“Itai!” Kudou hissed, bouncing back. “Why is everybody hitting me today?”
Schuldig went after him again, this time Balinese managed to block. Schuldig had tumbled them off for some privacy as usual, he didn’t want the blonde saying something stupid where Brad could hear. But he wasn’t in the mood for their usual quiet talk, either.
That damn Kudou smiled as he retreated.
“Maa, maa, Schuldig-san, is something bothering you? Is Crawford-san playing hard to get?”
“Kudou…” Schuldig growled. The Weiss assassin held up his hands.
“Oi, take it easy! It’s not such a big deal. Maybe we ought to call it off?”
The truly, really sad thing was, Schuldig was tempted. The more he noticed Brad’s strong hands or his sheer will or his beautiful eyes hiding behind those glasses, the less he wanted Kudou on a leash, or even on his knees.
But if Kudou wanted out, then no way was Schuldig giving in to him. The man’s silly little idea–okay, it had been Schu’s idea!–had disturbed his sleep for a week now, he didn’t eat, he didn’t go out, he hadn’t been laid in–
“K’so,” Kudou muttered. “Don’t get all vicious on me, Schu, I haven’t slept in a week.”
“Fujimiya’s naughty parts still frozen, ne?” Taunting Balinese was more fun than hitting him, really. As with most people, it was his insides that hurt more. Schuldig breathed in the sheer depth of the want and frustration, loneliness and misery rolling off the man. Kudou sighed and sagged against the wall, lighting one of the ever-present cigarettes.
“If I hadn’t seen them, I’d wonder if he had them,” he agreed. He slid down to the floor, resting his wrists on his knees. “Is it us, Schu?” He waved the cigarette. “Is it me? Am I the only one who goes insane going without sex for a damned week?”
“Only a week? Thought you were in love.” What the hell, talking was making Kudou feel better? Talking to him, to Schuldig? “Visions of Fujimiya’s ass only now start getting in the way?”
“Don’t remind me,” Kudou groaned. “I close my eyes and he’s there, I open them and he’s there, but he’s always so damned far away…” The blonde scrubbed at his hair, looked up at the telepath. “What about you? I sensed a little frustration a bit ago.”
“Saa.” Schuldig sank down beside Balinese and took his cigarette. He didn’t smoke usually, but it annoyed Kudou. And he looked hotter than hell when he did smoke. Schu made sure to keep a mental ‘ear’ on–oh, Bombay would work, he was brightest of Weiss, he’d probably be first to notice things winding down. “I thought I’d better try to romance him,” Schuldig admitted. “So I stopped going out too.” No way was he giving Kudou the real reason! “The clubs of Tokyo are wondering what hit them this week, Kudou.”
“Or what didn’t hit them.” Balinese chuckled and lit another cigarette. “Oh, here. I brought these, since we were running out of ideas.”
“Marbles?”
“Unless you want to do thumb-war again,” Kudou offered with a smile.
“I call the blue shooter.”
***
Fujimiya had actually flattened Brad. Schuldig didn’t know if he should be amused or angry. Or grateful. True, the American was in a pissy mood, but Schu was used to that. Worse was the fact that every time Schuldig caught sight of the shiner he had to fight down a smirk, and that was hard on the respectful attitude he was trying to give Brad, until he dared something more.
But. He’d been the one to half-carry Brad to bed last night. He sure as hell wasn’t letting Farf do it, and Nagi had his own problems. The Weiss boys were getting more creative, Bombay had misted the telekinetic with something that had given him allergy symptoms. And every time he sneezed–
“Gomen!” Nagi said, and the far side of the kitchen reassembled itself. Again. Farfarello giggled and slid back into his chair, ready for another round. Schu shook his head as he put together a tray.
“Take something,” he told the boy again. “Either knock out the sneezes, or knock yourself out. Before you knock out the house.”
“Che,” Nagi growled, hunched over his tea. Farfarello giggled again, Nagi jumped. “Don’t tickle me, you freak, I’ll sneeze in a minute!”
“Come on, Nagi, keep him busy.” Schu finished the tray with a cup of perfectly made coffee. “You don’t want him bothering Crawford, do you?”
“Bakayaro…” the boy grumbled, and hung Farfarello from the rafter specially installed for that purpose. The Irishman whooped and giggled, and starting carving obscenities into the wood. Nagi aimed his next sneeze at the rafter too, so Farf got his ride and Schu and the tray actually made it out of the kitchen this time.
Weiss was getting smarter, Schu reflected as he walked. Or at least, Bombay was, and Fujimiya was getting better. Siberian wasn’t going to take Farf, never in a million years, and Schuldig and Kudou didn’t bother to deck it out anymore, but he might have to change that. If Weiss wanted to be a real challenge, Schu would have to start putting some effort in. Which would be a shame. Schuldig rather enjoyed his strange–friendship? No. Whatever it was, Schu liked talking to Kudou. There weren’t many, after all, that he could talk to about Brad and his other teammates, or Takatori insanity, or all the retirement plans assassins shouldn’t make.
Brad’s door. Schuldig took a deep breath and knocked. No answer. Jerk.
“Anou, Brad?” Schu stuck his head inside as he cursed himself for sounding as hesitant as Nagi. The American was lying on the bed, dressed in his day-off clothes, a short-sleeved dress shirt and off-white slacks, but he hadn’t got as far as the tie. Or his glasses. He didn’t snap, snarl, growl, or throw anything. Schu took that as permission to come in. “I brought you some breakfast. And an icepack.” Better, but still too nice. Damn it.
Brad didn’t answer. Going to be like that, was he? Schu set the tray on the dresser, wrapped a towel around the icepack and turned to the bed. The American caught his wrist as he leaned over.
“What are you doing?”
“Icepack.” Schu waved the object. “You know, probably-poisonous goop in an easily-broken bag, kept in the freezer next to the food for times when our dangerous lifestyle catches up with us?”
“What are you doing with it?”
“My good deed of the decade.” Schu plopped on the bed and raised his eyebrows. “Does this mean we’re going steady?” he asked, as Brad continued to hold his wrist away from him. The brunette snarled and let go. Schu slipped the icepack into place. “Are you going to hold it, or do you want me to?”
Brad slapped his hand to the towel, Schu hid a grin at the snippets of pain that leaked around the American’s shields. That would teach him. Schuldig rose as Brad slid up in the bed, planting himself against the headboard as he watched Schu suspiciously. Through one eye, he was in enough pain he chose to keep the icepack on the other. Schu brought the tray.
“Here.” He shrugged as Brad’s eye narrowed. “You’re bitchy when you don’t eat. And you don’t want to go in the kitchen right now.”
“Why?”
“Farf thinks you getting flattened is against the natural order, so it had to piss God off and that’s a great thing. He’s singing Abyssinian’s praises. And Nagi is still sneezing.”
“Sneezing?”
Schu leaned to peer into Brad’s one visible eye. “You go down harder than we thought? How many fingers am I holding up?” It was a universal gesture, right?
Right. Brad snorted and relaxed, now Schu was acting like the smartass bastard he knew. “Nagi–he’s okay?”
“Just like an allergy attack. So he’s sneezing and a bit miserable, but he’s okay.”
Brad sighed and picked up the coffee. “They’re getting smarter.”
“Still not a match for us.” It was true, though no one in Weiss would admit it. The only reason the kitties ever got anywhere when they went against Schwarz, was that damned Abyssinian never accepted that anything was impossible, and he hauled the rest of his team into his delusions. For an instant the thought delighted Schuldig, as Kudou was up against that iron will and that “I don’t need anyone” attitude. But then he realized that Brad Crawford was the only man on the planet more stubborn than Fujimiya.
Scheisse.
The most stubborn man on the planet gasped, and snorted coffee out of his nose. Schuldig stared as his controlled leader started to laugh.
“Was ist das?” he asked, reverting in his surprise.
“Balinese,” Brad choked, attempting to mop up, but still shaking with repressed laughter. Schuldig took the coffee back. “And Abyssinian’s sister…”
Oh God, Kudou really was an idiot!
***
“She–what?!?” Yohji demanded, with a bark of surprised laughter. Aya’s eyes narrowed further. Quit, Yotan, that was close to a full-force death glare Aya was aiming…
“Aya-chan thinks she likes you,” Aya repeated. “It’s obvious, Kudou. Asking you to help with her homework, always making sure to include you. She hasn’t seen your asshole side, and she thinks she likes you.”
“No way.” Yohji reached for his cigarettes. They were on the roof for their private talk, at least, so he could smoke around– “Oi, Aya! Give those back!”
“You will take this seriously, you idiot. You are not going to hurt my sister.”
In love or not, there were certain things Yohji was not prepared to tolerate. He straightened, tossed his head. “Aya, if you want to talk, give my cigarettes back.”
“Kudou–“
”And damn it, my name is Yohji. Yoh-ji. Try it, it isn’t that hard. And give me back my damn cigarettes.”
“Kudou, you will listen–“
Yohji knew it was childish. He stuck his fingers in his ears anyway.
There it was, the full-on, kills-innocents-at-twenty-paces, patented Abyssinian shi-ne glare. God, why was it the more he tried to get along with Aya, the more of those glares he earned? And why did the cold-hearted bastard have to snatch his cigarettes?
Aya raised his voice and tried again. Yohji started humming. Aya, of course, did what Aya did when he got frustrated. Duh, Kudou.
“Itai!” At least Aya tossed his cigarettes on his chest. Yohji grabbed one and lit it.
“Get up, Kudou.”
“Ask me nice.”
“Kudou…” God, why did he have to be so sexy when he snarled? Yohji pasted on his most annoying smirk, and asked. Aya glared again. Did nothing shake the man? He sighed.
“Look, Aya, your sister doesn’t like me that way. I’m Kudou Yohji, remember? I’d know. That’s why I’m not taking this seriously. I’d never do anything to hurt Aya-chan.”
Aya stood by the low wall, folded his arms and looked away. “She talks about you all the time, Kudou. How funny you are and how nice you are and how–“ he cleared his throat, “–how good you look in those jeans that are so tight you can read your name off your credit card.”
Yohji’s eyebrows shot up, he forced them down. Aya was noticing his back pocket? Aya-chan might have mentioned his jeans, but Yohji would bet his life she hadn’t said that. Aya would have started and ended this talk with his katana if she had.
God, Aya-chan was trying to help! She’d realized how Yohji felt, and she was trying to get Aya to notice him! Trying in a way almost guaranteed to get Yohji filleted, but still!
He could use this.
“Kudou, would you get up?”
Why, because he looked too good sprawled on the roof? Yohji shoved his sunglasses up.
“Ask me nice, Ayan.” For his sister, the man would do anything.
“Get up,” Aya repeated. “Please.”
“Help me?” Yohji held out his hand. Aya growled and yanked. Yohji pouted and rubbed his shoulder.
“Temee! That hurt!”
“You’re out of shape.”
“The hell I am!” Yohji stretched, pouring on all the sex he could. “I’m practically perfect.” Ooh, ooh, the faintest flush of pink on Aya’s face, before he looked away again! He was melting, the iceman was melting!
“You’re going to stop wearing the sexy clothes,” Aya said. “Stop being so nice to her. Be polite, but don’t offer to take her places, things like that. And start going out again. Come home drunk and smelling of women, like you used to.”
Oh, so the redhead had noticed he’d stopped? Better and better. “You’re not going to tell me how to dress, Aya.”
“Kudou–“
”Hold on,” Yohji interrupted, as if he’d just thought of it. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What?” Aya asked, eying him suspiciously. Smart man.
“I’ll go out. If you go with me.”
“Are you insane?”
“No more than you.” Yohji grinned at him. “But that’s the deal. You go with me, and actually attempt to have a good time, and I’ll stay out the whole night, bring you home drunk,” and hopefully smelling of Yohji, “and your sister will hate me for being a bad influence on you. Not to mention how she’ll have to help Ken and Omi all day, neither of us will be in any shape to work.”
“I do not get drunk, Kudou.”
“There’s a first time for everything, Ayan.”