Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Of Kittens, Assassins, and Madmen Tied Up in String ❯ Chapter 1

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Warnings: Humor, yaoi (this is Weiss fan fiction. If you weren’t tolerant of yaoi, I doubt you’d be here anyway), squick that I didn’t realize was there until someone pointed it out, traumatized characters, and occasional silliness.

I am using these characters without permission, and only for entertainment. There’s no point in suing me. I barely have enough money for gas.

Also! This is my first completed fic ever, and if you enjoyed it even a little, I’m begging you to tell me! I have no self-confidence and it took me six months to gather the testicular fortitude to post this. Email: legatospet@yahoo.com



Of Kittens, Assassins, and Madmen Tied Up in String.
by, Liannabob


“Morning, Saint Farf!” Shuldig called out cheerfully as he entered the kitchen, drawing back just quickly enough to miss the knife thrown at him.
“Ah’ve toldja to stop callin’ me that!” Farfarello hissed angrily at him. Shuldig grinned, then paused, examining the steak knife stuck in the doorframe. How Farfie was eating cereal with it was beyond him, but as a show of peace he handed it back to the glowering madman before proceeding to the fridge.
Schuldig felt something tugging at his mind and he looked at Farfie.
“Wait a sec- how’d you get out of your room?”
A golden eye twinkled.
:: ‘e did’n see that’n comin.:: Farfarello sent, happily knifing up his Alphabits.
Schuldig took a moment to digest that, waking up enough to warily follow the weak mental tugging he’d felt.
:: Schuldig? Schuuuuuuuldiiiiiiig. Ach, mein brainen!:: This was followed by a somewhat hysterical, embarrassed, and breathless mental giggle.
Schuldig stared at Farfarello until a golden eye flicked up to meet wide blue ones. Farfie grinned, blood tinged milk seeping between his teeth as he sent Schuldig images.
The room was upside down and swaying slightly, and so was Crawford when he opened the door and came inside Farfarello’s range of sight.
“If I let you down, do you promise to behave? No more bleeding on the furniture?”
He nodded after a moment’s thought and Crawford loosened the straps to turn the bound man back upright and bring him down. Farfie wrapped his thighs around Brad’s neck and clamped down hard, not feeling the fist pounding on his leg. Crawford went limp and Farfie let him fall, not wanting to kill him. It took about five minutes to writhe his way out of the straight jacket after he dislocated his shoulder. Shrugging out of it with relish, he let it drop next to the unconscious precog. He took a running start and slammed his shoulder into the wall, hearing the joint crunch back into place. He stretched out stiff muscles, feeling the wave of relief without having felt the pain- Schuldig felt a momentary stab of jealousy- and proceeded to put the straight jacket on Crawford after stripping him of his suit coat.
He took the coat and folded it precisely, then took Crawford’s now precariously loose glasses and closed them, putting them on top. Farfie hefted Crawford up and strapped him into the dangling, buckled chains.
Schuldig started laughing. The image of Brad’s hair dangling stiffly (from their lightly gelled perfection) upside down was a sight to savor.
“Then what?”
Farfarello smiled, and Schuldig got the impression that if he’d had a tail, it’d be a blur.
Crawford was now restrained precisely as Farfarello had been; upside down in a padded cell. Blood rushing to his head was already making his cheeks flush. Farfie walked to the corner of the room and reclaimed his shirt, shoes, and knives, then walked out the reinforced door, locking it behind him.
Schuldig snickered.
“That’s a bad Farfie. He’s going to kill you you know.”
“Aye. Twas worthit though. ‘For all the hours I swayed in peace
I longed most for the sway to cease
For the gentle rocking drove me mad
It’s white, unchanging features had
Inspired my release.’”

“Farfie?”
“Aye?”
“What happened to your accent?”
The madman blinked at him.
“Ah dunno watcha mean, Schu.”
Schuldig decided it wasn’t worth the time to figure out if he did or not. He left Farfarello in the kitchen and went to fetch their Fearless Leader.
Schuldig probed Crawford’s mind as he unlocked the door.
:: Schuuuuuuuuuuuldiiiiiiiiiiiiig. *hysterical giggle*. ::
Man, he’s out of it.
Crawford’s face was completely red and Schuldig winced in sympathy pain. He wished he had a camera for a moment, but Crawford was unfortunately aware enough to know he was there.
“…Get me down from here.” Crawford’s voice was strained and, Schuldig couldn’t help to note, a little crazy sounding.
“Ja, mein Fuhrer.”
“…kill you…”
Schuldig grabbed the buckles on his legs keeping him upside down and released them both at once, sending Brad abruptly back upright. The man fainted from the blood rush.
Schuldig smacked his face lightly. Nothing. He finished pulling Crawford out of the restraint and unbuckled the straight jacket. Finding the temptation of proximity too great to resist, he mussed the precog’s hair into a brown, chaotic mess. Figuring the man would probably be conscious again soon enough and that he could damn well finish getting out of the jacket himself, Schuldig left, making sure to leave the door unlocked behind him.
That’s it. TV time.
Schuldig walked past the kitchen, idly noting that Nagi had joined Farfarello in consuming Alphabits. Schuldig wondered at that- Farfie could get pretty protective of his cereal. He must’ve still been in a good mood over this morning’s escape.
Schuldig plopped down on the couch, noting the new bloodstains that resulted in Farfarello’s lockup.
It looked sort of like an abstract bunny and Schuldig found himself hoping it was coincidence.
The TV was turned on to something Schuldig found vaguely interesting, but it wasn’t long before he was catnapping on the couch.

* * *

Nagi woke up with his face pressed into his keyboard for not the first time that week. He brushed a hand over his chin to make sure he hadn’t drooled into his computer and breathed a small sigh of relief when his hand came back dry. He rubbed his eyes and winced as his neck cracked when he sat up.
He keyed in his password to kill his screensaver and picked up his netsurfing where he left off. His body had other ideas, and Nagi could only ignore his swollen bladder and empty stomach for so long. The boy growled unhappily and slid out of his computer chair.
The bathroom was unoccupied and he locked the door behind him, not trusting his … coworkers? Flatmates? Buddies? Punishment? His fellow… Schwarz agents… not to barge in on him.
He peed and washed his face and hands, running fingers through his hair to see if it needed to be washed yet. Probably, but he’d worry about it after breakfast.
Farfarello was sitting at the table already, milk and cereal put out temptingly before him. Nagi grabbed a bowl.
“Can I have some?” He asked. Farfie didn’t look up from his cereal, but nodded. Nagi noticed that he was staring with a high degree of fascination at the way blood from his tongue made swirls in the letter-strewn milk. Nagi stared for a few seconds too, attracted to the morbid beauty of it before the smell of milk made his stomach growl at him again.
He sat across from Farfarello, having learned that Farfarello was not the type to gladly share his personal space. Rather than reaching for them, he made the milk and cereal come to him. And then a spoon, since he’d forgotten to grab one earlier and didn’t share Farfie’s fascination for eating Alphabits with a knife.
Breakfast was served.
Farfarello peeled up his eyepatch and squinted at his cereal, looking for the hidden messages God left.
“Farfie, your...!” Nagi spluttered, pointing at Farfarello’s perfectly intact, matching gold eyes.
“Aye?” Farfarello asked the boy in confusion.
“Yes!”
Farfie let the eyepatch snap back down into place and quirked an eyebrow at the young telekenetic. “Wat?”
“Nev- Nevermind.” Nagi said, staring at him. Farfie shrugged and continued eating his cereal.

* * *

Brad Crawford’s hand was moving to smooth down his hair prior to him becoming fully conscious. This is largely why full consciousness returned with a buckle to the face.
I’m going to kill him. Crawford thought viciously, shrugging out of the straight jacket with some difficulty. He fished around for visions of this act being done and wilted a little when all he came up with were mission details.
Right, maybe just a light stabbing then.
He put his glasses back on. Crawford noticed that his suit coat had been folded rather than just thrown someplace and it served to make him less furious. He put that on as well, then finished finger-combing his hair back into something akin to its normal order. He’d comb it out before he let anyone see him.
How Farfarello could remain upside down that long and not go mad was beyond him. Crawford’s mind caught up with that statement a moment later and was relieved when he didn’t hear Schuldig laughing. He preferred his lapses into stupidity to be private.
His suit coat was creased and his hair wasn’t perfect, so Crawford retreated to his room.
Once he was presentable (this state having involved changing outfits completely and a reapplication of gel), he stalked out of his room to track down the subject of his ire.
He got a vision of Farfarello sucking on Schuldig’s ear.
He turned around and went back to his office instead.

* * *

Nagi had wandered off to take a shower and Farfarello had finished drinking the last of his pink milk. He rubbed a finger around the rim of the bowl to catch up the last few tastes of blood and sucked his digit until he couldn’t catch the copper of it anymore.
Damn his fast healing.
He toyed with his knife, idly contemplating the pros and cons of giving himself a new scar. He was bored.
Soft little breathy noises caught his attention and he wandered out to the den. Schuldig was asleep on the couch and the television was turned on to Naked News. Schu was muttering something vaguely obscene under his breath about the weatherman’s pointer that Farfarello had to lean in close to catch.
Farfie knelt quietly in front of the man and drew a razor from his vest.
I wonder what you taste like.
He nicked Schuldig’s earlobe and leaned in for a lick. The redhead’s hand swatted at him and Schuldig blushed, moaning. Farfarello kept his knifes sharp enough that he’d have been surprised if the telepath had even felt the cut. Blood welled from the little scratch and this time, he succeeded in wrapping his lips around the man’s earlobe. One of Schuldig’s hands crept down to caress the front of his jeans.
You taste like…
“What the fuck!?” The earlobe was ripped out of his mouth as Schuldig jerked into a sitting position, his hand rising to clap against his wet ear. His fingers came away red and he glared at Farfie.
“Wat?” The madman asked, sitting on his heels, knife still in hand and white lips stained with splotches of blood.
“Why is my ear bleeding?”
“’Cause Ah cutit.”
“Why did you cut it?!”
Farfarello gave him an ‘are you stupid?’ look and licked his lips clean.
“B’cause Ah wanted ta know watcha tasted like.”
Schuldig took a moment to breathe, not wanting to snap at the madman. He’d done it before and regretted it.
“Farfie, you understand why I’m not happy about this?”
“Ya weren’t usin *all* yer blood!”
“That’s not the point!”
“Ah think it is! Yeh’ve got plenty ‘nuff ta share, an yer hoardin i’tall te yerself!”
Schuldig stared at him.
::Okay, look. How would you feel if I started drinking *your* blood.::
Farfarello leered at him.
::Yeh want a taste?:: The man sent with a coy look.
There were many things in life Schuldig had yet to know. Did vegetarians eat animal crackers? How do glow fish work? Why is Martha Stewart so god damn scary?
One of the things he did, however, know, was a flirtatious look when he saw one.
One of the things he did not *want* to know was what one would look like on Farfie.
“No!” He yelped, then felt bad at the crestfallen look the madman sent him and he desperately tried to snag hold of the original conversational thread. “But, if I did, I’d at least *ask* first, right?”
A look of dawning realization came upon the Irishman.
“Oooooooh. Ah see. Sorry, Schu.” He did look contrite and Schuldig found himself forgiving the man.
“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t do it again.” Farfie nodded his understanding.
“Can Ah have a taste?”
“NO!”

* * *

Schuldig’s asleep, he’s not going to know. Schuldig’s asleep, he’s not going to know. Nagi leant forward into the warm shower spray and let his hand trail down his chest to fist his growing erection. Masturbation made him paranoid. Well, more specifically, Schuldig made him paranoid about masturbation. He knew when he got… into it, his mental shields weren’t sufficient to keep the pervert out of his personal fantasies.
He heard a muffled ‘what the fuck?!’ from the living room in that damn German’s unmistakable voice. His hand stopped.
He could just barely catch Farfarello’s raised voice over the sound of the shower, and with a growl of disgust, he smacked the water dial over to cold. Dammit! It was unusual cruelty to ask a growing boy to live in the same house as a perverted telepath.
When I’m twenty and bat-shit crazy, they’ll have no one to blame but themselves! Nagi thought viciously, wincing at the cold.
‘No!’ came from the living room, and Nagi found himself wondering what Farfarello was doing now. He hoped the German had gotten bit. He’d noticed Farfie eyeing the redhead lately. He’d tried to ignore it, but mostly he’d just been thankful that hungry eye hadn’t been directed towards him
He knew from the grumbles he’d caught from Schuldig on the odd occasion that Farfarello’s mind was unusually shielded, so Nagi wondered if the telepath even knew about the madman’s odd attraction to him.
Nagi washed his hair out with the cold water as quickly as possible and stepped out of the shower. Maybe he’d sneak off and go to the ‘library’ to ‘study’ later.

* * *

Schuldig sat on the couch uncomfortably. Farfarello was sitting next to the TV, facing him. It made watching said TV damn awkward. After snapping at the Irishman over his refusal to share his blood, Farfarello had started… sulking? It was hard to tell. He didn’t really change his facial expression at all. Looking at him, he wasn’t sure if Farfarello was plotting, miserable, bored, or content.
He felt with his telepathy and was surprised when he actually got a taste of the madman’s mind. Normally, Farfarello’s shields were pretty resilient to his advances.
Schuldig flinched, and moved to turn off the TV. He was not dealing with this.
His eyes flicked back to Farfarello and he wasn’t surprised to find the man still staring at him. Schuldig gave the madman’s body a long, honest, and obvious perusal. Scars and eyepatch aside, Farfarello’s face was something he was used to and it didn’t frighten him the way it did strangers. Those full, pouty lips made him think… interesting thoughts. The collar wrapped around his throat brought sharp attention to the slope of his collarbones and shoulders, and the firm, lean muscles there. There wasn’t an ounce of extra fat on the man anywhere. Schuldig let his mind wander to what Farfarello looked like without the vest and pants. He’d seen it in bits and pieces when Farfarello needed wounds treated. Never whole though, and never the parts in question. Probably a scarred up mass of too white flesh.
He’d bedded worse.
Schuldig sent Farfarello back the image of the two of them fucking like bunnies (the same that Farfarello had shown him) with a quirk of his eyebrow.
::Your cell or mine?::
::Yours is more comfortable.::
::Mine it is then.::

* * *

Crawford was contemplating blinding himself, but realized it would probably only make the visions stronger. The repercussions of Schuldig and Farfarello having… the repercussions of Schuldig and Farfarello engaging in… actions were probably going to be insignificant in the long run. Crawford just wished his mind didn’t let him See what was happening.
Dear God Schuldig was flexible- and that whole not feeling pain thing-
Crawford rubbed his eyes, willing the image to go away. He endeavored to absorb himself in his computer and managed it for long enough to avoid any more immediate flashes of the ongoing of the house. Nagi was brilliant in rewiring money transactions, but Crawford was better at sorting the accounts. In their own quiet, anal retentive and antisocial ways, they worked well together.
He heard the front door open and close and it brought him out of his nerdvanic trance. He wondered which of his teammates had left, but decided it wasn’t important enough to investigate. No visions of disaster plagued him so chances were it wasn’t worth his time bothering to figure out what whoever it was was up to.

* * *

Nagi was bored. It didn’t happen often, but he wanted a break from his room. He was vaguely hot and bothered from the sounds coming from Schuldig’s room but still not courageous enough to act on it where the telepath would eavesdrop. After half an hour, when it sounded like they were starting again, Nagi decided it was time to get out of the house for a bit.
Crawford wouldn’t be happy about his leaving without saying anything, but they didn’t have anything pressing to do tonight and if there was anything important happening, Crawford would have told him already.
His legs were actually a bit sore from so long sitting at the computer and he ended up walking longer than he’d anticipated. He was close enough to the park that he veered in its direction, wanting to stop and smell the proverbial roses.
It was a beautiful day but the park wasn’t crowded yet, being early on a weekday. Some kids were playing soccer further down the field, and mothers were out with baby carriages near him on the paved path. Very scenic.
Nagi started craving his computer.
He found his attention being drawn to the kids playing soccer, eagerly lapping up the advice an older kid was dolling out. He was showing them how to juggle with their knees.
Nagi blinked. Was that? It was! He smirked.

* * *

That god damn noise had to stop before he snapped, and against the better interests of his blanket-bundled body, Omi snaked out a hand to smack at his alarm. It took a few tries but he got the results he wanted. He lapsed back into unconsciousness and growled in disgust when he had to repeat the action a few minutes later.
He rolled over and stared up at his stucco ceiling. Fatigue sucked at his awareness and it took Omi a long moment to convince himself that being awake was what he really wanted.
It wasn’t. He reset the clock to go off in another hour and rolled over again.

* * *

That god damn noise had to stop before- Omi snapped. He kicked the blankets off and slammed a fist down on the snooze button. His clock gave a metallic squeak of pain and fell silent. He switched the alarm to ‘off’ and just to be sure, he unplugged it. The last little flicker of digital life had told him it was still before 11 am.
Yoji and Aya would be down working the shop. Ken would be in the park now, playing with a soccer ball. Omi should have been at school but he’d been getting over a nasty little virus that had been running through his class. He’d slept through most of the weekend and last night, he’d been ill enough that Aya had agreed to call him in sick today. Bedtime had happened for him around 8. Yoji teased him for it, but Omi knew he was worried and let it go with a vague kick that the older man easily dodged. He was awake now because it was time to take his medicine.
His head hurt but he didn’t feel nauseas anymore. It was a plus. He crawled out of bed and shuffled down to the bathroom. He was supposed to take his pills with food and he knew that if he’d left them on his bedstand, he’d have just swallowed them and gone back to sleep.
He took a quick shower because he was starting to feel gross. It woke him up significantly and made him feel awake enough to bother making breakfast. He popped open the bottle of his pills and palmed two, taking them downstairs with him.
Coffee was still bubbling on the pot- there was about enough left for two cups, and that settled it for the blond. If there had only been enough for one, and had he taken it, he’d never hear the end of it from Yoji. It wasn’t like Omi drank coffee regularly so they never planned for him taking some.
He grabbed a quick breakfast- scrambled eggs- and even indulged himself by leaving the dishes in the sink for someone else to worry about.
He swallowed his pills and looked around the kitchen, wondering what he should be doing. He didn’t have any tests to study for, or missions to research. He wasn’t really tired anymore and he actually felt good enough for school.
He glanced in the direction of the shop and hastily scribbled down a note on a napkin in case anyone should wonder where he was.
School was something he believed to be very important for his life… but not right now.

* * *

“It’s a matter,” Ken said his audience, “Of balance.” The ball bounced off his left knee to his right and he moved with the easy grace of practice. “If you know what you’re doing,” the ball switched back to his left, “You can make a soccer ball do just about anything.”
The ball rolled up his thigh and started rubbing and the junction of his legs. Ken yelped in shock and grabbed the ball, pulling it away from his body. The kids- two boys who were skipping high school- stared at him with wide eyes. He blushed in mortification.
“Can you teach me how to make it do that?” The older of the two said with a smirk.
The ball wiggled in his hands like an eager puppy. Ken grabbed it tighter, staring at it in horror.
“This guy’s fucking nuts. Let’s go, ‘Taka.” The older boy gave him a lingering weird look and steered the younger one away from him.
“Wait! I’m not a pervert! I’m not-!” The ball surged in his hands and Ken fell back, wrestling with it on the ground. The kids took off at a run.
The ball bucked at him, nuzzling, for lack of a better word, into his neck. Ken wrenched it off and flung it away. The ball landed a few yards away from him and lay still. Ken got off the ground, staring at it warily. It didn’t move and after a few moments, Ken charged it and kicked it as hard as he could. He smiled with some satisfaction as the ball arched away from him. The ball started its descent, but rather than just heading down, it started heading back towards Ken. Ken stared, then took off at a sprint in the other direction.
He dimly registered the sound of two kids laughing at him.

* * *

The park was mostly empty- some women with baby carriages and a few people out walking their dogs, but it wasn’t hard to spot his soccer geek teammate- why wasn’t he surprised to find him here? The park was a beautiful little thing- the paths were lined with trees and benches and there were simple but elegant flowerbeds strewn throughout.
There was a boy about his age sitting on one of the benches close to the soccer players, and as Omi was heading in that direction anyway and was in the mood for some company, he made his way over.
He stopped.
Was that?
The boy was watching the soccer players and Omi caught the sudden grin that spread across his face. Omi glanced back to the field. Ken was juggling a soccer ball with his knees, demonstrating for a pair of boys.
The ball rolled up Ken’s thigh and started humping him. Omi choked. The smile on Nagi’s face grew and Omi watched Ken start wrestling with the ball while the two attentive soccer students ran away from the crazy man.
Ken started wrestling the ball to the ground, and finally got an upper hand- mostly because Nagi was struggling not to laugh- and threw it away from him.
Omi burst out laughing at the look on Ken’s face, and Nagi’s head whipped around, his eyes wide. Omi ignored him, sinking to his knees and clutching his stomach as laughter bubbled up in him. Nagi smiled back, chuckling in his own right. Ken, meanwhile, kicked the ball downfield, and Nagi grabbed it in a showy move and sent it back towards him. Ken took off running, and the younger assassins both gave in to full out laughter. The ball and Ken disappeared down the walking path and Omi boldly walked over to sit down next to the Schwarz telekinetic.
“Hi.” Omi gave the other boy a little bow.
Nagi eyed him oddly, mirth fading as he wondered what exactly he was supposed to do in this situation. He returned the bow, eyes not leaving Omi’s in case his enemy tried something.
Omi seemed to sense it and raised his empty hands.
“I’m not here to fight.” He paused. “Are you going to attack me?”
Nagi shook his head, and feeling he should say something, added “no.”
Omi nodded and slouched more against the bench.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Nagi repeated, knowing the other boy had said it before, but knowing it felt different this time.
“I’m Omi, by the way. Omi Tsukiyono.”
“Nagi Naoe.”
“So, should I fear the sudden appearance of your teammates, or did you wander off like me?”
“Something like that,” Nagi muttered.
Omi perked. “Should I ask?”
Nagi shook his head, but he was smiling.
“They- my, um, teammates- they were…being loud.”
Omi cocked his head.
“They were being loud?”
“In bed.”
Omi huffed out his breath.
“Oh. I can sympathize. Yoji- he’s the blond, the one with the wire?- he has this obsession with sex. Doesn’t matter with who, but nearly every night it’s someone. He’s started hitting on Aya- katana- and it’s been… hmmm… interesting to watch the innuendos go over his head.”
“Schuldig does the same thing with Crawford. I don’t know about your Aya, but I know Crawford isn’t as innocent as he’s pretending. I’m surprised he hasn’t shot him yet.”
The boys were both turned towards each other now, getting caught up in the conversation.
They talked for more than an hour with an ease that they wouldn’t have expected. They had a great deal in common, and conversation came easily on Omi’s part and welcomed on Nagi’s. They talked about what it was like to be the youngest. To be the computer geek. To be treated like a kid by their less mature teammates.
Eventually, Omi felt himself tiring out since he wasn’t completely over the virus yet. He wanted to stay and talk- watching Nagi open up was a visible process and he enjoyed every second of it- but he was starting to feel dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Nagi asked, noticing that Omi’s eyes were getting a bit glossy.
Omi shook his head with a rueful smile and yawned.
“Nope. I’m sorry, I think I need to get back home now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been getting over a bug. I thought I was over it, but,” He shrugged, “I guess not quite.” Nagi frowned, looking a bit disappointed.
“I can come back in a few days if, you know, you want to meet again.”
Nagi nodded solemnly, and Omi wondered how often the telekentic socialized. He didn’t think nearly often enough. He’d have to fix that.
Omi stood up with a wobble and had to grab the bench’s high back to keep on his feet. Nagi stabilized him with little more than the thought, causing Omi to blink wide blue eyes at him.
“I’ll follow you home. You know, make sure you… um, get there alright.”
Omi beamed at him, then wilted.
“But I… can’t tell you where I live.”
Nagi leveled a stare at him that lasted a long few seconds.
“Alright then. I’ll just drop you off at the Kitten’s House flower shop. Five blocks that way, right?”
Omi blanched and Nagi nodded, giving a little telekenitic prod to get the blond in motion. Omi yelped indignantly but started walking. Nagi kept a discrete but close distance, using his power to make sure Omi’s dizziness didn’t affect his progress home.
“Isn’t that Ken’s soccer ball?” Omi said, eyeing the object where it sat almost smugly off the side of the path.
“Should be, yeah. I stopped chasing him with it after he got out of my line of sight.” Nagi wafted it up towards them and Omi snagged it, tucking it under his arm.
Omi yawned again, then sidled closer to Nagi and draped his unoccupied arm around his shoulders.
Nagi blushed, then returned Omi’s shy little smile.
And, naturally, they were barely out of the park when trouble found them.

* * *

Aya bent over the counter to grab some ribbons and was casually groped.
“Stop that!” Aya snapped, wondering where the hell the man had materialized from. He knew the man was an assassin. He’d seen him in action, in fact. But in no situation did he seem to exert as much focused stealth as he did when sneaking up on Aya’s ass.
“What?” Yoji blinked innocently at him.
Yoji, in his youth, had had dry ice described to him as something that was so cold, it burned. At the time, the concept had been beyond his imagination. The glare Aya gave him made the memory surface with alarming clarity.
Yoji backed up a step.
“I. Am not. Gay.” Aya growled at him.
“Neither am I.”
“You’ve been pawing me for weeks!”
“You have a nice ass!”
“I’m not gay!”
Yoji stopped what he was going to say, and leant back against the wall, looking at Aya speculatively.
“What makes you think you’re not?
Aya seethed.
“Men don’t turn me on.”
Yoji nodded.
“Do you masturbate?”
“What?” Aya yelped, frantically looking around the shop to make sure no one had walked in to hear this.
“Masturbation. You know what it is, yes?”
“Yes.” Aya gritted out.
“Do you do it?”
“I am not having this conversation.”
“Christ you’re repressed.”
“Yes, Yoji, I masturbate! Will you leave me alone now?!”
Yoji stared at him in mock shock.
“You let a man jerk you off?”
Aya stormed out of the shop. If he had to spend one more second with the blond, he was going to kill him.
He’d gone in the back to the kitchen. He read he note Omi left on the table about going to the park and frowned, knowing that Omi shouldn’t have been going outside while he was still sick. He’d get something to drink -wasn’t there still some juice?-and then go fetch his teammate. He was in the mood to go for a walk, and having a target to vent some frustration sounded mightily pleasing. Not that he could really yell at Omi, but chastising him a bit was fair game.
Aya had just opened the fridge door when Ken came panting in at a full sprint, frantically closing and locking the door behind him. Aya was alert instantly.
“What’s going on?” He demanded, grabbing a kitchen knife and facing the door, waiting for an attack.
“My soccer ball’s possessed!”
Aya’s stance faltered. He couldn’t have heard that right.
“Your what?”
“My soccer ball! It’s chasing me! Aya, make it stop!”
Aya stared at his teammate for a long second, taking in the utterly terrified, panting visage the brown-haired boy presented. He shouldered Ken aside and unlocked and opened the door, ignoring Ken’s squeak of protest.
There was nothing there.
Aya took a deep breath. He was going back to bed. He’d deal with this later. With a katana.
Ken peeked around him to stare at the nothing that sat on their doorstep.
“I must have lost it.”
“Yes, Ken. I think that’s a viable explanation.”
Ken nodded, not really listening to Aya. Aya rolled his eyes and closed the door.
Ken took this as an introduction to tell his story.
“I was out practicing with my kids in the park, right? Just doing my thing. My ball- my soccer ball, you know, the white and-”
“Ken I know which damn ball you’re talking about.”
“Right and then it started… acting weird! I tackled it, then kicked it, and it came back after me so I started running I ended up going in the wrong direction and it took me a while to find the house and now I’m here and hey, where’s Omi?”
“Sick.”
Ken nodded again and walked around Aya, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of juice. He uncapped it and drank straight from it, taking long swallows until he’d emptied the bottle.
Aya’s left eyelid twitched. His hand went up to strangle Ken but the boy turned around and he aborted the move by smoothing down his hair instead.
“I’m going to go take a shower. Hey, aren’t you supposed to be helping Yoji in the shop?”
“We’re light, so I’m taking a break. Take your shower then go help him. I’m going for a walk.”
Ken nodded, already heading upstairs.
Aya stared after him for a moment, wondering if it would be worth dealing with all the grief he’d get for it later if he just gave in and killed something. Probably not.
He left the house and started heading for the park.
People gave him odd looks, which he was used to for his hair, and today it chafed even more than usual since they seemed to be parting to avoid him. Aya realized he was glaring and tried to subdue it to a scowl.
A girl and her mother crossed the street rather than walk past him.
Aya started counting to ten. In English. Then in Japanese. Then alternating every other number. A blond head down the street caught his attention. Omi.
Omi, draping a familiar arm over another boy’s shoulder.
How many of his teammates were gay?!
Aya took in the school outfit, the smooth brown hair, the- fuck.
God damn it.
Aya scanned the sidewalks, wondering if any other Schwarz were here. He didn’t see any of them- that didn’t mean anything though.
Aya noticed the soccer ball tucked under Omi’s arm and his suspicions upped a notch.
Omi and Nagi didn’t seem to have seen him yet. In fact, Omi was chuckling as though the telekinetic had just told a joke. A small pleased smile graced the telekinetic’s face.
Aya stood still, waiting for them to spot him.
It was clear the exact moment that they had.

* * *

“Well, maybe he just likes the eyepatch!” Omi snickered
Nagi nodded.
“That’s the best guess I’ve got.”
“Wow. I thought it was bad having to deal with Yoji’s cigarettes all the time.”
“Don’t get me started. I think he and Schuldig might actually have a real competition going on as to which will die of lung cancer first.”
Omi chuckled. He was about to reply when he happened to look up and spotted a very, very displeased Aya. He nearly tripped over his own feet coming to a halt. Nagi followed his gaze and swallowed uneasily.
With a sense of the dramatic Omi knew better than to accuse his teammate of, Aya purposefully closed the distance between them.
Omi laughed nervously.
“Eh heh heh, Aya-kun! What are- um, what are you doing…out?”
“Oh, you know. Lovely day. Thought it’d be a superb opportunity to go for a stroll. Of course, there’s also the fact that a sick teammate of mine got it in his fool head to do the same, and as much as I’d love to leave his virus-riddled body in the middle of a soccer field, I’m not really keen on him going through a relapse,” Aya said blithely, eyes icy purple chips.
Omi courageously tried to salvage this.
“Aya, this is Nagi. Nagi, Aya.”
“We’ve met.” Aya snapped. Nagi flinched despite himself. Christ that man could be scary. Nagi weighed the pros and cons of using his power to push the man away from them, but the look Aya gave him told him that the man had anticipated his line of thought, and he would regret it if he followed through.
Nagi wondered what he if he should do something now when Omi transformed.
It was subtle, but powerful.
Wide blue eyes appeared wider, and tear-shimmered. Omi’s lower lip pouted and his entire demeanor shifted to what Nagi could only describe as ‘abused kitten.’
Aya looked like someone had kicked him. Hard.
“S-Stop that! Dammit, Omi that’s not fair at all!”
Omi sniffed.
Aya frantically turned his attention to Nagi, avoiding eye contact with Omi.
“What are your intentions?”
“He was kind of dizzy so I was walking him back.” Nagi said quietly, adding, “I’m not really in the mood to fight.”
Aya looked back at Omi. “Me neither.” He wilted. “I will take him from here.”
Nagi nodded and shrugged out from under Omi’s arm. Omi grabbed Aya’s hand like a five-year old before the swordsman could pull out of range.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Omi said to the other boy, nodding at him since his hands were full with Aya and a soccer ball, respectively.
“What! Absolutely not!”
Omi winked at Nagi and turned Aya back towards the shop, already laying his charm on thick.
Nagi had to admit that he didn’t know Omi all that well, but suspected he’d be seeing the boy again soon.

* * *

Schuldig stretched, feeling deliciously post-coital. His jaw was a little sore and he could feel the scratches on his back protesting his movement, but the satisfaction of a good fuck went beyond such petty disturbances.
Farfarello watched him light another cigarette, wondering if the man had any intention of getting out of bed before tomorrow. Everything about his demeanor implied otherwise.
Well, there was nothing wrong with lounging around. The bed was a comfortable change from his straight-jacket swing anyway. He stretched too, turning his face into Schuldig’s neck, enjoying the press of his check against the sweat-damp skin. He felt Schuldig’s arm slide over him to drape around his ribs, pulling him into the embrace.
Schuldig tensed suddenly. Farfarello glanced up, seeing his lover’s scowl of disapproval. His blue eyes narrowed challengingly, then widened in disbelief.
The Hallelujah Chorus suddenly came blaring through the walls. Farfarello jumped out of bed, heart hammering, and grabbed a knife before streaking butt-naked into the living room.
Crawford turned the stereo off via remote.
“I figured that’d get you two up.”
Farfarello glared at him.
“Yeh could’ve just asked!”
“I *did*.”
Schuldig, wrapped in a sheet, came storming out of his bedroom, looking like an angry cat.
“Good. Now that you’re both paying attention, I thought you might like to know that our young telekinetic is going to be in the presence of two Weiss assassins in,” Crawford glanced at his watch, “now.”
Schuldig glared for a second.
“G- um, oh dammit, he’ll be fine.”
“True. Still, I’d appreciate it if you’d investigate the mental ramifications this… encounter has on him.”
“But Crawford, I was going to-”
“I know and that’s not a compelling argument for one, and you’ve already done that twice for two.”
Farfarello smirked, twirling the knife in his fingers. Schuldig pouted, but acknowledged the defeat.
“C’mon. Clothes, Farfie?”
The madman shrugged.
Crawford glanced down at Farfarello’s…hmm…nudity, then looked back up abruptly.
“You even cut-” The precog broke off with a blush.
Farfarello glanced down at himself, then back up at Crawford, cocking his head.
“Wat makes yeh think Ah’m not Jewish?”
Crawford’s lips went slack while he tried to puzzle out how exactly to put his answer to that, and was saved by Schuldig looping an arm through Farfarello’s and forcibly turning him back to the room.

* * *

“Alright, there he is.” Schuldig muttered, walking down the street with his eyes closed, feeling for his teammate. A moment passed and the telepath burst out laughing.
“Wat?”
“Naggles has a crush!”
“On one of the Weiss kitties?”
Schuldig snorted in pure amusement.
“Yup. The cute chibi blond. Ah ha. Oh man, that’s great. Well, if that’s what Crawford wanted to know, more power to him. Oi, Farf, I’m going to go find our kittens- keep your eye on Nagi.”
“At’s not funny, Schu.”
“Deal with it.” The German winked at him and skipped ahead in the crowd, practically humming in his amusement.
Farfarello stared after him, then started scanning the street for Nagi. The boy was easily spotted, and Farfarello could tell from where he was standing that a vacant grin was plastered on Nagi’s normally stoic face. Farfarello tsked at the way the telekinetic ignored the people around him.
He slipped into the crowd with practiced ease, falling behind a group of passing school girls in such a way that they were unaware of him. Once Nagi walked past him, he turned around to follow behind him. Farfarello made a game of it, seeing how close he could get to Nagi’s body before he’d be noticed.
He remained unrealized behind the boy for half a block, before an elderly woman’s gasp alerted Nagi that there was something behind him. Nagi started to turn around when Farfarello let his hovering hands fall on Nagi’s shoulders.
Nagi shrieked in a very unmanly fashion and jumped.
Farfarello felt invisible hands grab him for a moment, then Nagi let out an explosive breath and glared at him. Farfarello could see his pulse hammering in his throat.
“Don’t DO that!”
Farfie smirked unrepentantly.
“S’watchu get fer wanderin’ ‘round so unawares.”
“How long have you been following me?” Nagi asked, suspicious and trying to hide it.
Farfarello blew a kiss at him, then walked past him heading back towards their apartment.
Nagi wilted and followed the madman, already knowing damn well Schuldig was going to make the most of his discomfort.

* * *

Here, Kitty kitty kitty. Schuldig liked this game. He was so close to Aya right now that he could smell the man. He rather liked the way Aya smelled.
::Gods! I cannot believe I’m giving in to him! This is such a stupid fucking idea!::
Oh, the kitty was mad about something! Schuldig dove in and nearly gave himself away laughing. It seemed Omi had persuaded Aya to allow him to continue meeting Nagi. Wow. Just fucking wow.
::Yes! Yes! Yes! I wonder if he liked me? Oh, I hope I’m not still contagious. I hope I didn’t make him sick. Oh shit, I hope I didn’t sound like a total moron. *snicker* Oh man! I though Yoji was bad. Schuldig and Farfarello? Makes me thankful for what I’ve got.::
“Oi!” Schuldig protested loudly at that, sending both assassins spinning around. Schuldig stopped, wondering if he could walk this one off. Probably not. Right then. Roll with it.
“Either of you got a light?” They weren’t buying it.
“Didn’t think so.”
::Kill him kill him, got to kill him, why the fuck did I leave my sword at home?!::
::Damnit. Did Nagi send him? I really liked him…::
“Okay, fuck. Dealing with you first, even if you did have your sword, you’re not going to kill me in public. As for you, no, Nagi didn’t send me. Fearless Leader did. Oh, and also, you’d better hope you didn’t make him sick, because I will give you *such* a God damn headache if you did. And Red, dear God, you have got to take some happy pills or something. Other than that-” Schuldig was suddenly right next to Omi’s ear. He whispered his advice and backed away quickly, savoring the kitten’s blush and Aya’s angry glare.
He winked, then started strolling back the way he had come, daring either of them to go after him. Neither did. He wasn’t surprised.

* * *
“What did he say?” Aya demanded, reluctantly letting Schuldig walk away. Happy pills? Aya growled. Omi stared up at him with wide, shocked eyes, a blush still painting his pale cheeks from whatever tidbit the telepath had dropped in his ear.
Omi shook his head at Aya. What Schuldig had actually said had regarded the sensitivity of Nagi’s neck, particularly when met with a tongue. Omi didn’t feel Aya needed to know that.
Aya huffed in a quiet, aloof way and started walking back to the shop. Omi obediently followed, toying with the soccer ball in his hands in a vaguely nervous manner.
Their home came in sight quickly, and they walked in through the shop entrance. Yoji was resting on his elbows at the counter, flirting up a storm with a woman at least twice his age. He looked up as Aya and Omi came through the door. Yoji took a breath to say something to them.
“NO! Just no! No! In fact, absolutely not! How about never? Is never good for you!?” Aya snapped, startling all three of the other people of the room. Yoji broke first, laughing like someone had drugged him. Aya hissed something unflattering about the blonde’s parentage and sexuality under his breath, and steered Omi into their living quarters, leaving a laughing Yoji and a thoroughly confused patron behind.
They walked through the kitchen. Aya stopped like a battery-dead toy and stared at the empty juice bottle on the counter. Omi fiddled with the ball in his hands again.
“I should probably give this back to Ken.”
Aya’s eyes flickered to the object in question. Omi swallowed uneasily as Aya… Omi guessed it technically should be called ‘smiled.’ Aya cocked his head, listening to the shower running above them.
“You get in bed, Omi. Don’t worry. I’ll give it to him.” Omi felt he should feel guilty about beating a hasty retreat. After all, Aya was his teammate and friend. There was nothing to fear.
He wasn’t convinced, and pulled his covers up to his neck, staring at his locked door and wondering what the redhead was going to do.

* * *

Ken shut off the water, totally relaxed and thoroughly pruned. He wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed his dirty clothes from the bathroom floor, knowing full well that leaving them there was an open invitation to having Omi fuss at him.
He passed Aya in the hall and nodded a greeting. Aya nodded back, barely looking at him. Ken shrugged and went into his room.
His covers looked weird, like there was a stack of pillows under them or something. He didn’t have that many pillows.
Ken pulled the covers off.
“AHHHHHHHHH!”
* * *


Aya collapsed against the wall, laughing so hard his knees folded and tears poured down his face.

* * *

Omi heard Ken scream in mortal terror and Aya laughing like he’d just escaped from an asylum. He pulled the covers over his head.

* * *


Nagi followed Farfarello up to their apartment. Schuldig had caught up with them right as they were getting into the elevator, making what had before been a quiet trip spiked with the occasional self-pleased chortle. Nagi didn’t know what Schuldig had done but he feared the worst.
“Oh, don’t be that way Naggles. I didn’t hurt the kitties. I’m just… how to put this… very proud of one of them right now.”
Well that was fucking cryptic. Nagi scowled at him, but Schuldig only smirked, pressing his smiling lips into Farfarello’s neck. Farfarello lifted an eyebrow, still staring straight ahead but letting his lips twist in pleasure.
Nagi made a gagging noise and got three miffed eyes turned his way in reaction. Schuldig spiked an image of Omi frenching a llama into the boy’s mind.
Nagi gagged.
The elevator opened and Nagi followed them out, dreading what Crawford was going to say about his dallying with the enemy but pleased for the distraction. Damn Schuldig and his sick, sick mind!
::You love it and you know it.::
Nagi stuck his tongue out at them, causing Farfarello to either blink or wink at him, depending on your perception.
Crawford was waiting for them when they opened the door. Nagi wasn’t surprised.

* * *

Brad looked up as his three teammates shuffled into the apartment. Schuldig and Farfarello looked pleased with themselves and Nagi looked like he was expecting to be yelled at.
::So?:: Crawford sent to Schuldig.
::Puppy love. Well, kitty love, technically. Head over heels.::
Crawford gave a barely perceptible nod, then turned firm eyes on Nagi.
Schuldig pulled up a chair in eager anticipation. Farfarello shrugged and sat down near him, watching Schuldig watching Nagi.
“Have fun?” Crawford asked the youngest member of Schwarz. Nagi nodded, a blank, stoic look on his face.
“Listen, Nagi,” Crawford began, a speech prepared in his mind about how a serious relationship with the enemy was detrimental to their group. It was right on the tip of his tongue. And then Nagi… transformed.
It was subtle, but powerful.
Wide blue eyes appeared wider, and tear-shimmered. Nagi’s lower lip pouted and his entire demeanor shifted to what Brad could only describe as ‘abused kitten.’
Crawford felt like someone had kicked him. Hard.
“I…I… Just don’t let it affect your work, okay?”
Nagi sniffed, and nodded.
“Was there anything else?” Nagi asked, his voice soft and submissive.
Crawford crumbled.
“No.”
Nagi nodded and retreated to his room, closing the door behind him.
Behind that door, Nagi grinned like a madman.

* * *

“What just happened?” Crawford asked, looking at Schuldig. The redhead was shaking in silent mirth. Farfarello stabbed him with stiff fingers to his hip when he showed no signs of stopping. Schuldig gasped in air, rubbing his abused body and shifting away from Farfie.
“Our little telekinetic is learning. Isn’t that adorable? Aww, you’re letting him keep the kitten. That’s so-”
“Don’t say it.”
“But you must admit-”
“No I don’t.”
“You’re a total-”
“No I’m not.”
“Softie.”
Crawford glared indignantly, pushing his glasses up and scowling at the both of them. Farfarello’s eye flicked from one to the other as the conversation bounced back and forth like a ball at a tennis match.
“I’m going to murder you in your sleep Schuldig.”
“Sure you are.”
“I’m not even joking this time. I’ve foreseen it.”
“You’re full of shit, Fearless Leader.”
“Would you rather be shot in the head or the chest?”
“I’ve always wanted a third eye. Make it a head shot. Oh, and I want an open casket.”
“You’re assuming I’m going to bother giving you a funeral.”
“You know you will. You love me too much.”
“I love you enough to give you a funeral after I kill you?”
Schuldig paused, mouth open.
“I win.” Crawford said smugly.
Farfarello stood, realizing this round was over and having more immediate diversions in mind.
Crawford picked his cup off the coffee table and wandered back into the kitchen in search of a refill.
“You’re going to dislocate his hip if you try that, you know.” Crawford said.
Farfarello stopped, then nodded his acknowledgement, hauling Schuldig towards their bedroom.
“Danke, mein Fuhrer!” Schuldig tossed out just before their door closed.
Crawford sighed, already missing the quiet.

* * *

Schuldig stretched, rubbing his whole body against Farfarello’s in the process.
“Haven’t yeh had enough?” Farfarello asked bemusedly. Schuldig nipped his ear in response.
Farfarello grinned at the top of Schuldig’s head as the telepath began biting and licking his way down Farfarello’s chest.
“Schu? Don’ suppose yeh’d untie me?”
Schuldig shook his head playfully, letting his long hair sweep across Farfie’s stomach, causing the muscles to bunch in reaction.
The Irishman sighed, not altogether displeased by the progression of events, and tugged at his bound wrists and ankles. One of Schuldig’s hands snaked up and flicked with wicked speed and admirable accuracy, considering his eyes were elsewhere, one of Farfie’s nipples.
Farfarello took the hint and stopped trying to escape his restraints.
It was several minutes after that before he even remembered he was in restraints.
“Ah think this could become my fav’rite sin.” Farfarello muttered drowsily. Schuldig snorted into his shoulder.
“Yeh think it’ll be okay? Wat with Nagi’n the kitt’n? Wat with us?”
“Yeah. I think it’ll be okay.”
“Oracle confirm it for yeh?”
“Nope. Just… a feeling.”
“’At’s oddly hopeful for yeh.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say? Love makes you cra-” Schuldig stopped abruptly.
“Yeh were goin’ ta say ‘crazy’ weren’t yeh?” Farfarello asked wryly.
“NO!”
Farfarello smirked, pressing his head against Schuldig’s. It was… strangely idyllic.
::I know. Hey, do you ever feel like someone, somewhere, is laughing her ass off writing out our lives?::
Farfarello paused, sucking on his lower lip, thinking about it.
::What makes you think it’s a she?:: He finally responded.
Schuldig bent close, and kissed him.


~Owari~