Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ You're Joking, Right? ❯ Chapter 13

“Oh, come on, just one more. You'll love this one,” Schuldig said, grabbing the computer mouse from Crawford's hand. The telepath had been happy and outgoing in that particularly manic, disturbing way he had. Still, it was better than the sulking.

 

“Schuldig, I would rather poke out both my eyes than watch another video on YouTube. I am a busy man. Go play in the living room.”

 

Schuldig frowned but, thankfully, backed off. “Fine,” he said, shrugging elaborately. “Your loss.”

 

“I can accept that.”

 

There was a knock at the door, three precise raps. “Come in.” Crawford hadn't known Farfarello would return so early in the day -- probably the Ran factor. Crawford's ability to foresee Ran's actions was limited and variable. He resolutely quashed the flare of annoyance that thought engendered.

 

“Did you find him?” Schuldig asked. “I'd assumed you'd be out longer than this.”

 

Farfarello looked perfectly relaxed. “Didn't work out.” He looked at Crawford. “I have a few more things to do. But I reckoned I'd stop in and give you his phone number, since you were about to burst an aneurysm over it.”

 

Crawford resisted the urge to close his eyes or in any way betray his level of irritation with these people. “I appreciate your professionalism.” He wrote down the number Farfarello recited. “I take it you weren't able to carry out the second part of my instructions.”

 

“It was conditional, as I recall. I was to make him get a phone, and try to put him in a better mood.”

 

“Just tell me what happened.”

 

“I made him get a phone, we went to a hotel, and he got pissy and mulish -- as is his wont -- so we left. He's mad at me because I don't put up with the prima donna bullshit.”

 

“So you did not, in fact, cheer him up.”

 

“That isn't always possible.” Farfarello shrugged. “I did offer him ice cream.”

 

Crawford would have liked to think his scowl might be at least remotely off-putting, but he realized that was just wishful thinking. “So you in fact left him more upset than he was to start with.”

 

Farfarello looked slightly irritated. “But with a phone.”

 

Crawford did not sigh. “I'm concerned about his ability to cope. He seems much less stable than he was before the last time we left Japan.”

 

“He said he wasn't in the mood.” Farfarello looked from Crawford to Schuldig. “You needn't look so surprised. It was bound to happen at some point. If that's all, then, I'm going to bugger off now -- assuming I still have the afternoon off, even though there was no buggering.” He giggled, then let his expression go blank. “Or do I have to go back out there and nail his ass whether he wants me to or not?”

 

Crawford couldn't quite keep the strain from his voice. “You have the rest of the day off.”

 

Farfarello was already halfway out the door. “Maybe you should just take him back.”

 

“La la la la la la la can't hear you can't hear you can't hear you,” Schuldig sang, covering his ears with his hands.

 

Farfarello turned back to Crawford, smiling. “I repeat what I told you when I agreed to take him on -- I will handle the relationship as I see fit.”

 

Crawford nodded. He'd have this fixed soon enough, anyway. “Fine. Thank you. Enjoy your day off.”

 

Farfarello bowed slightly and left the room.

 

Crawford concentrated briefly, hoping for a vision concerning Ran. It was a bad habit, like picking at a scab. Ran's future was maddeningly elusive. Much like his present.

 

“Schuldig,” he said, finally giving into the sigh. “Could you try to get a reading on Mr. Fujimiya?”

 

“Twice in one day? You do love to play against the odds,” Schuldig said, frowning. He was silent for a few moments, then shook his head. “Nothing coherent.”

 

Crawford nodded. “Thank you. Now, I have some calls to make.” He looked pointedly at the door. Schuldig smiled disconcertingly and glided out.

 

It was several moments before the phone rang, but Crawford already had his hand on the receiver. “Good afternoon, Mr. Takatori. I was looking forward to your call.”

 

**********

 

Crawford had a lot going on. He had a more than full-time job, as well as his extra-curricular fund-raising activities and his hobby to pursue. There were Takatoris to deceive and placate, Eszett elders to betray and hinder, stock brokers to put the fear of God into. There was also Ran's upcoming mission to think about.

 

It was a dangerous job, very tricky with so little back-up, and despite checking several times a day for further insight, Crawford was still basically sending Ran in blind. He'd done comprehensive research, but he was not accustomed to going into a situation with no idea of its outcome.

 

His readings on Ran improved when he managed to remain detached. So of course Ran had chosen one of the worst possible moments to make that impossible -- typical of him. But Crawford could mitigate some of that damage by using Yoji Kudoh.

 

Mr. Kudoh had presented himself as if on a platter, the night they'd fought at that warehouse. Several visions of what could be had presented themselves during the tussle, and Crawford had shaped a plan before he'd gone to sleep that night. Mr. Kudoh had opened up several very useful avenues.

 

That first vision had nearly gotten him killed. He frowned, remembering it. Crawford had been anticipating all attacks with ease, but then he'd been overwhelmed by a mental picture of Kudoh fucking Ran. More than fucking. It had been incendiary. He'd been shaken enough to lose his focus for a few moments, and Schuldig had been forced to cover for him.

 

It had been all he could do to resist killing the smug and detestable Yoji Kudoh.

 

As the days had passed, though, Crawford's forbearance was rewarded with subtle changes in all the futures he was watching, positive changes, and he understood they were the result of bringing Mr. Kudoh into the mix. Then he'd forced himself to think more closely about the two of them, together... And every little piece had fallen into place. The irritating Mr. Kudoh was going to make all of Crawford's dreams come true.

 

Well, most of them.

 

That son of a bitch. At least he seemed to appreciate Ran. Farfarello did too, in his way, but Yoji Kudoh had what it took to keep Ran... operational. And that had to be Crawford's priority.

 

He picked up the phone and dialed Ran's number.

 

**********

 

“You're in, right?” Aya asked. He was channeling all his desperation into this. If that didn't do it for Yoji, nothing would.

 

It seemed like an eternity before he finally answered. “Yeah. I'm in.”

 

Aya had meant it, actually. He did trust Kudoh. Aya climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and leaning over him on his elbows. Aya kissed him deeply, feeling genuine appreciation. Yoji would suffer for this decision.

 

Yoji thrust his hips up, creating some beautiful friction. Aya moaned into his mouth and pressed down, grinding their erections together. It was a huge rush, pulling this off. It hadn't been easy, and doing a good job was important to him. He also got off on the manipulation and the intrigue. If he could keep from thinking too much about it, he might be able to channel this into some truly fine sex. He was damned tired of being frustrated, and Yoji's hands were all over him, his breath hot in Aya's ear. He might not be good enough for Farfarello or Brad Crawford, but he was, apparently, good enough for Yoji.

 

Aya closed his eyes and shivered. His balls felt so heavy and full, and his dick was so hard. He wanted Yoji inside him now, right now, needed it.

 

Yoji was making impatient whining noises, and Aya realized he'd been muttering aloud. “Need it, Yoji,” he breathed. “God, I can't even think... Do me now, Yoji. Now.”

 

Yoji flipped him over and started tearing at their clothes. Aya didn't bother rousing himself to help, leaving Yoji to figure out what to do with the damned zippers and snaps and... Yoji's fingers were already in his ass, while he fumbled for lube with his other hand. It hurt a bit, which Aya liked. If he got any harder, he'd come right now. Yoji finally found the lube and shifted Aya into position, pushed into him fast and rough; too much, really, but oh God, it was good, it was so good... Aya didn't even try to hold back. He came so hard he blacked out.

 

He opened his eyes, still panting, heart still pounding, groaning quietly. Yoji was pounding into him, whispering nonsense in a deep, husky voice. “Jesus Christ, so beautiful, so fucking beautiful, anything, God, anything you ask me to do...” His fingers dug painfully into Aya's thighs as he came, eyes squeezed shut, scream just barely choked off.

 

Passionate. Yoji was passionate, and he was willing, and he didn't seem to need all the conditions everyone else heaped on him. Yoji was prepared to throw the mission, betray his teammates' trust, take Aya any way he could get him. Yoji didn't seem to care. It made Aya light-headed. It was terrifying and exciting, a taste of what he'd been longing for. He was getting hard again.

 

Yoji collapsed beside him, holding tight. “You'd betray them for me, wouldn't you?” he whispered in Yoji's ear, running one hand through his hair and the other over his sweat-slick shoulder. “You'd betray yourself for me.”

 

“I already have,” Yoji murmured.

 

Aya rubbed against him, grinding his half-hard cock against Yoji's hip bone. He couldn't stop himself.

 

“You like that, huh?” Yoji kissed his face, ear, neck. “I'll follow you to hell. I belong to you -- just don't leave me.”

 

“Rash,” Aya said. He was having trouble concentrating. “There's a lot you don't know about me.”

 

“Then tell me. Or don't. Doesn't matter -- whatever you've done. Or why. Doesn't matter.”

 

“You don't mean that.”

 

“I do mean that. I fully expect you to get me killed.” Yoji shifted a bit so he could kiss Aya's shoulders and chest. “Won't be that much of a loss.” He sucked on a nipple and chuckled when Aya's back arched. “You're the only thing I've been interested in for a hell of a long time.” He looked up into Aya's eyes, smiling tightly. “Do your worst, baby.”

 

Aya snorted, but his ironic detachment was forced. As much as he didn't want to be, he was moved. He didn't know what to say, but fortunately, his cell phone rang. It was in the pocket of his jacket, which was hanging on his desk chair -- too far to reach from the bed. Besides, it had to be Schwartz, since nobody else had the number yet. And he didn't feel like talking to Schwartz. He didn't feel like being ordered to kill anybody or trading cruelties or discussing anything with any of them. Fucking arrogant tyrants -- let them leave a fucking message.

 

“I'll try not to get you killed,” Aya finally answered.

 

Yoji smiled. “You're such a sentimental fool.”

 

The phone rang again. Yoji's expression darkened. “Better get it -- sounds like your boyfriend needs to talk to you.”

 

“I saw Farfarello today, you know. I didn't fuck him.”

 

“I assumed it went the other way.”

 

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Aya found himself smiling anyway. “Fine, he didn't fuck me. As he would say, there was no sexual congress between us.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I thought it would make you happy.”

 

“Since when do you think about things like that?”

 

The phone rang again, and this time Aya was happy enough to get up and answer it -- he was ready to change the subject. Besides, like migraine or genital warts, you couldn't ignore Schwartz for long. “What?” he snapped impatiently.

 

“I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten whom you work for, Mr. Fujimiya. As always, a little more respect would be appreciated.” Crawford, of course. His tone was icy, chilled by barely controlled anger.

 

Good.

 

Aya waited a few moments before saying anything, just to annoy him further. “What do you want?”

 

“I suppose that's the best I'm going to get.”

 

“You reap what you sow. What do you want? I'm busy.” He looked over at the bed. Yoji was propped up on one elbow, paying close attention and making no effort to pretend he wasn't.

 

“Busy.” Crawford sounded brittle enough to break. “Preparing for your upcoming mission?”

 

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

 

“Ah. Laying the groundwork, then. If only you followed all orders so -- enthusiastically.”

 

“Fuck you.” Aya ended the call and lay the phone down on the desk. The son of a bitch could call him back if he actually had anything to say.

 

Yoji was smiling again. “And we thought you were bad on the phone at the flower shop.” He beckoned Aya back to the bed. “Friends or family?”

 

“Don't have either,” Aya said, sitting down next to him.

 

“What about that sister?”

 

Aya shrugged. “She hasn't had a single thought or moved a muscle in over a year. I don't know that she really counts.”

 

Yoji cocked his head and looked at Aya. “You don't even think of her as human, but you've devoted your life -- and mine -- to saving her?

 

“Doesn't make a lot of sense when you put it like that, does it?”

 

Yoji moved behind him and started kissing his back. “Don't know how much sense you ever make, when it comes down to it.” He bit Aya's shoulder hard.

 

Aya let out a gusty sigh and closed his eyes.

 

**********

 

Crawford put the phone down slowly. He'd deserved that. What was he doing, calling Ran for no reason? He knew better.

 

That had been Ran's sex voice. He'd been fucking with Yoji Kudoh -- following Crawford's orders. He should be pleased. He was pleased. His plan was working.

 

Suddenly, the smell of blood was overwhelming. Crawford closed his eyes and saw it. Ran lay dead in a huge pool of blood that was saturating the fine antique rug in Hiroto Nakayama's office. Kudoh was taking out the responsible party, presumably a bodyguard, but the lighting was dim and Crawford couldn't make out as many details as he'd have liked. Kudoh looked like hell on earth, and his revenge was everything Crawford could have hoped for. But Ran was still dead.

 

And just like that, Crawford was back in his office. He stared blankly at his desk, reviewing what he'd just seen, trying to squeeze out every possible detail. As he did so, more of the scene crept upon him. He watched carefully as Ran and Yoji went through files, taking care to make a random-looking mess. Then it all happened at once. Yoji sat down at the computer, and Ran noticed some hint of movement, turning toward the door to see a figure silently approaching. No light glinted off the matte graphite of the gun barrel, but Ran saw it. The person was lining up a clear shot at Kudoh, and Ran would obviously be able to take him out -- but not in time to save his teammate.

 

Ran didn't do what he should have done. Instead, he ran directly into the path of the bullet. He jerked once, then fell forward. The blood was soaking through the rug before he hit the floor.

 

And Crawford was pouring a glass of scotch before the second vision had fully faded.

 

Ran had known exactly what he was doing. He'd thrown the mission and gotten himself killed on purpose. Crawford sat down with his drink; by the time he'd finished it, his hands weren't shaking any more.

 

He picked up the phone and dialed Ran's number. It went to voice mail, and he hung up, then dialed again. And again. And again. Finally, Ran picked up. “Remember what you wanted to tell me?” Ran's voice sounded impossibly low and gravelly, almost relaxed, even. Crawford could picture how he must look.

 

“I have something new to tell you. Now. In person. Meet me at the garage down the street from the flower shop in twenty minutes.” He hung up before Ran could argue.

 

**********

 

Aya had stopped to take a shower, but he hadn't dawdled. Something in Crawford's tone had put him on alert, and he broke into the darkened garage right on time.

 

He hugged the wall as he scanned the room, dimly lit by filtered streetlights shining through the front windows. Aya knew why Crawford had picked this building -- it sat away from the street, and there weren't any offices or apartments upstairs or right next door. Crawford either wanted to scream at him or kill him. Possibly both.

 

Light glinted off Crawford's glasses. He cultivated that sort of thing. It set Aya's teeth on edge, but he made no show of annoyance as he approached the far back corner of the garage, where Crawford leaned against a black Lexus.

 

“You're on time,” Crawford said evenly. “I can't express my surprise and delight.”

 

“Something come up?” Aya leaned against the car, standing quite close to Crawford. The situation was worrying him.

 

“Full points to Mr. Fujimiya. Yes, something has very much come up.”

 

Aya waited for him to continue, his sense of dread increasing. This meeting was all wrong -- Crawford's stance, the tone of his voice, even that he'd come to Aya at all.

 

“Are you planning to throw the Nakayama mission, Mr. Fujimiya?” Crawford's voice was cold, even for him.

 

Aya was genuinely confused. “What?”

 

“It was a simple question -- although perhaps your hormones haven't quite calmed down enough to permit full lucidity.”

 

That didn't even make Aya angry, which confused him. He puzzled it out for a few moments, came up with nothing, and chose to give a straight answer. “I'm not planning to throw the mission.”

 

“Are you lying to me?”

 

“No. Look at me.” Crawford had been staring straight ahead, and Aya pulled at his shoulder to make him turn. “I'm not lying,” Aya said, looking into Crawford's eyes.

 

Crawford stared for a moment, then blinked. He nodded and looked away again. His posture was less stiff, but nobody would have mistaken him for a happy man.

 

Aya tried again. “Now, what is this about?

 

“I had a vision.”

 

Aya shivered. Now he could put it all together. He was going to get killed. He'd known it would happen some day, but that was different from knowing when. He pulled Yoji's cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. “How does it happen?” he asked quietly.

 

“It happens,” Brad snapped, “because you've apparently become significantly more fond of Yoji Kudoh than anyone expected.”

 

Because of Yoji... Oh. Aya took a couple of drags, forcing his mind into perfect stillness. He wasn't able to think about this right now. He'd smoked half the cigarette before Brad spoke again.

 

“You were going through the files in Nakayama's office,” Crawford said, his words sounding clipped and flat as he told the story. “Mr. Kudoh will be extremely upset -- perhaps that will make it all worth while,” he added snidely.

 

Aya tried to think. Would he take a bullet for Yoji on purpose? He thought about Yoji's easy way with people, how he made his own darkness and pain so... palatable. He thought about Yoji's mouth against his skin, and about how Yoji was so much like him, really, but better. Yes, he realized, he might well do exactly what Crawford had described. “It doesn't mean I love him,” Aya finally said.

 

Roaring in anger, Crawford grabbed Aya and slammed him into the wall, several times, so hard the wall shook and Aya's ears rang. It never even occurred to Aya to defend himself. “You little bitch,” Crawford hissed, landing a punch that was definitely going to blacken Aya's eye, and then another that split his lip. Aya reflexively licked at the blood. Crawford stopped suddenly and just looked at him. Aya stared back, dazed. And hard. He couldn't help it.

 

Crawford pulled him into his arms, holding him so tight it hurt. “How could you do this to me?” He sucked in a ragged breath. “Please, Ran. Please, don't do this to me.”

 

“Does it throw off your plan?”

 

Crawford closed his eyes. “I don't even know. I haven't checked.”

 

Well, that was nothing short of miraculous. “But the plan is more important than I am -- you've said so. The fate of mankind, all that shit.”

 

“I've said so,” Crawford whispered. “I believe it. But I've never liked it. I've never been able to change the way I feel.” He kissed the corner of Aya's mouth, letting his lips linger. “Every time I see you, I want to kiss you right there,” he said, kissing the spot again. “Every single time.” He slid his lips along Aya's and kissed him desperately. Aya didn't respond immediately, so great was his shock. He even briefly considered pulling away, but he couldn't. Brad was about to pull away, and this would be his only chance.

 

Brad leaned into him, pinning him against the wall so powerfully Aya could pretend he was helpless. Grinding his erection against Aya's, Crawford said, “This is the only language you understand, isn't it?” He thrust hard, kept thrusting until Aya was just about to come.

 

Aya whimpered as he started to come, but he didn't allow himself to make another sound. He sucked silently on his bleeding lip as his head and shoulders jerked back against the wall and his eyes rolled back into his head. He couldn't give anything else to Brad, not any more. Just the orgasm, which he couldn't hold off -- nothing more.

 

Still holding him, Brad was silent for a long time, gently rocking his hips against Aya's at first, finally just standing, leaning in toward him slightly. He spoke quietly, right into Aya's ear. “You aren't mine any more, are you?”

 

Aya didn't respond. What could he say?

 

“Will you at least promise to try? It gets better, Ran. Will you at least promise not to walk right into it?”

 

Aya flexed his lip to make it bleed more. He found the tiny stab of pain calming, but it didn't jump start his brain, which steadfastly refused to think about any of this. Eventually he nodded vaguely. “I'll try.”

 

Brad backed up half a step, still holding onto Aya's shoulders. He looked into Aya's eyes, as close to defeated as Aya had ever seen him.

 

Aya rested his forehead against Brad's. He'd had to look away. He wasn't sure who he was anymore.

 

Still, nothing had really changed. Everything was just the same as it had been an hour ago; he just had more information. Not even information he could make use of -- just random facts. He would die soon. Yoji would come back from the mission, and he wouldn't.

 

It didn't feel wrong.

 

“Nothing's changed,” Aya muttered.

 

“What does that mean, Ran?”

 

“Nothing. Let me suck you off, Brad. One last time.”

 

The only warning was the beginning of a growl. Then, Brad's fist connected squarely with Aya's jaw. Another punch bloodied his nose. “I'm not hard any more,” Brad said.

 

“Doesn't matter,” Aya said, wiping his nose on his sleeve and sniffling back more of the blood. He tilted his head back, looking into Brad's eyes again. He didn't seem to be getting through. Of course, all the blood, which would have been a huge turn-on for Farfarello, really wasn't Brad's thing. Aya wiped his nose again, and his mouth. “Or you could fuck me.” He sounded frantic. Forlorn. Pathetic. He stared down at the floor.

 

Nothing had changed at all.

 

Brad lifted his chin and stared into his eyes, searching. “Like you've never been fucked before. When you come back from this mission.” Then he moved back into the shadows. “Come back from this mission, Ran.” He slipped away.