves to our desires." Aya smirked, trying not to admire the blond's body as he bent over and the shirt pulled up.

"If you'd pull the stick out of your ass," Yohji said lowly, dangerously, "You might see the wisdom in it. Looks are fine, but you miss out on a lot if you just place looks as your deciding factor." He sat back up, "Right now, I don't see too many better options open to me... Or do you have some ideas?"

Aya looked steadily back, swallowing the response his body wanted to give, and just said, "No, I don't. Not one."

The look in the blond's eyes accused him; called him a liar. Yohji stuffed his smokes into his shirt pocket, "I didn't think so. So... All I've got are my little friends at the clubs." He drained the last from his coffee mug, "Someday, though, I'll have my loving wildcat and that'll be it."

Aya watched him, unreasonable anger burning through him. Anger at Yohji for tempting him, and anger at himself for being tempted. "Dream on, Yohji. And good luck. You'll need it." Aya stared barbs at the blond, willing him to get the message. "Nobody wants a player. Not after he's played out."

That was it. Yohji had had enough. He rose from the table and stalked towards the door like a sleek hunting cat, ready to spring. He was so tense, he might have if enough stimulus were provided. The tall man grabbed the doorknob savagely and pulled it, stepped through, then slammed it so hard behind him that the windows rattled.

Aya sighed, slamming down his coffee cup and ignoring the stunned looks of Omi and Ken. Maybe he had gone too far this time. Guilt gnawed at him. He stalked out the door, catching Yohji fumbling with the gate's latch. "We need to talk."

Great... The King of Glaciers had followed him. That was the *last* thing Yohji needed, "Fuck off."

Aya felt an irrational anger burning up from his stomach. "Oh, right. You throw yourself at me last night then I'm supposed to forget it? How are we supposed to work together when you act like a slut all the time?"

His hands finally got the gate open and Yohji snorted at the words rolling out of Aya's mouth, "Some team when the 'leader' is an emotionally constipated prick." He didn't even give a backward glance as he smoothly moved to the other side. Yohji was *not* going to discuss this yet. He was *not* going to let Aya have his way - again.

Aya wasn't about to let the playboy off that easily. "Just because I don't fuck anything that doesn't run away fast enough doesn't mean I don't have feelings, Yohji." He didn't mean for his voice to drip that much contempt, but Yohji just had that effect on him.

"Sex doesn't equate to feelings, Aya." The willowy blond took his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Yohji shook one cylinder out and put it between his lips, then he patted himself down for his lighter. His hand dug into his back pocket and pulled it free. One quick burst of flame and his nicotine addiction was being sated, "I guess you don't really know me if that's all you think I am."

He flicked his eyes over the redhead and then turned, walking away. His boots resounded off the concrete of the sidewalk.

"I know exactly what you are," Aya spat, walking after the blond and grabbing his arm harder than he intended. "What you are is a emotionally immature jerk who doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself."

"Buzzz! Wrong answer!" Yohji pulled free of the grasp. Inside he was seething. Was Aya really so clueless that he thought that was all Yohji Kudou was?

But Aya wasn't going to be brushed off that easily. He didn't feel like letting Yohji walk away just yet. He pushed at the blond's shoulder, harder than he meant to. "So what *is* the right answer, then, Yohji? Please do enlighten me."

"Why the fuck do you suddenly care, Aya?" Yohji's voice was a growl as he connected with the wall behind him, "What fucking good would it be to 'enlighten you'?"

"Maybe I care about the group, Yohji. Maybe I care about the people we help," Aya snarled, turning his back. Then he added, more softly, "Maybe I care about...You are self-destructing, Yohji."

"Fine!" The blond came off the wall and spun Aya around to face him. His fist grasped the front of the other man's shirt and he shoved him back against the opposite wall, "You want to know?" He kept that annoying young man there, "How the fuck do you reach someone who's constantly pushing everyone away when they try to reach through the cold exterior? How do you get them to notice you?" Yohji paused and blew a lung full of smoke to the side before looking at him again, "How else am I supposed to get *your* attention, Aya?"

"My attention?" Aya growled, trying not to notice the feel of Yohji's body against his and what it was doing to him. He felt a curl of anger in his stomach, warring with arousal. "Why would you want MY attention? I'm a cold heartless prick, remember?"

Yohji leaned in close enough for Aya to smell his after shave, those emerald eyes glittering, "And I'm nothing but a selfish slut..." His voice changed, lowering, becoming huskier, "Maybe, just maybe, I want to be more than just a team-mate... Maybe, just maybe, I want to wake up to those eyes of yours and not see the ice in them... Maybe, just maybe, I want to see if you know what things like love, passion, and need are..." He let Aya go as suddenly as it began and started off down the sidewalk, "But... Maybe in another life. Ja ne, Aya."

Aya was left breathing hard, slumped against the wall, body already missing Yohji's touch. "What the fuck is going on with you? You think I don't know, Yohji? You think you're the only one who knows what passion is?" Aya went after Yohji again, pushing him against the wall, pressing into him hard with his body. "Think again."

"No." The assassin's voice was firm as he pushed Aya off of him, "Not like this. Not in anger or resentment." With a practiced gesture, he flicked away the last of his cigarette, "You take some time and think about it, Aya. Think about what kind of face you've shown everyone. There are certain games I *won't* play - this is one of them." Yohji gazed at him long and hard, pausing for a brief moment, "You come talk to me when you've decided to really open up, not before."

Aya watched him go. He wouldn't let it go like this. "Fuck you, Yohji. Fuck you and your dramatics. Fuck you and your need to be more *real* than everyone else."

A look was thrown over Yohji's shoulder at him, "I'm not being dramatic and I'm no more real than everyone else. I just refuse to let myself be overlooked, Aya." With that, the blond disappeared around the corner and was gone.