Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Neutral Territory ❯ An Afternoon at the Schwarz Penthouse ( Chapter 17 )

Title: Neutral Territory [part 17/?]

Author: Enigma

Written: begun October, 2001

Rating: R

Pairings: (Omi + Nagi) (Yohji + Ken) (Brad + Schu)

Category: Shonen ai/Yaoi Angst Friendship Romance Action Violence. AU-OOC. Giftfic.

Archive: fanfiction.net & mediaminer.org [author: "E-sama the Llama"] plus Wuffie.net [author: "Enigma"]

Warnings: shonen ai/yaoi, angst, masculine friendship in many forms, various levels of romance, action, coarse language, whiffs of citrus but nothing detailed, possibly graphic violence, bloodshed, tiny bits of humor, fluff, and sap; more warnings will be added as necessary. AU-OOC. Giftfic for Rubious.

Spoilers: Aya's sister's condition and a few other small things, nothing major.

Disclaimer: "Weiss Kreuz" is the property of Koyasu Takehito and Project Weiss. All original characters featured herein (including but not limited to: Glocksten, Charon, etc.) are © Enigma, 2003, and are not to be used without permission. This unauthorized work of fanfiction is intended for entertainment only; kindly do not sue me.

Notes: Omi's first trip to the public library results in an unexpected meeting when Nagi saves his life without being aware of the Weiss archer's identity. Can two lonely teens overcome the limits of their dark purpose in life to find friendship and possibly love in the midst of "neutral territory"?

//thoughts//

{{mental speech}}

*****

Thursday late afternoon. Brad's office and the living room of the Schwarz penthouse.

*****

Thursday afternoon at the Schwarz penthouse was far less jovial than it was at the Koneko, but that was perfectly normal.

After discovering Farfarello had developed a taste for yet another strange television show that he wanted nothing to do with, Schuldich had wandered off in search of Crawford, hoping to harass the man and create a bit of fun for himself at the same time. Standing in the open doorway of the precognitive's office, however, the German paused, puzzled by the American's somber expression.

The tall leader of Schwarz was hunched over his desk, elbows resting on top of a stack of important documents that he should have been working on, his lips resting against steepled index fingers, obviously lost in thought with his eyes closed as if in pain. The scene reminded Schuldich of the character Spock from the ancient television show "Star Trek" that Farfarello enjoyed watching in Russian since he claimed it was "closer to the original Klingon", whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

//He looks worried about something. Has he had another premonition that he can't make sense of? I know that always gets on his nerves. Maybe I can cheer him up by giving him grief.//

"Oh mighty lea~der, I'm bo~ored!!" Schuldich sing-songed merrily, something that affected Crawford like nails on a chalkboard under normal circumstances, yet it received not so much as a death glare of acknowledgement. He added to the annoyance factor by deliberately whining like a spoiled child, "Can I go play with some morons' heads and cause a traffic accident just for fun, Craw-daddy?"

There was no response whatsoever.

The German's verdant gaze flickered across the surface of his lover's desk seeking an explanation of the raven-haired man's strange withdrawal within its contents. There were the usual assorted household bills to be paid to keep their lives in order as well as a few documents their Estet commanders would be furious to know were left in full view. Nothing so far seemed worthy of Crawford's distracted state and a set of photos of an effeminate man with flowing, golden-brown hair and hazel eyes who Schuldich didn't recognize didn't change things either. There was something vaguely disturbing about one of them that included a heavyset Japanese man whose obsidian eyes bespoke an utter lack of conscience yet this still wasn't sufficient evidence for him to assume there wasn't something seriously amiss.

Becoming deeply concerned, the telepath took a substantial risk and broke the rules pertaining to their "bedroom relationship". In a gentle, hopefully supportive tone, he sent, {{Brad? Something the matter, babe?}}

Weary mahogany-hued eyes opened slowly as Crawford nodded, then turned to look at Schuldich, late afternoon sunlight glinting off of his wire-rimmed glasses as he replied, {{I'm worried about Nagi's health, Schu.}}

{{Oh?}} The redhead entered the room fully and stood gazing at his lover as he asked, {{Why? Did something happen to him?}}

Jet black hair shifted slightly as Crawford shook his head while explaining, {{When I went to check on him last night after we got in from that meeting, his face was flushed and he might've had a fever. I was going to make sure he checked his temperature this morning, but I didn't have a chance to. Would you mind keeping an eye on Farfarello for me so I can go see how he's doing now?}}

Schuldich's face contorted into his usual devil-may-care smirk, a stunning contradiction to the tenderness with which he replied, {{No problem, babe. If Nagikins isn't feeling good, I'll help as much as I can like always, you know that.}}

A warmth flowed over their connection that was the mental equivalent of a kiss as the American answered, {{Thank you, love. Let's hope that won't be necessary.}}

The intimate silent conversation was ending anyway, so neither man was too annoyed when their Irish teammate popped his head around the corner and commented confidently, "Now *this* room needs to be redecorated!" Gazing at the stark black and white interior that Crawford preferred which was indeed quite boring and way too late twentieth century to be fashionable, he added with manic certainty, "I think it would look much better painted purple and highlighted with green trim!"

Unable to stop himself, Schuldich turned and demanded, "What the *fuck* are you talking about, Farf?! That was random even for you!" He strode towards the silver-haired man with an intention of getting them both out of the way so Crawford could attend to Nagi.

"I'm watching 'Trading Spaces', Schuldich!" the sometime-psychopath grinned, a hint of clever mischief in his lone amber eye as they entered the living room where the television offered an advertisement for some decidedly feminine item neither man cared about. "Come see for yourself! You'll just *love* the handyman on there!" [1]

"Oh?" Moderate interest filled jade eyes as the German asked, "They've got a real hunk on there, huh? Wait, is this one of your tricks like when you convinced me that Emeril's 'Essence' was really that licorice powder and I put it on my steak?"

Farfarello frowned at him, then responded, "Idiot, that wasn't 'licorice powder', it was crushed anise and I liked it just fine! And, no, this isn't a trick! The guy on this show *is* delicious! He's got a portable band saw that I would *love* to have!" Gruesome images filled his mind as to the level of carnage he could create with such a thing and it brought the smile right back to lips scarred by too many intimate moments with his favorite blades. The taste of cold steel was so comforting at times.

Schuldich groaned, "Ugh! This is just part of your hardware fetish, isn't it, Farf? Damn it, I wish I'd never let you get hooked on Bob Villa!" Realizing his friend was not taking this as lightly as he'd thought, the German finally shook his head fondly and waved one hand towards the television saying, "Oh well. Never mind, Farfster. Show me this great new program you've found, all right?"

"Only if you promise not to steal the beetshake that I just whipped up," Farfarello replied. Changing his mind with mercurial speed, he retrieved the glass he'd placed near the couch and offered it to his friend saying, "But you can have a little taste if you want to."

"Um, don't you mean 'milkshake', Farf?" Schuldich asked in confusion, peering at the lovely pink beverage and assuming it would taste of strawberries as he prepared to take a sip.

The single golden eye rolled in annoyance as the nineteen year old answered, "Don't you think I know what I put in my own blender, Schu? Give me a little more credit than *that*!"

Full lips parted sensually at the rim of the glass, the German froze as he wondered why he'd nearly made such a serious error and then handed the glass back unsampled, saying, "On second thought, why don't you enjoy it yourself?"

The Irishman shrugged, "Okay, all the more for me! Oh, look! It's back on!" He turned his full attention towards the TLC-network program that featured people being allowed to totally trash the homes of overly trusting neighbors and was soon absorbed in the melodrama as it played out before him.

At times like these, Schuldich was delighted that Estet provided them with virtually unlimited global television access. The German telepath knew it was supposedly so that Schwarz could stay abreast of the news in foreign countries in case their unique talents were needed elsewhere, but he much preferred the amusement to be had by following the trashy American specialty stations.

Surprisingly, Farfarello had become addicted to the Food Network based in New York City and that was a major plus in and of itself since it usually kept him interested in something other than random bloodletting between assignments. It had also, unfortunately, been the inspiration for the frightening "beetshake".

The Irishman had been watching an eclectic show called "The Best of" one afternoon that had featured various US and Canadian juice bars and their industrial strength blenders. [2] The machinery alone caught Farfarello's attention, but when he watched an aging self-proclaimed "hippy-chick" shove an entire bunch of raw beets into one of them an idea had implanted itself in his mind and he'd tested it that afternoon. As one might suspect, the kitchen counters of the Schwarz penthouse were stained a lovely mauve at this point, but Schuldich didn't want to desert his post to check on them.

Eventually the German relaxed and ignored the odd-ball show, glad that he could help Crawford put his mind to rest regarding their unpredictable Irish comrade even as Schuldich tried not to worry over their delicate Japanese teammate's possible ill health.

*****

Thursday late afternoon. Nagi's bedroom.

*****

Nagi was sitting at his computer halfheartedly playing an online action/adventure game when Crawford's deep voice interrupted him from the open doorway, asking simply, "Did you ever check your temperature, Naoe?"

Startled deep blue eyes turned towards the imposing figure and Nagi shook his head slightly, "No, I forgot all about it, Crawford. I'll go get a thermometer if you'd like."

Normally, the diminutive telekinetic would've been suspicious of the leader of Schwarz for acting this way, but his thoughts were flitting around inside the fantasy floral shop his imagination had concocted to give him a place to imagine Omi working in. His distracted behavior was hidden by a sudden crashing noise from his computer speakers as a funeral dirge played loudly to signal the death of the character he'd been playing in the game.

As Nagi twisted his seat back towards the computer to put the forgotten game on hold, Crawford had walked into the room and approached him, remarking, "No need, let me see if it's even warranted before you bother." He placed a cool palm against Nagi's forehead briefly then stated flatly, "You're fine."

Crawford almost added an inquiry pertaining to the as yet unexplained vision about Nagi being agitated while uncharacteristically outside during broad daylight, but thought better of it and then simply walked away without further comment. He was discovering the hard way that granting the midnight-eyed youth the trust Nagi had asked for was more difficult than he'd ever imagined it might be.

Baffled by the fact that this was the second time he'd let the man touch him so casually, Nagi sat for awhile simply contemplating the strange situation.

//Since when does Crawford give a damn about my health anyway? He said we've got a job coming up this weekend that he apparently thinks I need to participate in, but that doesn't usually get him all touchy-feelly like this.//

Frowning as he suddenly realized that the sun had set and his room was now lit only by the light from his computer screen, Nagi flicked on the light above his workstation and then continued to contemplate the strange situation.

//I wonder if Brad's had a vision about something possibly happening to me and he's trying to see if it came true or not. Or maybe he's just trying to drive me nuts wondering what he's doing. If that's the case, he's succeeding too well!//

Huffing slightly, Nagi got ready to climb to his feet so he could go and confront the American when a soft chime caught his attention. He glanced at the screen and saw a flashing icon that indicated he had received an instant message and did he wish to reply. A hopeful smile crossed his lips as he indicated he would accept it and a window popped open that read:

Williamtell: Hey, X! Got a sec? (smile)

Grinning openly as he completely forgot his concerns about Crawford, Nagi hurried to sit back down and sent in reply:

ProfX: Good evening, Will! Yes, for you, I _always_ have a "sec"! (big grin)

Williamtell: (blushing) Really?!? You do?!? (blushing even more) I'm flattered!

ProfX: (frowning as if he's annoyed that you dare to question the all-powerful leader of the X-Men, then giggling since you aren't a member of the RPG) I'm only saying what I think, Will. What's going on? How was work?

Williamtell: (groaning since flowers weigh more than they look) Work was kinda tough today, actually. We got a bunch of autumn plants in that had to be moved around and watered and stuff. They look really nice now, though. Wish I could show you the display I made for them, I think you'd like it, but I know that I can't. (pouting)

ProfX: (whimpering apologetically) I'm so sorry, Will! You know I would like to see it if I could!

Williamtell: (feels stupid) I know, it just seems unfair. (changes subject) Anyway, I wanted to find out how your day went and stuff. I've only got a minute, Zorro -- you _know_ who I mean, right? (wink) -- called a minute ago and is on his way home with pizza and I'm starving!

ProfX: (winking in return) Oh, I've got a pretty good idea who you mean! Pizza, huh? Sounds good. I think it's just me and the microwave again tonight. The Yank was just in here and he didn't _say_ anything about him and the Jerry plus the Leprechaun going anywhere, but it seems likely.

Williamtell: (confused) Hold up! I caught the first and last references there (snickering at these) but how can "your" redhead be the one in the middle? "Jerry" who? Springer?

ProfX: (rolls eyes) Sorry, that's a reference from World War 2. The Germans were called "Jerry" by the allied forces, among worse names. (makes a face at stupid nicknames those same imbeciles used for Japanese forces then ignores them) Hence, you-know-who is "the Jerry", not "a Jerry". As for him being compared to Jerry Springer -- LOL!! Oh damn! That's funny, Will!!

Williamtell: (smirking and glad to make you laugh) Okay, that makes sense now. Bummer that you're not getting anything decent for dinner. Maybe you could order a pizza? (frowns suddenly) I'm sorry, but I gotta go! Pelé just yelled at me that Zorro's brought in the chow.

ProfX: (sad to see his friend go, but needs to know) "Pelé"? Which one's that?

Williamtell: (smirk) Ex-soccer player. (uncertain if you knew that about him and adds) The one with brown hair that likes to shred badguys.

ProfX: (nods) Okies! Old slice-n-dice himself, ne? (smirk)

Williamtell: (giggling insanely) That's the one! I'd better get up to the kitchen before I miss out on the pizza, though. Will you be around later? Maybe we can chat while I do my homework? (hopeful smile)

ProfX: (nodding enthusiastically) You bet! Like I said, I'm usually here all night. (waves goodbye) Hope to see you later, Will!

Williamtell: (waves back equally enthusiastically) So me too, X!! (vanishes)

The soft electronic approximation of a Buddhist prayer bell ringing sounded from the computer speakers indicating that Omi had closed the instant message session from his end. Nagi quickly closed the window to protect it from prying eyes then sighed happily and stretched his arms over his head blissfully unaware of the fact that he was being watched.

Schuldich hadn't seen much on the screen and wasn't even actively monitoring Nagi's surface thoughts, respecting his lover's previous request to stay out of the boy's mind as much as possible. However, he was more than perceptive enough to see the smile that literally glowed in the light of the computer monitor and that pleased the telepath deeply even if he never would've admitted that to the telekinetic. Schuldich rightly assumed that perhaps the usually lonely and aloof boy had finally found a kindred spirit who brought him some small measure of the happiness that the American had brought to himself.

After taking a stealthy step backwards, the German then re-approached the entrance to the boy's room calling out, "Oh, Nagikins, dear! Old four-eyes said to come see if you wanted to go out to dinner with him, me, and Farfster. Want to?"

Blinking in surprise, Nagi responded, "What's the special occasion? You guys don't usually let me tag along."

"How should I know?" Schuldich responded insouciantly. "We're going to that American place he likes over at the Park Hyatt. [3] If you want to come, grab your jacket and get a move on. We leave in five minutes."

In a flurry of red hair, the German was gone, pleased that he hadn't admitted they were going there specifically because they had great strawberry milkshakes *or* that their own kitchen smelled so strongly of beets that Crawford had proclaimed it inhuman to force Nagi to cook in it.

Baffled, but glad he wasn't stuck with yet another tediously bland microwaved dinner, Nagi went to his closet and pulled out dress pants and a button-down shirt, changing quickly thanks to the judicious use of his paranormal powers.

In Nagi's opinion, if Crawford was kind enough to invite him along, he'd wordlessly show some appreciation by putting on something nicer than the tedious gray school uniform he always wore without ever once saying he was glad to be included in the outing. After all, he was expected to be a sulky teenager and if he didn't play the part, the other members of Schwarz might get suspicious and want to find out why he was actually feeling happy for a change.

But it was too late for that. The cat, so to speak, was already out of the bag. It was only a matter of time until Schuldich did something with his knowledge, though, and what would occur because of it was anyone's guess at that point.

*****

To be continued.

Author's Notes:

[1] For those of you who know this quirky show, the handyman in question is--of course!--the wonderfully slashable Ty whose playful interactions with live-action bishounen designer Vern might inspire any number of smoldering pieces of fanfiction.

[2] The inspiration for the entire business with the "beetshake" was indeed an episode of "The Best of" that focused on trendy juice bars and all the weird things people made the thick concoctions from as well as the supplements added thereto. I was watching it with my kids and one of them pointed out that Farf would probably just *love* to get his hands on one of those powerful blenders and the rest is, as they say, history.

[3] This is a reference to the New York Grille at the Park Hyatt in Tokyo which several guidebooks claim has the best American food in Tokyo as well as a very fine bakery. I dare say Crawford would only want the best when he was hungry for a taste of home.