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"Ah," said Yohji. "This is the place."

Aya surveyed the shop window as if he were considering which mannequin to kill first.

"You simply can't wear that sweater to a bar. Well, not the bar we're going to."

"There's nothing wrong with my sweater," said Aya, in exactly the calm, stubborn way he'd been saying it all morning.

"Believe me, there isn't enough words in the world to describe what's wrong with that sweater," said Yohji, and then noticed the slightest flicker of hurt in Aya's eyes. "As far as this mission is concerned," he added, hastily.

Aya looked down at the expanse of orange wool that covered him from hips to chin, a slight frown on his face.

"Don't think of it as a fashion statement," Yohji said. "Think of it as a disguise."

"A disguise." There was a promising hint of approval in Aya's voice.

"Yeah. We're going undercover, so you need a disguise."

"What about you?"

"Well, me too. Obviously."

Aya took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do it."

Yohji grabbed his hand and pulled him into the shop before he changed his mind.

To Yohji's surprise, Aya was very co-operative once they got inside. Yohji suggested a few items of clothing, half of which Aya immediately discounted, but the ones he picked were perfectly suitable. Yohji picked out a black silk crop top and a nice snug pair of black trousers with leopard print trimmings for himself, and took Aya to the changing cubicles.

A few moments later he emerged to find Aya standing in front of the mirror. His jeans (dark grey, distressed, rip above the right knee) fit his arse perfectly, clinging tantalising to his hip bones. His t-shirt (pure white except for a rainbow bar-code just above his left nipple) hugged his beautiful, lean muscles and, when he reached his arms above his head, gave Yohji a breath-stealing glimpse of belly-button.

"Convincing?" Aya asked.

Yohji cleared his throat. "Um, yes. Very."

"Good," said Aya, with a nod of satisfaction, and turned to go back to the changing cubicle. In an instant, Yohji put himself in the way, grabbed Aya by the hips and pulled him in for a kiss. He expected Aya to push him away (not in public, Yohji) but instead Aya put his fingers in Yohji's hair and kissed him back, pressing his body into Yohji's, one thigh slipping between Yohji's legs and pushing up a bit. Aya made a pleased sort of noise when he found Yohji hard, and slipped his tongue into Yohji's mouth.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. Do you need some help?"

With heavy limbs Yohji stepped back, reluctantly letting Aya go. "No, thanks," he told the shop assistant. "We're good."

"Very well," the assistant said. He was carrying a handful of hangers in one hand and approached a rail of clothes on the opposite wall. "I'll be right here if you want anything."

Even in his lust-dazed state, Yohji couldn't mistake the meaningful rise of the assistant's eyebrows. He clearly wasn't going to risk anything untoward taking place in his changing rooms.

Aya's eyes were heavy-lidded, his lower lip wet. Yohji had never wanted him more. He wondered how much it would take for Kritiker to put them on more missions that involved going undercover in gay bars.

"What about me?" he said, hoarsely. "My disguise all right?"

Aya looked him over, lingering in a rather satisfying way over Yohji's arse. "You look fine," he said. "But I'd hardly call it a disguise, would you? You always look like that when you go out."

Yohji waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. "Maybe I'm always in disguise."

Aya turned away, so Yohji couldn't be sure that he was smiling. "Whatever you say, Kudoh. Whatever you say."

Yohji returned to his cubicle with a big grin on his face.

He was really looking forward to this mission.