Authors Note: I FINALLY got this chapter out! I got sidetracked by school and family problems before I rediscovered the story and finished it. It has barest shounen-ai but I do promise a nice lemon (damn the R rating!) in the next chapter but I shant say who it is! If you guess who it is in the reviews, leave your SN or MSN name and I'll get in contact with you. First person who gets it right gets to decide what happens in the lemon! ^_^ Typhoon Season Chapter 4

By Black Widow

            Rain pounded against the windows, the howling of wind loud in his ears, ever present and never-ending. Darkness was thick on the horizon and thick in the clouds, choking light, turning everything into a dull shade of gray. But even the darkness could not dull the color of fervent red and violet. Aya sat on his bed, katana lying across his lap, and the blade gleaming dulling in the gray light.

            The cleaning cloth made soft sounds as it was ran up and down the length of the metal blade. Perfection at it's best, he loved his katana. It protected him, served him when he needed it and most certainly didn't have a mind of its own so that it could talk back or whine. And it was strong and never failed.

            He ran a finger down the sharp side of the blade, ever so gently and wasn't surprised at the thin line of blood that it brought forth. Each katana blade was folded at least thirteen times during the making, the blade so sharp a floating piece of paper would be sliced in two if it ran over the blade. It was one of the things he loved about it.

            "Damn Youji." He muttered for the thousandth time during the hour he'd been in his room. Yes, damn Youji and damn his hands. The blonde couldn't tell when to stop, even when the redhead had been telling him directly to leave him alone. Gods how he wanted to carve the man like an American Thanksgiving Turkey. And damn Kritiker for not letting him do it a year ago.

            He sat in silence for another five minutes before someone knocked on his door. "Dare?" He barked out, glaring at the piece of wood.
            "I want to talk to you Aya." Came a very familiar and annoying voice.
            "No!"

            "Onegai?"

            "Hrn…"
            Taking that as an answer the Eurasian slipped inside, green eyes growing a bit larger at the site of the Nishonto in Aya's lap.

            "What do you want?"

~~*~~

            Nagi growled at the wall separating his room from the madman's. The moans went right through the thin walls of the penthouse, being built the Japanese way. He really didn't want to know what the German and Irishman were doing…or whom they were doing, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

            "Nagichin, you know that you can come join us if you want." Schuldigs' thick baritone slid into his mind, practically purring.

            The teal eyes rolled in their cradles of dark lashes at the invitation. "No thank you, I'd rather not catch whatever STD you have."

            The other only laughed, patting Nagi mentally on the head and leaving him to his work. The telekinetic placed his pen against the paper again, writing out sharp, uniform kanji for his report. It was on the expectations of society on the individual and he had a good three pages already.

            A loud thump followed by a louder groan came from the other side of the wall, sufficiently distracting the brunette from his paper. 'Damnit…I can't get any work with those rabbits in the next room.' Nagi grabbed his papers and a clipboard, placing the papers and a couple leafs of plain paper under the clip.

            He knew he could get some work done downstairs with Crawford. At least the stoic American didn't bother him while he was doing schoolwork like Schuldig would. Tromping out of his room and giving Farfello's door a sharp kick, he headed downstairs into the living room and flopping less then gracefully on the couch. The ballpoint pen danced across the paper, moved by unseen hands.

            "Are they being too loud?" Crawford asked from behind his laptop. In Schuldig's absence piles of papers had appeared at his side, some finding their way to the floor as he sorted through them.

            "Hai…" Nagi closed his eyes for a second, listening to the beat of rain and the howling of wind outside. He didn't mind the typhoon really; it was just another storm to him. After Alama left the inhabitants of Tokyo would pick up right where they left off and everything would go back to being normal.

            Without meaning too, the teen fell asleep. The pen fell into his lap, the telekinetic hand no longer writing anymore. Two other hands removed the clipboard and pen, setting them on the end table. A blanket was draped over him, the hands carefully tucking it in. Crawford smiled, leaning down and brushing his lips over Nagi's brow before returning to his seat.

Review: Review, review!! Feed the widow, Widow'll take bishies!