Author: NagiLite

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Really, if I said I owned Weiß Kreuz, would anyone believe me?

~More Adventures in Cooking~

"I want a cookie."

Those were the only words Schuldich managed to get out of his mouth before Crawford fixed his Bastard Glare (tm) on the red-headed German.

"No. No more baking. Ever."

"But BRADLEY--"

"NO."

Schu was never one to follow the rules laid out by his Fearless Leader and/or anyone else. As soon as Crawford left for some meeting or another, the telepath switched on the television to cover up any noises that should drift from the kitchen. He then sprinted to the refridgerator and pulled out pre-made cookie dough.

He cackled evilly.

The cookies would be his.

***

Cautiously, Nagi peered around the doorway of the bathroom. He'd been chased in there five minutes ago by a certain psychopath who seemed out for blood.

'What did I ever do to him, anyway?' Nagi wondered peevishly.

Nothing. Nothing at all. The telekinetic reached out tentative waves of power, feeling around for the slender shape of--Ah, there he was! In the hallway...Well. There was no WAY Nagi could get past him.

'You should be ashamed of yourself, Naoe,' he scolded mentally. 'You're a powerful psychic. You shouldn't be...Well, your knees shouldn't be shaking like that.'

But Farfarello had no qualms about sharpening his knives on the smooth flesh of Nagi's neck. So what if Nagi could restrain him? It was still a scary thought to think. And images of Farfarello giggling over Nagi's dead body kept invading the Japanese boy's mind.

The Irishman couldn't stay out there forever, Nagi reasoned, quietly closing the door again.

***

Schuldich hummed at he flattened the little balls of dough. Pearl pink bunnies were etched into their centers. Cute. He spread butter over the bottom of the pan and then placed the raw cookies in neat little rows across the metal surface.

Ah, beautiful. He could already taste the sugary sweetness of victory.

***

The vision came during a very important meeting.

Mr. Taketori was spouting off about some drug dealer in Sendai, and Crawford was only half listening.

And then--

Farfarello in a hallway, glancing up--

Nagi's blue eyes widening in fright--

Blackness--

Burning--

Screams of happiness--

Red hair--

Cookies.

Crawford panicked. For him, panicking constituted as a hasty request to return to Schwarz HQ. Though slightly put out that his most trusted bodyguard would not listen to his rants, Mr. Taketori honored the request.

One car ride later...

***

Farfarello smelled...he smelled...sweets. Not like the delicious brownies that Evil Nagi had deprived him of. Something less thick. Something like...

Cookies. Yes, he smelled cookies.

'Ah, cookies definitely make God weep. Little children like cookies. It makes them fat and then they have heart attacks and DIE.'

He sighed in pleasure.

He practically floated out of the hallway and to the kitchen, momentarily forgetting why he'd even been IN the hallway in the first place.

***

For the second time that afternoon, Nagi poked his head out of the bathroom door. He sent out his telepathic fingers...And came up with nothing.

He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Gone. Farfarello had given up on his bloodlust.

Suddenly, an insane laugh drifted from the general direction of the kitchen.

Nagi gulped.

German curses followed after, and a familiar black smoke.

Nagi's eyes widened.

He trudged into the bathroom again and locked the door. He didn't have to be a pre-cog to know that something very unpleasant was going to take place.

***

Crawford arrived home in time to see a streak of red hair go by him. Schuldich. The American lashed out and caught hold of a fold of fabric, bringing the other man to a halt.

"HEEEEEY!"

"Good evening, Schuldich. Decided to do a little cooking while I was gone, eh?" Crawford asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Schu quickly realized it was hopeless to argue. The smoke that he'd tried so hard to get rid of still remained, and he knew Crawford could smell it. He also knew that upon entering the kitchen, his boss would find a giggling psychopath on the slightly charred tiles, chewing on golden brown cookies.

/At least the cookies came out okay...Too bad Farfie decided to play with the stove when I wasn't looking.../

'You should have been watching him.'

Schuldich sniffed. /I'm no babysitter, Bradley./

"I thought I specifically ordered you NOT to bake."

/You did./

"Then why did you bake ANYWAY?"

/The voices in my head told me to./

"..."

/Really./

"..."

/You don't believe me./

"No."

"That hurts. That really hurts. My heart bleeds."

"Does it now? That's interesting. You've been a very naughty boy, Schuldich. Go to my room."

Schuldich's eyebrows shot up, but he wisely made no comments.

/So he's still in the mood for sex, eh? Well, we'll just see about that.../

***

Crawford didn't bother restraining Farfarello. The psycho was happily stuffing himself with Schu's cookies, cackling about God's pain. Schuldich had put out any fire that might have flared up, and Crawford was thankful for that.

Crawford pushed up his glasses, sighing heavily. Honestly, what he put up with for this team...He switched off the television and was halfy to his bedroom when he remembered Nagi. Or, more correctly, Nagi's absense.

The telekinetic's room was empty.

Crawford noticed a pale light leaking from beneath the bathroom door. He knocked.

"Naoe?"

The door opened ever-so-slowly until a childish pace peered out.

"Crawford?"

"Um..." The american shifted awkwardly, his expression impassive. "Having...dificulties?"

Nagi seemed to see something behind Crawford, and he paled.

"Uh...uh, yeah. D-diarrhea..." The door slammed closed again. Crawford turned to find Farfarello sitting in the hall entranceway, smiling and eating cookies.

Deciding to leave the two Schwarz members to their own devices, Crawford entered his own bedroom...His sanctuary.

***

Nagi huddled in the bathtub, his knees drawn up to his chest. Hmph. Spending the whole day in the bathroom. Mental image of Farfarello and knives, sharp knives. Well, it wasn't so bad...

He jumped at the sound of a shriek.

Sounded like...Crawford?

***

Schuldich smiled coyly, thin fingers finishing the knot on his Bradleykin's gag.

The American was strapped to the bed, eyes staring accusingly at the telepath.

/Honestly, Bradley...'You've been a naughty boy...?' Please. You haven't seen ANYTHING yet.../