Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ By the Book ❯ It's not like he's bad-looking ( Chapter 4 )

Author: this thorn

Disclaimers: See first chapter

A/N: I just noticed that on some sites the story is rather…full of spaces. I apologize. This thing is cross-posted like mad, and most sites require the crazy spacing just to function properly. Just forgive me if there are spaces and they bother you. As long as I'm making demands, I should ask for a review or two. I know I have the main Schu/Ken plot, but I have a lot to work with in the background. Why is Nagi being such a pisser? Should Aya do something about his guilt? Does Crawford need to go out and do something? Honestly…if I'm going to start another plot thread, I should do it soon. I need suggestions!

Matze slept well that night, and the next day was rather peaceful. Schuldig came to bring him food and help him to the bathroom, but otherwise he was largely undisturbed.

With nothing else to do, the young man let his thoughts run wild. Something seemed slightly off between Schuldig and the others, and his otherwise inactive mind began inventing fanciful explanations for the seeming enmity.

Maybe Nagi tried to kill me. And now that I'm still alive, he's angry and Schuldig's trying to cover it up so I don't…don't what? Go to the police? He's just a kid…

Matze frowned. Accusing a high schooler of attempted murder? He was straying a bit too far from reality.

Maybe I tried to murder Nagi. And Schuldig is keeping them from going to the police.

He watched his hands as he repeatedly flexed his fingers and felt a shudder run through his body.

No way. I could never do something like that. I hope.

The brunet sighed, wincing as a small spasm of pain ran through his back. His musings were turning distinctly morbid. He cautiously turned onto his side and stared out the window. It would do good to get some more rest: he had an appointment with Schuldig come nightfall.

Matze closed his eyes with a grimace. How am I going to manage that? I can't even walk to the bathroom without help, and now he wants me to… He felt his face growing warm and he suddenly wanted to hide beneath the sheets and never come out. He might not be a virgin in body, but his befuddled mind was a wholly different matter. But I owe it to him…

Matze closed his eyes softly and set about steeling himself for the night to come.

It's not like he's bad-looking. He grinned foolishly, recalling involuntary delight that the flaming-haired foreigner apparently liked him that way. It was a great comfort to know he was not alone - and not with someone like the cold and aloof Crawford. Schuldig cared, at the very least. He must have to take care of me for two months in a coma. He must have shaved me regularly, too. Ken rubbed a hand over his smooth chin. At the thought of Schuldig performing the tender gesture he felt a warm tingling in his chest and turned to bury his smile in a pillow. I feel like a boy in love! He almost caught himself giggling.

Still, he considered somberly, he felt guilty. Schuldig had memories of all the things they had done together over the past year, places they'd been, jokes they'd told, he probably even knew his favorite flavor of ice cream. I don't even know that. Matze made a mental note to ask Schuldig about how they met. That would be a start. And he wasn't likely to forget to do it: his internal corkboard wasn't exactly covered in announcements at the moment.

Matze smiled tiredly. He would try his best for Schuldig. Try his best to be the man Schuldig had known for the past year.

Schuldig awkwardly pushed through the door, a shopping bag in each hand and a cigarette clamped between his lips. Crawford had convinced him it would be too dangerous to take Matze shopping for clothes, so the German had spent a trying afternoon wandering the mall looking for some hapless man with the same build as his new pet to model outfits for him. It had taken a bit of convincing, but soon Schuldig found himself the one-man audience to a veritable runway show of everything from business suits to Speedos. And it always felt good to put some miles on Crawford's credit card.

Schuldig dumped the bags on the floor and grimaced. The house was quiet. He'd been glad for it when Matze was still asleep, but now it only served to unnerve him. He felt like he was out of the loop and, for a mind reader, that was never a pleasant realization. Brad occasionally let an errant thought Schuldig's way, but it was never anything of consequence. Usually something like `Buy more Post-It Notes' or some other reminder. In retrospect, Schuldig considered for the first time, Crawford was probably trying to get him to run the errand. Oh well. Still, Crawford knew something. Something vital. He would never have agreed to play along with Schuldig's plan if it didn't somehow serve his private agenda. Or his private amusement. Schuldig fought the urge to storm into Brad's room and demand answers, now wanting the precog to have the grim satisfaction of knowing the German was upset.

Schuldig flicked his cigarette into the sink and collapsed into a chair, searching for Farfarello in the house. The Irishman was usually good for a moment or two of entertainment. His thoughts were broken glass and wavered between riddle and Scripture in a singularly aggravating way. Comprehensibility notwithstanding, it seemed Farfarello always had a deeper meaning behind what he said, whether it was readily visible or not. Schuldig had learned the hard way to pay attention to the seemingly random nonsense the blonde tended to spout.

As they were driving out to a mission one night, the Irishman had leaned toward the front seat and whispered in Schuldig's ear. "Giraffes sometimes catch birds."

The statement seemed so senseless that the German had merely scoffed and disregarded it, but later that evening one of the Weiß kittens had swung a sandbag meant to hit Nagi, and it sailed over the petit boy's head and struck Schuldig in the face. Hard. In fact it was his Weiß kitten who had thrown it. Matze would have to pay for that, even if he didn't know what he was paying for.

Truthfully it had taken several more instances before Schuldig was willing to concede that it was actually worthwhile to listen to the madman and take the time to decipher his comments, but he admitted it nonetheless. SSo Schuldig gave Farfarello's awkward moments of lucidity a grudging respect, and sometimes sought out the cryptic thoughts to amuse himself in downtime. Unfortunately, he couldn't pick up anything from his insane teammate. Probably passed out from blood loss. Schuldig grimaced. He wasn't especially fond of spilling blood - most notably his own - especially when they were much more stimulating methods of torturing people.

His thoughts drifted to Matze, who was still sleeping. Or sleeping again. His was vaguely aware it might be too soon to be forcing his pet into any strenuous activity, but, really, it was his decision. Matze belonged to him. He figured he was being fair enough: he hadn't once bothered the brunet beyond feeding him and hobbling him to the bathroom. The kid had better be damned grateful for the rest.

Schuldig frowned. The whole plan was taking more effort than he cared for. Just that afternoon he had spent a long while at the store considering buying condoms. Naturally it was safer, but if he and Matze had been together for over a year in a predominantly sex-based relationship, they probably would have taken the time to get checked out thoroughly. He knew well enough that both he and the former Weiß assassin spent enough time around criminals, blood, and who-knows-what else, but Crawford made sure his teammates stayed healthy, and Schuldig assumed Weiß had a similar arrangement, even if they weren't as close to each other as Schwarz. It made sense: an ailing assassin was no good to anyone. In the end, he'd grabbed a box anyway. Just in case.

But even if it became complicated, he was no longer willing to give up. Crawford would never let him live it down; the precog would never say anything, but it would just be there, an unspoken `I told you so.'

Schuldig regarded his watch with a smile.

Oh, well. Matze will make up for all the hassle tonight.

Schuldig: You know, Thorn, I really don't do that much thinking. Are you trying to buy time so you can find a way to let the kitten off the hook?

TT: Hardly! I would never do that to you, Schuldig.

Ken: Hey! What about me! I thought I was your favorite!

TT: But Schuldig's German, you know? We have that kinship…

Ken: But he's an animal! You really have more in common with me. At least I'm a decent human being.

Schuldig: Animal, hm? Is that what you're in to? I suppose we could arrange that…

Ken: WHAT!?

TT: *gulp* Yeah, Schu…I don't do beastiality…

Schuldig: Oh? So what do you do, Kleine?

TT: Ken? Help?

Ken: You're on your own, freak.