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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.

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Misunderstandings

“Itai!”
Kudou hissed, bouncing back. “Why is everybody hitting me
today?”

Schuldig
went after him again, this time Balinese managed to block. Schuldig
had tumbled them off for some privacy as usual, he didn’t want
the blonde saying something stupid where Brad could hear. But he
wasn’t in the mood for their usual quiet talk, either.

That
damn Kudou smiled as he retreated.

“Maa,
maa, Schuldig-san, is something bothering you? Is Crawford-san
playing hard to get?”

“Kudou...”
Schuldig growled. The Weiss assassin held up his hands.

“Oi,
take it easy! It’s not such a big deal. Maybe we ought to call
it off?”

The
truly, really sad thing was, Schuldig was tempted. The more he
noticed Brad’s strong hands or his sheer will or his beautiful
eyes hiding behind those glasses, the less he wanted Kudou on a
leash, or even on his knees.

But
if Kudou wanted out, then no way was Schuldig giving in to him. The
man’s silly little idea–okay, it had been Schu’s
idea!–had disturbed his sleep for a week now, he didn’t
eat, he didn’t go out, he hadn’t been laid in–

“K’so,”
Kudou muttered. “Don’t get all vicious on me, Schu, I
haven’t slept in a week.”

“Fujimiya’s
naughty parts still frozen, ne?” Taunting Balinese was more fun
than hitting him, really. As with most people, it was his insides
that hurt more. Schuldig breathed in the sheer depth of the want and
frustration, loneliness and misery rolling off the man. Kudou sighed
and sagged against the wall, lighting one of the ever-present
cigarettes.

“If
I hadn’t seen them, I’d wonder if he had them,” he
agreed. He slid down to the floor, resting his wrists on his knees.
“Is it us, Schu?” He waved the cigarette. “Is it
me? Am I the only one who goes insane going without sex for a damned
week?”

“Only
a week? Thought you were in love.” What the hell, talking was
making Kudou feel better? Talking to him, to Schuldig? “Visions
of Fujimiya’s ass only now start getting in the way?”

“Don’t
remind me,” Kudou groaned. “I close my eyes and he’s
there, I open them and he’s there, but he’s always so
damned far away...” The blonde scrubbed at his hair, looked up
at the telepath. “What about you? I sensed a little frustration
a bit ago.”

“Saa.”
Schuldig sank down beside Balinese and took his cigarette. He didn’t
smoke usually, but it annoyed Kudou. And he looked hotter than hell
when he did smoke. Schu made sure to keep a mental ‘ear’
on–oh, Bombay would work, he was brightest of Weiss, he’d
probably be first to notice things winding down. “I thought I’d
better try to romance him,” Schuldig admitted. “So I
stopped going out too.” No way was he giving Kudou the real
reason! “The clubs of Tokyo are wondering what hit them this
week, Kudou.”

“Or
what didn’t hit them.” Balinese chuckled and lit another
cigarette. “Oh, here. I brought these, since we were running
out of ideas.”

“Marbles?”

“Unless
you want to do thumb-war again,” Kudou offered with a smile.

“I
call the blue shooter.”

***

Fujimiya
had actually flattened Brad. Schuldig didn’t know if he should
be amused or angry. Or grateful. True, the American was in a pissy
mood, but Schu was used to that. Worse was the fact that every time
Schuldig caught sight of the shiner he had to fight down a smirk, and
that was hard on the respectful attitude he was trying to give Brad,
until he dared something more.

But.
He’d been the one to half-carry Brad to bed last night. He sure
as hell wasn’t letting Farf do it, and Nagi had his own
problems. The Weiss boys were getting more creative, Bombay had
misted the telekinetic with something that had given him allergy
symptoms. And every time he sneezed–

“Gomen!”
Nagi said, and the far side of the kitchen reassembled itself. Again.
Farfarello giggled and slid back into his chair, ready for another
round. Schu shook his head as he put together a tray.

“Take
something,” he told the boy again. “Either knock out the
sneezes, or knock yourself out. Before you knock out the house.”

“Che,”
Nagi growled, hunched over his tea. Farfarello giggled again, Nagi
jumped. “Don’t tickle me, you freak, I’ll sneeze in
a minute!”

“Come
on, Nagi, keep him busy.” Schu finished the tray with a cup of
perfectly made coffee. “You don’t want him bothering
Crawford, do you?”

“Bakayaro...”
the boy grumbled, and hung Farfarello from the rafter specially
installed for that purpose. The Irishman whooped and giggled, and
starting carving obscenities into the wood. Nagi aimed his next
sneeze at the rafter too, so Farf got his ride and Schu and the tray
actually made it out of the kitchen this time.

Weiss
was getting smarter, Schu reflected as he walked. Or at least, Bombay
was, and Fujimiya was getting better. Siberian wasn’t going to
take Farf, never in a million years, and Schuldig and Kudou didn’t
bother to deck it out anymore, but he might have to change that. If
Weiss wanted to be a real challenge, Schu would have to start putting
some effort in. Which would be a shame. Schuldig rather enjoyed his
strange–friendship? No. Whatever it was, Schu liked talking to
Kudou. There weren’t many, after all, that he could talk to
about Brad and his other teammates, or Takatori insanity, or all the
retirement plans assassins shouldn’t make.

Brad’s
door. Schuldig took a deep breath and knocked. No answer. Jerk.

“Anou,
Brad?” Schu stuck his head inside as he cursed himself for
sounding as hesitant as Nagi. The American was lying on the bed,
dressed in his day-off clothes, a short-sleeved dress shirt and
off-white slacks, but he hadn’t got as far as the tie. Or his
glasses. He didn’t snap, snarl, growl, or throw anything. Schu
took that as permission to come in. “I brought you some
breakfast. And an icepack.” Better, but still too nice. Damn
it.

Brad
didn’t answer. Going to be like that, was he? Schu set the tray
on the dresser, wrapped a towel around the icepack and turned to the
bed. The American caught his wrist as he leaned over.

“What
are you doing?”

“Icepack.”
Schu waved the object. “You know, probably-poisonous goop in an
easily-broken bag, kept in the freezer next to the food for times
when our dangerous lifestyle catches up with us?”

“What
are you doing with it?”

“My
good deed of the decade.” Schu plopped on the bed and raised
his eyebrows. “Does this mean we’re going steady?”
he asked, as Brad continued to hold his wrist away from him. The
brunette snarled and let go. Schu slipped the icepack into place.
“Are you going to hold it, or do you want me to?”

Brad
slapped his hand to the towel, Schu hid a grin at the snippets of
pain that leaked around the American’s shields. That would
teach him. Schuldig rose as Brad slid up in the bed, planting himself
against the headboard as he watched Schu suspiciously. Through one
eye, he was in enough pain he chose to keep the icepack on the other.
Schu brought the tray.

“Here.”
He shrugged as Brad’s eye narrowed. “You’re bitchy
when you don’t eat. And you don’t want to go in the
kitchen right now.”

“Why?”

“Farf
thinks you getting flattened is against the natural order, so it had
to piss God off and that’s a great thing. He’s singing
Abyssinian’s praises. And Nagi is still sneezing.”

“Sneezing?”

Schu
leaned to peer into Brad’s one visible eye. “You go down
harder than we thought? How many fingers am I holding up?” It
was a universal gesture, right?

Right.
Brad snorted and relaxed, now Schu was acting like the smartass
bastard he knew. “Nagi–he’s okay?”

“Just
like an allergy attack. So he’s sneezing and a bit miserable,
but he’s okay.”

Brad
sighed and picked up the coffee. “They’re getting
smarter.”

“Still
not a match for us.” It was true, though no one in Weiss would
admit it. The only reason the kitties ever got anywhere when they
went against Schwarz, was that damned Abyssinian never accepted that
anything was impossible, and he hauled the rest of his team into his
delusions. For an instant the thought delighted Schuldig, as Kudou
was up against that iron will and that “I don’t need
anyone” attitude. But then he realized that Brad Crawford was
the only man on the planet more stubborn than Fujimiya.

Scheisse.

The
most stubborn man on the planet gasped, and snorted coffee out of his
nose. Schuldig stared as his controlled leader started to laugh.

“Was
ist das?” he asked, reverting in his surprise.

“Balinese,”
Brad choked, attempting to mop up, but still shaking with repressed
laughter. Schuldig took the coffee back. “And Abyssinian’s
sister...”

Oh
God, Kudou really was an idiot!

***

“She–what?!?”
Yohji demanded, with a bark of surprised laughter. Aya’s eyes
narrowed further. Quit, Yotan, that was close to a full-force death
glare Aya was aiming...

“Aya-chan
thinks she likes you,” Aya repeated. “It’s obvious,
Kudou. Asking you to help with her homework, always making sure to
include you. She hasn’t seen your asshole side, and she thinks
she likes you.”

“No
way.” Yohji reached for his cigarettes. They were on the roof
for their private talk, at least, so he could smoke around–
“Oi, Aya! Give those back!”

“You
will take this seriously, you idiot. You are not going to hurt my
sister.”

In
love or not, there were certain things Yohji was not prepared to
tolerate. He straightened, tossed his head. “Aya, if you want
to talk, give my cigarettes back.”

“Kudou–“

”And
damn it, my name is Yohji. Yoh-ji. Try it, it isn’t that hard.
And give me back my damn cigarettes.”

“Kudou,
you will listen–“

Yohji
knew it was childish. He stuck his fingers in his ears anyway.

There
it was, the full-on, kills-innocents-at-twenty-paces, patented
Abyssinian shi-ne glare. God, why was it the more he tried to get
along with Aya, the more of those glares he earned? And why did the
cold-hearted bastard have to snatch his cigarettes?

Aya
raised his voice and tried again. Yohji started humming. Aya, of
course, did what Aya did when he got frustrated. Duh, Kudou.

“Itai!”
At least Aya tossed his cigarettes on his chest. Yohji grabbed one
and lit it.

“Get
up, Kudou.”

“Ask
me nice.”

“Kudou...”
God, why did he have to be so sexy when he snarled? Yohji pasted on
his most annoying smirk, and asked. Aya glared again. Did nothing
shake the man? He sighed.

“Look,
Aya, your sister doesn’t like me that way. I’m Kudou
Yohji, remember? I’d know. That’s why I’m not
taking this seriously. I’d never do anything to hurt Aya-chan.”

Aya
stood by the low wall, folded his arms and looked away. “She
talks about you all the time, Kudou. How funny you are and how nice
you are and how–“ he cleared his throat, “–how
good you look in those jeans that are so tight you can read your name
off your credit card.”

Yohji’s
eyebrows shot up, he forced them down. Aya was noticing his back
pocket? Aya-chan might have mentioned his jeans, but Yohji would bet
his life she hadn’t said that. Aya would have started
and ended this talk with his katana if she had.

God,
Aya-chan was trying to help! She’d realized how Yohji felt, and
she was trying to get Aya to notice him! Trying in a way almost
guaranteed to get Yohji filleted, but still!

He
could use this.

“Kudou,
would you get up?”

Why,
because he looked too good sprawled on the roof? Yohji shoved his
sunglasses up.

“Ask
me nice, Ayan.” For his sister, the man would do anything.

“Get
up,” Aya repeated. “Please.”

“Help
me?” Yohji held out his hand. Aya growled and yanked. Yohji
pouted and rubbed his shoulder.

“Temee!
That hurt!”

“You’re
out of shape.”

“The
hell I am!” Yohji stretched, pouring on all the sex he could.
“I’m practically perfect.” Ooh, ooh, the faintest
flush of pink on Aya’s face, before he looked away again! He
was melting, the iceman was melting!

“You’re
going to stop wearing the sexy clothes,” Aya said. “Stop
being so nice to her. Be polite, but don’t offer to take her
places, things like that. And start going out again. Come home drunk
and smelling of women, like you used to.”

Oh,
so the redhead had noticed he’d stopped? Better and better.
“You’re not going to tell me how to dress, Aya.”

“Kudou–“

”Hold
on,” Yohji interrupted, as if he’d just thought of it.
“I’ll make you a deal.”

“What?”
Aya asked, eying him suspiciously. Smart man.

“I’ll
go out. If you go with me.”

“Are
you insane?”

“No
more than you.” Yohji grinned at him. “But that’s
the deal. You go with me, and actually attempt to have a good time,
and I’ll stay out the whole night, bring you home drunk,”
and hopefully smelling of Yohji, “and your sister will hate me
for being a bad influence on you. Not to mention how she’ll
have to help Ken and Omi all day, neither of us will be in any shape
to work.”

“I
do not get drunk, Kudou.”

“There’s
a first time for everything, Ayan.”

******

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Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained