Author: NagiLite

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Poor High School student coming through! (And I'm not even a GOOD High School student...) Obviously, I don't own WeiƟ Kreuz.

Warnings: L-I-M-E. That spells 'lime'. And I don't mean the fruit.

ACT SEVEN: Conclusion

In a perfect world, or even in a story book, Brad would have taken Nagi home, cleaned all of his wounds. Days would have passed; they would have steadily become closer, building their relationship on tentative glances and sweet touches. Perhaps, after many months, they would have kissed-- softly.

But the world of an assassin is not perfect, and both were assassins. Both were imperfect. Brad reverted to his cold mannerisms, put gauze on the cut on Nagi's forehead, checked the healing wound on his arm, and ordered him to go to sleep.

Nagi lay awake, eyes wide and not the slightest bit heavy. Rain pitter- pattered on the roof and window, a comforting sound. He rolled over, yet was still very much alert. He ached all over. And he was angry.

'I should have initiated something. Now he's just the same-old-Brad, so cool and collected...That's not how I want him to be with me.'

He wished Schu was home to entertain him. Even Farfarello's presence would have been pleasant. He was bored. A clicking sound went against the rhythm of the rain. The keys of a laptop. So Brad was working. Brad was ALWAYS working. Didn't he ever get tired? The gray sky darkened to charcoal black. Nagi placed his hands behind his head, sighing loudly.

Enough was enough.

He flopped out of bed, crept to the door of his room, peered out. Pale light was slithering across the floor of the hallway from the crack under Brad's closed door. Nagi headed towards this light on tiptoe. He was right outside, about to open when--

"Come in."

Nagi cursed Brad's precognition. He'd KNOWN Nagi would come.

"Hi, Brad," he said carelessly, strutting in as if he hadn't been sneaking around like a spy before. He sat on the edge of Brad's bed, the only furniture other than a dresser and a desk upon which was seated the laptop. Brad went on typing, muttering a half-hearted, "Don't call me Brad."

"Okay, Brad."

They remained like that in silence. Nagi was reminded, however, of his earlier thoughts while lying under his covers. 'Initiate something...initiate what? What do I want to do?'

He thought. And the image of a past dream appeared. He blushed faintly.

'But that was...a dream. A wet dream. The type the guys at school talk about.'

He sort of wished he could be back in school, then, just so he could inquire about the nature of sex and lust, drawing off the knowledge of the well-informed schoolboys. Or he could always ask Schuldich. No. Too embarrassing. He was too close to Schu to discuss...things of that nature.

"I've had the most interesting vision," Brad remarked. Nagi was surprised; the Schwarz leader rarely revealed his visions to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. "I saw myself waking up tomorrow...around noon. I saw you beside me. In MY bed. Now. Isn't that a coincidence." He turned to throw Nagi a wry glance. "What ARE you planning, Naoe?"

'Back to last names, are we?' Out loud he said, "Nothing at all."

"Somehow I doubt the accuracy of that statement."

"Really. I'm here for a perfectly innocent reason."

"What might that be?"

The voice was dangerously low. Nagi swallowed convulsively and lied, "I need painkillers. For my head. It hurts."

"They're in the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink. You know that."

"I, uh, can't reach that high." Another lie; yes, physically he couldn't reach the top shelf, but his telekinesis could have easily acquired the medicine for him. He didn't mention this little fact, however.

Brad gave him a funny look. What a weak excuse, Nagi scolded himself. But he kept a perfectly neutral face.

Grumbling under his breath, Brad got up and exited the room, Nagi following close behind. The bathroom was small and cramped and Nagi was forced to sit on the toilet lid as Brad struggled with the safety-top of the Aspirin. He held out two little pills, and Nagi opened wide his mouth, making clear his intention.

With a resigned sigh, Brad dropped the pills in, handing Nagi a small paper cup filled with water to wash them down with. When that was taken care of, he asked, "Better now?"

Nagi placed a hand to the bandage on his forehead. "Dunno. This thing feels a little loose." It didn't. But that was beside the point.

The American rolled his eyes, pushed up his glasses, and leaned so close to the young boy that Nagi thought he could inhale Brad. Gentle fingers pulled at the gauze, testing it's security. Nagi ignored this and reached with a shaking hand to touch the frame of Brad's glasses. The man started and tried to pull away, but Nagi wrapped one arm around his back.

He pulled off the glasses, Brad cocking an eyebrow.

"Perfectly innocent, eh? Let go of me."

The telekinetic refused to answer, instead using his powers to hold the man there. He liked the coffee brown color of Brad's eyes, just like in his dream. What had he done then? He'd unbuttoned Brad's shirt. He fumbled with the first button, his mind hardly processing what he was doing.

'Don't think.'

So he didn't.

He enjoyed the grunt that escaped the dark-haired man's lips as Nagi ran his fingers delicately over the now bared chest. Tan, strong, just as it had been that night while he was sleeping. And there, two nipples the color of brown sugar. A shiver went down Brad's spine when Nagi touched one of the little nubs softly. Then the other.

"Let. Me. Go. Now," Brad said angrily, not bothering to struggle physically. That clearly wouldn't help.

Nagi gazed at him through chocolate eyelashes. He smiled. "Why? There's nothing you can do about it, not at the moment."

"I don't WANT this."

"You do. Because I can see it in your eyes. You said you're very good at lying to yourself; I see what you meant."

The Japanese youth ran his tongue over first one nipple, then another, hoping he was doing it right. Nonononono, he reminded himself, don't think. Don't worry. Or else you'll never be able to do this.

"L-look, Naoe," Brad said haltingly, his breath coming out in short gasps. His eyes were like fire instead of ice when Nagi met them. "You can't...WE can't...have intercourse."

"Why not?" Nagi demanded.

"You're FIFTEEN. I know we aren't meant for anything...not anything like this."

"So I'm old enough to kill, but not old enough to love you?"

"L-love? Who said a-anything about LOVE?"

Nagi bit lightly on the skin of Brad's chest, trailing a hand to rest on his belt, tugging provocatively. Yeah. What DID love have to do with it? Well...Well. He loved Brad. There, he'd admitted it.

But he didn't vocalize this realization.

It didn't take very long for Nagi's caresses and fleeting touches to arouse Brad past the point of caring, and minutes later Nagi was being pulled onto Brad's bed, his clothes half off already.

It hurt terribly when Brad entered the telekinetic, his breath warm against the other's neck. Nagi wanted to scream, and he did so. Why would ANYONE want to do something that hurt so damned much...and then his screams changed to whimpers as Brad's thrusts collided with a special spot inside of him that made him dizzy.

God. His fingernails dug into a firm shoulder, and he threw his head back, moaning loudly and discovering that that only made his (partner? lover? fuck-buddy?) more eager. A calloused hand wrapped around the boy's straining erection, and he finally cried out in release, a rush of colors and meanings parading by too fast for him to fully grasp...

Brad tensed, then relaxed, his thrusts less frantic until they stopped all together. He rolled off of Nagi and onto his side, facing away from the boy. Nagi shivered at the sudden loss of warmth. The room was so quiet that Nagi could hear the strength of the rain outside increasing and decreasing at intervals.

He shakily brushed against Brad's shoulder.

The man pulled away, muttering something.

"What, Brad?"

" realize I just committed statutory rape, right?"

"I always thought that rape was when a person was taken against his or her will," Nagi snorted. Then he hugged himself because he realized Brad wasn't going to. He thought of the darkness of the church and realized his arm was throbbing with pain from his previous activities. Hmm. He wasn't a virgin anymore, was he?

But he'd never even kissed Brad. He should do that now.



He was a little alarmed by the fact that Brad didn't scold him for not using his surname. But he was determined.

"Kiss me."


Nagi sighed exasperatedly, propping himself on his elbows. "You just screwed my brains out, and you won't even kiss me? If you don't want to-- know what? I don't CARE if you don't want to. I have waited WAY too long for you, Bradley Crawford. Humor me, please, kiss me like you love me."

"...Love you?"

"YES!" He sat straight up, glaring daggers at Brad's elongated form. By the dim light from the laptop still on the nearby desk, he could make out the beads of sweat that rolled off of his skin. "Love me like I love you!"

He shut up then. THAT hadn't been a part of the plan, the one he'd been making up as he went. Yes, he'd had a satisfactory night, and yes, he loved Brad, but he wasn't supposed to blab about it.

The body next to his went very, very rigid.

Then, slowly, Brad got up, twisting around to stare at Nagi with eyes that were strangely large without their familiar metal frames.

And then Brad kissed him.

It was a soul-searing,, heart-busting, I-want-to-make-you-mine sort of kiss, with tongue and lips and everything that Nagi had wanted. He trembled and felt warm arms encircle him; naturally, he fell into the embrace. THIS was what he'd been waiting for all of his life. This was good.

Brad pulled away, pushed Nagi gently back onto the mattress, tucked the sheets around him. A smile flickered over the pre-cog's lips.

"Go to sleep, Nagi."


Farfarello had had a LOT of fun in the park. Too much fun, Schuldich thought, images of terrified squirrels flashing on his mental television. Normally it would have been funny. But the psychopath had nearly gotten them arrested. And now it was--what, past midnight?--and they were FINALLY home.

Farfarello gleefully plopped in front of the T.V. to watch a snake documentary (/Ewwww./) and Schu went in search of his other two teammates, fully intending to complain to Bradley about the difficulty of 'convincing' officers to do 'favors' nowadays.

He peeked into Bradley's room...stared bug-eyed...and silently shut the door.

Nagi had been lucky that night.

Good for him.

Bradley would just have to hear Schu's complaints in the morning. But out of irritation, the telepath promised that he'd give the American a massive headache when he awoke.


Blissfully, Farfarello became bored of snakes and began flipping through channels. He waited a few minutes, and, true to his predictions, Schu returned with a bowl of extra-buttery popcorn. Farfie thrust one pale hand into the bowl, smiling when the butter made him greasy.

It was common knowledge that popcorn and horror movies hurt God.