Disclaimer: Unfortunately...I - I :bursts into sobs: don't own Weiss Kreuz!

Minerva's Note: For this tale I took some of my favourite lines from a few of my other fics so you lot could enjoy them. Most of it is original for this fic, though. The story is more humour than romance, however, the small amount of romance that is present happens to be OmiNagi, so don't read it if that shall bother you. Hopefully, you'll all enjoy and review!

Poetry and...Bananas?

Chapter 1 In Order to Insult

Schwartz and Weiss were going to pick up their youngest members from the library. They located them partaking in an activity in a secluded corner.

"Omi, don't touch that!" Ken exclaimed. "Do you even know where it's been?"

"Sure, I do. Nobody would know better than me," answered Omi cheerfully. He and Nagi were doing a science experiment with banana peels.

Aya questioned briskly, "Did either of you learn anything while you were doing this for hours when you could've been training?"

Nagi glanced at Omi. "I learned what they say isn't true: cats don't have small bananas."

Schuldich rolled his eyes. "If you wanna screw a kitten that's your deal. Leave out the details."

Omi's cheeks reddened. (Minerva's Note: I'm referring to his face.) He and Nagi were not yet intimate. He had not even, to Omi's dismay, told him that he loved him.

"Don't use bad language in front of the chibis." Yoji wagged a finger in mock disapproval.

Farfarello looked up from the wooden crucifix he was stabbing. "What's a chibi? Do they hurt God?"

"We're chibis," explained Omi, gesturing to himself and Nagi. "Can't you see the small statures and round faces with big, adorable eyes?"

Everyone involuntarily sweatdropped with stupefaction and bewilderment.

"Oh." Farfarello stared at the chibis. "Which one of you is the bitch?"

'The author should've given me that line,' thought Schuldich.

Eradicating the opportunity for a reply, Crawford instructed, "Let's get out of here so I can finish what I was reading."

The telepath noticed a magazine sticking out of Crawford's pocket. "What are you so anxious to get back to reading?" Without invitation he grabbed the magazine. Once he read the title he burst into laughter. It was Poetry Today.

Crawford snatched it back and indignantly defended his choice of literature, "It happens to be very exciting. They're having a poetry contest."

"Planning to enter?" Aya queried. His face was neutral, but his cold eyes were taunting.

With an unreadable expression he responded, "Perhaps."

"Women love poetry," remarked Yoji thoughtfully. "Maybe I should enter."

"You'd never beat me," scoffed Crawford.

"How do you know?"

"Whatever, we'll all enter. Let's just get out of here," Farfarello hissed vehemently, glaring at a nearby bookshelf that had a bible on it.

"Fine. I'll agree to anything to get away from them." Aya indicated Schwartz by jerking his head in their direction. Why did Omi have to date a villain?

So, Weiss and Schwartz both headed to their respective headquarters to compose their art.

Reading Nagi's mind, Schuldich commented, "Writing about Omi, huh? I'll steal your idea."

Knowing that the German was probably only attempting to infuriate him and would not ever write anything about a Weiss member, Nagi ignored him. To his shock Schuldich soon handed him a piece of paper. It was undeniably about Nagi's boyfriend, though it wasn't something Nagi would write.


Resisting both the urge to blush and the impulse of throwing Schuldich into a wall, Nagi calmly stated, "That's an acronym, not a poem." He headed towards his bedroom.

"Nagi, wait." Ordinarily the telekinetic would not have adhered to the command, however, it was Crawford that said it so he complied. "Read this. It's a haiku." Since Crawford was immensely logical Nagi was unsurprised that the sentence provided the reader with counsel.

Whenever I feel blue I start breathing again.

"It's not the proper amount of syllables to be a haiku," Nagi pointed out.

The light dangerously glinted off of Crawford's spectacles. All small children within a 100-metre radius began screaming. "What do you know? You're just a prodigy."

"I know that a cow has four stomachs and an octopus has three hearts."

"That's great," Crawford volunteered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Farfarello fetched a towel and cleaned up the sarcasm that had dripped.

Nagi elegantly raised an eyebrow, a massive display emotion for him, and strolled into his room closing the door behind him to enable himself to work in peace. He typically kept an affective fa├žade on his actions, thus he delighted in expressing himself with words.

"Want to hear my poem?" Farfarello asked his two remaining teammates.

"No," said Crawford, "but I foresee you're going to tell us anyway."

Farfarello recited, "Everything can be solved by being violent.
You must be evil to live 'cause evil is live backwards, I think.
Corpses should be used to decourate for an event.
Blood, blood everywhere and plenty of drops to drink.
Nothing is Heaven-sent."

"Uh, it definitely rhymed," remarked Schuldich.

Farfarello grinned. "What'd you think, Brad?"

"It's Crawford, dammit!" Why did his teammates persist in referring to him by that name when they were aware that he abhorred it?

"Sorry, What'd you think, Crawford-Dammit?"

"I thought the lines were decent, but they didn't make much sense when you put them together."

"That doesn't matter," argued Farfarello. "The lyrics to our show's theme song are good lines that don't make sense when you combine them."

Crawford asked Schuldich, "Did you give him his medication today?"

"No, it was your turn."

"I wear the designer suit. I don't have a turn."

"You're living proof shit can grow legs and walk."

"You're flat as a board and easy to nail."

"You said that insult could only be used on girls."

"I changed my mind."

"If you changed your mind what did you do with the diaper?"

"You wouldn't know. You should talk to a palm reader instead of another mind reader since I know you've got a palm."

Farfarello interrupted, enraged, "What do you mean 'medication?' You told me those were Skittles, and I actually like those candies!" Rotting one's teeth punishes the Lord.

"I need a holiday," muttered Crawford.