Author: Stormy1x2 ( travelingstorm )
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz
Word Count (fic portion): 2068 (APB out on the drabble! Repeat, the drabble has fled!)
Summary: Schu waxes eloquent on the unique characteristics of the Siberian.
Notes: Written for chiadfrostfur. She wanted the use of the phrase 'forever love, forever dream'. This ficcie was actually something I was going to write weeks ago, but I left it lying cold and alone in my writing folder. Thanks for the jump start C! Also, ffnet has a habit of screwing with my formatting. The Siberian cat info is supposed to be italiacized. If it isn't, and this is completely indecipherable, please visit my lj to read it, username travelingstorm.
Whaddaya think of when you hear the name Siberian?
Yes, I'm serious! Can't a guy ask a simple question? Y'know, you're very rude. I have this thing for not tolerating rude people.
Idiot. I don't care enough about what you think to go rooting through your head for that. Besides, you're so simple-minded, I can tell you without looking.
Let me guess. When you hear the codename 'Siberian', you instantly think of a huge, striped tiger, right? Well, I guess with Sibe's penchant for claws, it's pretty easy to come to that conclusion. I mean, he is powerful, and he is deadly. I suppose a tiger's not too far off the mark. And he can definitely be a wild animal in bed. smirk
But ya know, I think Kenken's got more in common with the critter he was actually named for: the Siberian cat. I had Nagi look up the name Siberian and he found some really interesting stuff for me. He also mocked me and said I was getting mushy and sentimental and so I had to brain spike him a couple of times, but whatcha gonna do?
That was rhetorical, by the way.
Despite it's length, the Siberian coat requires minimal grooming as it does not mat like other long-haired breeds.
Ain't THAT the truth? I've never known a guy to spend less time in his hair then Ken. The two older Weiss members may have the female population of Japan and the remaining half of their team thinking they wake up in the morning with hair like that, but remember – I read minds. Kudoh spends a good hour in the morning, carefully washing, moussing, drying, and styling his hair. And Aya – that guy is almost as bad. The two of them should buy stock in hair care products. Detanglers, root lifters, crème rinses, conditioning treatments – for all that they act like such macho tough guys in battle, they're nothing more then a couple of women. It's disgraceful.
... the hell you thinking about my bathroom for? None of your damned business. I can read minds, remember. We're not talking about me, anyway.
Anyway, even the youngest one has his own shelf of fruity-smelling shampoos and special-hold gels. But Ken?
Ken flicks a brush through his hair on good days. On bad days, he's running late and he uses a hand he's just run under the faucet to smooth down most of the fly-aways. His shampoo is a generic, no-name brand that he gets because it's cheap. He is a guys guy. Mmmm.
Siberian cats do well with other household pets.
Another good point. Ken is like, the den mother of Weiss. It's hysterical. Omi's got finals coming? Ken's dragging him off the computer and making him study. Yohji looks depressed? Out comes the rarely-used club clothes and it's off for a dance marathon Ken usually hates but knows the blond will love, as long as he's not alone. Aya sneezes? Here comes the mother bear himself, armed with blankets, thermometers and a dozen boxes of cough syrup.
These large, beautiful cats are as sweet, gentle, affectionate and playful as they are powerful.
That is so true! I swear, this guy who wrote this shit must been the one Persia emailed for info when he handed out code names.
Ken is just as quick to ruffle Omi's hair as he is to wrap a comforting arm around a moping Balinese. He'll even clap a hand on Aya's shoulder – which makes him not only affectionate, but brave as hell. I ain't afraid of any of them, then or now, but even I wouldn't willingly stick my hand in the lion's mouth. Geez.
If a fight breaks out, Ken is the first one to try and stop it, one way or another. Sometimes it makes for interesting viewing – I once saw him stop a fight between Fearless Leader and Slut Boy by kicking Yohji back and then pressing Aya to the wall, holding him back until they came to their senses. It was amazing.
I mean, when it comes to sheer skill in fighting with their weapons, Yohji and Aya have the upper hand. But brute strength and simple hand-to-hand combat? Ken's got 'em both beat hands down. The kid used to be a professional athlete, for gods sake. And those claws of his – do you have any idea the kind of strength it takes to rip a man open from throat to groin through layers of skin, muscle and bone, in a single swipe? The power, the skill, the muscle...er...trails off
...please excuse the drool. I'm okay now.
Where was I?
Siberians are great with children.
Yeah, for all his deadly skill, he's such an overgrown kid himself. Bloody missions by night – and soccer coach-come-flower boy by day. He can spend hours with them – playing, teaching, goofing off, buying them ice cream and pizza. He's so gentle and sweet with those kids of his – a few words from him and they're willing to disobey their own mothers for him. A man can get cavities watching him for too long.
I've seen him eviscerate a man and then play Dance Dance Revolution with Omi – a bigger kid - a few hours later. It's kinda creepy, now that I think about it.
I should ponder that.
...or I can ponder how sexy he looks when he's dancing and sweating and breathing heavily...
...I gotta start carrying a drop cloth. This is getting embarrassing.
Siberians are very active cats with lots of energy but readily adapt to different lifestyles.
That should be obvious. I mean, the kid was a pro athlete, happy family, adoring fans, an incredible career and future ahead of him – and then the next thing you know, he's been betrayed, killed off in the eyes of the public. His reputation is in tatters, and suddenly he's being trained as a killer.
And you know what?
Instead of snapping and going on a killing spree like any normal, sane person, Ken adapted to what life threw at him and went from being a talented goalie to being an equally talented assassin. I mean, who in their right mind takes things that well?
I personally think it's proof that Ken's off his rocker. It makes him even sexier. grin
As for energy, who else do you know that can be up half the night on missions, up at dawn to open the store, work a full eight hour shift, head off for two hours of soccer training – and still be able to smile like that? That one hundred thousand watt grin he gets when something amzing happens - when a kid of his scores a winning goal, or when Omi gets another perfect test score, or when the fuckin' sun bloody rises.
It's utterly ridiculous.
Note to self – double check the Rosenkruz files Brad managed to steal before last years events, and see if Ken has a latent energy-storing ability. I wouldn't be surprised.
The Siberian Cat is considered to be one of the hardiest & healthiest cats bred today.
Mmm...no argument there. Built like a mack truck, Ken's wiry but packed full of soccer muscles that are hard as rock. The boy can take a punch and either roll with it for a return, or ignore it and knock you flat on your ass.
Health? The kid's got Superman's immune system – almost nothing brings him down. Omi, Aya and Yohji get flattened on a semi-regular basis by the germs parading through the flower shop, brought in by hundreds upon hundreds of fan girls making their weekly, daily and sometimes hourly pilgrimages, but Ken rarely falters. Even those snot-nosed brats he coaches haven't beaten him down, with their nose picking, and face-coughing ways.
In fact, the only time Ken's ever gotten the sniffles would be after a mission that ended up with him getting hurt. I guess his immune system can only handle one thing at a time, and when a body is trying to heal a bullet wound, a cold must be a minor entity the viral guards let by. These are not fun times. You know the phrase, 'Doctors make the worst patients'? The term 'Doctor' can be easily be replaced with 'den mother' or 'soccer player' or 'brown-haired assassin.' I fully admit I've made him feel a compelling urge to sleep during his most difficult moments.
Oh please – he needed the sleep. I don't need to justify myself to you. Screw you and your 'figures'. Shut up.
They will meet you at the door when you come home and explain their day to you.
Now we're getting to some of my favorite character traits. And it's so true! I walk in the door, and Ken's all over me. Of course, I'm just as equally over him but we're not talking about me. He'll babble on about kids and flowers and Omi finally hitting puberty or something, and I'll tell him about body guard duties and missions and beating people up. He listens as well as he talks, you know.
They love to sit in your lap and be groomed. All types of toys intrigue them and they will play with just about anything.
Heh, heh. That's another given. I'm sure an intelligent person like you can correctly interpret that bit of fascinating information.
I just went off into my happy place, didn't I? I am so absent-minded sometimes. But come on, look at what my mind just had to play with! Ken...and toys...and grooming. a lick of the lips My imagination doesn't know how to play fair.
...and I heard you again. Fuck, are you thick or what? I. Read. MINDS. Get that lusty thought out of your head. I don't care how fleeting it was. It had no business being in your filthy head in the first place.
...don't blame me for your perversion. Honestly, some people.
These cats do require one important regimen - daily hugs and kisses!
Heh. Now that's a requirement I have no problem fulfilling. When it comes to him, I have the same need. I mean, fuck, there's just something about him – something sweet, something innocent, even though he's just as bloodstained as I am. Something about him, his mind, his very being that's damn addictive – I could feast on him forever and never be satisfied, y'know?
I once heard this schmoopy love song thing on the radio, one of the few times a day the station plays English music to attract the ex-pat population in Japan. Something about 'forever love, forever dream' and y'know, I hate that sappy crap but that line sticks out in my head whenever I see the idiot. My idiot. Mine. Forever mine.
I am SUCH a loser. Well, no, I'm not. Someone with this body, this face, and this hair – face it, this package – is classified as 'God', never 'loser'. But I have my moments of weakness. I admit it. He's my Achilles Heel, if I must have one. He can hurt me so easily, but being he is who he is, he never will. I can read minds. I know he won't hurt me. He's mine.
Now that was a fun thought from you! Why would I reveal a weakness? Oh come on, you're not really as dumb as I've made you out to be this entire time, are you? Don't you know?
Dead man tell no tales.
Schuldich lowered the smoking gun and watched as the tied up and gagged corpse slumped forward over his desk. Vaulting over the desk, he then hopped back on it, rifling through the man's pocket to snag the package of cigarettes he'd seen outlined there.
He grinned happily as he lit up. The sheaf of papers that Nagi had printed out for him were still in hand, and he flicked through them again. He'd been so busy he hadn't had a chance to go through it earlier – what better way to make time then to combine work and pleasure? And just think – he gave a dying man a glimpse of heaven by describing his Kenken to the doomed idiot. That was adding a bit of good karma right?
Whistling brightly, he holstered the gun, shoved his papers in his pocket, sauntered over to the window and leaped out. All that talk of cats had given a craving for his personal kitty.