Kudou Youji does not pick up hookers. But that doesn't stop me from admiring the views in this district as I slowly idle the car along. A long and graceful leg here, a face that still has some delicacy there, a shy and sidelong gaze...

I scan the crowd on either side of the street. Redhead, redhead, where is he..._redhead!_

Without even thinking I jerk the car to a stop, and stare. Yesterday I'd scooped half the contents of my closet into a bag and left it at his door, so we wouldn't have to meet. If he thought I was sick he could damn well put together his own outfit.

And he had. He'd chosen the black silk shirt with the lacing, which rides even higher on his midriff than it did on mine. The pants look practically spraypainted on - they cling to his crotch and the curve of his ass and god damn it, Aya is bigger than me?

I will never be able to wear those pants again without seeing this sight. He can keep them.

His working boots, a good choice; he would have looked stupid in anything more delicate. That same long gold earring. His hair is untouched, still the same thick silky mane with the two eartails curving down.

Standing on the street corner, he looks like the Hope Diamond in a pile of garbage. As I watch, some salaryman pushes through the crowd and puts his hands on Aya's chest. He's talking but I can't hear the words from here.

And then he's screaming because Aya is bending his wrist back. Staggering, almost falling, and running away. I smile. Of course Aya can handle himself; the Hope Diamond is cursed to the touch, after all.

Now it's my turn. I shut off the ignition and climb out of Seven, sweep my eyes over the crowd in a pretense of choosing, and walk up to my teammate.

He sees me almost at once, and there's a little flash of relief in his eyes before they narrow to cold boredom. Without moving he waits for me to speak. I open my mouth - and suddenly notice that we're the focus of attention. At least a dozen people are eyeing us, wondering why Aya hasn't broken my wrist yet.

Hell. "A-ah," my voice sounds foolish, "Come home with me." I don't touch him.

He raises an eyebrow. "Pay me first."

Huh? Aya's fingers are moving, pantomiming something running through them. Sand? Oh! "Aa." With those eyes on my back I return to the car, fumble for the bags of heroin, pull out the smallest one. It's still far more than a prostitute is worth.

Gasps and murmured comments run around the now frankly staring circle of onlookers as I press the bag into Aya's hand. He eyes it measuringly, then tosses it to one of the women. She freezes in shock - then turns and runs, as fast as her heeled boots will allow.

Payment for information, obviously. I hope she can make it home before someone takes the bag from her.

We walk back to the car in silence; the crowd parts to let us through. Aya buckles himself into the passenger seat without looking at me. His body is pressed against the door, as far away as possible.

I want to floor the gas pedal, take us back to the Koneko and away from this conversation. Instead we promptly hit a string of red lights. Fate hates me. "Aya."

"Did you succeed?"

"Yes. Tomorrow. Aya, about the other night -"

"_Don't_," he hisses.

"But I -"

He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door lock, and I realize he's about to get out and walk. While the car is still moving, for crying out loud.

"I'm sorry!" I blurt. "That's all. Leave it."

It is _not_ all and I can't leave it, but Aya was about to bolt. I bite my lip nervously until he slowly settles down in the seat again.

Saa, now what am I going to do? Leave him a note concealed in a bunch of flowers? "Dear Aya, I am not a pervert."

"What did you learn?" I decide to pretend everything is just fine. We can talk about nice simple things like drugs and murder.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see him relax a fraction. "Three girls have died in the last week from what they thought was heroin, and one is incurably insane."

Lovely. "And they can't stop taking it, of course, and the only place to get it is Dekakeru. Not counting what you gave out tonight."

"Hn."

This is good, this is normal. Perhaps we will get back to the shop in one piece.

We hit another red light, and I reach for the pack of cigarettes. And then a horn honks from the next lane over.

"Yamada-san! Out for a night on the town?" Biji waves enthusiastically.

Or not...

* * *

Apparently four hours of talking and tea is not enough to start a business relationship. Apparently, we have to fucking go _clubbing_ now. Biji knows just the place.

I want to go home. I want my bed, empty for once. I smile brightly. "Sure!"

He chooses a club I've never bothered to visit, thankfully. As we walk in the door the familiar wall of sound, light and smoke hits us; even in my current foul mood it's relaxing. At least the Dekakeru manager didn't take us to one of those dinky bars with a mama-san.

Aya closes his eyes with an expression of acute suffering. As Biji leads me to a table he trails two steps behind; when we sit, he stays standing, diffidently.

I indicate a chair and he straddles it backwards, leaning his head on his arms. The pose looks sulky and dangerous, but I can tell he's miserable.

Biji's eyes are bright with lust as he stares at Aya. Without being prompted, he orders all three of us some random drink. "Your boy is incredibly fucking gorgeous," he shouts in my ear, over the din.

I just nod. The drinks arrive and Aya downs his in one gulp; from the look on his face, it's some horrible mixed thing. Biji cackles. I stir mine, suspiciously, and then take a sip. Ecccch.

"The next round is whiskey, damnit!" I yell in his ear. That's what Aya drinks; I know because I saw a bottle of Glynfyddich in his room once. The manager nods amiably, eyes scanning the crowd. I can see him checking out the dancers, mentally comparing them to Aya, and thinking //no contest//. Artfully, his hand snakes out and "accidentally" knocks his drink into the other man.

Aya jumps. "Temee..." he hisses, and then clamps his jaw shut. If we weren't on a mission Biji would be in little pieces on the floor. But we are. He doesn't even move as the man puts a hand on his knee.

I do move. Grabbing Biji's wrist, I bend it backwards, hard enough to hurt. "_My_ boy," I growl at him. "I don't share."

The manager flops back in his seat, smirking. "Well. Tell me when you're done with him, then, Yamada-san."

My teeth are grinding audibly. Must get Aya away from this slimeball before one of us kills him. Abruptly, I stand up and put a hand on the red hair. Soft. "Let's go dance."

Normally I'd get a punch in the jaw for doing that; Aya shoots me a mild death glare. Slowly he gets to his feet, and my hand slides off him. He follows me out onto the floor.

Hm, I recognize some of these people. Particularly that sultry blonde in a very 1996 minidress. Aiko, something like that? I catch her arm. "Hey, sweet one."

"Youuuuuuuuuji," she purrs. Aiko always gets silly with drink. "Are you here with _him_? What's his name?" Aya is standing still, half-dazed by the noise, and getting appreciative glances from all sides.

"Never mind him." I point back to our table. "You see that suit trying to paw the waitress?" She nods. "Know what a drug lord is, Aiko?"

"Of course!"

"Well, he's a drug bureaucrat. Go have fun. By the way, my name's Yamada right now." I kiss her hand and press a wad of bills into it; she winks at me and drifts off. Aiko taught me a very important lesson once: always find out if your date expects to be paid _before_ you take her to bed. It cuts down on the embarrassing scenes in the morning.

Aya is glaring at me again. Before he can yell, I take the little pair of earplugs I always carry from my pocket and hand them to him. His expression changes to //oh thank god//, and then to relief as he puts them in.

The trick to reading an Aya expression is all in the eyes. The rest of his face barely moves, unless he's really mad. But those eyes are eloquent. Tonight they're faintly edged with black - where did Aya find a makeup pencil? - and it makes them luminous.

I smile at him. "Let's dance."

* * *

On to Part Seven
Back to Part Five

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