Yohji sat on his bed. He had one towel wrapped around his waist and another around his head. Both were streaked with red. He'd scrubbed his skin until it was pink from heat and friction, but he still hadn't managed to get all the blood off. Goddamn Aya and Ken. At least his own weapon was clean.

He remembered light glinting off Ken's claws as they tore into one of the bodyguards. He remembered blood dripping off Aya's sword as he guarded the door. Yohji had taken out the target himself.

Fat man in a suit too good for him and a comb-over Yohji wouldn't wish on anyone. Yohji had felt him struggle at the other end of the wire as he died. It hadn't been anything like strangling the dummies at the training center. More like reeling a fish in, feeling that life on the other end of the line fight and fade and finally give in.

The man tonight wasn't the first death Yohji had been responsible for, but he was the first man Yohji had ever set out to kill. It hadn't felt as bad as he'd expected it to. He thought maybe that should worry him, but it didn't. He only felt tired, a little distant, and terribly old.

His leg ached from the bullet wound, over a month old now. He took four aspirin, dumped his towels on the floor, and crawled into bed. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

It was still dark when Schuldig woke up, and he was still wearing the clothes he'd had on when he fell into bed. A day of Takatori's business meetings had made his brain ache.

Sleep hadn't helped. They'd spent the day expecting an attack that hadn't come. He'd monitored every single person who'd walked into the conference room for six hours and found nothing. It put all of them in a pissy mood, which meant he couldn't drop his shields when they got back to the apartment. His mood was bad enough without their help.

He gave up on sleep and wandered into the living room. Crawford was awake, drinking coffee and reading a dog-eared paperback.

"Don't you know how those things end before you start them?"

Crawford didn't look up. "Everyone knows how Moby Dick ends, Schuldig. The end isn't the point."

"Then what is the point? If you're trying to bore yourself to sleep, wouldn't a pill be easier?"

"The point is never the end result. It's how you get there."

Schuldig stared at him. "You don't believe that. I know you don't believe that."

"No. But you do, so stop bothering me about my choice of leisure activities."

"Fine, whatever." He wandered toward the kitchen to get some coffee.

"You're not going out, are you?"

He stopped and considered. He was dressed, after all. "Why shouldn't I?"

"It's four in the morning."

"I so very much care. Except not."

Crawford got that listening look on his face, the one that meant he was scanning the next few hours for trouble. "You might want to stay in tonight," he said at last.

Schuldig had his shoes on already, but he paused at the door. "Why?"

Crawford only shrugged.

"Is a meteor going to fall on me or something? Car crash? Wild dog attack, what?"

"Nothing that will cause you physical harm."

"Will you stop being all enigmatic and just fucking tell me?"

Crawford looked back at his book. "No. You might regret it in the long run, but it won't affect your job performance. It's up to you."

Schuldig flipped him off and left. He didn't remember until he was already down on the street that he hadn't planned to go out tonight at all.

Yohji woke up clutching at his own throat. It took him whole seconds before he could convince his body he wasn't strangling, before he could make his lungs take in air. He kicked off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, gasping, convinced he could feel his heart hitting his rib cage with every beat.

The air in his room was too hot, too humid. He pulled on discarded jeans from the laundry basket, grabbed the first shirt he could find, and headed downstairs. He shoved his feet into his shoes and his keys into his pocket.

It was easier to breathe outside. He could feel his heartbeat slowing. He walked quickly down the street, eyes searching the sky for the moon. He didn't find it. The clouds were too thick. He walked faster.

There was always a moon in the dreams where Asuka died. He couldn't remember if there had been one that night. Even if there had been, it certainly hadn't been that color, red-orange, threatening to spill over with blood.

There had been a moon in this dream, too. Blue-white, pale and translucent. He'd watched it fade as he'd tightened his wire around his own neck.

The summer air hung on him like damp clothing, sweat adding to the stickiness. He wanted to stop for a drink, but he'd forgotten his wallet. He kept walking.

A pale, round glow, high above him, made him look up. It was a clock, high on one side of a skyscraper, lit with white neon. Four in the morning, it told him. You're out too late.

The streets were as deserted as they got. A street sweeper rumbled past him, throwing up air and dust that blew his hair in his eyes and made him cough.

He knew he should start back.

He wanted a Goddamned drink.

The sleeping minds Schuldig walked past were more restful than the ones he lived with. Less sharp, more wrapped up in themselves, definitely less pissy. Tokyo sucked significantly less at four in the morning, he decided.

This old man dreamed of boats; this woman's husband beat her in her sleep, though he was two years dead; this girl sat atop a pile of candy as big as a mountain and cried because she couldn't get down.

Schuldig reached out and gave her a push. She tumbled head over heels, screaming. He wondered if she'd break her neck when she hit the bottom, and if it was true that if you died in dreams, you really died.

His mind skidded away from the pointed thoughts of those still awake, sex or fear or just irritation at having to be up at this hour. He let his mind and his feet wander, and let his shields drop at last.

His consciousness grew to include the sleeping minds around him, the grumbling thoughts of the man driving the street sweeper, the focused intent of the alley cats and the rats they hunted. On the edge of his mind, he felt something familiar.

He couldn't pinpoint it. His awareness was a haze of thoughts and feelings and dreams now, very few of them his own. He knew he needed to focus. It was dangerous to let go like this. There was always the chance that he wouldn't be able to grab hold again.

The pavement under his feet was the only sensation he was sure was real, so he made himself take a step, feel it, solid and unyielding. He touched the smooth, cool glass of a shop window. These physical sensations he could claim as his own. The way his hair brushed his cheek, the weight of his gun in its holster and of his keys in his pocket...but he wasn't carrying keys.

He only had the keycard that opened both the front door of the building and the door to Schwarz's apartment. He put his hand in his pocket to confirm what he knew was true. The keycard lay flat against his thigh.

They were someone else's keys, then. He sometimes felt Farfarello's pain when he cut himself or the razor sliding neatly across Crawford's face in the morning, but picking up on a stranger's physical experience without trying was rare.

He looked around and saw no one, but there was a small tug on the web of his mind. He walked towards it.

Yohji stopped around the corner from the moon-clock, too tired to go on, too restless to go back. He sat on the steps of some official-looking building and wondered how Manx would take it if he got arrested for vagrancy.

He looked up from his study of the granite steps when he heard feet approaching. The man coming towards him had longish hair, the color washed out by the dim light. His coat was a familiar cut, and his body moved in a way that Yohji was sure he should recognize. Then a slice of light from the street lamp revealed his face.

"It's you," Yohji said, as the man came to stop in front of him.

The man smirked. "And it's you. Yohji."

"How the hell did you know my name?"

"You're very popular at that club. It wasn't hard to find out."

Yohji frowned and shifted on the step. He could hear that voice, only a shade higher, whispering dirty words in his ear, and it wasn't just a memory. It sounded almost real.

"Yeah?" he said. "And how hard was it to track me down on a deserted street at four am? If you wanted to stalk me, you could've been less obvious about it."

"Coincidence."

"Sure." Yohji hesitated before asking, but in general he tried to get his sex partners' names, if nothing else. "So you know my name. What's yours?"

"Schuldig."

Yohji frowned to himself and tried the name silently. "Are you American?"

Schuldig looked offended. "Fuck, no."

Yohji shrugged. "No offense. Your Japanese is good."

Schuldig snorted and dropped down to sit beside him on the steps.

"So has your fuzzy little brain edited out the part where I fucked you in an alley, or what?" he said. His grin was more a display of his teeth than of any emotion.

"No." Memories swam rapidly to the front of Yohji's mind, the invasion and heat and a scent that he could smell now. He hadn't noted it at the time, but it was there in his memories nonetheless. Not cologne. Just...something. He breathed deep, trying to place it, and lost it altogether.

Schuldig's grin settled into something a little less predatory and more smug. "Good. Otherwise, I might have to remind you."

Schuldig watched the surface of Yohji's thoughts carefully and caught the swirl of desire his suggestion created. Perfect.

He laid a hand on Yohji's arm, fingers trailing down it, leaving goose bumps behind.

"I might have to remind you anyway," he said.

Yohji jerked his arm away. "Thanks, but no thanks."

He started to stand. Schuldig yanked him back down and leaned close to speak in his ear.

"I don't have to fuck you," he said, and he could feel again that ripple of anxiety and want. "I could just suck you off." He paused, letting that image settle into Yohji's mind. "I'll even pay for the room."

He sat back and leaned on the step above him, one corner of his mouth twisted up in a smirk he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried.

Yohji was staring at him. "I'm not going to...do that. For you."

Schuldig shrugged. "Whatever."

He waited long enough to feel Yohji's agreement, but not long enough for him to express it. He stood up, pulling Yohji with him, and started walking.

"There's a hotel right up there. You can decide on the way."

Yohji glanced at him. "You're just going to suck me off. And you don't want me to do anything for you."

"Don't sound so skeptical, pretty boy. Have a little faith."

He pinched Yohji's ass just to make him jump, which he did.

"Hey! Asshole," Yohji muttered.

"That's a bit lower." Schuldig slid a finger along the back seam of Yohji's pants. "I would've thought you'd remember."

Yohji took a quick step sideways, away from him, and he followed.

"Unless you're just playing dumb. Do you want me to remind you, Yohji?"

"I want you to keep your hands to yourself while we're in public. And I don't need any Goddamn reminders, thanks. I couldn't fucking sit down the day after."

Schuldig shrugged and smiled as sweetly as he knew how. "I tried to be gentle. How was I supposed to know it was your first time? You were practically begging for it."

The look Yohji gave him was cold and hard. It might have been chilling if there was anything left in this world that could frighten him. He saw Yohji reach over and touch his watch, and saw his expression fade to neutrality.

Interesting. A gift maybe, from someone who had taught him to keep his temper? Parent, teacher, old friend? Something to take, Schuldig thought, when this night was over.

It wouldn't be long now. The sky was starting to lighten at the edges. The watch looked like the expensive kind that would tell you what time it was halfway around the world and how many calories you used up in your morning workout. Crawford might like it.

Schuldig realized he was planning to kill Yohji when he was done with him.

Yohji watched Schuldig pay for the hotel room. Or at least, he watched Schuldig talk to the guy behind the desk and get a key. He didn't see any money being handed over.

"Are you already checked in here?" he asked, when Schuldig was done.

Schuldig brushed past him, jogging up the stairs. "I've got a key, don't I? Hurry up."

As Yohji followed him up, he wondered if that non-answer had been a deliberate evasion. But no, obviously Schuldig was checked in. Why else would the guy give him a key?

The room, when they reached it at the end of a badly lit hallway, was relentlessly barren and clean. If Schuldig had already checked in, he hadn't so much as sat on the bed and rumpled the covers.

"Are you here from out of town?" Yohji asked.

"We moved here a couple weeks ago. For work."

"We?"

Schuldig glanced at him. "My business partners. Don't worry. You can keep adultery on the list of commandments you haven't broken yet."

That was a faint relief, followed quickly by a reminder of which commandment was off that list forever as of tonight. He flinched away from the vision of the target's bulging eyes and purple face.

He shook his head and turned to lock the door behind him. When he turned back, Schuldig was close enough to make him start, studying his face as if he was looking for something. Again, there was that scent, indeterminate and faint.

Abruptly, it was gone. Schuldig stepped back, still looking at him, but not with the same intensity. His eyes were very blue, Yohji noticed. Omi was the only one he knew with eyes that blue.

A flicker of amusement passed over Schuldig's face, and he gestured towards the bed.

"Get on the bed. Time to start this party."

Yohji slid out from between him and the door and sat on the edge of the bed.

Schuldig planted a hand on his chest and shoved him down. For a second, he fought it, but something changed his mind. He let his elbows slide out from under him until he was laid out flat. Schuldig knelt over him and grabbed a handful of his hair. The grip was tight, but not tight enough to pull. At least, not unless Yohji tried to move his head.

"Did you really think I was just going to suck you off?" Schuldig asked.

He hadn't, not really. He hadn't cared enough to think it through, not when the alternative was going home and trying to sleep again. He cared now, and he didn't like what Schuldig's smile was promising.

He bucked his hips up hard, trying to throw him off, managed to twist onto his side and shove against Schuldig's chest. The other man fell back across the bed for barely a second before he bounced back.

Schuldig kept his grip on Yohji's hair and held his head still. The right cross to Yohji's jaw happened so fast he never saw it coming.

He blinked, shook his head, reached for his watch, but Schuldig was too fast, faster than Yohji's trainers, faster than anyone should be. Yohji barely felt the touch on his wrist before he was pinned against the bed, Schuldig grinning down at him.

"What do you think you're going to do?" Yohji asked. "You can't hold me down forever." And the second you let up, I'm going to introduce my knee to your balls. I hope they get along, because they'll be seeing a lot of each other.

Schuldig laughed and let go of him. "Are you worried about your virtue? How...inappropriate."

Yohji frowned, wondering if he'd misread this somehow. The fist to his jaw was hard to misread, but Schuldig wasn't following up. Instead, he was poking at Yohji's watch.

"This is cute. What does it do?"

"It tells the time." And strangles bastards who punch me in the face for no reason.

In another move too fast to take in, Schuldig had the watch off and was turning it over in his hands.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you about respecting other people's property?" Yohji asked.

"Didn't yours ever teach you about sharing?"

Yohji tried to stay calm. The mechanism that activated the wire was too well hidden to trigger accidentally.

Schuldig looked up at him and smiled. One finger found the catch as if he'd known where it was all along.

Yohji lunged for him as a length of wire shot out, but with Schuldig's speed he never had a chance. A confused and painful few seconds later, he was bound to the bed frame, arms over his head. He could feel the wire digging into his bare skin, promising pain if he pulled too hard.

Schuldig dusted his hands together and sat on Yohji's thighs.

"Pretty. You really add to the decor. Every room should come with an idiot tied to the bed."

Yohji glared, but said nothing. Given his situation, he couldn't really argue the idiot comment.

"Well?" Schuldig said. "Aren't you going to scream for help? Most people do."

"You've got a lot of experience in making people scream for help? I didn't peg you for a psycho."

"Oh, I'm completely sane. I've got a certificate somewhere that says so. Signed by a doctor and everything."

Yohji's mouth twitched. A snort that wanted to be a laugh escaped him.

"I'm not lying," Schuldig said. "Aren't you scared?"

"Should I be? You don't look real scary right now."

"I have a gun," Schuldig offered. He pulled it out and popped the clip briefly, angling it so Yohji could see. "Fully loaded."

Yohji had missed the gun somehow, even when Schuldig had been pressed right against his side. Dammit.

"Sorry," he said. "It's not the size that counts. It's how you use it."

Schuldig's smile was pleasant as he aimed the gun between Yohji's eyes. "Would you like to see how I use it?" There was nothing in his face to suggest he wouldn't pull the trigger, nothing to suggest he'd regret it if he did. Yohji didn't think he had nightmares about the people he'd killed.

"I can do without the demonstration, thanks."

Schuldig made the gun vanish inside his coat and shuffled up to sit on Yohji's hips. He settled his ass down, rocking slowly against him for a few seconds.

A few seconds was all it took. Yohji's cock, already half interested from the talk of blow jobs followed by the adrenaline rush, started to harden. Yohji cursed quietly.

Schuldig smirked. "That's better. More like how the evening was supposed to go. I'm not going to rape you or anything," he added.

Yohji wondered what 'or anything' included. He hoped murder and torture were in there somewhere.

"Because you're a nice guy and you don't do things like that?"

"No. It just lacks class. And making you beg for it is more fun."

"Right. Should've known."

Schuldig ground down against his crotch again. "You really should have."

Yohji's jeans were starting to get uncomfortably tight. His mind wouldn't stop replaying images of that night in the alley. And Goddammit, there was that smell again.

And Schuldig was staring at him. Again.

"I knew you liked it." Schuldig smirked.

What was this guy, a fucking mind reader? But no, he had to be talking about Yohji's current physical state, not about the alley.

"It doesn't mean anything," Yohji said. "Whatever you want to call this, it's still against my will." He felt like an idiot for saying it, for being in this situation at all.

"I haven't heard you tell me to stop."

"Would it do any good if I did?"

"Try it and see."

He might stop. This might be some kind of joke. It might even be funny if it wasn't happening to him.

He might stop.

Yohji opened his mouth...and closed it again.

He might stop...but he might not.

That was the thought Schuldig had expected. Some people would ask to be released, but more would keep their mouths shut and keep some kind of control. He understood that. It was what he'd done himself, in the past. Control, followed by revenge. Not that Yohji would get a chance for revenge.

Schuldig took his jacket and holster off, aware of Yohji's eyes watching every move. He dumped both on the floor.

He slid back a few inches and laid his hand over Yohji's crotch. He could feel the heat through his jeans, could trace the outline of his cock and feel it stiffen even more.

Yohji squirmed. He might stop... And, this time, it sounded like Yohji thought that would be a bad thing.

Schuldig laughed out loud. "I don't think I'll kill you, after all."

"Gosh," Yohji said. "Glad to hear it."

Then Schuldig reached into his pants and squeezed his cock, and he moaned.

Schuldig smiled. "That's better." He opened Yohji's pants and pulled them down, smirking when Yohji lifted his hips to help. "Thanks. Keep acting like this, and you might get that blow job yet."

"Go to hell."

Schuldig rolled his eyes, working Yohji's pants off over his shoes. "That's funny, coming from you." He reached up and twanged the wire around Yohji's wrists. "Nice weapon. Lets you get good and close. Do you enjoy your work, Yohji?"

Yohji's face was blank, though his mind was seething. "Do you enjoy yours?"

"What makes you think I kill professionally? Maybe it's just a hobby."

"Yeah. And maybe my wire's to dry clothes on."

Schuldig laughed quietly and wrapped his hand around Yohji's cock. "Stop talking now."

"Fuck you. I'll talk if I--"

He stopped abruptly as Schuldig squeezed a little too hard.

"Good boy. Nice dick, too."

"I like it," Yohji muttered.

Schuldig squeezed again. "What did I just say? Shut your mouth. Or I could gag you. Would you like that?"

Yohji shut his mouth.

"I'll take that to mean no. Just tell me if you change your mind."

This was not what he had planned, not by any means. His plans had involved more blood, but this was better. He hadn't expected Yohji to be this interesting. The first guy he fucked in Tokyo was an assassin? Now that was just pure luck.

He stroked Yohji's cock idly, watching it get harder, feeling it twitch in his hand. He smoothed his thumb up the underside, drawing fluid from the head, pressing just under the crown. Yohji bit his lip and closed his eyes.

Even without trying, Schuldig could feel the other man's pleasure starting to build. There was heat in the pit of his own stomach, oozing downwards, making him want to rub against Yohji's thigh.

He crawled off Yohji and looked up at him. "Spread your legs."

"What for?"

"Did I say you could talk? Spread your legs."

Yohji didn't budge.

Schuldig sighed and got his gun off the floor. He pointed it at Yohji's head. "Does this make things clearer? Did you miss the part where you don't have a choice?"

Yohji shrugged and didn't move.

Schuldig pointed the gun at his crotch.

Yohji paled, but stayed still. "You won't have much fun if you shoot me there."

"I won't have much fun if I shoot you in the head, either. Corpses aren't really my thing. Spread your legs because I'm going to fuck you. Is that better?"

Slowly, with faint color in his cheeks and not looking anywhere near Schuldig's eyes, Yohji spread his legs.

He didn't want to. Not at all. But he was pretty sure when Schuldig was done, he'd let him go. And that was worlds better than being found here, tied up with his own wire, especially if it got back to Manx somehow.

His cock was achingly hard, standing up against his stomach, making it hard to think. It hadn't actually been bad last time. He felt a wave of heat at the memory and closed his eyes. He didn't want it. It was just a way to avoid embarrassment, that was all.

Schuldig's hand slipped under his knee and lifted until his foot was flat on the bed. A slicked finger touched his opening, and Yohji bit his lip to keep quiet. His body wanted to push into the touch. He wouldn't let it.

It didn't matter. Schuldig was doing the pushing for him. His finger slid in, one joint, and then two. It curved and pressed, and Yohji couldn't stop the moan that was pulled from his throat.

Schuldig laughed quietly and pushed another finger inside him.

Yohji held onto the headboard as his body arched. He pressed his face against his arm. It was different than last time. He wasn't drunk. He knew what was happening and what was going to happen. He knew what Schuldig was and what he wasn't.

His hips rocked up, and Schuldig pressed deeper, twisting his fingers into him and spreading them. It hurt, without the haze of alcohol. He could feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck. Each stab of fingers inside him made his heart rate spike. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep quiet.

"You were better last time," Schuldig said, fingering him steadily. "More fun. Louder, too. Let's hear some of that."

Schuldig shoved his fingers in once more, other hand catching Yohji's nipple between thumb and forefinger and twisting. The sound that escaped Yohji's throat sounded horribly like a whimper to him. Schuldig did it again, and Yohji bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

Both hands left his body, and he lay still, breath scraping through a throat that seemed too tight. He felt dizzy and limp, raised leg sliding down to lie flat against the mattress.

"I'm going to fuck you now," Schuldig said.

Yohji didn't bother to open his eyes. He heard the slick sound of more lube being stroked onto skin. He did not hear the sound of a condom being opened. He opened his mouth to say something and decided abruptly that he didn't care. They'd already done it without once, and the odds of him dying of any disease were increasingly small the longer he stayed in Weiss.

Blunt heat nudged at his hole too suddenly, and he jumped.

"Well?" Schuldig said.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to say no?"

All Yohji wanted was that heat inside him again. He shook his head without opening his eyes and pretended not to hear Schuldig laughing at him as he pushed in.

He stopped with the head just inside and grunted. "You know, I talked to that girl who did you with the strap-on two months ago, and I'm sure she's not the only one. I don't know why you're so fucking tight."

Yohji took a steadying breath and opened his eyes. "I swear to God, if you don't shut up, I'm going to find a way to gag you."

Schuldig smiled. "I knew you'd come around eventually."

He'd been watching Schuldig's mouth, and he was almost sure his lips hadn't moved when he spoke. It felt something like vertigo, that dizzying sense of an imminent fall. He wondered if it was possible to get hallucinations from sexual frustration.

Schuldig pushed into his body, slow and slippery, and Yohji's mind cleared of everything except the need to come. Every movement made him want to squirm. His arms yanked against the wire involuntarily. He shut his eyes again.

Schuldig's knees nudged his ass; hands on his hips pulled him closer. Yohji felt skin and coarse hair against him and realized he was all the way in. He let out a breath. The stretch was bearable. More than bearable. And so much better than plastic. He had no idea how he could have mistaken this for fingers.

A hand under his knee lifted his leg to lie over Schuldig's shoulder. The same hand came back to rest on his hip, just brushing his cock on the way. He couldn't stop the sound he made at that touch, strangled and desperate.

Do it, he thought. Just do it, just fucking do it...

"Do what?"

He knew he hadn't said that out loud, but he was now, words spilling from him as if the question had tripped a switch.

"Fuck me," he said. "Do it, fuck me, I want it," and on and on, voice raw and body twisting. He couldn't stop. After a few seconds, he stopped trying.

Schuldig drew back and shoved his cock into him. Yohji heard the slick sound of the lube, the slap of skin as their bodies met. He heard himself moaning, and he didn't care.

It had just been a little mental nudge.

"Fuck me harder," Yohji growled. "Now, come on...Jesus..."

Possibly Schuldig had nudged too hard. It wouldn't be permanent (probably), but for now all that careful control and denial was gone. If this was what Yohji was like with his internal censor turned off, Schuldig definitely wasn't killing him.

It was usually better from behind, but he liked watching Yohji's face, knowing he was putting that expression there. Something like pain, but so different; mouth slack, flush spreading down his neck.

He fucked him steadily, hard, and deep, gave him everything he was asking for and started to lose himself in those demands. He could feel Yohji's pleasure, feel his own cock inside him, inside both of them, feel his mind start to drift.

His hand around Yohji's cock or Yohji's body around him; he couldn't tell anymore. His hips moved, and he panted and moaned and sank deeper, lost in impressions. Heat, skin sticky with sweat, the smell of sex rising around them.

He didn't know which of them came first, but it was a chain reaction. Waves of sensation rolled over him, crashed against him, until the physical action of fucking seemed secondary and useless. Until, finally, it was too much.

He came back from swimming blackness when Yohji kicked his back.

"Untie me, you asshole. And get off me. You're heavy."

Schuldig sat up, still dizzy, and pulled out of him too fast, watching his wince with satisfaction.

"Way to thank me for the best sex of your sorry life."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Why not? You're clearly not going to, and someone should."

He reached up and unwound the wire, noting deep, red lines where it had pressed into Yohji's skin.

Yohji scooted back away from him and sat against the headboard, rubbing his wrists and wearing a resentful look.

Schuldig rolled his eyes. "It's your own fault for pulling so hard. Don't be such a baby."

"Excuse me? Whose fault was it I pulled so hard?"

"Oh, so now you're admitting it was the best you ever had?"

"Fuck you," Yohji said, but there was laughter in his voice and his eyes. "Where are my pants? I want a cigarette."

Schuldig pulled out two of his own, lit both, handed him one. It seemed only fair, after last time.

Yohji took one drag and started coughing. "What the hell is this? Tar? Dog turds?"

"Better than yours, is what it is. What were those, Virginia Slims?"

"Again, fuck you. And give me my pants."

"Get them yourself."

Neither of them moved. Yohji sucked in another, more cautious, breath of smoke.

"So you're not going to kill me?"

"Nah," Schuldig said. "Not this time."

"There's not going to be another time. If you're going to do it, you'd better do it now."

Schuldig picked up his gun and aimed it at Yohji's chest. "Bang, bang. You're dead."

"Not funny."

"I disagree."

"You're a sick bastard."

"You don't know me well enough to say that."

"Doesn't stop me being right, does it?"

Schuldig shrugged and zipped up his pants. He could feel Yohji's mind working through things. There would be questions, sooner or later, and he wasn't going to stick around for that.

He stood and strapped his holster back on.

"It's been fun, but I've got stuff to do. See you."

"Not if I can help it."

"Denial's only cute for a while, Yohji. Get over it."

On his way out, Schuldig gave the desk attendant's mind a little push. It would do the guy good to get rid of some of his aggression.

As he walked home, he wondered what Crawford had been so worried about. Uptight bastard probably just hadn't wanted him to have a good time.

Eventually, Yohji got his pants back on. He finished Schuldig's cigarette and another one of his own and waited until his legs were steady again. He disposed of the length of wire and made a failed attempt to clean up the mess on the sheets.

He was very glad, as he walked downstairs, that no one would be seeing that room until he was far, far away.

As he passed the front desk, the guy behind it called out to him.

"Hey, you! Where did you just come from?"

Yohji stopped and made himself smile. "Room two-twelve. I was with the guy with the red hair."

I was with the guy... Christ. With. Like that was any word to describe what they'd done. He hoped the heat in his face wasn't as visible as it felt like it was.

"What guy, what you talking about? Nobody's in two-twelve."

"You gave him the key less than an hour ago."

"Like hell I did." The guy came out from behind the desk, glaring. "I'm going to check that room, and you're coming with me. If it's been used, you're paying for it, mister."

Yohji patted his pocket in the hope that his wallet had materialized in its proper place. It hadn't. He ran.

The guy followed him for three blocks. Yohji hadn't thought he looked that athletic.

It was past dawn by the time Yohji got back to the shop. Aya looked up as he came in.

"You're on time," Aya said. He almost looked pleased. "The lillies need to be watered, and Ken didn't sweep the floor when he closed last night." Aya paused. "I was going to get some coffee. Would you like some?"

Yohji nodded gratefully and grabbed the broom. Thank God for Aya, who would never ask why he looked like hell, or where he'd been, or if he wanted to talk.

The sweeping only took a few minutes, and he decided it wouldn't hurt to sit down for a second before he got the watering can. He sat on the stool and put his head down on the counter, just to rest his eyes. He was fast asleep before Aya got back with the coffee.