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Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained	By : KDSarge Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 6318 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Wowza,
getting some really nice compliments...thank you!! I love this
chapter, hope you do too. Oh, and I don’t own Weiss, or Dwight
Yoakam’s music, nor the Statler Brothers.

Leaping
Before Looking

Schuldig
smirked into his pixie stick as the girl scooped up the envelopes.
Oh, this was rich, if she were the one to give it to Aybssinian! If
he opened it in front of her, it would definitely make getting up
while still hungover worth it. Schu checked he was still hidden–he
wasn’t exactly inconspicuous–and leaned back to enjoy.

Abyssinian
was alone in the shop, but the girl didn’t give him the
envelope, she hadn’t seen there were two. Schu was about to
give her a shove, when he caught a glimpse of her brother’s
thoughts and doubled up laughing.

Kudou
had dodged? Kudou had run? What the hell was wrong with the man? Schu
would have done the redhead right there in the car, if he were into
cold and bitchy. But Kudou was so damn in love he had been noble?

Oh
Gott, this just got better! Abyssinian didn’t understand, he
thought Kudou didn’t want him! And oh, it mattered to him, oh,
Schu could use this...

Bradley
fucking Crawford had lied. Or he hadn’t seen the entire
situation. One more thing to make him pay for, if the first.
Tantalizing vulnerability, if the second. But how to–

The
girl was heading into the house now, her thoughts as delightfully
painful as her brother’s. It must be a family thing. Good to
know she wasn’t as mindless as he’d thought. First
impressions could be so deceiving.

Just
to see what happened, Schu gave her a shove. As he’d hoped, she
opened the envelope. It was her name too, after all. Then she opened
the other, which was not addressed to her, such rudeness! But that
couldn’t have been better if Schu had planned it. Then she
stormed for the stairs. Schuldig decided to risk the fire escape. He
might just have to get in on this.

***

“Well,
it’s good to see you, I must go, I know I look a fright,”
Yohji sang, though his throat was threatening to close completely. He
took a hit from his cigarette.

Last
song. This one last song and he was going to go and talk to Aya. He
should have done it sooner, he should have opened the door when he
heard Aya run Kenken off.

“Anyway
my eyes are not accustomed to this light.” This one was
almost funny.

“And
my boots are not accustomed to this hard concrete.” After
this song, he was going to go talk to Aya. While he was still stuck
in the Koneko. Even Aya wouldn’t kill him in the shop while it
was open.

“So
I must go back to my room and make my day complete.”

Half
a bottle of vodka had let Yohji see it wasn’t as bad as he’d
thought. No matter how little he remembered, Aya had to know nothing
had really happened. Yohji had changed clothes after his shower, but
Aya had stalked out still wearing his
no-way-in-hell-Kudou-got-in-these pants. Well, with those zippers–no.
Aya knew him, Aya would know that if Yohji had gotten him out of his
pants, no way in hell would he have put the redhead back in them.

If
half a bottle had come up with that comforting thought–but
after that it all went downhill. If Aya didn’t remember the
reason for the handcuffs–and even if he did, he’d still
be furious about the bet. He had a right to be. And of course, that
bastard Schuldig had toyed with Aya-chan.

But–at
the end of the first bottle–Aya would forgive Yohji, he had to
realize Schuldig wasn’t Yohji’s fault.

Who
was he kidding? Everything was Kudou’s fault, just ask Aya. So
Yohji started on the second bottle and thought some more.

“Smokin’
cigarettes and watching Captain Kann-ga-rooo...” he sang
along. He loved that line. “Now don’t tell meee I’ve
nothing to dooo.”

He
had to talk to Aya. It was that or give up, lie here and drink
himself into oblivion and hope he didn’t find his way out this
time. But that wasn’t really an option, Omi and Aya-chan
wouldn’t–God. Aya-chan. Every time he remembered she’d
seen the handcuffs, Yohji shuddered. And knew Aya was probably
angrier about that than anything else that had happened.

Face
Aya. Get it over with. It would be easier to hide from Aya-chan if he
could duck into the mission room without being afraid of running into
Aya. Or, cheery thought, Aya would kill him, and he’d never
have to face Aya-chan.

Going
down to the Koneko. In a minute. Get up, get a shower, go down to the
Koneko.

“Well,
I’m back again,” Dwight sang, “for another
night.

Of
trying to break free from the sadness that I can’t lay to
rest.”

Right
after this song.

“This
old honky-tonk sure does feel like home.

And
the music with the laughter seem to soothe my loneliness.”

Someone
knocked on the door. Yohji ignored it. That wasn’t Aya’s
knock, and he wasn’t answering anyone else. He wasn’t
sure he’d have answered even Aya, he wanted a shower first. And
he wanted witnesses. Witnesses who couldn’t hear, but might
keep Aya from killing him. “So turn it on, turn it up, turn
me loose from the memory that’s driving me lonely, crazy and
blue...”

The
knock sounded again. Who was that, Yohji wondered idly. Not
that it mattered. It sounded like Ken’s anger, but lacked his
power. It definitely wasn’t Aya, Aya did not pound. Omi usually
was quieter, but it could be Omi, if he was determined.

He
didn’t want to talk to Omi. Especially a determined Omi.

“...
so the louder the better.

Hey
mister, turn it on, turn it up, turn me loose.”

Face
Aya. Hmm. Should he beg for his life first, or jump right into the
explanation? Right, like that would–now someone was jiggling
the door knob. If Omi picked that damn lock–

“Go
away!”

“I
won’t!” said a female voice. God, Aya-chan! No, no, the
plan was never to face her, to hide until she went to college–Yohji
hit the mute on the stereo.

“Aya-chan–“

The
door opened. But he’d locked–Aya-chan had one of Omi’s
lockpicks in one hand, some crumpled papers in the other. Yohji
stared an instant, shocked at how much she looked like her brother.

Because
that was an F6 shi-ne glare, aimed straight at him.

Yohji
realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and grabbed something off
the floor. Che, it was–Aya-chan’s eyes narrowed on the
zippers and buckles of Aya’s new shirt. She raised her eyes to
Yohji’s, and he decided the Fujimiya glare was even worse
coming from her. She mixed ample amounts of hurt into the anger, and
Yohji ached to see it.

“I
trusted you,” she said. “I helped you and I trusted you
and you–what do you do, Kudou?” Not Yohji-kun, or even an
affectionate ‘baka,’ he’d been relegated to last
name. “Do you make marks on your belt? On your headboard? Or
only boast to your friends that you were the first to fuck Fujimiya
Ran?”

“N-nan
da–?” He couldn’t even finish the phrase, he was so
stunned at those words coming from this innocent–Aya-chan shook
her head, now there were tears in her eyes.

“I
thought I was your friend. That Ran was.”

This
had to be about the handcuffs, right? Even if she’d waited
hours to come after him. “Aya-chan, it’s not what you–“

”You
made a mistake, Kudou,” she said, and her voice was as cold as
her brother’s had ever been. “You forgot that revenge is
what Fujimiyas live for.” She flung a paper at him. Flung.
Aya-chan. Who never lost her temper, not even when Aya smothered her
until she turned blue.

“Aya-chan,
what–?” Oh. Yohji felt the blood drain from his face, as
the paper fluttered to the floor, face up.

Aya,
shirtless and struggling, handcuffed to his bed. DAMN
Schuldig!!

“Who
else did you send copies to, temee?”

“Aya-chan–“
How to explain, without mentioning–

“‘Yohji-chan,’”
she read from the other paper, “‘don’t call me, I
think your friend was serious! But I’ll be working all
afternoon, I’ll buy your lunch if you give me the whole story.
I’m dying to hear about your little game!’”
Aya-chan waved the letter. “What happened, Yotan? You didn’t
send her a picture yet?”

Mamiko.
Oh damn, the entire universe was gunning for him today. Yohji sank
down on the bed, he couldn’t think, he’d had far too much
vodka to deal with this–

“Now
you start to realize,” Aya-chan said with satisfaction. ”I
hope you did care for him, Kudou. I can’t run you through like
he could–like he won’t–all I can do is make you see
what you’ve done.”

“Please–“

”Father
was not comfortable,” she talked over him, as remorseless as
Aya, “with his orientation. They fought, but Ran respected
Father’s wishes. Eventually Father accepted it, and Ran was
going to start dating. As soon as he found someone he wanted to see.
He met someone at the festival, on my birthday.”

Oh
God, that was the day–

“That–thing–happened
instead,” Aya-chan went on, “and Ran became Aya.”
She was skipping a bit, Yohji wondered how much she knew, and what
she had pieced together wrong. “Aya, the one you called the ice
princess.”

Who
the hell had told her that?

“He
devoted his life to me,” Aya-chan said, “and you mocked
him. Everything was buried, except for what he had to do to protect
and help me.” Now tears were running down her face. “And
I helped you hurt him. I’m so selfish, I thought if he had a
boyfriend, maybe he’d let me have one, and then–“

”Aya-chan,
I didn’t–“ Chikusho! How could he explain that he’d
handcuffed her brother to the bed because Aya was a horny
bastard, and Yohji didn’t think sex was a good idea?

”Shut
up, Kudou! You were his first date, his first kiss probably,
definitely his first lover, and I will never forgive you for hurting
him!” She tossed her hair, and glared again. “You are a
fool, Kudou, and my sincerest wish is that you realize what you let
slip away from you, the day you chose to use Fujimiya Ran as a trophy
fuck.”

God,
where did she learn such things? Fuck that, Aya-chan thought–

But
she was gone. And there wasn’t any point in arguing anyway, not
now. He had to figure out how to explain before he talked to her.
There were secrets Aya–

Yohji
swore, in what little English he knew, in Japanese, in the bits of
German he’d picked up from Schuldig. If Aya-chan had that
picture, so did Aya. Probably Omi and Ken, too, maybe even one mailed
to Sakura, for all he knew. Everyone else thought Aya didn’t
care for the girl at all, but Yohji knew he saw her as another
imouto. And what Yohji knew, Schuldig might. Knowing that smirking
bastard, all of Tokyo might be plastered with pictures by now.

Swearing
wasn’t enough. Yohji flung a pillow across the room, growled at
the stupidity and flung the ashtray. That produced a satisfying thud,
and a hell of a mess besides. The empty vodka bottle did even better,
it shattered. Yohji picked up the second bottle, but that was alcohol
abuse. Empty it, then throw it. Down the hatch, Kudou-san.

It
didn’t matter any more what he said. There was no point
explaining, it didn’t matter what had happened or not happened.
Not with Schuldig passing out that picture. Reserved, private Aya
would be humiliated, mortified. Shy Ran would vanish again, Aya would
retreat into his icy shell–

DAMN
Schuldig! Last night Aya had let himself cut loose a little–okay,
a lot–and Yohji had been enchanted all over again. Now he would
be lucky if he saw that mischievous little sneak again in years.

Kill
Schuldig. That was the only thing that might help. Maybe if he
presented Aya with the telepath’s mangled body–

::Thinking
of me?:: asked that hated voice. ::Yohji-chan, I didn’t know
you cared!::

“Where
are you, temee?”

A
knock on the window, and that German bastard was winking at him.
Yohji launched. Get him, damn it, that would make Aya smile, he’d
bet anything–

German
bastard was fast!

***

Yohji
slapped a hand to brick, leaned on the building gasping for air. Had
to quit smoking. Had to–why was that woman–

“Kudou
Yohji,” he said aloud, “you truly are an idiot.”
Another pedestrian, a man this time, glanced at him, dropped his eyes
and casually crossed the street as the woman had. Yohji stepped back
into the alley and pondered his options.

He
reeked of vodka and he didn’t have any cigarettes. He was
wearing Aya’s club shirt and a pair of pajama pants and house
slippers. He wasn’t wearing his watch. If he had gotten near
Schuldig he would have been completely at the man’s
non-existent mercy. He had no money, no keys, no cell phone, and he’d
have to walk past Aya or Aya-chan or both to get any of them. Without
his watch to pull the ladder down, he couldn’t get back up the
fire escape.

Baka!
He thumped his forehead with a fist, and did it again, harder. Baka,
baka, baka! How the hell did he always mess things up so badly?

“When
you gonna learn?” he muttered. “Bakayaro, when the hell
are you gonna learn?”

::Never,
probably. But I’ll buy you a drink if you like, and try to
teach you.::

::Schuldig,
I would sooner drink with–::

::The
devil himself?:: Schuldig laughed. ::Exactly what I’m offering!
Mou, Kudou-san, I’ll even buy you clothes.:: With that
astounding lightness, the German landed a few meters away, Yohji
didn’t bother to look where he’d been.

“I’m
not talking to you,” he growled. “You only get me in
trouble!” Yohji stuck his fingers in his ears and hummed.

::Gott
in der Holle:: the German exclaimed in his head, ::you are such
an idiot!::

Damn.
He did have a point. Yohji took his fingers out of his ears.

“You
can stand there until the police come,” Mastermind pointed out,
“or you can come with me. Or you can go home like that.”
His smirk widened. “I don’t know why I’m even
offering an alternative, that would be such fun. Abyssinian and his
sister are dealing with fangirls, Siberian has his soccer brats over,
and Bombay is determined to talk to you. The possibilities
are...mind-boggling.”

“Schuldig,”
Yohji said plaintively, “is it really that much fun, torturing
me?”

“Balinese,”
the German chuckled, “you have no idea.”

***

“Ken-kun,”
Omi gasped, charging down the stairs, “send them home. Now.”

“Hey,
you can’t–“

”Now,
Ken-kun!” Omi ran past, into the Koneko. “Aya-kun, I have
to talk to you! Now!”

Aya
looked up from the register. The rush was trailing off, but to leave
Aya-chan alone–

“Go,
go!” Aya-chan waved cheerfully. “I’ve got this.”

One
minute later Aya and Omi were standing in Yohji’s room. Ken
came storming up the stairs.

“What’s
the big–“ he trailed off as he looked into the room.
“Where’s Yohji?”

Omi
just looked at him, then turned back to Aya. “The door was
unlocked, Aya-kun. Earlier it was locked. I don’t know how long
he’s been gone.”

“It
looks like a war in here!” Ken blurted. Omi cringed, he tried
to amend it. “But there’s no blood–“

”But
there’s no Yohji, either,” Omi pointed out. Aya stepped
slowly around the room, Omi watched him. The redhead stopped right
where Omi expected him to, staring at the floor.

“How
much booze got into him, do you think, if this place reeks like
this?” Ken asked, crossing the room. Aya-kun slipped the paper
in his pocket, moved on. “Did you look if he fell out the
window?” Ken was saying. “It’s open.”

“Ken-kun–”
Omi cut off with a gasp as Aya straightened in the corner.

“His
watch!” Ken blurted. “He’d never–“

”He
took it off this morning,” Aya said.

“What
in hell did he do that for?” Ken demanded. Omi shot him a Look.

“Aya-kun,”
Omi said softly, “what’s different from this morning,
please?”

The
redhead pointed at the broken bottle, at the ashtray, and then shook
his head. “That’s it. No war, Omi. He probably left on
his own, just forgetting his watch.”

“Aya-kun,
will you kindly decide if you think I am smart or stupid?” He
couldn’t believe he’d said that, he was usually more
diplomatic. But he just didn’t have the patience when Yohji was
in trouble.

Ken
and Aya were staring at him. He pointed. “Yohji’s wallet
is on the dresser. The clothes he wore last night are right there,
and his credit card is still in that stupid pocket.” Yohji
didn’t like to hide anything, so he had pockets sewn on the
hip, only big enough for that important item. “His keys are
there,” Omi pointed at the floor, “and his cell phone.”
Yohji kept them on a lanyard, around his neck if necessary, but
usually in his hand and not taking away from his appearance. “His
watch is still here. Why would Yohji leave without all of those?”

“If
he ran out of cigarettes,” Ken said uncomfortably, “or
booze–“

”There
are five packs of cigarettes on the bed, including an open one, a
full bottle of vodka and some of another,” Omi snapped.
Honestly! They had eyes! “Yohji did not leave on his own,”
Omi went on, turning to Aya-kun. “And I’m sorry,
Abyssinian, but I have to say it was negligent of you and Yohji not
to mention a visit from Mastermind of Schwarz.”

“Schuldig!”
Ken hissed. Aya sighed.

“You
heard?”

“You
woke me, yelling ‘Balinese!’ Then I heard Yohji yelling
at Schuldig to get out. I assume he was up to his usual, trying to
divide us?”

“Hai,”
Aya-kun confirmed, but he didn’t say anything else. Omi folded
his arms. They’d wasted enough time.

“I
need to examine that photograph, Abyssinian.”

“What–oh
my God!” Ken shouted, as Aya-kun wordlessly handed over the
photo. He roared laughter, and stuttered through it. “Aya–oh
my–“

”When
you are done acting like a twelve-year-old,” Omi snapped. “It
isn’t how it looks, Ken-kun, have you forgotten Schuldig is
involved?”

“Twelve?”
At least he’d momentarily forgotten the photo. Omi rubbed his
forehead as Ken spluttered irritation. When and why had the brunette
started annoying him so much? He had always gotten along with Ken.

Worry
about that later. “Aya-kun, Schuldig took this picture?”

“Hai.”

“He
must have come back with this later, I’m sure he wasn’t
carrying a digital photo printer...” Omi turned the sheet over
and sighed. “I don’t see anything right now. What are
those other papers? Were they there?”

“No...”
Aya-kun picked up a note and envelope, and frowned. “Aya-chan
had this. She found it outside for Yohji, half an hour ago. So he had
time to go downstairs and come back–“

”Or
Aya-chan brought it up,” Ken said. “She’s sweet on
Yohji.”

Aya’s
eyes locked on the photo, and he went paler than Omi had ever seen
him. But he straightened. “I will ask her.”

“Ken-kun
and I,” Omi said, either out of cowardice or common sense or
delicacy, he wasn’t sure which, “will go look around
outside. If he was here as recently as half an hour ago, we might
learn something.”

“Hai!”
Ken agreed, rushing down the stairs. “Good idea, Omi!”

“Wait,
Ken-kun, we should–“ But the brunette was already gone.
Omi sighed and followed Aya-kun down the stairs. He’d known he
and Aya-chan should have found a way to chaperone the two. How
had they ended up entangled with Schwarz?

And
why was he so tense all the time lately, that he thought
things with such emphasis?

***

Crawford
was getting worried. It had been more than fifteen hours since he’d
left Schuldig at the love hotel, and the German wasn’t back
yet. He hadn’t come for his things in his once-a-year run away
from home, he hadn’t called to hurl drunken curses at Bradley
Crawford, there was nothing on the news about a redheaded gaijin
streaking through the parks...aside from the twenty-seven orders of
delivered food that had arrived through the day, there had not been
one word from the telepath. Silence from Schuldig made Brad Crawford
nervous.

The
doorbell rang. Twenty-eight? Or the police bringing a nude telepath
home? Or rather, coming to tell his ‘keeper’ where the
man was hospitalized for observation...

“Oh
Crawford-san,” Nagi yelled. The boy was taking an inordinate
amount of delight in the situation– “This one is for
you!”

“Really.”
Crawford grumbled. But curiosity took him to see anyway. So far of
twenty-seven orders, there had not been one food he liked. He hadn’t
realized he was so picky, and he hadn’t realized Schuldig knew
him so well. Four orders of sushi and three of sashimi, when Crawford
refused to eat raw fish, that was easy. But the bag of jalapeno
cheese bagels? The chicken-liver yakitori? Okonomiyaki, with all the
most disgusting–to Crawford–toppings. And a whole list of
others. Somehow Schuldig had even managed to have ‘real
authentic Mexican-style’ chimichangas delivered.

Pizza
Hut? Anywhere but Japan, that would be hopeful. Nagi took two pizzas,
Farfarello four, and Crawford the last three. Nine pizzas, was there
some significance to that? All the other orders had been sized for
two or three people.

The
driver bowed and left, that was another thing. If he really wanted to
be annoying, why was Schuldig paying for the food, instead of letting
Crawford argue with the delivery drivers? Just to prove he could, to
show he could stand on his own?

Crawford
did not like that idea at all.

“Hmm,”
Nagi was saying. “Pineapple and ham. Do you like pineapple and
ham, Crawford-san?”

“Yes,”
Crawford answered, surprised. “Well, it’s okay, anyway.
Not my favorite topping.”

“Oh,
there’s shrimp on it too,” Nagi said. Crawford sighed.

“Tame,”
Farfarello frowned and opened a pizza. “This one has extra
pineapple, I think. And–wasabe?” He opened another.
“Pineapple and ham. And–Schuldig! Anchovies!”

“This
one has squid,” Nagi said. “And pineapple and ham.”

Crawford
shuddered, and checked the rest of the pizzas. All nine pizzas had
pineapple and ham, with a topping he didn’t like. What was that
supposed to mean?

*****

In
case you were wondering, the more reviews I get, the more I want. So
the more I tend to post. Funny how that works...
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Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained