Five apologies, sincere and otherwise


Warnings/notes: various pairings, near-drabble set, ooc.

Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz.

written at 5th october 2006, by Misura, in reply to a meme-challenge made in my livejournal by Ingenius Inc which offered the theme: Five things Crawford had to offer an apology for (because he was too smart to think Schuldig would let him get away without one)



The one nice thing about Crawford, Schuldich had always thought, was that the man was never late. It simply didn't happen; any type of delay would be foreseen and thus accounted for. Possibly, that had made Schuldich a bit spoilt - although it wasn't as if Crawford ever cut /him/ any slack when he was late, however good his excuse might be.

"You're /late/," Schuldich snapped, when Crawford finally appeared, cleaning some specks of blood from his shoes. "I was /waiting/ for you."

"Sorry," Crawford said, as easy as if he apologized to people on a daily basis.

"What?" Schuldich asked, out of some weird desire to hear Crawford say he was sorry again. Which was probably not going to happen, but Schuldich liked to be optimistic.

"I synchronized my watch with the news earlier today. Yours is still running three minutes early."


"This," Schuldich declared as he stumbled into the kitchen at seven in the morning, "is going to be a bad day. Nagi, tell me there's coffee."

"I have a maths-test." Nagi frowned as he looked up from his notes. "Did Crawford say that?"

"Who do you think Brad is? Your dad?" Schuldich snorted.

"I meant: did Crawford say it was going to be a bad day?" Nagi clarified. "There's coffee over there."

"Naw, I'm just cranky because of last night." Schuldich poured himself a mug of coffee.

"I don't want to know," Nagi said. "And for your information: that's the last coffee there is. If you go out today, you'd better do some grocery-shopping. We're out of noodles, too."

"Great." Schuldich sat down. "Who cares about noodles anyway?"

"Noodles are very nutritious and a proper substitute for potatoes or rice," Crawford said, straightening his tie as he walked in. "Good morning, Nagi. I'm pleased you'll score another A for maths today."

"Ha!" Nagi violently shoved his notes away.

"You have /no/ sense of responsibility, do you know that? What if you only saw he'd score an A because of his last-minute studying this morning /which he isn't going to do now/ thanks to you?" Schuldich shook his head. "You're a lousy father-figure."

"My predictions are always right," Crawford said, halting next to Schuldich.

"They'd better," Schuldich grumbled. "Bugger off, will you? I'm still not done reading the comics-page, and unlike /some/ people, I actually need to /read/ the newspaper to know what's in it."

"Oh, it's not the newspaper I want," Crawford reassured him. "It's the coffee. Sorry."


"Was that a police-car?" Schuldich asked.

"Maybe," Farfarello replied.

"Does it matter if it was?" Nagi demanded. "We're not breaking any laws right now. We're just going to an amusement-park."

"Tot loves amusement-parks!" Tot squealed.

"Nagi, tell your girlfriend to shut up, will you? I have a headache." Schuldich rubbed his temples and wished Crawford was here, preferably instead of Schuldich himself. Two days ago, it had seemed like fun to egg Nagi on when he requested a trip to an amusement-park. Nagi hardly ever did anything even remotely teen-like, and Schuldich had spotted a great chance to pay Crawford back for making him sleep in his own room three nights in a row. He could have known Crawford would find some way to turn the tables on him. Outsmarting a precog simply didn't seem to be possible.

"Yes," Farfarello said, somewhat out of the blue.

"Yes? Yes, what? Yes, you know I have a headache? Yes, you have a headache, too?" Schuldich had dragged Farfarello along in the hopes of some entertainment, and because he scared Tot.

"Yes, it was a police-car. It's following us," Farfarello clarified.

Schuldich cursed. He'd convinced those four idiots of Weiss that they all were straight and should find girlfriends last night. He didn't want to have to mindwipe a pair of policemen before eleven in the morning, with no more than half a cup of coffee for breakfast.

"Tot hears a ringtone!" Tot squealed.

Schuldich picked up his cellphone, deciding Crawford had to be rubbing off on him. He already knew who it'd be before he heard their voice.

"The police-car Farfarello has just spotted is no threat, and you should make no attempt to influence the agents' minds in any way," Crawford told him. "Sorry, Schuldich; they've simply given you a speeding ticket. That's not important enough to make a fuss over. The 9600 yen will come out of your own pocket, of course, as you were the one driving the car."

"You bastard!" Schuldich muttered. "Those tickets for the amusement-park only cost you 6000, at most."

"It's called 'interest'," Crawford informed him. "Enjoy the ride in the Cotton Candy Express."


Crawford didn't seem to care a great deal about what Schuldich did in his spare time, and he /was/ a precognitive, after all, so Schuldich assumed that meant Crawford simply didn't have it in him to be jealous. Considering Crawford's personality, that seemed a logical-enough assumption.

Thus, it didn't seem like such a big deal, when Schuldich spotted what was supposed to be God's gift to womankind, wearing sunglasses and an outfit that screamed 'slut', in some club Schuldich only visited because he liked the way they put little umbrellas in all their drinks, and the general level of messed-up-ness of most of the people he met there. Crawford could have told him Kudoh'd be there, sure, but he hadn't, so apparently he hadn't considered it of any importance.

Kudoh told Schuldich he, Kudoh, was straight, hostile and sexier than Schuldich, which was amusing enough to make Schuldich buy him a few drinks. After those, Kudoh told Schuldich that actually, Schuldich looked pretty damn sexy, and was a great guy. Schuldich decided to get Kudoh out of there before he started crying in his drink about what a shame it was that they were (theoretically) enemies.

They exchanged phone-numbers and agreed to meet again the next week, same time and place. Schuldich felt rather pleased with himself, enjoying the prospect of getting to screw around with Kudoh's mind (and okay, perhaps also with his body, although Schuldich feared Kudoh was one of those all-talk-no-action kind of persons). Thus, it came as a considerable let-down when Kudoh stood him up.

The phone-number he'd given Schuldich turned out to be fake, too, adding insult to injury, because Schuldich had, in fact, given Kudoh his real one. As he came home at three in the morning, Schuldich was thoroughly pissed off at the world in general, and Kudoh Yohji in particular.

Crawford was waiting for him, looking awake and smug. Schuldich cursed at him in German, which Crawford spoke almost as fluently as Schuldich, although he might be less familiar with the more colourful swear-words. When Schuldich paused to breathe, he rose and said, in English:

"Sorry, Schuldich, but if you want to sleep around, that's entirely your own business."

Crawford was, Schuldich knew, not sorry. Crawford never was, and never would be, either.


"Let Nagi do it!" Schuldich protested. "He's /dating/ one of those bimbos!"

"Nagi needs to go to school," Crawford said calmly.

"Well, then, Farfarello complained about not getting to go out enough. Why not let him do something useful for once?" Schuldich suggested.

"Our goal is to keep a low profile." Crawford said. "That doesn't include having one of us dropped off on our doorstep by the police, with a request to keep a better eye on him next time. And that's only the best-case scenario, based on the assumption the police-officers who apprehend him actually work for Mr. Takatori. Farfarello is not an option."

"I bet /I/ could get myself arrested, too, if I tried," Schuldich muttered. All he'd need to do was act like one of those German tourists he'd spotted every now and then, drunk on sake and acting like this was some sort of backwards-country where everything could be bought if you waved the right kind of money. Of course, everything /could/ be bought here, as much as in Germany or anywhere else, but not for a few thousand yen. "Maybe I should."

"You can always try." Crawford didn't sound impressed with the threat. It had been more of a joke, anyway; Schuldich had no desire to get arrested /and/ have Crawford be annoyed with him at the same time. He wasn't suicidal or masochistic.

"What about you?" Schuldich decided to switch tactics and leaned back in his seat, giving Crawford a good view of - well, his fully clothed body. It looked good, sure, but he doubted if it looked good enough to make Crawford cave. Still, maybe Crawford would decide to do something about that 'fully clothed' part. Nagi was gone and Farfarello was locked in his room, so it was just the two of them right now. A perfect opportunity, if Schuldich said so himself.

"Sorry, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes." Crawford looked at his watch.

"People are going to think I'm some sort of pedophile when they see my shopping-cart," Schuldich complained. "Why can't Schreient do their own grocery-shopping?"

"Mr. Takatori's orders." Crawford shrugged. "As to your reputation: I would suppose people will simply assume you're shopping for your wife and children."

"That's even worse," Schuldich said.