{ squick-writes }

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"If you eat all of those by yourself, you'll get sick again, won't you?"

"Don't care."

Trip was sitting slouched against the champagne-ivory cushioning of their sleek white rental limousine, his jacket open, his tie loose, untucked, coming out of its clip and dangling unattractively over his crotch. He stared straight ahead into nothing, lost in thought as he stuffed his face with one marshmallow after another. The decorative chiffon drawstring pouch was perched open upon his knee, already half empty.

Virus sat across from him at an angle, not quite as prim as he would normally be in the company of others but still somewhat more tightly held in demeanor when compared to Trip, who he had been watching for several minutes until he noted the speed with which the marshmallows were disappearing. Virus was very close to sighing in exasperation. Instead, he merely allowed his eyelids to flutter shut for the briefest instant.

"Don't you think that might not be such a good idea, on a special day like today of all days?"

Trip only paused for a second before offering the bag to Virus. "So help me."

"No thanks. I don't like marshmallows very much."

Trip put the pouch of marshmallows back on his lap and made a long, drawn-out, inarticulate noise of complaint. "We didn't even want these, did we? They just pushed it on us with everything else."

"Mm," Virus agreed. "Nothing sends a message like a generic, uncustomized White Day package. Although I suppose it's so extravagant that nobody should care. It's only a consideration, after all."

Having apparently been sated, Trip ceased snacking on the marshmallows and instead casually flipped the tag over on the enormous bouquet of flowers on the seat beside him to read the fancy hand-penned script off the back.

"They got the right names on, at least."

Virus hesitated a quiet moment, then reached forward to scoop his fingers into the abandoned bag of marshmallows still balanced on Trip's thigh.

"Maybe I will have one."

One turned out to be a couple, before they finally arrived at their destination: an office building towards the back of the Aqua Forest District of Platinum Jail. Stepping out of the limo, they carefully gathered their rather heavy sheaf bouquets of long-stemmed white flower arrangements from the backseat and Virus approached the security guard standing outside the glass front doors with a friendly smile.

"Good evening," Virus greeted him, bowing his head politely. "We're here to answer Suzuki-san's Valentine chocolate. It's to be a very special surprise for White Day, so could you please let us go up the back way? She works on the 10th floor."

The security guard, who by now had probably seen more than his fair share of White Day deliveries and seemed quite tired of it already, merely waved his hand for them to follow and directed them to the service elevator around the back of the building.

"Those are some big flowers," he commented as he unlocked the elevator for them. "Be careful swinging those things around, yeah? Might knock someone out." He shot them a cringe-worthy smile at his own joke before he left.

Trip chuckled lowly to himself the minute the doors closed, slinging his massive bouquet over one shoulder. "You think he got any Valentine's chocolate?"

Glancing sideways at Virus, something suddenly caught his attention.

"Oh. Shit," Trip muttered a curse, reaching out to rub his thumb over a gelatinous red substance that had stained the waist of Virus's white jacket in the mysterious shape of a fingerprint. "This blood?"

Virus twisted his body and pulled at the fabric to look, then clicked his tongue loudly in annoyance at his suit being ruined already.

"That's from you. Must've gotten some on your fingers from the jelly donuts you had this morning."

"Ahh.. Sorry," Trip grinned. "Those were good though."

"Mn," Virus responded noncommittally. He listened to the grinding of the elevator for a moment - no innocuous music playing for the service entrance - then looked down at his wide bouquet of flowers and buried his nose in one. "I used to be allergic to these flowers."

Trip was apparently thinking of something else entirely. "What do you like about doing this sorta thing?"

"Eh?" Virus looked up curiously.

"Like, what's your favorite part? I guess."

"Oh. I don't know." Virus folded his arms around the flowers. "I suppose it's fun to get dressed up and pretend. What about you, what do you think?"

Trip adjusted his stance slightly in anticipation, holding the bouquet over his shoulder with one hand and idly stroking the wrapping paper with the other. He both heard and felt it crinkle satisfyingly beneath his fingers.

"I like the way it slides right in.. and when it gets stuck."

"Fufu," Virus chuckled. "Really? Me too, I guess. But.. well, I don't like shooting inside."

The elevator dinged as it came to a halt and the doors opened.

"Here we are," said Virus. "Ready, Trip?"

"Yeah, yeah."

The inside of office buildings in Platinum Jail were brightly designed to promote better productivity; their digital holographic "windows" currently displayed a pleasant cloudless day, around 11 o' clock in the morning, which contrasted sharply with the permanent nighttime that encompassed the city outside. Virus and Trip moved past several glassy, new-age cubicles without attracting attention to themselves, silent but for the rustling of their suits and the flowers they held ready. They located the receptionist's desk in a matter of minutes.

"Hello," Virus greeted her brightly. "Suzuki-san? You are personal assistant to Ishikawa-sama, right? Is the head of the company in her office? We have a special White Day delivery surprise for her."

"And these are for you too," said Trip, reluctantly withdrawing a box of white chocolates from where it had been pinned inside the bouquet. "Here." He tossed it to the receptionist, who barely caught it. She was blushing harder than anyone he had ever seen.

"Oh my goodness, thank you.. May I ask who these are from? I've never heard of a White Day service like this before.."

"The names of our employers are on the cards," Virus explained, closing his eyes with a smile and tapping his bouquet. "But like we said, it's a surprise, so you'll have to wait and see."

"Of course! Come right this way."

The receptionist led them around the corner, where she knocked a few times on the tinted glass door to Ishikawa's office before entering and bowing to her superior, a stern-looking woman - visually in her mid-to-late thirties but probably older - with slight frown lines and her hair styled on top of her head in a neat black bun.

"Sorry for the interruption, but these men have White Day presents for you."

Surveying them with shrewd, glossy dark eyes, Ishikawa replied impatiently, "Did I not say to keep any gifts at your desk so I could come and get them later? I'm about to make a very important phone call to the mainland."

"Our instructions were to deliver this message in person. It won't take but a minute, we promise," Virus assured her smoothly. "Could you come stand over here so we can get your picture, please? Hold this too, if you don't mind."

Ishikawa seemed to be developing a smile in spite of herself. "Well, this is rather impressive.. I suppose I can humour you for just a moment," she said as she rose from her desk.

Virus pressed a white lily into the hands of both women and guided them closer together in front of the artificial window display. Once he had Suzuki and Ishikawa standing next to each other, flattering them with many briefly teasing, lingering brushes of his hands against their arms and waists, Virus stood aside to allow Trip to snap a picture on his temporary phone - the two women smiling against the faux digital backdrop of a sunny day - which he did while looking bored and balancing the cumbersome bouquet against his leg with one hand.

"Now, for the main event."

Virus and Trip knelt down before the two businesswomen, bowing their heads and holding out the bouquets lengthwise to present them by the base first, as if for the women to take hold of them, the heads of the white floral arrangements resting on their shoulders. Neither Suzuki nor Ishikawa noticed their other hands slipping into the flowers.

"Happy White Day." Virus and Trip glanced to the side to meet each other's eyes, then looked up at their victims. "From the Yakuza."

They waited just long enough to see the dawning horror in the women's eyes as they began to understand their situation, then squeezed their own respective triggers, having pushed the flowers apart and reached into the middle of the bouquets which disguised their weapons. Muffled by twin silencers, gunshots fired through the wrapping paper, which began to smoke.

Blood splattered backwards onto the white petals as the bodies crumpled to the floor.

The holographic window display behind them had also fractured violently, bathing the entire office in the calming artificial darkness from the coolly lit streets outside. Pieces of glass littered the carpet, some glimmering in the women's clothes and hair as the parts of digital screen that remained intact went haywire before shutting off.

Virus and Trip stood up, tugging their white camouflage rifles roughly out of the thick flower arrangements where they were hidden and sending sprays of loosened blossoms showering down around them. They carelessly dropped the rest of the bouquets to the floor.

"That should do it," said Trip, bending down to pick up the box of courtesy chocolates he had given the receptionist. "Shit, window wasn't s'posed to break though. Think anybody heard?"

"Most likely," Virus replied, suddenly sounding tired. "Although these buildings are designed to be pretty soundproof. Who knows?" He nodded to the woman Trip shot. "So, is there an exit wound or did it get stuck inside?" Virus asked, referencing what Trip had said he liked earlier.

"Dunno." Trip leaned back down to roll the body over. He took a minute to check for bullet holes. "Nope, looks like it went clean through. Must've been what broke the window."

"Oh well, that's a shame. Better luck next time."

"We've never shot anyone point blank with these before," said Trip. Wriggling out of his white jacket, the back of which was now covered in cherry-red droplets of varying size, he draped it over the deceased head of company and tucked it in around her shoulders. Apart from the stains, it made her look like someone who might have just passed out drunk after a night on the town. He snapped another picture on his phone. "More or less blood than you were expecting?"

"More," Virus grimaced in response. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

They got away by climbing through the broken window onto the fire escape, leaving the bodies behind amidst the mess of flowers, and hid their guns inside a dumpster behind the building, to be picked up later by one of their lower ranked yakuza associates.

"So, how should we celebrate?" Virus asked cheerily, back to his usual self now that he had divested himself of his own stained attire.

Celebrate what, Trip almost asked as he disposed of his tie and rolled up his sleeves, but then thought better of it and said instead, "Think that new cake shop will be crowded? We could grab one to go and think up a better story to tell the guys at the bar later."

"How can you even still think of eating," Virus began, his eyes narrowing accusatorily, "after consuming half an entire bag of marshmallows by yourself in one sitting?"

Trip shrugged, popping some of the white chocolate into his mouth.

"You've got blood in your hair, by the way," Virus pointed out.

Trip tried to do something about it, but only managed to rub it further into his scalp.

Virus chuckled. "Now you look like a red-head again."

"What? Nuh-uh."

"You do, your roots are showing."

Trip moved to catch his reflection in one of the nearby windows as they passed by, then rejoined Virus on his other side.

"Bullshit, shut up."

Virus laughed again, leaning closer for a brief moment. "You know for someone who eats a lot of sweets, you really have got a filthy mouth."

"I'll leave the sugar-coated words to you," said Trip as they rounded the corner. "So what are you going to tell the guys?"

"Well, we could pretend that it was harder for us to get in... Maybe you had to bribe someone with a kiss or two, hm?"

"What, and I kept them distracted while you did all the cool dirty work? Not a chance in hell."

"Okay, so maybe it was me who did the kissing."

"Better. Keep going." They had reached the busier street in front of the office building. "So what else did you do?"

Virus hesitated, looking for their car, then smirked when Trip poked him in the side. "I'll tell you the rest inside the limousine. You killed like six people though. It was a massacre."

"Sounds good. I wonder if the limo driver can supply us with popcorn."

"We'll probably have to kill him too."

                                                      ====== ✈

"I think for it to be joining the mile high club," Trip said slowly, shaking his cock a few times out of habit, "You have to have sex. As in, actual... what's the word?" His piercing artificial blue eyes made contact with Virus's own. "Penetration."

Virus was already feeling just the slightest bit violated from what had just occurred, as much as it surprised him that he had sort of liked it. "And that didn't count?"

"No."

"Hm." Virus tilted his head, watching Trip's eyes with shrewd and careful interest. They appeared darker; the pupils were blown wide. "And? What are you suggesting?"

Trip had never been one for doing too much talking. "Are you ready?" Trip intoned, maintaining eye contact. He took a step forward again, ominously nodding downward to a part of Virus that was significantly lower. His hands were already positioning themselves above Virus's hips, hovering there for permission.

Virus's eyes widened. "Why do I have to-" he protested.

"You're smaller," explained Trip, unwilling to hunt for a less potentially offensive term even as Virus frowned and mouthed, by like 3 centimetres. "It's just easier... logistically." He licked his lips; his eyes were now glued to the fabric bunched around Virus's waist, though he didn't move to touch or undress him yet, and his voice had dropped almost half an octave into something of a lower, more desirous tone which, while very familiar to Virus, was not usually directed at him.

It was disturbingly similar to the way he sounded when he was looking forward to inflicting some kind of violence.

A chill wave of prickling sensations rushed down Virus's neck and throughout his spine, erecting goosebumps on his skin. He briefly became hyper-aware of the fact that he was locked in a very small space with someone he had never come to fully understand, his back literally to the wall in a situation which prevented any means of escape without making an unwanted scene.

What would Trip do if he refused to go any farther now? His mood and intent were obvious. Would Trip attempt to take him by force, then? Would he be content to just walk away unsatisfied?

Such concerns always faded the instant Virus had them, of course. There had been plenty of time and opportunities for Trip to do whatever he might have wanted to Virus, and he had never taken advantage of him, not once in the many years they'd known each other. There was an unspoken line between them which had never been crossed.

It was his choice. If he wanted, he could redraw the line a little to the left...

He considered what he knew about achieving more powerful orgasms by pleasuring the prostate and (willing himself not to glance down at it) imagined what something as thick and robust as Trip's waiting, upwards-arching cock could do if applied correctly. He doubted it would change anything between them. Nothing ever really had. If he were to tell the truth, he'd been craving something of that particular nature since earlier that day, when the dutiful attentions of the airport staff had caused his libido to kick it up a notch.

And Trip's cock had felt inviting in his grasp..

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