Warnings/notes : Schuldich/Ken, Crawford/?, slightly weird, shortie.
Disclaimer : I don't own Weiss Kreuz.
written at 18th july 2004, by Misura, inspired by a challenge made by purkledragon which stated :
"fandom: Weiss Kreuz
pairing: don't care as long as one is Schuldig
Title: Please I have enough trouble naming my own.
line: "It doesn't matter what you're doing...as long as it's me"."
"Your ... fascination with Siberian is bothering me," Crawford admits, on a rather pleasant summer-afternoon, in the privacy of his office, staring at Schuldich with cold eyes.
Because having Crawford admitting something is rare, hard to do. Crawford isn't the type of person to make admissions; he 'states', 'demands', 'corrects' ...
Crawford is a person who likes control.
And thus Schuldich takes great pleasure in making him lose that, making him break his habits. It's a game they play. Schuldich does it because he enjoys games, and Crawford because he can't stand losing. Or so Schuldich thinks anyway.
There are times when Schuldich wonders just how much he really knows about Brad Crawford. Thiis afternoon isn't one of them.
"Why, Brad, are you jealous?" Two pinpricks in one line. Schuldich is pleased with himself.
"No." Spoken a bit too quickly, too defensive. Schuldich almost feels disappointed, since this new victory seems too easily won, too cheap.
He counts two seconds.
"And don't call me 'Brad'."
Schuldich nods pleasantly, almost getting bored with this conversation. It's all so ... predictable. So unlike his encounters with his new plaything, the kitten who likes playing soccer with kids in the park.
"Was that all?" Schuldich rises.
"I don't think you have quite understood the situation." Crawford's gaze orders him to sit back down. Schuldich obeys, to show that he can follow commands, even when they're stupid.
Perhaps he's also curious about how Crawford 'understands the situation'. After all, this is not the first kitten Schuldich has entertained himself with for a few weeks. Back then, Crawford didn't make much of a fuss.
"What's there to understand? If you want me in your bed, you can simply ask," Schuldich shrugs. Part of him isn't sure what he'd do if Crawford -would- ask him, just like that, but Schuldich's pretty sure Crawford isn't going to ... lower himself in such a way.
"I do not approve of this relationship." Crawford repeats himself. Or so it sounds to Schuldich. Maybe Farfarello is right about Crawford looking tired, being a bit exhausted after all that has happened the past months. Schuldich wouldn't know; he never pays that much attention to how Crawford looks.
What's the point of determining the attraction of a toy he is sure he'll never be able to play with the way he wants to? Schuldich isn't masochistic.
"That's not my problem." It shouldn't be Crawford's problem either. As long as it doesn't endanger Schwarz, nothing bothers Crawford. And Schuldich always makes sure his little ... diversions never endanger Schwarz.
Because it's just such a turn-off to have Crawford walk in on him in the middle of something and, in one instance, send a bullet through the head of his pretty toy.
Precogs can be absolute hell on one's social life, if they put their mind to it.
"I forbid you to continue contacting Siberian outside of missions."
Schuldich wonders why Crawford only says this now, well over halfway in their little chat. Why not start with it? It's obviously what Crawford has been intending to tell him all along.
"Why?" It's not, all in all, the best of questions to ask. Crawford's probably going to spout something about how he doesn't need to explain himself to Schuldich, since Schuldich's just Schuldich, while Crawford's the Big Boss.
Schuldich hates sermons. One of the few things he and Farfarello can agree on.
"Because I told you so. Find some other toy." Crawford swivels his chair, to study the text on the screen of his computer. Schuldich senses he's supposed to feel dismissed, even if this talk seems hardly concluded to him.
"Another one of the kittens then?" Schuldich doesn't really expect Crawford to say 'yes'. After all, Siberian's not really different from the other three. Not to Crawford, at any rate.
"If you want." Crawford doesn't look up.
Schuldich closes the door behind him as he leaves. Softly.