Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Auld Lang Syne ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

This just didn't want to be longer.

 

***

 

Crawford pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses, trying as best he could to block out the ensuing headache that was Schuldig arriving any second now.

 

“Five, four, three, two . . .”

 

The redhead burst through the office door like the small hurricane he usually was. At the moment he happened to be in nosey/furious mode and wanting answers Crawford wasn't ready to give him at the moment. If ever. But he knew the telepath would poke, prod, harass, annoy and rearrange by force if he could anything that didn't suit him. If he wanted answers he'd find a way to get them even if it meant getting on Crawford's last nerve. Rather, especially if it meant getting on Crawford's last nerve. Goddess knew he'd never had any concept of the word privacy in all the years he'd known him, why would he start now.

 

“Why the hell do you have a flight scheduled to Scotland without the rest of us?”

 

Crawford composed himself and refrained from throwing Schuldig bodily out of the room. Not that it would have done much good considering he'd just find some way to come in through the penthouse window. “It's a personal matter I need to attend, Schuldig. It has nothing to do with Schwarz.”

 

“You don't have personal matters, Crawford. You don't have a personal life to begin with.”

 

Crawford glared at him over the top of his glasses. This was, of course, completely true but no one was ever happy to hear they had no life aside from work. Especially not from someone who grabbed life by the balls and annoyed it into submission on a regular basis.

 

Schuldig tilted his head to the side and studied the leader of Schwarz carefully. There was no way he was getting past the shields but he was an observant enough student of human nature to know there was something very odd going on with Crawford. Aside from the normal odd that made up Schwarz as a whole at any rate.

 

“Why Scotland? You're American. What personal business would you have . . . ahhhhh, I see,” Schuldig said.

 

“Dare I ask?”

 

“Crawford is Scottish, isn't it? The name at any rate.”

 

Crawford stiffened a little but answered composedly. “It is. What's your point, Schuldig?” Dear gods, did he really want Schuldig to get to the point?

 

“Family business?”

 

“That's none of your business, Schuldig. As I've said, it's something personal I need to attend to.”

 

Schuldig's eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You might as well schedule four flights, mein commandant. If you don't, we'll just follow you anyway.”

 

Oh, dear gods, Crawford though in horror. Schuldig would do it too. He could just see the telepath waiting until the exact moment in the Clan meeting that would cause him the most embarrassment before bursting in.

 

“Do you have any concept of the term personal space?”

 

Schuldig smirked, flopping down in the chair across from Crawford's desk for a moment. “Occasionally. But you gave up the right to that just like the rest of us did.”

 

Crawford rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “What did I ever do to deserve this?” he mused aloud.

 

“You mean other than in general being the bastard king of demons involved in murder and mayhem?” Schuldig said.

 

“You would be the prince of mayhem, Schuldig, not I,” Crawford grumbled, turning to his computer to do what would inevitably have to be done. Booking four tickets to Edinburgh.

 

Schuldig grinned evilly and blew him a kiss. “Danke, Herr Crawford.”

 

“Bitte,” Crawford replied absently. “Make sure to pack warm clothes. Even though your fashion sense is painful on the eyes.”

 

“Ha! Says the man booking flights to the land of men in skirts.”

 

“I dare you to say that to one of them. Particularly the Black Watch. You'll find yourself tied down naked in standing stones of Stenness.”

 

“If they're sexy enough, I'd go willingly,” Schuldig said before bouncing out of the room to tell the others and pack.

 

“Of course you would,” Crawford said to himself. This was going to be a long trip home he thought, closing his eyes and leaning back in the chair. Why now, he wondered.

 

Because it's time, bairn.

 

Crawford's eyes shot open. The voice was familiar but he couldn't quite place it. And how the hell had they gotten past his shields? Even Schuldig couldn't and he was one of the strongest telepaths he'd ever seen.

 

I helped ye learn how to build those shields, bairn. Don't think I can't find all the chinks in the armor.