Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Mind Games and Coffee ❯ Chapter 7

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: Solaras

Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is not mine. All its characters and affiliates are also not mine. Nothing involving Weiss Kreuz is mine. Sadly this is true.

Author's Note: SORRY!!!!! I know this is extremely late, but hey at least I didn't abandon the story. I get points for that right. *ducks flying objects* I've just had a lot of issues lately. Most recently was the great computer crash of 2006. I had to replace the hardrive. This chapter was unlucky. I lost it, almost lost it again, scraped it several times, forgot about it, ignored it, and I got tired of looking at it so now I'm posting it.

My grammar may be worse than usual in this chapter. I've been sick and cold medicine makes my loopy.

Review Responses: Yay for reviews!! They make me happy!!

KD Sarge - You're not going to like me when I tell you this, but I actually thought I had already uploaded chapter 7 (months ago). *hides* So yeah apparently I only put it on adultfanfiction.net. But on the bright side you'll have chapter eight in the next couple of days. Don't kill me!

darkepheonix - Thank you. I aim to please. Hope you are still around after the long wait.

Mangachild420 - Aww thanks. I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Wah! Reading reviews makes me feel guilty.

~telepathy~ aka communicating

/thoughts/ aka Schuldig reading someone's mind

German Words:

Großmutter - Grandmother

Scheiße - shit

Ja - yes

Chapter seven:

He had foreseen it, but that didn't mean Brad Crawford understood it. Never the less, as he made his morning coffee, he took down the offensive orange mug that only Schuldig would use. He filled the mug three-fourths of the way full of coffee, added three spoons of sugar, and filled the cup the rest of the way with cream. His own coffee was much simpler: black. The telepath's idea of morning caffeine was a waste of good coffee in Crawford's opinion, but Schuldig had always preferred sweet things. He sat the horrid orange cup of coffee at Schuldig's spot on the table, and then sat in his traditional seat with his own pristine white cup. Now he waited for his unusual vision to play out…one sip…two…three....BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Until this morning the precog wasn't even aware that Schuldig's alarm worked. The offending noise continued for several minutes, and since Schuldig kept his door open, Brad could hear it loud and clear.

“Scheiße!”

The exclamation was followed by a loud clap and a thud. Schuldig, as Brad had foreseen, fell out of bed trying to stop the sudden noise. The precog had already ordered the redhead a new clock last night. He set his cup down and waited for Schuldig to enter the kitchen. His vision had ended with Schuldig sitting down at the table.

As Schuldig and Großmutter had planned, today was the day for Brad watching. Knowing that Brad Crawford got up at an unholy hour of the morning, Schuldig had decided he should get up too, if nothing else he would find out what the American did all morning. The redhead had spent a good fifteen minutes the night before figuring out how the alarm clock worked, as he had no intention of asking Nagi for help. The whelp would never let him live something like that down. Schuldig had decided to get up at 7:30, Brad's coffee time. The precog would probably have been up for an hour or so before that showering, shaving, getting dressed, and other such things Schuldig decided he could miss in favor of sleep. Even so, 7:30 was still too early for the telepath.

As Schuldig scrapped himself off the floor, he decided that alarm clocks couldn't possibly be a German invention. In fact, they were probably invented by some stuffy American like Crawford in order to annoy sleep loving Germans like himself. It took the annoyed redhead a few minutes to remember why exactly he was awake at such an ungodly hour. After consciousness returned to his brain he remembered his purpose: watch Brad for signs of what Großmutter called affection, and if it happened to annoy the precog in the process, all the more fun. Schuldig didn't have much else to do, so humoring the old woman, and bothering Brad at the same time, would at least pass some time.

Schuldig wandered into the kitchen in a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and a pair of red boxers with little bleeding hearts on them. The boxers had been a gift from Farfarello for one holiday or another. The telepath slumped down in his seat leaning over his mug of coffee. He took a big whiff of the blessed caffeine before sipping the hot liquid.

Brad waited patiently while the bedraggled telepath returned to the world of the living. Some part of his brain noted Schuldig's lack of pants, but it was firmly squashed before the thought could fully process. It was bright and early in the morning. It was not late at night when he was tired with a drunken Schuldig, and there was absolutely no excuse to be thinking about legs. No man should have legs like that anyway. They were much too long and good for wrapping around things. He was not thinking about the other night, or how Schuldig's mussed hair would be even wilder if they had… No, he was not thinking about anything but the paper he should have opened by now.

“Plans today Schuldig?” Brad asked opening his morning paper.

“Huh?” Schuldig looked up from his coffee bleary-eyed.

“You are awake not only before noon, but before Nagi has made breakfast.”

“Oh, well can't a guy just wake up early now and then.”

Brad raised an eyebrow, and then went back to his coffee and paper. Schuldig winced at the stupid response. Lying and manipulation were supposed to be his strong points. He really wasn't any good before noon.

“Are you feeling well?” Brad asked.

“Huh?”

& nbsp; “It is probably a good thing our work tends to be done at night,” Brad sighed irritably as he put down the paper. “Are you having problems with your telepathy?”

“Why, did you see something?” Schuldig asked feigning disinterest. He took another sip of his coffee noticing it was to his taste.

“Only you setting your alarm clock, which I can't remember ever happening before. Did you get mixed up in someone else's mind? Even if it was just for a moment Schuldig, I want to know if you are having trouble. The last time you lost…”

“That's not fair Brad!” Schuldig snapped. “That was some time ago, and I had been sick.”

“I need you in working order Schuldig,” the precog answered coolly.

“My head is not going to blow up Herr Crawford,” Schuldig sneered. “Am I disrupting your perfect schedule? Is my irrational behavior disrupting your perfect future? Excuse me for being a telepath. We tend to do irrational things.”

“I don't want to argue with you Schuldig,” Brad said in appeasement.

“Apparently you don't want to do anything with me,” the telepath grumbled quietly.

“Do you cry God?!” a gruff voice bellowed from down the hall. Both men at the table were glad for the disturbance.

“Not a good day for Farfarello then?” asked Schuldig once more sipping his coffee.

“Do you weep for your desecrated temple?!”

“It's Sunday,” Brad replied picking up his mug.

“That explains it.”

“I'll send Nagi to restrain him at 11:36 before he makes a mess.”

“He hasn't gotten to kill anyone recently,” said Schuldig, “we can't keep him cooped up but for so long. Is Takatori going to need us to actually be assassins anytime soon? I'm getting tired of all this boring body guard shit myself.”

“We won't be personally killing anyone for awhile. I believe tomorrow evening would be a good time for you to take him out Schuldig.”

“He'd like to go out tonight,” Schuldig said staring in the direction of Farfarello's room.

“He is too volatile on Sundays. Make sure he finds a victim no one will miss. We are going to be in Tokyo for to long for high profile murders. He can kill priests next time we travel.”

“Ja.”

Brad moved to refill his cup, and offered a hand for Schuldig's empty mug. With both cups in hand, the precog strode to the counter beside Schuldig. As he had done previously that morning, Brad spooned three helpings of sugar into the mug and topped it off with cream. He returned Schuldig's orange mug, and took his seat once more.

“Schuldig,” Brad started, “Are you all right?” This time his voice lacked the irritation from before. The redhead looked up at the odd tone from the Schwarz leader, but as always the precog was unreadable.

“I'm fine, just wanted to know if the monotonous minds in this city are any more interesting in the morning,” Schuldig replied. Brad gave a last suspicious glance, before nodding in acceptance and went back to his paper. Schuldig pondered Brad's strange tone a moment more, and then returned his attention to blessed caffeine. Again his coffee was fixed perfectly to his taste.

End Chapter

I know this is kinda short after the long wait, but chapter eight is almost ready. *crosses fingers* Look for that soon. As always reviews are welcome and appreciated.

Oh and check out my new livejournal:

http://solaras.livejournal.com

If you are wondering what I'm up to, and what's going on with the story I will be ranting about it there. Everyone can leave comments and gang up on me about not updating there too. :P

Solaras