Hoshi

So, here is a little bitlet I did while studying. It just attacked and I was helpless before it. Oops. Oh well. It’s my first foray into Weiss, so gimme a hand at what’s wrong with it, please. Other wise, enjoy. (Oh, and Schuldig’s eyes are green, I can’t help myself.)

Warnings: yaoi, Farfarello playing but nothing graphic


Hoshi


‘Fuck that looks high.’ The first coherent thought of the evening and he giggled. ‘Not the only thing.’ But it really did look high, waaaaayyy up there, when he was alllllll the way down here. And the colors were really pretty, though he wasn’t sure if they were real or something he just saw.

Singing from the top pews and his head rolled back further to find the clear voice, smooth and high, in perfect time and pitch. “Faaaaarrrrrrr.” His mouth felt a bit odd, overly sensitive and his tongue ran over his lips, sending a shudder down his back. Muscle tensed and relaxed, arching his body as he writhed on the cool wood floor, skin flushed from the heat of the hundreds of little candles burning cheerfully a few feet away.

On his other side, there was a soft moan and he rolled slowly to look over at the thin man dressed in priest’s robes, gagged and tied to the front pew. “You know, if you just, just say it, you probably don’t even have to mean it, probably, he’ll go away, take me home and go away.” Terror and rage at the proposed sacrilege ran over his senses and he flopped back onto his back, groaning his appreciation.

“That is so good, shit I could have saved my money and just had you do that for me.” But the clear lemon flavored vodka was damn good and he took another sip, spilling over his chest. What did he care? Nagi would do the laundry like a nice boy and wouldn’t even lecture him on bad habits. Unlike Brad, the prick. Fuck Brad. “Yeah, fuck you, Brad.” Loud laughter and his arms splayed wide, vodka splashing on the floor. “Fuck you, Bradley H. Crawford!”

The echo in the high rafters had him giggling again and covered the soft steps bouncing down the tops of pews. “Should I be worried?” Farfarello balanced lightly on the thin back of the last pew, one foot on either side of the priest’s shoulders.

“Far! Where did you get that shit?” He grinned up, not moving from his place on the floor. “I can’t hear a fucking thing, only feel, and feel, and” His voice faded and his eyes fluttered closed as he drifted. The first time in ten years there was silence, total and complete; it was a little scary, but he was too drunk to care about that, vodka and the fear of others justifying their existence.

A soft smile and the blond hopped down to crouch beside him; there was a push at his mind but he barely felt it and waved a hand for vocal communication. “Care to assist me?”

“You know what? I’m going to lay here and listen, feel everything. So make it good, k?” A dazed grin and he watched white blond with blue highlights from the stained glass windows shake down at him. “That is pretty, you’re pretty, we should fuck tonight.”

“If you make it home awake.” Pretty blond hair disappeared and the redhead groaned and lifted his hand in the general direction of his prize. “Be patient, I’m getting you a treat. And when am I not good, hmm?”

More giggling and the drunken telepath fell back, letting his hand drop with a light thud to the hard floor. Fear rushed him, swelling and crashing against him in a warm wave and he panted happily, his entire body humming. He knew if he could hear, there would be screams of panic by now, and maybe pain, he couldn’t see.

Oh, there it was. The harsh screech of nerves being pulled tight and shredded thrummed down his back and settled at the base of his spine, fluctuating as his partner worked. His hair rustled against the floor, long swept free of its restraining headband and drifting where it would, and his arms spread wide again, feet crossed. “Heeeyy, Farfiedove.”

It was quiet for a few minutes, the fluctuating fear and pain sending him flying and he thought maybe he hadn’t been heard. But when he felt like this, who cared? Warmth was pooling slowly in his stomach and spreading to his thighs, sliding between and he wriggled, rubbing his back to the floor in a slow weave, arching into an imagined hand. “Farfiedove.” It was a whine now, high and attention seeking as his hand trailed over his stomach and rubbed lightly at the cloth covered erection growing steadily.

“Don’t call me that.” No inflection in the low voice and the redhead grinned and laughed again. A soft slick of metal on flesh and he groaned from the waves of fear and agony that washed over him. “What? I’m working.”

“Yeah huh, I know that, but you work with me too, I feel lonely all by my lonesome on the floor.” Slow rolling brought him to press his face to the floor, entranced by the cool wood and warmth against his back. A low grunt told him he wouldn’t get any attention soon and he just lay, floating on whatever Farfarello gave him and vodka, buoyed by terror.

The blond assassin’s voice was soothing, softly cooing in that lilt it got when he was feeling particularly vicious, miserable whimpers brushing along beside it as the priest tried to scream. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? They blurred pleasantly together and the redhead drowsed, barely conscious and thinking lazily.

‘So good.’ They would definitely have to do this again, maybe next New Year’s. Soft purring and he could hear the beginnings of a voice, whimpering loudly. “Argh, nooooooo. Not yet.” His elbow propped him up and he took long chugs of the smooth alcohol, letting it burn and swirl in his stomach. “Gimme another one.”

“No more.” Crawford’s voice still trailed over his ears; not that he was one for listening but the precog might be right this time. ‘Only one Farfarello. He can’t handle more.’ Which was probably true, they were strong, he was just used to them; Schuldig was not. There was soft groan from behind him but the blond didn’t look back, knowing his teammate was just rolling around, playing in the warmth from the candles.

A slim hand reached for the bright flames and Schuldig watched them float above his fingers; is this what it’s like to be a pyro? He’d always kinda wanted that power, even if playing in people’s minds was great fun. A final shriek that echoed in his mind and the clink of metal, the swish of wet cloth followed. “See how you are adored?” Low and smooth, the lilt still in effect, and green eyes fluttered closed in appreciation.

“Hmmm.” Another slow roll and he stared at the ceiling again, marveling at how high it was and the colors that continued to swirl. ‘Guess they really were there after all.’ The gentle pressure that was his blond partner was fading back into existence, brushing his shields lightly. “Hey, Farfiedove, come here.”

Sharp points thudding into the floor by his hand, making him jerk and lose his grip on his bottle. It tipped slowly, tilting in a circle on the curved base before toppling to spill the last of his treat to the floor and he watched it seep in sadly. “Hey.” Everything was still mellow and calm, the quiet still mostly intact, but that was the last of it and he wasn’t allowed to drink often.

“I said not to call me that. And after I finished early for you.” A lopsided grin from the drunk redhead, his head tilted so far back he was upside down, wild hair everywhere, tangled from his wriggling and rolling. “Are you ready to go home?”

So calm and Schuldig licked his lips, arching his back and putting an enticing look on his face. “Come get me.” A low chuckle at his antics and he admired leather sliding over strong legs, the tight straps crisscrossing the pale chest. “Pretty, pretty, you are so delicious.” The splashes and streaks of red were kinda hot too.

“And you’re rambling. Come on, let’s get you back and tucked into bed.” Slender arms wrapped around him with unnatural strength and the redhead kicked happily as he was lifted to cling to his partner, hands wandering cheerfully.

Sloppy kisses pressed to the pale collarbone, tongue sliding over the skin to taste blood, metallic and sweet, with a bit of salt. “Far, do you love me?” Long hair moved in a disorganized mess as he snuggled, nuzzling into the curve of the blond’s shoulder.

“Of course I love you.” He was so cute like this, sweet and affectionate, cuddly and just on the verge of sickening, but he was happy and calm and it was very much worth it.

“Again.” A tired little kitten yawn. “Say it again.” The redhead was so relaxed and sleepy he missed the slight fall of supporting shoulders and the tiny sigh.

And then there was this, where he ceased to exist and another took his place. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.” One day, he would discover who gave the orders to have them stationed within a thousand mile radius of Weiss, tear them apart with a spoon and make them eat it.

Long arms hugged fiercely, squeezing him as he walked out the door and down a block to the car. “You’re so pretty, I don’t care if your hair isn’t that color naturally.” But it was. “You cut your hair, you should leave it long, it looks nicer.” Even though his hair hadn’t been long since he was sixteen. A clumsy hand tried to take the patch and he flipped it off before he really did lose an eye. “Hee, your eyes look cool in the dark, kinda like a cat’s.” When they were always like that. “Say it again.”

Because he couldn’t deny his telepath anything, Farfarello obliged, whispering softly against a small ear. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He nudged his armful into the passenger seat and ran around to the other door before he got the idea to wander off.

The seat belts clicked into place and he settled into the driver’s seat, starting the car as his partner leaned on his shoulder, mumbling unhappily. “I really wish you meant that.”

He couldn’t resist petting the soft hair, even if he would have to spend hours tomorrow untangling it. ‘And I wish it was my voice you heard.’






I couldn’t resist a sad little end. Interestingly, most telepaths are believed to be empaths while empaths are more limited. And Hoshi is supposed to mean wish. Well, there we have it. Hopefully you enjoyed it and please review, even if you didn’t, so I know what you didn’t like. Thanks.