laurose8: sanzo and hakkai (WK)
[personal profile] laurose8
Title: Entr'acte
Author: laurose8
Rating and Warnings: never gets above low teens
Fandom: Weiss
Word Count: 2087
Disclaimer: Weiss belongs to Koyasu Takehito, Project Weiss and others
Summary: Mastermind's suffering either a broken heart or bruised vanity. Neither is comfortable for Schwarz.

Beta'd by Sybil Rowan, fic juggler extraordinaire.
author's note: Sorry, Jennie B, that I can't write C/S, but here's something Schwarzy, anyway.

It was nearly nine in the morning and the three more sensible members of Schwarz were peaceably eating their breakfast when the flat door opened, admitting, among other things, an incredibly off key snatch of Berlioz. Crawford put down his marmalade knife. “This has gone on long enough.” He spoke for the consensus of the breakfast table.

He was disgruntled, as team leaders are apt to be, when they see one of theirs wobbling off on a tangent. Nagi was the type of teenager disgruntled by most things at most times. Farfarello was not prone to disgruntlement, more to veering between serene amusement and homicidal rage, but even he was getting a bit sick of having his late night perusal of Diana Wynne Jones interrupted by opera, especially Schuldig's version of opera.

Crawford left most of his marmalade unharmed and said, “In twenty eight minutes Schuldig will leave his bedroom to take a piss.” He paused a second, possibly wondering how Rosenkreuz' most advanced training had ended in him knowing just when Schuldig would piss. “On the way back he will pass out in the corridor. Nagi, you will take him to his bed. Farfarello, you will use your experience in tying him to the bed as securely as possible.” He winced as another burst of wannabe song assaulted the kitchen. Nagi thought it meant to be Puccinni, but would have bet the other two had other guesses. “Resist the temptation to gag him.”

“It never works anyway,” said Nagi. Though it had made him feel better. “But that leaves us with a hungover telepath.” When he thought how much misery Schuldig could cause in good fettle, he wasn't surprised to see Crawford collecting his jacket from the peg, which still hung askew from an earlier homecoming of Schuldig's.

Possibly moved by the reproach in Nagi's eyes, more likely deciding a resentful telekinetic is an inefficient telekinetic, Crawford paused just long enough to explain. “I am getting the solution to this problem.”

The two left stared fixedly at the door he'd closed for a minute before Nagi asked Farfarello, “Do you think it'll work?”

“He'll jus' have t'wait until Kudoh's drunk enough. That shouldna take too long.”

“No, I meant stop Schuldig mooning about the place.”

“Might. O' course, he'll just start sulking instead.”

Nonetheless they did what Crawford said, good obedient team members that they were. And they couldn't think of anything better. Approximately twenty minutes after Schuldig had been strapped down, and nineteen and a half minutes after he'd stopped shouting threats and insults at his team (especially the absent one he knew responsible), Crawford re-entered the Schwarz flat, accompanied.

“Uh, Crawford,” Nagi ventured in the tone of voice with which you point out a whopping mistake your superior has just made, “you brought the wrong Weiss.” Fujimiya just stared flatly back at him with lilac grey eyes. At least Crawford had brought the quiet one.

“No, I haven't.” Crawford opened the door to Schuldig's room and pointed through it. Fujimiya went. Crawford nodded to Farfarello. “And you.”


In Schuldig's room Aya closed his eyes briefly. Otherwise his expression didn't change. He'd known this was going to be unpleasant and probably fatal.

Schuldig had a large, tropic-coloured room. It had come furnished with several chairs, and he'd never got rid of them. They were useful places to store clothes. Farfarello took the one furthest from the bed and dragged it into a corner, where he sat with an ostentatious air of disclaiming responsibility.

Standing in the middle of the room, Aya blinked again as he saw Schuldig. He'd have thought he'd be the one to be strapped to the bed.

Schuldig blinked too, and more than once. He'd caught enough through his teammates' screens to have some idea of what Crawford was after, and he'd been expecting Yohji, too. If it had been a club night Crawford would have caught Yohji still dressed in one of his hot club outfits, the definition of sexy. He would be wearing flashy, fragile boots. If not, Yohji could still have been in one of his rich silk pyjamas, defining sensuous. He would be muddled with drink or sleep. His big green eyes would be wary, knowing he had treated Schuldig badly. He would listen to one of Schuldig's rehearsed speeches. Maybe all of them.

When Crawford ambushed him, Fujimiya had on working jeans and that orange sweater. His dirty sandshoes had holes worn in them. His face was set into a careful blank. He only knew his sister would pay for any disobedience.

No surprise that Schuldig was the first to speak. “Why did Crawford choose you?”

Aya shook his head. His reflexive answer was 'because I was the first one he saw'. But Crawford wouldn't have gone in at random, and any of them would have been vulnerable to an armed precognitive with Talented strength.

Schuldig sighed. Aya was one of those people with a natural shield. More soothing than either an artificial one or none at all, it was not as effective as a trained shield. He had little difficulty in reading through it when he was in the same room, but it was still some effort. “Farf, why did Crawford choose Fujimiya here?”

“Wouldna tell me.” Which wasn't the same as saying Berserker didn't know. His years helpless under ruthless people's whims had given him a very well developed sense of mood and intent.

Even Aya had to ask. “Why are you strapped to the bed?”

“Because Braddie thought he'd remind me of some things.” Schuldig began cursing. He might be defeated, but he would make sure everyone knew what he felt about that.

Aya felt a brief curl of hope. Was he just here to make Schuldig's humiliation more bitter? Farfarello would kill him afterwards, no doubt, but it looked as if Farfarello would get him whatever happened, and the part before would be easier.

Farfarello wasn't surprised Crawford had put him in with the redheads to hurry things up. It was amazing that at this speed Schuldig got in any social life at all. “Schuldig, y'r just makin' things harder for him. You can be sure Crawford dinna tell him what's goin' on.”

“Well,” said Schuldig, “what is going on?” Both he and Aya looked hopefully at Farfarello.

“Our Romeo here has b'n havin' it off wi' yer tobacco reekin' Juliet. Now Kudoh decides he's straight - ”

Shock had frozen Aya for a second. Now he snarled “Liar!” and swung at Farfarello. It hit satisfactorily, and the Irishman was smaller, but didn't seem to notice it. He grabbed the taller man by his upper arms and shook him hard. “I'll say this just once. I don't lie. Schuldig does, yes. I fight for the truth.” His yellow eye burned like the desert sun.

Twilight coloured eyes blazed back at him. “You fight for a crook and a pay cheque.”

The anger was real, but Schuldig could sense there was hope a quick death would follow. And then? The agreement was Kritiker would go on paying Aya-chan's hospital bills. Not likely they would if he got himself killed in his own time. The German said, “Stop thinking about your sister for five minutes. And, no, Aya, if you goad Farfarello into losing control it won't be a quick death he gives you.”

For some reason, nearly being tricked amused Farfarello. He released Aya with a chuckle and a stroke of that blood coloured hair. Aya twitched but said, “Then you lied to him. Kudoh would never - ”

“He did.”

“Then you - ”

“I didn't.” Schuldig suddenly visualised Yohji. His long gracefully lanky body which moulded so well to another's. Almost as tall and slim, Aya simply stood there while Farfarello pawed him; revolted, humiliated, and wondering when Farfarello was going for his knives. It almost put Schuldig off sex. Finally he said, “Farf, what are you doing?”

“All the moves in that manual ye keep in y'bedside drawer.” Farfarello finally got the last button open. It was a sight more bothersome to strip bodies before using them.

“What the hell were you doing in my bedside drawer?”

“I wanted stroke material and knew y'were the place to get it.”

To Aya they sounded almost like Yohji and Ken. He wondered if Nagi occasionally sneaked a look at Schuldig's porn, and looked puppy eyed if he was found out, and if Schuldig got half upset and half proud...Schuldig was saying, “Forget that manual. I keep it for laughs because it's so wrong. Anyway, that sort of stuff isn't for a shrinking virgin. Farfarello, you said Brad dragged Fujimiya over here for me why?”

Only long habit kept Farfarello from asking God to give him strength. Even Aya was beginning to recover from the fear he'd been taken as a knife rag for Farfarello and realise the truth. Because he wasn't Kudoh, and straight or not, to Kudoh Schuldig was basically not-Asuka. “Maybe it was for me, guilty one.” He twisted his fingers through Aya's hair and tugged most gently. It was warm and silky, with a feathery texture unusual in Orientals' hair. For the time it was more interesting than the wet warmth of blood. He sniffed it. He hadn't thought Fujimiya one to use cologne but there was a faint scent, even under the flower perfumes.

“That's Fujimiya,” Schuldig informed him. He kept on the very outskirts of Farfarello's mind. The inner storms might be quiet now, but there was no telling for how long.

It really would be a pity to let Farfarello tear that body apart before he'd got pleasure from it. When he spoke to Aya his voice deepened and roughened without his needing to think about it. “Lie down beside me.” Carefully not touching him at all, the Weiss did.

Even when Schuldig touched Aya to kiss him, he only brushed lip to lip as lightly as possible. It was an intriguing challenge, and one Schuldig considered himself well up to. Especially with just a mental nudge or two. The very tip of his tongue, his breath, a faint growl Fujimiya could barely hear...

Farfarello, watching with more interest than he'd expected, saw a shiver ripple over that white skin. Fujimiya's visible hand clenched the blanket. Before, Schuldig had never been anywhere this close to a romancing Schuldig, and Farfarello was entranced by how close it was to a good fight, so aware of your opponent, each sinew ready to respond to him.

When Aya felt Beserker's hand reach out and roll him onto his back, he tensed up again. This time he was holding the blanket so as not to raise a hand in defence. His sister, lying in hospital utterly vulnerable...He stared defiance at Farfarello, and hoped the fear was not too obvious.

The Irishman said, “I saw y'r father bu' th'once. Takatori called him to his office and tol' him to lie for him. He said nae.”

Aya blinked. The long fear his father had been Takatori's accomplice...Suddenly his face blazed. “Thank you!”

Schuldig said, “You could at least kiss him.”

That wasn't Farfarello's plan. “Because y'father was one of th'very few honest men I've met, I'm letting you off this once. Bu',” he lifted his index finger in a minatory way, then pressed the tip on Aya's throat, “tell Weiss next time I find one o' ye messin' with my property I'll do somethin' abou't. Now go away.”

Aya glanced once at Schuldig, nodded and rather unsteadily stood up from the bed. Seeing Farfarello's attention focus inexorably on the wary telepath, he felt impelled to say, “Don't forget the lube.”

Schuldig chuckled. “Oh, we're going to do a lot of things before we need lube.”

Aya pulled his clothes on quickly, and fled the room.


Crawford was sitting in the lounge, looking smugger than ever. He turned the look on Aya for a moment and studied him, otherwise unreadable. “Your taxi will be at the building's front door in seven minutes.” Only a moment's hesitation. “That threat will almost certainly not be repeated.”

When Fujimiya had left he sat for a moment longer than he'd planned.

All gone exactly according to his vision, each word, down to the right second. Only...

He hadn't seen just how bright those widened violet eyes would be, or the bright pale rose of his flush. And he certainly hadn't foreseen his own reaction to them.

Crawford checked his spectacles were screening his eyes, and began plotting.


Date: 2011-04-07 01:25 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
For me? Really?? **major glompage** ♥♥

**chuckles** Oh yes, I liked this very much. I do like the Schwarz boys, and Crawford is such a devious bastard. ^_^

I do love the voices you give to each of the characters, and I can't even imagine what a day in the lives of Schwarz would be like - particularly for Schuldig and Crawford given that they would know far more than they'd really want to. ~_^

And I really don't mind that it wasn't C/S. I liked this the way it was written. And thank you so very much for writing it for me! It was totally unexpected and very much loved and appreciated. ♥

Date: 2011-04-07 02:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'm so glad you liked it!


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