Strange Times
folder
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
50
Views:
4,114
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
50
Views:
4,114
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
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.
16
Crawford would have seen it coming.
Crawford would have scolded him, with that look of overly strained patience on his face.
Crawford would have told him to get home, sober up, and stop his sulking.
Crawford, Crawford, Crawford…
Schuldich snarled into his beer, hating the sound of his own thoughts spiraling about like bats on amphetamines, hated the repetition of that name bouncing around his skull.
He always had been good at wanting what he couldn’t have.
The look on Aya’s face had been priceless; startled with a side of reluctant lust. Priceless, but not perfect.
Someone had the audacity to settle on the stool beside him. A mental snarl from Schuldich had the man wobbling off, convinced he was a toddler missing its mother.
Crawford would have raised one eloquent eyebrow and expressed displeasure and reproach in aloof silence.
The bartender merely provided another beer.
Schuldich gulped the weak Japanese brew without really tasting it, doing his best to refuse the epiphany that was trying its damnedest to find a way through the echoes of Crawford’s name and gain acknowledgement.
Like hell Schuldich was going to admit to being lonely.
His telepathy unfurled in an unconscious search for the familiar bit of obsessive compulsive control freak that had snagged his attention so long ago. It had been a game within a game, following Crawford’s plans and messing with the baffled little assassins. It had been a vicious little game, and then the bastard had to go complicate things by saving his life.
“Bet you saw that coming, you fucking bastard.”
That would at least explain the tolerant amusement with which Crawford had watched Schuldich play.
Aya had tasted sweet; coffee and sugar on his tongue, thick syrupy shock in his mind…
Schuldich caught himself searching for Aya, and snatched back his mental tendrils with a snarl, leaving a line of debilitating migraines in his wake. His tension set off an afternoon argument in the far side of the pub, set the bartender on edge. He was antsy, anxious… there was no Nagi to taunt, no Farfarello to tussle with, no Crawford to fuck…
Schuldich stood, tossed far too little money on the bar and bared his teeth in a dare to the bartender, who decided the money wasn’t worth risking his life over. Shrugging into his thin coat, Schuldich sauntered out into the sunny afternoon. There was no mood a little blood couldn’t cure.
______________________________
Aya had never wanted to claim responsibility for a psychotic, vicious killer. Never in his most vivid nightmares had he assumed he would be bolting through back alleys, unarmed, towards a volatile telepath.
A brush of Schuldich’s mind against his had sent Aya from the café, concern pulling his mouth into a tight line. His teammates had called after him, unaware of the bits of laughter and conversation that had prompted Aya’s action.
It was going to be one of those days.
Holding down a sick and delirious telepath had been hard enough. Dealing with Schuldich in one of his moods while healthy was not something Aya looked forward to. Hell, the only plan of attack he currently had involved his fist making contact with Schuldich’s temple. Provided, of course, he could get close enough.
He never tried to convince himself it was a plausible plan.
Blood had a singular sort of smell. Mixed with the tang of human excrement it was the scent of cornered terror. Schuldich stood, hands shoved into his pockets, posture relaxed, facing a man cowering amidst a stunning assortment of bodily fluids a few feet away.
Aya winced as Schuldich tossed a casual wave in his direction.
“Schuldich…?”
“How was lunch?”
Aya shrugged lightly, more than willing to try and take up all of Schuldich’s attention. Not that the telepaths previous toy looked to be in any shape to flee… “I left Omi with the tab.”
Schuldich’s amusement snapped through him like a whip, and Aya tried not to let the shock of it show. “Shame on you!”
“Yohji paid last time. It was Omi’s turn.” So mundane…
As long as it kept Schuldich’s thoughts away from things like turning the poor bastard on the ground’s brain into a pretzel…
Schuldich grinned, a manic expression that only served to turn Aya’s stomach.
Aya hardened his expression. He didn’t have the patience for this. Didn’t have the inclination to cater to the telepaths skewed whims. “Schuldich, leave that bastard alone.”
Schuldich narrowed his eyes, amusement turned to a sharp consideration. “No.”
“Now.” Aya scowled as Schuldich dragged mental fingers through his brain. “Stop that.”
“Make me.”
Aya entertained thoughts of punching Schuldich again, thinking long, hard, and loud about how satisfying the feel of his fist hitting cheekbone had been.
“Your domestic abuse, my foreplay.” Schuldich chuckled, relaxing, actually relaxing, a bit. He shrugged a shoulder in the general direction of the quaking remnant of humanity huddled to the side. “You pissed?”
“You don’t need a companion, you need a keeper.” Aya snarled.
“Odd, that’s what all the boys say.” Schuldich looked down at his shoes and sighed. “That blood is never going to come out.”
“Think of that before you go on some sort of psychotic rampage next time.”
“You’re one to talk.” Schuldich moved forward, an apologetic smile he must have pulled from Yohji’s mind splitting his face.
“If you so much as try to touch me right now…” Aya had never wanted his sword more…
“Yeah, yeah.” Schuldich killed his victim with a thought, no longer interested in a cathartic bit of torture.
“Do this again and I will let Weiss after you.”
“Unfair. You should see some of the things Kenken wanted to do to me.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Whatever.”
Really, the almost easy camaraderie should have bothered Aya, considering who it was that fell into step beside him as he started to put as much distance between himself and the dead man as possible.
And it would have, had he not gotten the feeling that Schuldich was almost desperately relieved to see him.
And really, if it happened again, he would just kill the bastard.
Crawford would have scolded him, with that look of overly strained patience on his face.
Crawford would have told him to get home, sober up, and stop his sulking.
Crawford, Crawford, Crawford…
Schuldich snarled into his beer, hating the sound of his own thoughts spiraling about like bats on amphetamines, hated the repetition of that name bouncing around his skull.
He always had been good at wanting what he couldn’t have.
The look on Aya’s face had been priceless; startled with a side of reluctant lust. Priceless, but not perfect.
Someone had the audacity to settle on the stool beside him. A mental snarl from Schuldich had the man wobbling off, convinced he was a toddler missing its mother.
Crawford would have raised one eloquent eyebrow and expressed displeasure and reproach in aloof silence.
The bartender merely provided another beer.
Schuldich gulped the weak Japanese brew without really tasting it, doing his best to refuse the epiphany that was trying its damnedest to find a way through the echoes of Crawford’s name and gain acknowledgement.
Like hell Schuldich was going to admit to being lonely.
His telepathy unfurled in an unconscious search for the familiar bit of obsessive compulsive control freak that had snagged his attention so long ago. It had been a game within a game, following Crawford’s plans and messing with the baffled little assassins. It had been a vicious little game, and then the bastard had to go complicate things by saving his life.
“Bet you saw that coming, you fucking bastard.”
That would at least explain the tolerant amusement with which Crawford had watched Schuldich play.
Aya had tasted sweet; coffee and sugar on his tongue, thick syrupy shock in his mind…
Schuldich caught himself searching for Aya, and snatched back his mental tendrils with a snarl, leaving a line of debilitating migraines in his wake. His tension set off an afternoon argument in the far side of the pub, set the bartender on edge. He was antsy, anxious… there was no Nagi to taunt, no Farfarello to tussle with, no Crawford to fuck…
Schuldich stood, tossed far too little money on the bar and bared his teeth in a dare to the bartender, who decided the money wasn’t worth risking his life over. Shrugging into his thin coat, Schuldich sauntered out into the sunny afternoon. There was no mood a little blood couldn’t cure.
______________________________
Aya had never wanted to claim responsibility for a psychotic, vicious killer. Never in his most vivid nightmares had he assumed he would be bolting through back alleys, unarmed, towards a volatile telepath.
A brush of Schuldich’s mind against his had sent Aya from the café, concern pulling his mouth into a tight line. His teammates had called after him, unaware of the bits of laughter and conversation that had prompted Aya’s action.
It was going to be one of those days.
Holding down a sick and delirious telepath had been hard enough. Dealing with Schuldich in one of his moods while healthy was not something Aya looked forward to. Hell, the only plan of attack he currently had involved his fist making contact with Schuldich’s temple. Provided, of course, he could get close enough.
He never tried to convince himself it was a plausible plan.
Blood had a singular sort of smell. Mixed with the tang of human excrement it was the scent of cornered terror. Schuldich stood, hands shoved into his pockets, posture relaxed, facing a man cowering amidst a stunning assortment of bodily fluids a few feet away.
Aya winced as Schuldich tossed a casual wave in his direction.
“Schuldich…?”
“How was lunch?”
Aya shrugged lightly, more than willing to try and take up all of Schuldich’s attention. Not that the telepaths previous toy looked to be in any shape to flee… “I left Omi with the tab.”
Schuldich’s amusement snapped through him like a whip, and Aya tried not to let the shock of it show. “Shame on you!”
“Yohji paid last time. It was Omi’s turn.” So mundane…
As long as it kept Schuldich’s thoughts away from things like turning the poor bastard on the ground’s brain into a pretzel…
Schuldich grinned, a manic expression that only served to turn Aya’s stomach.
Aya hardened his expression. He didn’t have the patience for this. Didn’t have the inclination to cater to the telepaths skewed whims. “Schuldich, leave that bastard alone.”
Schuldich narrowed his eyes, amusement turned to a sharp consideration. “No.”
“Now.” Aya scowled as Schuldich dragged mental fingers through his brain. “Stop that.”
“Make me.”
Aya entertained thoughts of punching Schuldich again, thinking long, hard, and loud about how satisfying the feel of his fist hitting cheekbone had been.
“Your domestic abuse, my foreplay.” Schuldich chuckled, relaxing, actually relaxing, a bit. He shrugged a shoulder in the general direction of the quaking remnant of humanity huddled to the side. “You pissed?”
“You don’t need a companion, you need a keeper.” Aya snarled.
“Odd, that’s what all the boys say.” Schuldich looked down at his shoes and sighed. “That blood is never going to come out.”
“Think of that before you go on some sort of psychotic rampage next time.”
“You’re one to talk.” Schuldich moved forward, an apologetic smile he must have pulled from Yohji’s mind splitting his face.
“If you so much as try to touch me right now…” Aya had never wanted his sword more…
“Yeah, yeah.” Schuldich killed his victim with a thought, no longer interested in a cathartic bit of torture.
“Do this again and I will let Weiss after you.”
“Unfair. You should see some of the things Kenken wanted to do to me.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Whatever.”
Really, the almost easy camaraderie should have bothered Aya, considering who it was that fell into step beside him as he started to put as much distance between himself and the dead man as possible.
And it would have, had he not gotten the feeling that Schuldich was almost desperately relieved to see him.
And really, if it happened again, he would just kill the bastard.