Aya sighed as he eased his one piece of luggage off his shoulder. Home. Finally. He wanted to throw himself on the bed as Yohji had–luckily, Omi had cleaned the blonde’s room while he was gone–but Aya made himself deal with his bag first. Laundry in the hamper, necessities put away, clean clothes…
Yohji was all right. He was exhausted, but that was to be expected. Aya had left him in Omi’s hands, and indirectly suggested he not leave until Yohji was asleep. The way Omi looked at him made him think the youngest Weiss had known that.
That was all it had meant. Yohji had only pulled Aya into the bed because he couldn’t sleep alone. It must be true, he’d accepted even Schuldig rather than be alone.
Even Schuldig. Change that to “even Aya.” Yohji liked Schuldig, he’d run off to Hawaii with him. It was using Aya, who had chased him and humiliated him, to get to sleep, that made it certain that Yohji could not sleep alone.
It was ridiculous, but the way Yohji and Schuldig had talked and teased and worked together to irritate the rest of Schwarz the whole flight…it was ridiculous, but it was clear the two had forged a bond. And oh, how it had irritated Crawford.
Aya found he could live with that. It made it hurt a little less, made it easier to tell himself he was happy for his friend.
***
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Schuldig said. “Did I hurt you, Bradley?”
Nagi sighed and floated a towel to the American. “You know hot coffee had to hurt, Schu. Why don’t you help instead of standing there smirking?”
“Guess I’m still not at my best.” Schuldig stuck his head in the refrigerator. “Nothing looks good, nothing looks–I know.” He turned to take Crawford’s plate. “This looks awesome.”
Nagi sighed again. They had been back in Tokyo for a day now, and Schu had crammed more Crawford-abuse into that time than even Farfarello could have. He had tripped him on the stairs, dumped coffee on him three times now, started the dishwasher while Crawford was in the shower, slipped something red in the washing machine with Crawford’s whites, elbowed him in the face, stepped on his feet–Nagi had even caught him downloading porn onto Crawford’s laptop. Really disgusting porn, and doing it with the firewall and virus-scan turned off.
Obviously Crawford had done something horrible to Schu, he never would have run off to Hawaii otherwise. But this was getting…hard to watch. Crawford refused to respond, treating it all like Schu being childish–which it was–but that didn’t bother the German.
“You have been awfully clumsy,” Nagi tried. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”
“What a grand idea!” Schuldig picked up the pepper, peered at it and set it down. He stuffed Crawford’s toast in his mouth. And talked with his mouth full. “What do you think, Crawford-san? Will you get me an appointment?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you a little growing up wouldn’t cure,” Crawford said from behind his paper.
“Iya!!” Schuldig squealed, and snatched the paper to thrash wildly at the floor. He dropped it and jumped on it a few times, then handed it back to Crawford. “Spider,” he explained. “I think it’s stuck in the sports section. You didn’t want that, right?”
***
“Ken-kun, what are you doing here?”
“Omi! What are–?”
“I asked first.”
“Yohji gave me a ticket, I thought I’d try it. What is it about?”
“I don’t know. Aya-kun gave me–“ Omi dropped his head into his hand. “That’s what Aya-chan meant, she had a plan.”
“What does Aya-chan have to do with this?”
Omi sighed and led his friend to the snack line. He needed to be fortified, Aya-chan was going to be very upset when they got home.
***
“What is that noise?!?”
Nagi’s head poked out of his bedroom, he shook his head signaling he had no clue, since there wasn’t a chance he could make himself heard. Crawford grabbed his glasses and stalked for the stairs. Damn it, this was enough. Schuldig being petty was one thing, but this sounded like he was taking the house down!
In the living room the TV and the stereo were both on full volume, horse racing and Black Sabbath, in that order. Crawford turned both off, then followed the remaining noise to the kitchen.
It wasn’t Schuldig. Farfarello was on his rafter, wearing Nagi’s bike helmet, and–oh, God, Schuldig’s rhinestone clubbing outfit. And bouncing like on a horse, whanging his mount with–shit, with Crawford’s bronze Freddie Mercury bust!
“Farfarello! Give me that!”
“Aye, aye, fearless leader!”
Crawford did the smart thing, he ducked, then scrambled to check for damage. Damn it–
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m winning! And it’s down to neck and neck, we’re coming into the home stretch, Farfarello on Berserker’s Babe is drawing ahead–“
Why, Crawford asked himself again. Why hadn’t he just gone to Wall Street? He could have had his own island by now, beautiful men running around in next to nothing, no Irishmen, telepaths, psychotics or good guy assassins allowed–his eyes fell on a new appliance on the counter. He approached with dread.
One brand-new, bright shiny, deluxe espresso machine with built-in bean grinder. In which were a lot of coffee grounds and the remains of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon.
“SCHULDIG!!”
***
“What are they doing?”
“Sitting.”
“Not talking?”
“No. Yohji-kun is pretending to watch TV. Aya-kun is pretending to read.”
“Hey, you two, what–“
”Ken-kun! Be quiet!”
“Why?” Ken asked, but he did do it quieter. “What’s going on? What are you looking at?”
“Aya and Yohji ignoring each other.”
“Che! You can watch that any time. We ought to get them drunk again, that might make things more interesting.”
Omi looked at Aya-chan, she shook her head.
“It won’t work. I’ll be surprised if Ran even drinks sake on holidays from now on. He thinks it was all his fault.”
“Of course he does,” Omi sighed. Aya-chan rolled her eyes in agreement.
“Now what are they doing?”
“Yohji-kun fell asleep. Aya-kun is looking at him now.”
“Chikusho!” Ken growled. “Sorry, Aya-chan. And they call me stupid!”
***
Crawford sighed as Schuldig sat down at the table. He was so tired of this. So tired, period, he hadn’t slept in–he shoved his plate in front of the German. Schu shook his head and shoved it back.
“You’re not going to steal my food?”
“Nope, just thought I’d watch you eat.”
Whatever. Crawford hadn’t tried drugging his own food, the telepath refused it at random, and he was not going to take a chance on eating the stuff himself. He’d been warned that the antidote itself was dangerous, in the absence of the poison it was supposed to counteract.
Schuldig was looking ill again. His eyes were red–he was, of course, drinking, but this was more–and his hand had shaken as he poured espresso. He was able to control it as he faced Crawford, though, so it wasn’t yet–
Excuses. The telepath hadn’t wavered from his campaign in six days, he wasn’t going to change his mind in the next six hours. If neither of them yielded, Schuldig would die. Crawford took a handful of pixie sticks out of his pocket and laid them in front of the German.
“It’s a residual poison, you’ve been carrying it since you joined Essett. Two of these a day will keep it from harming you. You should take one now, if you have another episode this soon, it will kill you.”
Schuldig looked at the candies, then crossed his arms. “Since I joined. But Essett doesn’t exist anymore. We killed the elders.”
Crawford sipped his coffee.
“How long have you known?”
“All Essett talents are…inoculated. When you were assigned to me I was given your file and a box of treated Gummi bears. When you moved to smoking, some of your cigarettes were treated. When you quit, I got you these.”
“What do you feed Nagi?”
“Prodigy takes his pills.”
“And you?”
“I saw it in advance, and would not permit it.”
“Of course.” Schuldig picked up the sticks, poked them into Crawford’s food, and pulled a lighter from his pocket. “I’m going to die,” he said, lighting them. “And I’m taking you with me.”
“Schuldig–“
”Prepare your report, Bradley.” He got up. “You want to be ready when you get to hell.”
“Schuldig, you know that–“
”I can.” The telepath stopped in the doorway. “It made me stronger, Brad. I knew you were on Oahu. If I could have focused I could have read your every memory, I could have shredded your mind.” He smirked over his shoulder. “I won’t need to focus to kill you, not with you this close. So unless you run from me, let me dictate your actions, you’re going to die my death.” He winked. “We’ll be together forever. And it’s going to hurt.” He went out the sliding glass door and lit a cigarette before wandering across the yard slowly, looking at every little thing like–like a man who knew he had hours to live.
“He’ll kill you,” the old man had warned Crawford when he’d picked Schuldig for his very first team. “Handle him right, or that one will kill you.” Wild child, he’d called Schuldig, and insisted the fire-haired telepath would never be leashed, would never be controlled. He had suggested Crawford work with someone older, a little more stable, more cooperative… As always, Crawford had listened to no one but himself. He had wanted Schuldig, and Schuldig he had gotten.
Looking back he wondered if it hadn’t started even then, that first time he caught sight of the pixie-thin boy sitting on a gable on top of the dormitory, sneering at the lesser beings trying to make him come down, go to class, do what he should, be a good boy… He had thought the painful jolt in his chest was fate, not something so much more mundane.
Crawford jumped as his plate disappeared in a cloud of hissing fog. Farfarello chuckled from his rafter. “Fire is bad,” he quoted one of Crawford’s lectures. “Unless we are on a mission and it is part of the plan, fire is bad.” He waved the wand of the fire extinguisher. “Why didn’t I get poisoned?”
God, he had been really out of it not to see the Irishman up there. Schuldig must have known, he just hadn’t cared. “Because if you disobey me, I can just shoot you. Mastermind and Prodigy are harder to hit.”
“Hn. There were things I liked about Essett. They knew how to betray a man.”
Crawford growled and scraped his plate into the garbage. He thought about the living room, but Nagi was watching some obnoxious badly-dubbed kid movie. Jamie Lee Curtis wasn’t his idea of eye candy, so instead he went back to his room.
He put more pixie sticks in his pocket, to have them if Schuldig changed his mind. Then he went to bed. He didn’t sleep.
***
“Omi-kun,” Aya-chan ran down the spiral stairs, “Ran is still–“
”I know. Yohji-kun is here, too. He’s in his room.”
“What is wrong with them?” Aya-chan stomped her foot. “Those notes should have sent them running to meet each other!”
“Maybe they knew they were fake?” Ken offered. Omi and Aya-chan glared at him.
“Please.”
“We probably weren’t clear enough,” Omi said. “We should have been more…meaningful.”
“If we had been straightforward,” Aya-chan reminded, “they would have known the notes were fake. Why won’t they talk to each other?”
“Maybe if we tied them up,” Ken suggested. “Or handcuffed them…” He ran down under twin glares, and devoted himself to the TV again. Aya-chan tossed her hair.
“We have to do something,” she growled. “I can’t take much more of this!”
Ken’s soccer game had ended, he flipped the channel and landed on an American movie. Omi stared at the screen a moment, then leaped to snatch the remote before Ken could change it again.
“You’re not thinking–“
”It could work!” Aya-chan gasped.
“It had better,” Omi growled. “Or we’re going with Ken’s plan and I don’t care how much you blush, Aya-chan.”
***
“Sorry, Schu.” Nagi eased the telepath down off the wall. “I couldn’t let you die.”
Crawford pushed his glasses up and put the medical kit away. Schuldig pulled his sleeve down and glared at him, ignoring the telekinetic. “You think it’s going to be that easy?”
“He may think that,” Nagi said quietly, “but it isn’t so. Berserker?”
“Ready, Prodigy.”
“Good.” And Schuldig and Crawford both were lifted off the floor, floating towards the space room. Nagi ignored their yelps and swearing, tossed them both in and slammed the door.
“We’ve had enough,” his voice said from the computer. The telekinetic’s face appeared on the monitor, Farfarello standing behind him. “You two either work things out or kill each other. I’m not sure I care which.”
The screen went blank. In the living room Nagi leaned back with a sigh.
“I thought you were going to tell them all that stuff about the food and the computer,” Farfarello said, pulling out his whittling. Nagi looked away from whatever disturbing thing it was supposed to be.
“That was the plan,” he answered, “but I just can’t stand to look at them any longer right now. They’ll figure it out. Or they’ll kill each other and it won’t matter.”
***
Yohji walked down the spiral stairs and wondered why he had to go get the remote. Ken had taken it down there, Ken ought to go and get it. But Ken wasn’t the one who wanted to search 250 channels for something interesting, so Yohji was the one going to get the remote.
Life without women, dating, clubbing, men, friends, parties, dancing…was boring, Yohji had discovered. He had a sneaking suspicion life with all those things had been boring too, he just hadn’t noticed because he was drunk.
He hadn’t given up everything, he still went out. But only drinking a little didn’t work, he’d kept coming home–schnockered, as Schu had put it. So he quit drinking. Still he ended up sitting wishfully at the bar, and no one listened to a not-drunk pathetic loser lamenting his life while he didn’t drink. Yohji had never realized before that bartenders didn’t actually care why you bought their booze.
Worse than boring, though, was life around an untouchable Aya. Yohji didn’t know what to do with himself, and far too often found he was trying to find Aya. Who was avoiding him, so when Yohji realized he was doing it again, he returned the favor. But even that was getting old, he was running out of ideas. Yohji was down to long walks in the park, and he didn’t know how many more of those he could stand.
Should have gotten Schu’s email address, at least they could have complained to each other.
A mission would have helped. Killing some sleazeball child pornographer or something would have felt really good. Not to mention he could have admired Aya in action–
Too late, Yohji spotted that damn orange sweater glowing in the half-dark. He hadn’t turned the light on, Aya hadn’t either. Apparently they were both in a moping mood.
“I just…have you seen the remote? For the living room TV?”
Aya didn’t look up from his book. Reading in the dark. Right. “I hadn’t looked for it.”
“Yohji-kun,” Omi called down the stairs, “do me a favor and turn my computer on?”
“Hai, hai.” Yohji poked the button and turned. Light dazzled, Aya was being helpful. Still. It was getting scary. “Thanks.” He didn’t see–
Ken laughed upstairs, something slammed, sound of a drill…
“Oi! What are you doing up there?”
Muffled and far away, “Log in to your email!”
Aya leaped over the back of the couch and ran up the stairs. Yohji stared after him and wished he wouldn’t look so damn hot in motion–
“Tsukiyono!” the redhead yelled. “What are you doing? Open this door!”
What? Omi knew better than to play–
“Log in to your email!”
Shit, the kid was serious? Yohji ran up to pound on the door, Aya caught his wrist. “There’s no point, that drilling was them putting a bar across it.”
“Nani? Why?”
“I don’t know.” The redhead turned to glide back down the stairs. “Perhaps you have an email explaining this.”
There was an email, explaining step-by-step how to accept a network chat with webcam and audio. The picture came up, Omi at the kitchen table, flanked by Aya-chan and Ken.
“Aya-chan?” Aya said. “What is this?”
“You two are so deliberately blind,” Omi growled–Growled! Omi!– “you don’t even know. Well, that’s your first mission. Figure it out. We’ll be taking it in shifts to watch for your chat in case you need anything, but we’re not explaining it to you.”
“Shifts?” Yohji asked weakly. “How long are you going to leave us down here?”
“As long as it takes.” Aya-chan folded her arms. “If you two would talk to each other, we wouldn’t have to lock you in the basement in the first place!”
“I put your little refrigerator down there,” Ken said, “but it only has nutritious stuff in it, there’s no booze, Yohji.”
“And the TV is disabled,” Omi added. “I disconnected the computer from the internet, you can only get email from the house network. Aya-kun, I know you have a book, but you’ve read it before. And I told Birman we would not be available for a while, so don’t think you’ll be escaping because of that.”
“Aya-chan,” Aya’s voice was soft and as cold as Yohji had ever heard it towards the girl, “what is this?”
“Oniisan, this,” Aya-chan leaned over Omi’s shoulder, “is what happens when you push a Fujimiya.” And the picture went blank. Aya turned to look at Yohji. The blonde tried to smile.
“Umm…I’ll play you paper, rock, scissors for first crack at the book.”
***
Did you guess the movie that gave Nagi and Omi ideas? It’s House Arrest, and it’s lots of fun.
I don’t know if there is such a thing as a bronze bust of Freddie Mercury. If there is, Crawford owns it. We all knew there were hidden depths to the man, right?