Strange Times

By the time they made it back to Aya’s apartment, Schuldich had been reduced to exhausted dead weight, and was only quiet due to the fact Aya had started thinking loudly about sleeping elsewhere so as to give the hurt and bitching bastard some space. It was a cruel move, but effective, and it made the act of settling Schuldich onto the bathroom floor easier on everyone. Even with an almost offhand efficiency born of years of bathroom floor medical efforts, it was easier on Weiss not to have to listen to what would have been an endless tirade of complaints and insults as they poked and prodded and stitched.

Aya licked at his lower lip, tasted raw skin and blood, and wondered just when he had gotten hit. The adrenaline had eased off, soothed by the familiar rumble of Yohji’s voice and Ken’s quiet responses. It was the usual after-mission ambiance, lacking only in the oddly rhythmic clatter of a keyboard.

‘Nostalgia’s a bitch, isn’t it?’

“I told you to shut up.” Aya muttered, unable to muster much real irritation.

It was almost amusing, how fast his teammates had gotten used to catching only half a conversation. Ken hardly twitched anymore, and Yohji’s reflexive frown had recently gained a curious slant.

There was blood on the floor tiles, the smell of rubbing alcohol and soap in the air, and the sound of Schuldich’s quiet grousing; home sweet home.

Aya was torn between what would most likely be a rather manic brand of laughter and chasing everyone out at sword point. His safe little bit of sanity had become too crowded.

“If I’m in one piece, you two can get moving.” Schuldich gritted his teeth and stood, Aya’s uneasiness mixing unpleasantly with his own physical discomfort in the back of his head.

“I thought you wanted painkillers.”

“I’ll have Aya knock me out.” Schuldich brushed away Yohji’s hand as it fluttered around his shoulders like some spastically attentive hummingbird. “Injured, not an invalid. Now back off before I twist your brain in on itself.”

“Shit, talk about ungrateful.”

“Go take a bath in acid, Kenken. I think I bled on you a bit, and I know where I’ve been…”

With an agility born of years of professional sports and honed by years of furtive killing, Ken moved away from Schuldich with a curse.

“Now seems an excellent time to be elsewhere, preferable on my couch with a beer and a smoke.” Yohji dried his hands on one of Aya’s immaculate bathroom towels, shifted his way out of the crowded room, and tossed a wave over his shoulder as he let himself out.

Schuldich batted Yohji’s quietly angry mental mutterings away, smothering them in with Ken’s more straightforward dislike. At least Yohji had a slightly less than professional interest in keeping Schuldich around, even when he was entertaining ways and places to hang Schuldich’s corpse.

“I will see you tomorrow, Ken.” Aya was letting Ken out as Schuldich tried to regroup and sort out where the last few minutes had gotten to. Schuldich untangled himself from everyone else’s disgruntlement, and centered back on the fact he had been shot and then dragged across town before being set upon my barbaric medical procedures that, while effective, surely would have made a horde of Hun’s cringe. Blinking owlishly in the well lit bathroom, Schuldich gathered what was left of his dignity and tried not to stagger too much in a mix of pain and exhaustion as he made an attempt to reach the bedroom.

“Let me…”

“Fuck off.”

Aya ignored Schuldich’s snarl, and while he didn’t offer obvious aid, he was very courteous in removing stray shoes and a chair from Schuldich’s path. Schuldich muttered some choice things about chivalric assholes with short life expectancies as Aya held open the bedroom door.

In all the stories, the knight tucked the princess in after saving her from certain peril. In the saucy stories, the princess was ever so willing to show the knight how grateful she was. Schuldich was no princess and Aya was far from a knight in shining armor despite his best intentions. Aya stood and watched as Schuldich shuffled over to the bed, stiffly removing his pants and most likely glad his shirt had been cut off in the midst of medical enthusiasm. Schuldich proceeded to fuss with the blankets, steal all the pillows and sprawl in such a way as to take up most of the bed. As soon as Schuldich was more or less settled, Aya flipped off the light and settled himself onto what mattress space Schuldich had left him.

In all the stories there was cuddling and comforting before the two heroes fell asleep. Further evidence that real life was far from the stuff of tales was provided by the fact Schuldich snarled every time Aya had the gall to shift, the tiny movement jostling the bed, and therefore the telepath, enough to grate against what was left of Schuldich’s tolerance for humanity.

The couch seemed like such an amazing idea…

But every time the thought so much as drifted through Aya’s mind one of Schuldich’s heels would find a way to slam into Aya’s nearest shin. The action would make Schuldich hiss in pain, and while Aya didn’t know which was supposed to be more convincing, his pain or Schuldich’s, he gave up after awhile and settled to sleep. Aya’s back would forgive the unfortunate configuration which his tiny allotted bit of bed demanded it twist into. Either that or Schuldich was going to owe Aya one hell of a backrub.