Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The authors claim no ownership of the characters within, nor received any compensation for this work.
Cye was humming to himself again as he poured a thin stream of caramel over the massive bowl of popcorn in front of him. Turning and mixing, he stopped pouring when the popcorn took on just a hint of a sticky shine, enough to sweeten a little but not too much. Aya, he'd found, preferred just a little sweetness to his treats, rather than, say, chocolate or ice cream. Besides, the caramel was nice and sticky, with any luck Cye would be able to lick it off his fingers later.
He carried the bowl to the den, snagging a few sodas on the way. Aya still insisted that he didn't care for it, but even the stubborn swordsman had to admit that drinking anything else made popcorn taste funny. And you couldn't have a movie night without popcorn, it just Wasn't Done.
They'd started having the movie nights every few days after the collection had been found. There was no set schedule, it just seemed to work that way. And after that first morning when Cye had felt his friends reaching, he, at least, had given up on trying to track the days. He'd had one more morning like that, a brief flash of their touch when he woke, and it was enough. No matter how long it took, they wouldn't give up and Cye was determined to enjoy the time he had there.
He'd coaxed Aya into his bed every night since the first. It was more for comfort than because of his admittedly raging hormones, but there was plenty of that too. He'd even toned down a bit on pouncing the boy in unconventional places. Aya was getting a little more open about "public" affection but still was far more comfortable in the bedroom at night. No matter, he didn't seem to mind candle light so Cye could still see him. And Cye did so love seeing him. Every time they shared a bed was better as Aya slowly started shedding his reserve.
Even if Aya kept sneaking out of his room in the morning.
The first morning he'd done it was a bit of a shock. Aya had crept out sometime before dawn then greeted him at breakfast as usual. It had taken time and prying before Aya had admitted that he wanted a little time alone in the mornings. After he explained, Cye was content to give it to him. The closer he got, the more he realized how difficult being stuck in this place was for the redhead. Closeness was something he'd had little of for a long time, and Cye knew Aya just wasn't sure how to handle it yet.
Setting the bowl and sodas down, Cye made sure the show was cued, blanket arranged and all the other little details taken care of. Aya would be down in minutes after cleaning up from a day outside. This evening's viewing material wasn't exactly a movie, it was a television version of Robin Hood that Cye remember fondly from summers spent with his British grandmother. After finding and pointing it out to Aya, he'd been appalled to learn that the redhead knew almost nothing about the Robin Hood legend. It struck Cye as near sacrilege. So, he sat on the couch, arranging himself and waiting for the opportunity to educate the poor, benighted heathen.
The heathen in question walked in a few minutes later. Cye was quite surprised to see he'd worn an actual color. Well, a color that wasn't that awful orange sweater Cye wanted to burn. No, this was a nicely snug t-shirt in violet, an odd choice for a redhead but somehow it worked. Cye patted the cushions next to him and lifted the blanket a little. Aya slid in next to him, leaning just enough to make contact. Movie Night, it seemed, was one of the few times when it was permissible for Aya to cuddle.
Cye settled the bowl on his lap and started the tape. He snuggled a bit closer himself, watching the story of the young knight returned from the Crusades to find his father's name in dishonor, the family lands confiscated and an evil usurper ruling the country. Aya asked a soft question now and then, to clarify points that had been glossed over for those familiar with the stories. Cye was amused to find the redhead as approving of the story as he'd seen him take to anything. He seemed to take a special liking to both Robin and Nasir, the Saracen with two swords who never spoke.
The night was proceeding beautifully, the boys curled together contentedly on the couch, until Marian was captured.
Cye had always been a bit taken with this Marian. She was quite pretty, with long fire red hair. And in later episodes, after going to live with the bandits, fought just as hard as they did. But for now, she was the Sheriff's prisoner, held hostage in exchange for Robin. He was so involved with watching he almost missed the small dismissive snort from his companion.
"Aya?" he asked curiously. He couldn't imagine what had prompted that reaction.
Again, the soft irritated sound. "A man such as this Robin would not involve himself with one so easily captured."
Cye stilled, not sure he'd heard right. "What was that?" he asked, voice gone a bit flat.
Aya patted his thigh somewhat awkwardly. "He is a strong man. He would not lower himself to become involved with someone so weak." The redhead went back to watching, oblivious to the stony silence that had surrounded the other boy.
After a few moments of silence, Aya looked up. "Cye? Is there something wrong?" And almost recoiled when blazing blue-green eyes locked on him.
"Weak." Cye hissed, obviously furious. "Weak to be captured. Is that what you really think?"
"Cye?" Aya asked, feeling odd threads of alarm flowing through him.
"Shut up." Came the hiss again as Cye startled to untangle himself from both blanket and redhead. "What would you know about it anyway. What would you know about being captured, tortured, having your very soul tormented!"
Aya was bewildered, obviously. His forehead furrowed in confusion as he tries to understand the sudden change in mood. But Aya was too straightforward to follow the mercurial moods of a water sign. He started to answer Cye, as if what he had said was actually a question. "I don't need to know..."
"How DARE you!" Cye finally exploded. "I hung there with my brothers, closer to me than my soul and listened to them scream for DAYS! And you sit there and tell me being a prisoner is weak??"
He brushed the hand reaching for him away in contempt. "Don't." he said, voice gone chilly. "I wouldn't want you to 'lower yourself'." He turned then, striding out of the room and up the stairs, closing the door to his room with a resounding slam.
Once inside, he threw himself on the bed, clutching at the stuffed dolphin dislodged from it's place of honor on his pillow. His chest burned, aching savagely from both the memories and Aya's scorn. Tomorrow, he told himself, hugging the stuffed animal tighter. Tomorrow he would armor and go deep diving, surrounded by the water that was his power. He'd spend everything to punch through whatever barriers were keeping him from his friends. Then he would collect Aya and go home.
It didn't matter that they'd never see each other when they got back. Aya didn't want to be with him anyway.
~*~*~*~
The door slammed above, leaving Aya downstairs, alone, with the television still playing out the story of Robin Hood, oblivious to what had just taken place. Abruptly Aya hit the 'stop' button, and stood alone in the silent, darkened room.
What had just taken place? In a matter of seconds, he had been yanked from the comfortable cocoon of blankets and Cye, just beginning to feel comfortable, and tossed into a chilly whirlwind of confusion and half-explained anger. Cye had exploded quite without warning, barely giving Aya a chance to question or explain.
Not that he would have known what to say, Aya thought, a pang of something akin to misery stabbing his heart. The look on Cye's face kept coming back to him, that anguished twist of pain and betrayal. And Aya had caused it. Of all the pain he had brought to people in all his time as Weiss, he had never regretted anything so strongly as he regretted that look.
Cye's pained words filtered back to him slowly. Hanging with his brothers... hearing them scream... having his very soul tormented. A sick feeling began to claw in the pit of Aya's stomach as he realized. Without knowing what he was saying, he had unwittingly brought back memories of something Cye had actually experienced. Cye had been a prisoner himself once, and the memory coupled with what Aya had said...
With a sigh, Aya ran his hands through his hair, at a loss for what to do. His heart felt tight, strangely, and his stomach was hot and upset. That look on Cye's face when he had turned away and fled the room kept flashing before his eyes. It had hurt to see that, knowing he had caused it.
And that, Aya realized, was the center of everything. He had caused that hurt himself, and he had to deal with it now. When he caused Cye pleasure or happiness, he silently took credit for it. Pain had to be the same way, no matter how confused or unsure Aya was about handling it. He had to take responsibility. Somehow, he would have to make it right again.
It took him some time to brew the tea that he knew Cye often chose for a before-bed drink. A muffin left over from breakfast was quickly buttered and warmed in the microwave, added with a cup of the steaming tea on a tray. He collected it all together with a napkin; Cye was not quite as fastidious as he, but Aya knew well his distaste for crumbs in the bed.
He paused on his way up the stairs, glancing the tray over critically. Something was missing, something that would show Cye without a doubt that he wanted to make things right.
Aya took a detour outside, taking a pair of kitchen shears with him. In the faint moonlight, Aya trod into the garden, seeking out the plot that the two of them had worked out together before. The seedlings had taken root and flourished, as all the plants in this garden seemed to. The hyacinth in particular were healthy and large, and so Aya clipped two of them off, along with some extra greenery.
He found a bud vase in the cabinet under the sink in the kitchen. With a little water to keep them fresh, the flowers and the leaves completed the message that Aya wanted to send. What that message was, he could not quite yet vocalize. Yet he was sure that this arrangement of tea and flowers conveyed it perfectly.
Then Aya was up the stairs again, carrying the small tray in one hand. He paused before Cye's door, a wave of uncertainty crashing over him again. What was he to say? How was he to act? And above all, why did it matter so much to him that he make things right, enough that he would chase after Cye with a peace offering? Surely no one's upset had ever affected him like this before.
Shoving aside the questions in his mind, Aya plunged fully into his determined plan, knocking lightly on the door. Something would come to him. Something always did, when he was cornered and not sure what to do.
From within the room, following Aya's second knock, came a soft and miserable "What."
"Cye? May I come in?"
Another long silence followed, punctuated by a quiet, careless grunt. Aya took the lack of a denial as grudging acceptance, and opened the door.
Cye lay huddled up on his bed, facing away. Aya didn't have to look twice to know that the toy dolphin was off the pillow and curled in his companion's arms. Nemo makes him feel better, pinged the memory at the back of Aya's mind. When he is upset or frightened... his mother gave it to him when he was small.
Aya moved over to the bed, clearing some space off the nightstand for the tray. The scent of the camomile and the aroma of warm buttered muffin drifted through the air, but Cye did not turn. Aya sat on the edge of the bed, silent for a few moments. Then, very quietly so as not to upset Cye further, he admitted, "I spoke thoughtlessly. I did not intend to upset you. I know that what I said was wrong, not only because it hurt you, but because it was an insensitive thing to think."
He stopped. It might have been more than he had ever said to Cye at once.
After an agonizing few moments, the boy shivered and gave a small sigh. "It's not your fault," he said softly, slowly turning and scooting up to lean against the headboard. "You had no way to know about that." He still hadn't let go of the stuffed animal or even really looked at Aya. "You seem to have a hard time believing when I tell you about the armors and things, not that I blame you..."
Aya shook his head at first, before realizing that Cye wasn't looking at him to see it. He took a deep breath. This would require a great deal of speaking and some careful handling, neither of which Aya was particularly good at. "It was not that. I believe what you said. The pain with which you spoke was real, that I understand. I believe you. And I wish that such a thing had not happened to you."
Quiet hung in the room for a few moments after that, the two of them just testing the air. Aya felt unbearably awkward, pulled in two directions at once. His nature pulled him toward the door, urged him to leave Cye to sort things out on his own, and the consequences be damned. But there was another urge inside, that drove him to make up with Cye no matter what the costs, for the sake of their time together and the things they had shared.
Cye was closer to him than anyone, Aya suddenly realized. Even his own sister didn't know him as well any more as this boy did. That was why things had to be set right, because without Cye, there was no one left to understand him.
"I shouldn't have lost my temper," Cye said finally, absently playing with the dolphin's worn fabric. "It's just..." he turned then, looking at Aya with reddened eyes. "Do you really believe that? What you said?"
That required some thought. It was what he had always assumed, that the weak stragglers were captured while the strong and fast escaped. Just like he had always assumed that strength and invulnerability were admirable qualities. Yet here was Cye, admitting to his capture by his enemies, and still strong. He had been strong enough to pull down Aya's walls, after all, a feat which Aya himself could not accomplish alone.
Curling his knees onto the bed, Aya turned to look at him, meeting those red-rimmed aquamarine eyes despite the pang of guilt that stabbed in his heart and twisted. "Perhaps I thought it without thinking about it," he admitted, his voice very low in the still bedroom. "But now I have new reason to think about it. In what I do, above all else, I must not be captured. I must not let the enemy know my face and live."
He stopped there, seeing the mixture of apology and horror growing on Cye's face. Quickly he shook his head, and leaned back against the headboard. "For you, it was better to be caught alive than to have died. For me it would not be that way. But for you... I am glad you were captured." Aya left the rest of his meaning hanging, quieted by the shift of Cye's glance past him, to the tray on the nightstand.
"You... you brought that?" Cye blinked up at him, and for a moment Aya was gripped by the terror that the boy might start crying again. Hastily he reached for the tray, balancing it on his lap. Thankfully the tea was still steaming.
Cye smiled faintly instead and sat up. The smile widened a bit as he recognized the smell of the tea and reached out to touch the flowers briefly. "Thank you," he said, shifting up a bit more and very obviously touched. "This was terribly nice of you..."
A slight lean put Aya closer to the smaller boy, a silent acknowledgment that he was there to lean on. Cye took the unspoken offer, nestling against his side, wriggling under his arm. Before he knew it, Aya was holding a warm bundle of boy, who sipped politely at his tea and nibbled at the muffin without dropping a crumb.
Slowly, Aya forged ahead a little further, his heart made brave by the trust Cye had put in him. "Would you like to talk about it?" The words came out stilted even to his ears, but the offer was made. He squeezed Cye's shoulder, hugging him a bit closer, to reaffirm what his tone of voice didn't quite convey.
Cye curled up a bit tighter, resting his head on Aya's shoulder. "There were three of us, Kento, Sage and me, that got captured. They wanted us all but couldn't get Ryo and Ro. We were taken to the demon's keep and..." he shivered again, pressing closer. "I don't know exactly what they did, probably because I don't want to know. I just remember being there, listening, feeling them scream and it hurt. I can't even describe the kind of pain..."
Cye shook himself a little then, as though to shrug off the memories. "It was more than two years ago," he finally said. "And all that should really matter is that we won and all lived through it but... now and then it just comes back." He looked up then, with an expression of slightly forced lightness. "I hope this doesn't kill any plans of yours to tie me up someday.."
Aya frowned back down at him, disapproving. "You do not have to make light of it for my sake," he told Cye in a quiet voice. Again he hugged the other boy a little closer, revelling in the warm, protective feelings rising in his chest. It felt strangely good to have someone there to appreciate them. He could never carry out these feelings when he had them for Omi, or Sakura... or his sister.
Finally, he met the pink-rimmed aquamarine eyes, and spoke very softly the words that he had the most trouble pronouncing. "I am sorry," he whispered. "For upsetting you."
When Cye looked at him, he saw in the depths of those eyes the understanding of just how difficult it had been for Aya to say that. Rather than draw out the discomfort, Cye closed his eyes and tilted back his chin, brushing a small, sweet kiss over Aya's lips.
He tasted like melted butter and herbal tea, a delicious mix that was so perfectly Cye. Though he may have gone through unbelievable things, though he spoke of people and events that were impossible in Aya's mind, Cye was really a simple person. It was only right that he tasted of natural things, kitchen things and sweetness. He was a comfort unlike anything Aya had experienced. And here he was, no longer angry, just kissing Aya as gently as he'd kissed him good morning that very day.
~*~*~*~
Cye sank into the kiss slowly, tasting the faint sweetness of caramel from the interrupted movie and something completely unique to Aya. The apology had truly touched him, knowing as he did how hard it was for the redhead to express anything emotional. Cye shoved the thoughts of tomorrow's plans to the back of his mind. He'd tell Aya about them soon enough, now was the time to enjoy what could very well be their last night.
The tray was settled on the nightstand, well away from any danger of being tipped and Cye reclaimed Aya's attention with another kiss. "Thank you," he murmured softly, running fingertips down Aya's shirt. "It means a lot that you came after me." He tugged the redhead's shirt up a bit, stroking over his stomach lightly. "And you know what the best part about fighting is?" The kisses wandered then, leading Cye to suck lightly on the other boy's earlobe. A slightly glazed head shake no was his answer.
"The best part," Cye purred, nibbling down the pale column of neck, "Is making up... Want to make up?"
Aya shifted, leaning away and tilting his head, dislodging Cye's slow kisses. Serious violet eyes met Cye's. "Yes." Then, softer, he asked, "Will doing this make things right again?"
Cye propped himself up on his elbow, looking at the redhead. "Well... It depends on if you want to. I don't want you to do this just to make me feel better." He traced a fingertip down the boy's cheek. "I don't want you to feel obligated. I think it's okay with us either way."
Aya was clearly having a moment of confusion, sorting things out in his head. "I think I owe... no." He paused with a shake of the head. "Not owe you. Only show you that my opinion of you has not faltered."
Cye smiled. "It was a misunderstanding. They happen. And bringing that tray up was terribly sweet." He kissed Aya's forehead. "That was enough of an apology. You don't need to do the rest if you don't want to."
Aya was quiet for a long moment, then raised his eyes. Hesitantly he murmured the difficult words, words rarely heard but oh so essential. "I... I want to."
Cye gave him a long measuring look and leaned in for another sweet kiss. "I do too..." He dipped in, tasting that trace of caramel again, tracing the other's lips with his tongue. His fingers wandered lazily over Aya's stomach as the other arm worked itself around the other boy. The soft sigh that Aya made as he relaxed into the embrace was something that Cye could get addicted to quite easily.
He brushed over pale skin, feeling the muscle tremble just a little. Still so very sensitive... That lovely shirt was pushed up slowly, exposing the long clean lines to his view. Beneath his hands, Aya was already starting to squirm a bit, trying for a firmer, less teasing touch.
Cye, of course, was planning on doing much more than just tease.
The shirt soon found a home on the floor and Cye kisses his way down the boy's chest, nuzzling gently at pebbled nipples. He covered one, then the other with broad strokes of his tongue, moving with the building shivers. He traced down the line of Aya's breastbone, down the pale stomach, ending with a tickling swirl around his navel. A soft lick to Aya's lower belly pulled free a startled gasp and Cye slid his fingers teasingly under the waist of the other boy's jeans.
The auburn haired boy worked the snug denim down slowly, lingering over touch to make it last. When Aya was bare, he tasted the skin of his inner thighs, trying to memorize the feel. God, he was going to miss this...
Clothes were shed all over the bed and the floor, the comforter and sheets were tossed into disarray. They made up slowly, touching and tasting each other with all the wonder of the first time.
But with every gasp, every toss of crimson hair, each cry when his lover's back arched off the bed, Cye wondered if it would be the last. Reconciliation was bittersweet, he thought, when tomorrow might change everything.
Precious. Every moment was precious... touching, kissing, arching, tangling, moaning. Aya's heat was deep and sweet, engulfing Cye completely. He drank down the wonder and disbelief that still claimed Aya every time they were together. He relished that trembling clench that made him feel as if he were the only man on earth who could make Aya feel that way.
Cye held the redhead close, stroking that fiery hair gently. It was well past midnight when they'd become too exhausted to continue. He lay there, breathing the scent of Aya's hair in sleepy satiation when a thought from earlier intruded. The answer, the answer he'd found when he gone storming upstairs and an answer he had to share.
"Aya," he murmured quietly, shifting a little. "Wake up, love. I need to tell you something." A sleepy grunt of protest was his only response at first, proof of how exhausted Aya was. "Come on, love, it's important."
Slowly, violet eyes blinked open, looking up at him in puzzlement, "I thought... sleeping..."
Smiling, Cye kissed his forehead. "No, I didn't mean that. I'd had a thought earlier, one I'm going to try in the morning. It might... might help us... get home."
That caught Aya's attention immediately and he shifted a bit, looking more alert.
"I've felt the guys looking three times now," Cye said slowly. "And if can answer them they'll be able to find where we are. And get us back. If I armor up and go deep diving, I might have the power to send back to them. Then it should just be a matter of finding whatever pocket reality we're in and opening a gate."
"We... we could be back as soon as tomorrow..." He choked down the heartbreaking feel of the words. "And then... you can, we can... go back to our lives, I guess. If you want to..."
Nothing. Aya looked like he hadn't even heard what Cye had said. He didn't so much as twitch an eyelash, even when the words came out haltingly and hitched with emotion. Just cool violet eyes staring back at him, flushed and bruised pink lips set in neither a smile nor a frown.
"Do what you must," Aya responded, and turned his face back into the pillow.
But when he started to drift off, Aya's strong, slender arm snuck out to circle around his waist, holding him tightly in place.
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