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It wasn’t what Aya expected.
Until now, amourous was not a word he would have used to describe Ken. Yohji – Ito Ryo, he supposed – had always been very tactile. He used touch as communication, sometimes a weapon, and a means of control. Omi – in a foreshadowing of his change to Mamoru – had always been a bit cold, accepting with good grace any physical attention thrown his way, but seldom offering it of his own accord.
Ken had fallen somewhere in between: properly reserved in the presence of strangers, but with no qualms about being familiar with the rest of Weiss. A casual arm around the shoulders, a slap on the back, a ruffling of hair…Ken doled them out in equal measure, always with an unaffected grin. Aya had chalked Ken’s attitude up to an athlete’s regard for his teammates; he hadn’t realized that such simple gestures could convey so much desire.
Aya knew that Ken had loved him for years; Ken had said as much on more than one occasion, his admissions ranging from the desperate, to the mad, to the quietly sensible. Even so, it was only recently that Aya had found the courage to accept his affections and declare them a couple. He was still adjusting. Ken, on the other hand, had taken to their new relationship like a fish to water.
Suddenly, the familiar touches became intimate, although not in any way that was noticeable to the naked eye: a slap on the back might include a gentle rub between the shoulders, a casual arm around the neck was certainly leaned into, sometimes with a touch of breath against the ear or neck. When Aya did not protest, they escalated to a hand in the small of the back, an arm around the waist, or an overblown excuse to come up close behind and feel the press of their bodies together.
Aya found it all rather bewildering. He knew a protest or admonition would have stopped the public display or at least curtailed it a little, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Ken’s spontaneity and exuberance was part of his charm – although Aya would have been hard pressed to admit it – and the attention wasn’t exactly unflattering. Although it often made him feel uncomfortable, he liked it. The idea that someone cared enough to seek him out solely to grant a little affection was very attractive. It made him feel less like an instrument of justice – a life he would not deny he had chosen – and a little more like a human being. It was simply a matter of adjusting, not only to the idea of being touched and of being wanted, but to the idea of Ken as the initiator of this close and personal contact.
Besides, to protest what went on in public might mean losing what went on behind closed doors.
To think of it that way made it seem so sordid, but it was nothing of the sort. When they found themselves alone in the store room, they made out. It was as simple as that and if the rest of Kryptonbrand had any idea what they were doing, they said nothing. A few minutes of kissing and pawing were not to be begrudged. Not in their line of work.
Aya never initiated the contact, although he always accepted Ken’s advances. It was shameful to admit, but a large part of the fun was being sought out and some days – particularly on days when Ken looked antsy – he would avoid the storeroom for as long as possible, or until Ken, anxious and frustrated, would grab him by the arm and tow him back there with some manufactured excuse. It was perhaps a cruel thing to do, but it always brought a moment of elation and Ken was always more ardent in his affections.
And so full of surprises.
“A date?”
Ken sat on the shop counter. He licked his lips and shifted nervously. “Yeah, you know…a date. Remember when you said you wanted to go slow and I said we could always date? Well, here we are already swapping spit in the back room and we haven’t even gone out anywhere. So how about it?”
“I don’t know, Ken…”
It was not that the idea of eating out was unappealing, but eating out as a couple was somehow more intimate than all the little touches that had passed between them in the shop. It was a ridiculous feeling, but one that Aya couldn’t quite dismiss.
“Come on, Aya. I just want to get out of here and I’d rather do it with you,” Ken wheedled. “Look, I know you’re not much for being all lovey-dovey in public, but I’m not talking about some really fancy place, just a pub or something. I mean, it’s not like I can kill you with romance over a plate of chips.”
He had a point and it made Aya feel foolish although he took pains not to show it. There was nothing wrong with two men going out to share a meal. They had done it on other occasions and, while these occasions were usually a matter of convenience or necessity, there was no reason why this should be any different. Well, no reason other than the obvious one of enjoying each other’s company as opposed to talking shop.
Besides, nagged a little voice in the back of Aya’s head, you make him chase you. You’ve agreed to be a couple and yet you make him chase you. At least go out with him.
“I suppose not,” Aya said. “We could always go after the shop’s closed and make an evening of it…if we don’t have any missions.”
“Nana’s still in preliminary investigations for the next one,” Ken said. “She told us herself. And even if something comes up, she can get us on the cell. And don’t start with how disruptive cell phones are. I’ll put it on vibrate.”
Aya nodded. He hadn’t been about to protest the use of the phone, but it was good to know that Ken had everything covered. It was a bit humbling to think that it was a position he’d been forced into.
“All right,” Aya said. “We’ll go out tonight if you want, but I get to choose the place.”
Ken contrived to look hurt although his excitement shone through. “Don’t you trust me?” he said.
“I trust you, but you have no sense of style,” Aya said drily. “I don’t want to end up in some grimy hole-in-the-wall. Nothing too fancy, I promise,” he added before Ken could protest, “but someplace with a little class."
“Huh, if you’re going to start sounding like Chloe, I’m going to stop working in the back room,” Ken said and grinned when Aya gave him a dark look. “But I think I can let it slide this time. When do you want to go? The others will be back by five, so we could be out of here by six.”
“I don’t want to eat before seven,” Aya said. “If we’re going out to enjoy ourselves, there’s no sense in rushing around.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan. Tell me about this place of yours.”
As Aya promised, it was just a pub, but a slightly more upscale place than the dark little caverns with which Ken made do. Its décor was richer, for one, and it boasted a broader range of wines and spirits. Its menu was more sophisticated as well, and the dishes more expensive, although not beyond their means. Aya had eaten there once or twice before and it amused him to watch Ken pore wide-eyed over the menu.
“Wow,” Ken breathed. “That’s some classy shit. I mean, wild boar? Spiced duck?”
“Only some of it, you can have fish and chips if the rest is too much for you,” Aya told him.
Ken offered him a crooked grin. “I think I can manage,” he said. “I’m not completely unrefined.”
“An ability to eat wild boar in an English pub doesn’t make you refined,” Aya said, but the insult carried no heat and Ken laughed it off easily.
Ken led the way inside, impressed by the heavy oak doors and the rich interior of polished wood and brass. He was especially impressed by the enormous bar on the pub side and said so loudly enough to draw the attention of those seated nearby. Some looked irritated by the interruption, but they said nothing and many turned back to their drinks with a smile. Ken’s enthusiasm was contagious.
Even so, it made Aya feel self-conscious and he shushed his partner gently. It was enough to quiet him, but not enough to quell his excitement. He was happy to be going out and though he refrained from treating Aya with anything that could be considered intimacy, Aya took some pleasure in knowing that he was the cause of this excitement.
He let Ken handle all the arrangements; in his current mood, he was a pleasure to watch. He charmed the waitress with his smile and easy-going friendliness and managed to wheedle from her the table he wanted as well as an early round of drinks. The best part of the show, as far as Aya was concerned, was that Ken didn’t even know he was doing it. He could be as charming as Yohji ever was with no effort at all.
And that was the catch. The moment he faced a person that he really wanted to charm, Ken began to blush and became tongue-tied, as he was now, seated across from Aya in the slightly intimate corner he had chosen.
“I thought…” he began and then seemed to lose his place. He found it again quickly and turned his nerves to the task of reading the menu. “I thought we should have a starter, but I don’t know which one. They all sound pretty good.”
“We could each get one and share,” Aya said. He didn’t think he was hungry enough for both a starter and an entrée, but he was relatively certain that Ken could handle the best of both plates. He worked out, he ran, and he had recently started playing scrimmage football in the park. He used every scrap of fuel he consumed.
Ken met this suggestion with a frown as he pored over the menu. Aya could almost see the mental calculations taking place. “Sure,” he said after a moment’s thought. “We could do that. Are you ready to order now?”
Aya’s first beer was nearly gone, so he nodded his agreement. It occurred to him, as Ken turned to signal the waitress whose smile became broader and warmer as she approached, that Ken’s mental calculations were a sign of his intention to pay for the whole meal himself.
It made sense, Aya supposed. Ken had been the one to ask him out. Good manners dictated that the inviter be the one to pay unless other arrangements had been made in advance.
But to Aya’s mind, this seemed unfair. He had been the one to suggest they go slow. He had been the one to agree that dating was the solution. He had not followed up on this promise and left it to Ken to ask him, much as he had forced Ken to chase him. It was flattering, all of it, but as much as Aya enjoyed the ego boost, he refused to believe that he was selfish or prideful enough to make Ken take on all the responsibilities, especially when he had been the one to insist on this particular restaurant in the first place. Paying the bill was a cheap solution in terms of effort, but Aya thought it might be a nice first step toward pulling his own weight.
Decided, Aya caught the waitress’s attention first when she approached the table. “I’ll have the grilled goat’s cheese to start, along with the cellerman’s drink selection. And whatever he orders,” he added quickly, gesturing toward Ken, “put it on my bill. I’ll be paying for both.”
“Certainly. Do you want a regular or large portion?” said the waitress as Ken stared at Aya from across the table. Ken had never been one to turn down free food before, so Aya couldn’t fathom why he looked so hurt.
“Regular,” Aya said, absently, distracted by Ken’s wounded puppy look.
“Very well. And you, sir?” the waitress said, turning to Ken.
All smiles and charm once again, Ken scanned the menu one last time before deciding. “The smoked salmon,” he said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Large portion.”
“Of course,” the waitress said without batting an eye although Aya raised his eyebrows as Ken smirked at him from across the table. “Would you like the Orval with it as well?”
“Please,” Ken said and proceeded to order his meal: Irish rib-eye with a side order of ciabatta bread. “If that’s all right,” he said to Aya as if he fully expected to be scolded.
“Anything you like,” Aya said, puzzled by Ken’s shifting attitude. “I’ll have the duck.”
Ken seemed momentarily put out that he hadn’t raised more of a reaction, but he shook it off and began chattering away about things that had happened at work that day and some match he had watched on television. Aya could not even pretend to understand the world of sports, not in the many-layered way that Ken made it out to be, but he listened intently and managed to bring Ken’s interest around to recent films, a subject in which he could participate, and which carried them through to the end of the appetizer course.
It didn’t surprise Aya that Ken managed to finish both the salmon and part of the goat’s cheese starters, but the food, coupled with the two rather large glasses of beer, was contriving to put him to sleep.
“Don’t drink so much you can’t walk out of here,” Aya warned him. He half-expected a joke in return, but Ken just offered a lazy smile.
“I know what I can take,” he said. “You should learn to trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
“To watch your back, maybe, but sometimes…”
Ken swirled the last mouthful of beer around in his glass. He finished it off quickly and put the glass aside to be taken away by the waitress. “Look, maybe I’m not the smartest guy in the world, but I don’t always need looking after. You ever feel that maybe sometimes you do?”
“Ken, I don’t understand,” Aya said. “I can take care of myself.”
”Yeah, you always do, don’t you?” Ken said somewhat wistfully.
Then his mood snapped like an elastic band and Ken was all smiles again.
“Look,” he said brightly, “main course.”
The conversation changed to something more pleasant and didn’t shift back for the rest of the meal.
Aya shifted position as he stood, waiting for the bus, and nearly dislodged Ken who had draped one arm over his shoulder, pillowed his head on it, and was leaning on Aya as his sole means of support. “You shouldn’t have eaten so much,” Aya chastised when Ken moaned softly at the disturbance.
“I’m good,” Ken replied, sounding sleepy, but satisfied. “I’m buggin’ ya.”
“You’re doing a good job,” Aya said mildly. He couldn’t be too angry. The evening had gone well, with no further strange questions to disrupt the mood. It was a quiet night, and Aya aimed to keep it that way. Besides, it was chilly and Ken was warm, a comforting presence against his side.
“Did it taste good, at least?” Aya said. “Or did you even notice when you wolfed it all down?”
“Mmm…yeah,” Ken murmured. “It was good. All of it. Gonna crash when we get back though, ‘kay?”
Aya said nothing, having expected no more and no less. Instead, he reached over gave Ken’s ear a tweak. Ken only grunted in annoyance and leaned even harder. Aya was about to drop him when a voice called out from behind them.
“Hey, faggot! Nice jacket!”
And suddenly Ken’s weight was no longer there.
“Ignore him,” Aya said, knowing that Ken was right behind him and had turned to face the owner of the mysterious voice. “He isn’t worth it.”
“Yeah, you,” the voice continued, taking Ken’s sudden reaction for a question. It was a voice that had been drinking since mid-afternoon and would no doubt have kept on drinking if it had not spied the perfect opportunity to make some trouble. “What’s a chink queer like you doing with a nice leather jacket like that? I could use one myself, so what say you hand it over?”
Turning slightly, Aya put a hand on Ken’s shoulder, thankful that his grasp of English slang wasn’t quite good enough to understand what the young punk behind them was saying. Being called derogatory names was bad enough, but Ken would have gladly jumped into a fight for being called by the wrong derogatory name.
“Don’t call attention to yourself. You don’t want the police swarming the shop,” Aya said as calmly as he could. He could see the owner of the voice now: a kid, younger than they, tallish, well-built, and with four of his gang – it was doubtful that they could be called friends – to back him up.
“Fuck no,” Ken agreed, although Aya could tell that it was taking him some effort. “Punks don’t even have weapons. What kind of fair fight would that be?” He grinned – wolfish and wild – and was prepared to turn back toward the bus stop when the young punk piped up again.
“You ignoring me, you fucking homo? You think we can’t mess you up? We can mess you up and take your fucking jacket if that’s what you want. But tell you what,” the kid said, dropping his voice. “Your girlfriend is kinda pretty. You let us fuck her shit up and maybe we’ll let you off alive…”
Aya almost didn’t catch Ken before he reached the kid. They were nearly within swinging distance when Aya grabbed Ken’s arm and yanked him back.
“That’s enough,” he hissed. “Don’t encourage him. Don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re better than that.”
“He’s talking shit about you, Aya,” Ken protested.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter! You matter!”
“Ken, I can take care of myself.”
Aya didn’t have time to argue further. The punk kid, obviously annoyed at being ignored, had come in closer. This time he had a knife, pulled from the recesses of his battered jacket. His mates did the same.
“Well, now,” he said derisively. “I guess I pegged the wrong one for the girlfriend. Looks like I’ll have to mess you up anyway and carve you a space where your…”
Aya didn’t hear the rest of the threat. The words were cut off when his fist smashed into the young punk’s face. The kid dropped like a stone and Aya kicked away his knife.
“Fuck off,” he growled at the others as he held Ken back with one arm. The group took one look at their leader and considered the speed with which he’d been laid out before deciding to find an easier target. When they were gone, Ken pushed Aya away with a snort of disgust and straightened his jacket.
“What?” Aya snapped. The whole farce was grating on his patience.
“Sure, it’s fine for you to react,” Ken said bitterly. “All this shit about how we can’t draw attention to ourselves and how it doesn’t matter if they insult you, but the first chance you get, you have to leap in and cover me.”
“He was interfering,” Aya said.
“He was interfering before,” Ken snapped back. “You didn’t do anything until he made a comment about me. I don’t need to be protected.”
“That isn’t true,” Aya said, but it was. He knew it even as he denied it. It wasn’t a problem when the kid was talking about him, but a threat to Ken was out of bounds.
“The fuck it isn’t!” Ken was angry now and taking no pains to hide it. “You always have to be the cool one, jumping in to ‘save’ me. It’s pissing me off! All night tonight you’ve been after me like I don’t know what I’m doing. First with picking a place to eat, then taking over the bill, and now this! It’s like I’m being put up with and catered to and humoured all the time. I like it sometimes, don’t get me wrong, but fuck! I want to contribute something to this too!”
“I don’t understand,” Aya said with genuine puzzlement. How could Ken think that he wasn’t contributing anything when he was the one doing all the work?
“Oh, come off it!” Ken said. “Do you have any idea why I invited you out tonight? Do you? I wanted to prove that I wasn’t totally worthless. That I could pick a place, take you out, and pay for it all myself. I mean, you put up with my shit every day. I try to keep it under control because I feel like I’m intruding, but I want to be around you. I feel like such a needy asshole, but you just go along with it, even when I’m dragging you away from something else. I take and take and I just wanted to give something for a change, but you just can’t stoop to being cared for unless it’s by your leave…”
Aya didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could say. All those times he had made Ken chase him just to feel the thrill of being desired, Ken was the one who thought he was being selfish.
For once, Aya took the initiative. He looped an arm around Ken’s neck, drew him in, and kissed him long and hard. He was vaguely aware of the eyes of strangers, but concentrated only on the kiss and on Ken’s hands, creeping into his hair, pulling him even closer.
“I wasn’t humouring you,” he said when they finally pulled apart. “I needed…”
Aya paused, surprised by how difficult it was to admit to this weakness.
“I needed you to come after me,” he finally said. “You always obliged. I thought… I wanted to pay for tonight as a way of saying thank you.”
Ken looked momentarily sheepish and then shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s good. Just get your own ideas next time, all right? Don’t take over mine. I want to do nice things for you too.” He grimaced then and rubbed his stomach.
“You’re already doing everything for me,” Aya said, a vague half-smile playing about his lips. “But tell me the truth. You ordered all that expensive food as a way to punish me, didn’t you?”
“Yep,” Ken said, and covered his mouth as he yawned. Now that the adrenaline rush had passed, he was feeling sleepy again. “Not the best plan I ever had, but it was kind of short notice.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think I pulled my shoulder when I punched that kid.” Aya glanced around, but the kid in question was gone. Aya thought he must have come around while he and Ken were... preoccupied and, realizing that trying anything more would bring them both down on his head, vacated the premises. Aya thought it was probably the most intelligent decision he had made in his entire life.
“Ah, well…I’m good with muscles and stuff,” Ken said. “I can give you a rub down when we get home if you want, but then I’m gonna crash.”
Aya opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. If helping brought Ken pleasure, than who was he to question it?
“Sounds good,” he said and slipped his arms around Ken’s waist. Ken put his head on Aya’s shoulder and leaned against him, thankful for the support.
“You know, people are watching us,” Ken murmured.
“That’s all right,” Aya told him. “I don’t mind."
And for once, Aya was pleased to note, this was completely true.