Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Chaos Came Early ❯ The Need for Speed ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: KD Sarge 
There is a reason Crawford likes fast cars. A very good reason.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.05.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 726 | Status: Work In Progress
There is a reason Crawford likes fast cars. A very good reason.
Anime/Manga: Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 10.05.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 726 | Status: Work In Progress
A/N: This isn’t a story, really, or at least it isn’t planned that way. I’m just writing scenes with no intention of developing a plot. So if there’s something you always wanted to “see”–Schu and Farf’s first meeting is already planned, not sure about Nagi–drop me a line, maybe I’ll do it. No promises, though!
I do plan to post in chronological order, so bear that in mind if you send a request.
*****
“Scheisse!” the telepath exclaimed from the back seat. “Who did you piss off?”
Crawford tilted the rearview mirror. “Schuldig, get out of my briefcase!”
“Maa maa,” the boy answered. Crawford wondered what language that was, and who he got it from. “I just want some Gummi Bears.”
“Turn the light off, put my files back, and close it. Now.” New case, better lock, add that to the damn list...one week. One week he'd had the damn boy, and he'd lost him for two days, been unable to get him out of bed for three more, and had to replace his cell phone, Rolex, and laptop. All of which now had the highest security available.
He should have thought about the briefcase on his own.
“Ja, ja.” 140 kph on the Autobahn, and Schuldig slithered from the tiny backseat into the front, wriggling half into Crawford’s lap in the process. “Nice stick,” he murmured, settling in sideways with his habitual smirk as the engine raced. Crawford sighed and put the Ferrari back into gear, then tossed the boy a package of untreated candy. And wondered wearily if he couldn’t switch him to–carrot sticks, or beef jerky, something without sugar.
“Danke, Daddy!”
Two more hours, and he’d never drive another kilometer with Schuldig. Or at least, Crawford allowed, as travel was a large part of his life, he would get a bigger car. And some handheld video game with earphones for the hyperactive little–
“So what did you do?” Schuldig asked. He hadn’t opened the Gummis, just sat there fingering the package and watching Crawford. Lights from the dash and outside dimly lit his face, maybe more than he realized, since he wasn’t bothering to smirk.
The wild child in a serious mood? Did such a thing happen?
“What did I do when?”
“First you get stuck with me, then they hand you a no-Talent psycho. Who did you piss off?”
“Stuck with? I didn’t know modesty was one of your virtues.”
A sincere smile flickered across the boy’s face, he liked when Crawford returned his sarcasm. “My virtues are as numberless as the stars in the sky, Crawford-san.”
Japanese. That Porsche they’d just passed...again Crawford wondered if the telepath was even aware he did that. He hoped so, he hoped it was deliberate. It did seem to make too much sense to be random.
“But some people don't care to work with me.”
Imagine that. “I chose you, Schuldig, and I fought for months to get you.” He shot the boy a smirk, knowing he’d appreciate the reason. “They were certain I couldn’t handle you.”
As expected, the German gave a suggestive wiggle. “You can’t, Herr Crawford.”
“That is yet to be seen.”
“I know a great club in Berlin where we could find out.”
“Haven’t you had enough of clubs for a while?” Crawford hoped he had. He didn’t want the battle of trying to regulate Schuldig’s leisure time–but damned if he wanted to find his telepath in a gutter with his throat slit, either. Sober, he’d count on Schuldig’s Talent to help him survive nearly anything. Drunk, the telepath was more susceptible than any mundane to the dangers that lurked in depraved humanity.
“Maybe,” Schuldig drawled, putting shoeless feet in Crawford’s lap, “if I find someone more interesting to do.”
“I’m driving,” Crawford reminded, removing the feet. He would be that someone, though not in the way Schuldig seemed to be angling for. The boy’s disappearance and binging in Rome had been a wake-up call he shouldn’t have needed, but “Certainty leads to over-confidence,” as Frau Sanchez would admonish. Crawford had let himself be caught unprepared. Certain Schuldig was meant to be his, he’d closed his ears to the reasons for the arguments, and so had been unprepared for the reality that was the flame-haired, flamboyant wild child even Herr Stein could not tame. He had not planned how to keep the flighty boy focused and alive to accomplish his goals.
He’d have to find a way. More than one, a tiered plan to keep Schuldig occupied and safe and sane, without him realizing. If he knew he was being protected, Schuldig would search out danger, the boy lived to be contrary. And seen, and admired, and–
And quiet? He shot a glance at the pixie face, and saw a frown of concentration.
“If you did get into my mind,” he said, “we would probably wreck.”
“Please.” Schuldig flicked his fingers. “I’m much smoother than that.”
“If there’s something you want to know, why don’t you ask?”
“I wasn’t shoved on you because it’s your first team? You chose me?”
Insecurity? From Schuldig? The boy would never stop surprising him. “I insisted on you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the best.”
“You know you’re my third? The other two gave me back in a week. Combined.”
“Idiots.”
“You’r e that sure you can handle me?”
“What I was told,” Crawford didn’t need the boy’s voice to warn him that was a loaded question, “was that I would never tame you.” He gave the telepath his best evil grin, Schuldig seemed to like it. “What I didn’t tell them, was I had no intention of trying.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need a lapdog.”
Schuldig grinned. “Good thing. I bite.”
“I saw.”
“You must be somebody, though, if they even let you argue. What’s your Talent?”
“Who says I have one?”
“Please,” the telepath said again. “With those shields? Give, Crawford.”
For answer Crawford stepped on the gas. It was dangerous, he knew, at high speeds he might not See something in time to deal with it. But he wanted to make the boy think, and he wanted to get the trip over.
“Herr Crawford,” Schuldig teased, “you do know this section has a speed limit, don’t you?”
“Limits,” Crawford knew and Schuldig did too, “do not apply to us.”
“Ooh, when you talk like that my toes curl up!”
Crawford whipped past a BMW, and fishtailed a little just for emphasis.
“Whee!” Schuldig crowed, leaning over to look. “Come on, baby, let’s see what this thing can do! 170...” He draped himself over Crawford’s shoulders, only his legs still in the passenger seat. “180...aw, come on, let me drive if you don’t have the–190! Didn’t know you had it in you! Come on, let’s make it an even–whoohoo!”
200 kph would take forty minutes off their travel time. And then Crawford was getting a bigger car, if he had to steal it from one of the Elders.
“210, you can handle it, come on–Scheisse! You’re a precog! So let’s really push it! Come on, 250!”
He was just wooing his telepath, Crawford told himself even as he grinned. And gave the Ferrari more gas.
Schuldig threw his head back and howled.
*****
For us backward Americans: 140 kph–kilometers per hour–is about 87 mph. 250 kph is 155 mph.
I do plan to post in chronological order, so bear that in mind if you send a request.
*****
“Scheisse!” the telepath exclaimed from the back seat. “Who did you piss off?”
Crawford tilted the rearview mirror. “Schuldig, get out of my briefcase!”
“Maa maa,” the boy answered. Crawford wondered what language that was, and who he got it from. “I just want some Gummi Bears.”
“Turn the light off, put my files back, and close it. Now.” New case, better lock, add that to the damn list...one week. One week he'd had the damn boy, and he'd lost him for two days, been unable to get him out of bed for three more, and had to replace his cell phone, Rolex, and laptop. All of which now had the highest security available.
He should have thought about the briefcase on his own.
“Ja, ja.” 140 kph on the Autobahn, and Schuldig slithered from the tiny backseat into the front, wriggling half into Crawford’s lap in the process. “Nice stick,” he murmured, settling in sideways with his habitual smirk as the engine raced. Crawford sighed and put the Ferrari back into gear, then tossed the boy a package of untreated candy. And wondered wearily if he couldn’t switch him to–carrot sticks, or beef jerky, something without sugar.
“Danke, Daddy!”
Two more hours, and he’d never drive another kilometer with Schuldig. Or at least, Crawford allowed, as travel was a large part of his life, he would get a bigger car. And some handheld video game with earphones for the hyperactive little–
“So what did you do?” Schuldig asked. He hadn’t opened the Gummis, just sat there fingering the package and watching Crawford. Lights from the dash and outside dimly lit his face, maybe more than he realized, since he wasn’t bothering to smirk.
The wild child in a serious mood? Did such a thing happen?
“What did I do when?”
“First you get stuck with me, then they hand you a no-Talent psycho. Who did you piss off?”
“Stuck with? I didn’t know modesty was one of your virtues.”
A sincere smile flickered across the boy’s face, he liked when Crawford returned his sarcasm. “My virtues are as numberless as the stars in the sky, Crawford-san.”
Japanese. That Porsche they’d just passed...again Crawford wondered if the telepath was even aware he did that. He hoped so, he hoped it was deliberate. It did seem to make too much sense to be random.
“But some people don't care to work with me.”
Imagine that. “I chose you, Schuldig, and I fought for months to get you.” He shot the boy a smirk, knowing he’d appreciate the reason. “They were certain I couldn’t handle you.”
As expected, the German gave a suggestive wiggle. “You can’t, Herr Crawford.”
“That is yet to be seen.”
“I know a great club in Berlin where we could find out.”
“Haven’t you had enough of clubs for a while?” Crawford hoped he had. He didn’t want the battle of trying to regulate Schuldig’s leisure time–but damned if he wanted to find his telepath in a gutter with his throat slit, either. Sober, he’d count on Schuldig’s Talent to help him survive nearly anything. Drunk, the telepath was more susceptible than any mundane to the dangers that lurked in depraved humanity.
“Maybe,” Schuldig drawled, putting shoeless feet in Crawford’s lap, “if I find someone more interesting to do.”
“I’m driving,” Crawford reminded, removing the feet. He would be that someone, though not in the way Schuldig seemed to be angling for. The boy’s disappearance and binging in Rome had been a wake-up call he shouldn’t have needed, but “Certainty leads to over-confidence,” as Frau Sanchez would admonish. Crawford had let himself be caught unprepared. Certain Schuldig was meant to be his, he’d closed his ears to the reasons for the arguments, and so had been unprepared for the reality that was the flame-haired, flamboyant wild child even Herr Stein could not tame. He had not planned how to keep the flighty boy focused and alive to accomplish his goals.
He’d have to find a way. More than one, a tiered plan to keep Schuldig occupied and safe and sane, without him realizing. If he knew he was being protected, Schuldig would search out danger, the boy lived to be contrary. And seen, and admired, and–
And quiet? He shot a glance at the pixie face, and saw a frown of concentration.
“If you did get into my mind,” he said, “we would probably wreck.”
“Please.” Schuldig flicked his fingers. “I’m much smoother than that.”
“If there’s something you want to know, why don’t you ask?”
“I wasn’t shoved on you because it’s your first team? You chose me?”
Insecurity? From Schuldig? The boy would never stop surprising him. “I insisted on you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the best.”
“You know you’re my third? The other two gave me back in a week. Combined.”
“Idiots.”
“You’r e that sure you can handle me?”
“What I was told,” Crawford didn’t need the boy’s voice to warn him that was a loaded question, “was that I would never tame you.” He gave the telepath his best evil grin, Schuldig seemed to like it. “What I didn’t tell them, was I had no intention of trying.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t need a lapdog.”
Schuldig grinned. “Good thing. I bite.”
“I saw.”
“You must be somebody, though, if they even let you argue. What’s your Talent?”
“Who says I have one?”
“Please,” the telepath said again. “With those shields? Give, Crawford.”
For answer Crawford stepped on the gas. It was dangerous, he knew, at high speeds he might not See something in time to deal with it. But he wanted to make the boy think, and he wanted to get the trip over.
“Herr Crawford,” Schuldig teased, “you do know this section has a speed limit, don’t you?”
“Limits,” Crawford knew and Schuldig did too, “do not apply to us.”
“Ooh, when you talk like that my toes curl up!”
Crawford whipped past a BMW, and fishtailed a little just for emphasis.
“Whee!” Schuldig crowed, leaning over to look. “Come on, baby, let’s see what this thing can do! 170...” He draped himself over Crawford’s shoulders, only his legs still in the passenger seat. “180...aw, come on, let me drive if you don’t have the–190! Didn’t know you had it in you! Come on, let’s make it an even–whoohoo!”
200 kph would take forty minutes off their travel time. And then Crawford was getting a bigger car, if he had to steal it from one of the Elders.
“210, you can handle it, come on–Scheisse! You’re a precog! So let’s really push it! Come on, 250!”
He was just wooing his telepath, Crawford told himself even as he grinned. And gave the Ferrari more gas.
Schuldig threw his head back and howled.
*****
For us backward Americans: 140 kph–kilometers per hour–is about 87 mph. 250 kph is 155 mph.