The Games Boys Play

Crawford woke at his usual early hour despite an unsettled night’s sleep. Schuldig had insisted on keeping the porn on and the tv loud long into the night. Crawford foresaw Nagi’s course of action and only smirked as he heard the distinct brittle sound of glass imploding in on itself, Schuldig’s tv crushed like a soda can. The memory of it still had Crawford smirking as he groomed himself for the day ahead.



The coffeemaker was gurgling it’s last as he walked into the kitchen, paper in hand, same as any other morning. He poured his coffee and took his usual seat only this morning he wasn’t focused on the world news. A mischievous glint flashed behind his glasses a few seconds before the sound of an opening door. He returned his attention the paper in front of him, sipping silently at his coffee.



The groggy, disheveled mess that was Schuldig in the morning made his appearance at the kitchen doorway. With a massive yawn, and a hand shoved down the back of his boxer briefs, lazily scratching at a non existent itch, he shuffled into the kitchen. He crossed half way to the counter on auto pilot, lured solely by the aroma of fresh brewed coffee before he stopped in his tracks. Slowly, he looked up to focus on Crawford or, more precisely, to focus on the spot on the newspaper that Crawford was hiding behind. The corners of his lips curled into a vicious grin.



Brad was sorely mistaken if he thought he could just pretend that the events of last night could be ignored and thus forgotten. Oh hell no… there was a lifetime worth of amusement just begging to begin within this seemingly innocent silence.



“Good morning…” Schuldig paused in the middle of the room, trying desperately to keep the grin out of his voice but failing. “… Brad.” The slow sharp enunciation of each letter of his name was nothing but sheer antagonism. It was rare that Schuldig tempted fate quite so badly by addressing Crawford by his first name. It almost always ended badly - for Schuldig. Usually with spectacular bruises to show for his trouble. But this - this he was not physically capable of restraining.



The paper remained motionless, only the sound in response was Crawford’s coffee mug being returned to it’s spot on the table.



“Sleep well, mein commandant? I know I slept like a baby…” The redhead taunted further as he reached far over his head to stretch, being diligent about letting the small grunt of relief take on that edge of erotic satisfaction. But, again, the paper didn’t move. Schuldig’s smirk quirked down into a lopsided frown for the lack of response. Crawford was patient but he wasn’t entirely impermeable as he would like everyone to believe. Schuldig just needed to stroke the right nerve…



“That is because you are an inconsiderate ass.” The words were pure ice as Nagi rounded the corner, shoving past Schuldig as he headed straight for the coffee. A mug obediently floating down from the top shelf as Nagi rubbed the back of his hand over tired eyes. “Not that I expect you to care.”



Schuldig had definitely struck a nerve, but in the wrong teammate. Nagi only reserved that sort of venom for actual real emotion. Schuldig just shrugged in the teens general direction. “Upset I didn’t invite you to share?“



The taunt earned the redhead a glare worthy of Crawford. Nagi couldn’t fathom how Schuldig slept at all with his tv blaring half the night. It wasn’t until some squeaky voiced woman starting screaming ‘daddy’ between grunts and slaps that Nagi finally lost it. And Schuldig could go fuck himself if he thought Nagi was buying him a new tv. Oh, wait… that was exactly what the redheaded letch was doing in the first place.



“I would rather drink battery acid…”



“Oh please, they do have ones with girls, you know… in frilly dresses… and pigtails… I’m not sure they’re blue though…” Again the vicious smirk resumed its proper place.



Crawford slowly dropped his paper, face blank but eyes locked on Schuldig in warning. Schuldig paused midsentence, momentarily frozen by the warning stare, eyes slowly coursing back to Nagi - the moment of silence dragging on until…



“DON’T!” Nagi’s bellow was accompanied by the rattling of every dish, every cup and every piece of furniture in the suite.



Nagi had barely reined in the warning tremor, his fists balled tight at his side. Brad placed a single hand over his coffee mug as the coffee mug hovering just near Nagi’s head flew against the far wall and shattered into a thousand tiny shards.



With a small tilt of his head, but no lessening of the wide smirk on his face, Schuldig let the remainder of his taunt die on his lips. Nagi wasn’t the one he was set on annoying today - besides, he was too easy.



Nagi stormed out of the kitchen, and a moment later his door slammed hard at the other end of the suite.



“You’ve upset a hormonal fifteen year old… congratulations.”



“You did say we needed to desensitize him.”



“The iron fist works much better when it’s wrapped in a velvet glove.”



“Oooo, Brad. Keep talking like that and you’ll get me all worked up.” Schuldig slinked his way to the table hands gripping - caressing - at the back of a chair. “Again.” Schuldig locked a sultry stare on his impermeable team leader, biting lightly at his lower lip as he let his eyes wander down his chest.



“Save it for the club rats.” Brad flicked his newspaper back into position, simply glad Schuldig wasn’t an empath as well. The insidious stir of arousal at that heated stare would have been obvious otherwise.



“Now you know…” Schuldig turned away, heading to make himself a cup of coffee. “… I only save it for you, Herr Crawford. You just let me know when you’re ready to share again…” Smug. Superior. Most definitely gloating. A satisfied grin creased his face as he reached into the cabinet for a coffee mug.



But the redhead froze as he was suddenly pinned against the counter.



Schuldig hadn’t even heard Brad leave his seat but there he was. Merino wool and Egyptian cotton invading his space, caressing his skin, just as the solid wall of Brad’s chest molded to his back, thin hips rolling to slow halt just short of grinding him into the counter. Solid and warm, a hint of expensive musk invading the air around him. His mind was suddenly racing, trying to riddle out what exactly might be coming in the next few seconds. Instinctively Schuldig reached out with a thought, seeking some evidence that would give him a sign. But there was none to be had - all evidence was locked tight behind Brad’s mental shields that the redhead had yet to breach. Without a hint, Schuldig braced for the impact he was sure would follow.



Schuldig could have kicked himself as he flinched. Not at a fist, or a slap but soft, careful fingers that traced his ribs, following the arc of his arm where it hovered, mid-reach, into the cabinet. Brad leaned into him just a bit more and the redhead tensed beneath him as his mind reeled. He knew Brad was playing at something but he still wasn’t exactly sure what. And in quarters this close it could be extremely painful to guess wrong.



A single warm exhale across his ear had Schuldig release the breath that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in a quivering rush.



‘Let me help you with that.” Brad whispered, his voice so soft and so low that Schuldig had to strain to hear each word. And with them, Brad reached up and over his hand to retrieve a coffee mug from the top shelf, his hips nestling even tighter against Schuldig ass in a slow imitation of…



Holy fuck… Brad was coming on to him.

There should have been a smart ass taunt or viciously sarcastic goad in response but all that fell from Schuldig’s lips was a meek little exhale of a groan.



And just as fast as Brad had appeared, he deposited the mug on the counter and was gone again, this time, to the kitchen doorway.



“Meeting in half an hour.” Brad called over his shoulder and was gone, heading for his office without a single glance back.



Schuldig’s arm finally fell to his side. He stood there gripping the counter, staring into the sink for a good few minutes. His mind was racing through all the possibilities of what exactly Brad was up to but stronger than his need to know was his crumbling disbelief. No one could have taunted Brad harder, longer or more consistently than Schuldig. There was a years long expectation of flat out denial no matter what the scenario.



He suddenly closed his eyes. He could still feel the heat of Brad against him, the weight of him, the scent of his cologne still faintly clinging to the air around him. Schuldig had resigned himself to never seeing any of his fantasies through but here one was in flesh and blood and expensive designer slacks. And there was no way in hell that it was sincere. And there was also no way to confirm or deny any of his suspicions or assumptions. Brad’s mind was a hard, cold, blank slate just as his expression usually was. He had precious few tells in his body language to be read.



Schuldig suddenly let out his breath with a heavy exhale, shook his head and pounded his fists on the counter a single time rattling his coffee mug. Brad was not allowed to have the satisfaction of wrapping him up in knots in under sixty seconds. He poured himself a cup of coffee and resolved to ignore whatever this was. Brad wanted to have an effect and even if Schuldig was unsure which effect his team leader was going for the wisest course of action was - none.



He crossed to the table, snatching up Crawford’s paper, flipping through the sections until he found the Entertainment section. He sipped at his coffee and stared blankly at the same article for five minutes. He tossed the paper aside and put his mug down with a thud.



Damn him.



His eyes traveled down to catch site of the mug he’d been drinking from. They had a fairly large standing collection of rude coffee mugs thanks to Schuldig’s penchant for … well… anything that caught his fancy. But the coffee mugs had stuck. He picked them up everywhere. The one Brad had handed to him…



‘Chaos. Panic. Disorder. My job here is done.’



A snarl fixed on Schuldig’s face as he pushed away from the table with a disgusted grunt.



Fuck him.