Parings: Crawford x Schuldig, Yohji x Aya, nod toward Nagi x Omi




It always came down to the same thing in the end. They went out, did their job--killed someone and hopefully if he had been a good boy, Crawford would let him cause a little trouble along the way. That was the plan for tomorrow in any case. Only problem was Schuldig found it very hard to be a good boy.

Now, he wondered, was it really his fault if someone seemed to have a certain little brain-dead piece of fluff on the mind constantly and ended up broadcasting his thought on the subject to any telepath in hearing distance? It was only right, he reasoned, that he return the favor to the boy by sending him images of the youngest Weiss assassin to torment his dreams. Schuldig was just helping him out after all; at least Bombay was intelligent and apt to understand Nagi a bit more than the girl. So he wasn't being bad, not really.

And if a certain redheaded kitten was extremely repressed, how could he not help out? It had become too irritating watching Balinese and Abyssinian dance around their attractions to each other. He laughed thinking about that one, hell it didn't even look like they knew they were attracted to each other. A slight shove in the right direction, with the help of a few bottles of the world's best uninhibiters and nature could take its own course. Well, he hoped it would in any case, if only so he could stick around and get their reactions in the morning when the alcohol wore off, but again--he was just helping out.

Yes, telepathy could be a real bitch some days but, at times like this, it was fun. And that was half the problem. Crawford didn't see it quite the same way he did. It was more like "Leave Nagi alone." Or "Stay away from Weiss, Schuldig." Of course Crawford's voice never sounded the same in his head as he rehashed the words later. They weren't the usual calm and smooth tones that were the norm, but instead rang out in the sing-song pattern of childish imitation.

But, were was the fun in not helping? He was so good at helping out people with their problems, and that's how he had ended up in Crawford's bed. After explaining all of this to Crawford, he expected the man to tell him the same thing that usually came out. Instead he had simply said, "So, show me how good you can be." Now lying in the other's bed, he smiled. Crawford was going to get a lesson in his true talents after all.