Strange Times

The coffee mug was in danger of losing its tacky green paint. Aya washed it with an absentminded desperation, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the offending coffee stains were long gone. Dirty dishes were about as mundane as anything could possibly hope to be. The world could go to shit, and there would still be dishes to do.



And floors to sweep. The kitchen floor was Aya’s next target, and was attacked with the same intensity his victims usually experienced. No corner was left untouched, not a speck of dust was allowed to hide around the base of the counter. Every long red hair was gathered up in the bristles of the broom.



Unfortunately, even with his unexpected housemate with all the housekeeping charm of a drunken fraternity member, there was only so much cleaning Aya could use as a distraction.



Aya had a couple moments where he seriously considered doing the world a favor and putting the unstable, unhappy telepath out of his misery. Misery that had transcended mood and mutated into a tangible ambiance. Schuldich was a danger to anyone unfortunate enough to be within range of his unpredictable whims and incomprehensible moods. It would be the right thing to do…



He really should have let the bastard drown.



He had waited too long, had accidentally had the solution presented to him. it wasn’t a solution he was particularly fond of…



Confused, lost, lonely and angry…so very angry…



Aya cut his finger on a bit of broken mug. That pain was his. Everything else was Schuldich. Damn, but it was hard to keep everything separate and sorted. In a perfect world Schuldich would have fallen asleep already…



Aya had a moment or two to consider the chance that Schuldich might actually be asleep, that the projected misery and fury was unconscious…



And suddenly Crawford’s brand of problem solving seemed more plausible.



And…Schuldich did need him…







Schuldich woke enough to realize he wasn’t alone, and lashed out a preemptive offensive. Both his hands were caught in a strong, steady grip, and his telepathy became mired in a stoic sense of duty that was determined enough to defuse his reactionary ferocity.



It was…familiar…



Soothing.



Someone else was going to make the decisions, watch the door, and take the bullets.



All was right with the world once more.











Aya resisted the urge to fidget, insecure and uncomfortable with the feel of another body so close to his, of legs tangled in and around his own, of a sharp chin pressed into his shoulder. Schuldich, after the initial sleepy attack, and attached himself to Aya with the tenacity of a starving leech. If the bastard hadn’t been radiating such smug contentment it would have been an insufferable arrangement.



As it was, Aya was having the damnedest time trying to ignore how Schuldich’s breathing tickled at his throat. His nerve endings were intent on informing him this wasn’t all that bad an arrangement, and his common sense and self preservation were howling in outrage.



That was Schuldich- an irritating, infuriating mass of contradictions.



And damn if the telepath wasn’t smiling.







It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough.



Schuldich worked on the task of pulling himself together, pulling his shields together. Secure in the fact Aya had his back, he didn’t waste energy on a mental perimeter guard. It had been a long time since he was able to tend to the basics with the attention needed.



‘Took you long enough.’











Aya flinched, and then frowned. It had been a faint comment, but there had been enough there for him to catch a hint of an almost casual assurance that this was how things were supposed to turn out.



“Schuldich…”



Schuldich took the opportunity to nuzzle into the crook of Aya’s neck, and as Aya tried to figure out whether he was more inclined to fight or flight (though Schuldich always did prefer the third, less known, option of fuck) Schuldich decided to take a break, and drifted off to sleep on a wave of amusement.



Aya felt the tension leave the telepath, most noticeable in the way Schuldich’s hands relinquished the death grip they had previously been assaulting his shirt with.



He was uncomfortable.



But somehow Aya didn’t think Schuldich was letting him go anywhere anytime soon.