Impinge
It was not so much the sight of Ken padding around Crawford's apartment in a pair of oversized pants which he held in place with a hand, but rather what he had blurted out when the front door swung open:
"I want to buy you a jacket."
Schuldich allowed a honey-sweet grin to creep across his lips as he replied to the boggled-looking boy – "Why not just say you want to have my baby outright, Hidaka?"
Crawford was the next one to step past the doorway, closing the door shut behind him. He levelled Ken a reprimanding gaze at his state of semi-nakedness, the monocle glinting from a stray ray of the evening sun. Ken had not bothered to return his gaze – he was still staring open-mouthed at Schuldich as if the German was a rare breed of orchid-eating Ocelot.
A chuckle as Schuldich closed the distance between them by brushing past Crawford, stopping a few steps away from a still-shocked Ken – "Shall we name the child Grau? It'd be a fitting name, don't you think so?"
A quick rub against Ken's mind – just enough to remind him where they were right now. The boy re-hinged his jaw a moment later, then turned to look at Crawford.
Crawford did not meet his questioning eyes; he chose not to.
"I..." Ken began. The words did not flow both in his mind and mouth, so he wisely clammed up.
"Yes, you," Schuldich titled his head at Ken, "Are the cause of the misadventure that I am going to become a part of, no thanks to Crawford's insistence that I help you find your precious ex-teammate."
The brunette looked from Schuldich to Crawford, paused as if considering the words to use to express his gratitude, then cast his eyes back to Schuldich's lazy form with no words muttered in-between.
It was a terribly odd and unexpected move from Crawford, to say the least.
Schuldich waited out the uncomfortable, thick silence for a few minutes before he broke it with a string of words – "If you want to find Fujimiya, the soonest we can leave for England is the day after tomorrow once Crawford gets some travel issues settled."
"England?" Ken frowned, "Aya never mentioned about going to England before."
The boy glanced over in Crawford's direction, expecting him to offer up an explanation for the travel destination stated. The look which Crawford returned only caused him further confusion – the man apparently had not expected this turn in events either.
"England," Crawford's face was impassive as he directed his words at Schuldich, "You didn't say anything about Fujimiya being in England."
Schuldich shrugged and looked away, "Probably slipped my mind."
"Your mind is just about as slippery as an elephant's, Schuldich," a pause as he shot a glance at Ken who had mysteriously stiffened in the meantime, then, "The truth."
Both eyes wandered over towards the boy standing beside them, with Schuldich turning to give Crawford a questioning gaze as if to confirm with the man if it was wise to say aloud what he had just delivered to the American's mind. Crawford responded by adjusting his monocle, all this while avoiding Ken's confused eyes.
Schuldich took it as a sign to proceed, "The reason I didn't say that he's in England now is because something happened to him just days before. Fujimiya was caught in crossfire between some street gangs..."
At this Ken's hearing immediately shut down, finding himself too shocked and worried to learn of anything else besides of Aya's current state. With a striding step he launched himself at Schuldich, hands thrown forward as if to grab the man. He found himself stopped by an arm which Crawford had thrust between them, and was ready to open his mouth and protest when the taller man glared down at him.
"Listen first, Ken." This he had said with stern seriousness, and Ken found his arms automatically returning to his sides.
Schuldich cocked his head at the boy, then looked to Crawford. From the pregnant silence that they held between them, Ken understood that the German was communicating telepathically with Crawford. He could read nothing from Schuldich, and even less from Crawford who seemed to wear a permanent poker face when talking business.
Ken felt utterly left out.
"Fujimiya is fine – someone saved his ass and he's in good hands for now," Schuldich's nasal voice echoed dully in his ears. It took him several moments to register the meaning behind those words before he sagged visibly in relief. He missed the single raised eyebrow which Schuldich had directed to his old partner, along with Crawford's briefly-faltered gaze.
"I guess... that means we can go find him? Alive and well?" Ken chirped up, the second part of his concern seeming to have been uttered belatedly as if it were an afterthought.
Schuldich smirked, "I can arrange for the alternatives too, you know."
"Schuldich," a vaguely disapproving voice. Just vaguely.
"What?" the German deliberately chose a dramatics-injected tone while trying to look hurt. Then quietly, he offered up - // You know that the alternatives are preferable, don't you? For you at any rate... //
Crawford did not meet the questioning tanzanites, and Schuldich knew that he was right.
// I can kill that Fujimiya boy, Crawford. All you have to do is tell me to do it, and I will. //
By then, the man had turned away and started towards the bedroom. Schuldich could feel him trying to close up his mental shields in an attempt to keep him out, but he persisted.
// Dammit, Crawford – you know I will do it for you. Just say the word and... //
"No." The vocal utterance of Crawford's reply cut short his sentence. He did not even bother turning back to face Schuldich, simply continuing on his way as if Schuldich had not just offered up his help without him having to ask for it.
"You will do only as instructed, Schuldich," ambers darted from Ken to settle on Schuldich, "Bring Hidaka to Fujimiya, and then leave at once. I do not want that redhead going for your throat the moment he sees you so near a former comrade."
"Awww... your concern towards me is so sweet, Crawford," Schuldich cooed. He then hooked a finger behind one of his suspenders, toying with it as he added – "I've been in this business for too long to not know how to watch myself, Crawford. But I'll take care of this little katzchen for you. I promise that he'd be completely safe with me."
Ken swallowed, realising with slight uneasiness that Schuldich had held his grin a second too long. He waited to see if Crawford had noticed anything amiss, but the man had already closed the bedroom door behind him.
The instant the door clicked shut, the grin from Schuldich's lips dropped so cleanly that he looked as if he had not been smiling a split second ago. He glanced down at the boy out of a corner of his eye, taking note of how well-defined the boy... no, man's muscles had become. His old enemy was nearing his prime, changing from an adolescent to an adult within the short few years between their first encounter and their current one.
He could understand why Crawford had trouble letting go – the boy was a temptation; a deadly sin in himself. The American had always displayed a fondness for beautiful monsters ever since he knew him 15 years ago.
// You have cheated and betrayed him, Hidaka. // An accusation that was sharp and crystal-clear in its directness.
Ken whipped his head towards Schuldich, filled with disbelief at the damnation placed upon him. Schuldich picked the reply out from his head before he even needed to think it aloud:
// You found in him the comfort that Fujimiya was never able to give, and the moment that bastard gives you the smallest shard of hope in obtaining that, you are ready to give up all to taste it. //
Schuldich then wrinkled his nose - // You disgust me. //
Ken was at a complete loss, baffled by the barrage of allegations tossed at him by the German. Anger, rage, and then guilt – each emotion took its turn in dominating his mind as he scrapped together a patchwork of an answer to give to the glaring man.
"You don't understand, and you never will," Ken found himself snarling at the man beside him, "You were never there to witness it."
To this Schuldich just tapped his finger against his right temple, smirking.
Telepathy – the art of reading minds and probing thoughts. Even memories are not spared as long as they are held in the open.
To make matters worse, Schuldich was among the best to have come out of the Rosenkreuz training program. Alive.
The boy could only clench his teeth as he glowered venomously – he had no answers left to give Schuldich now, seeing how the German had practically gained access into every intimate corner of his mind.
Completely violated; that was how he felt.
// Are you willing to give up all of this, Hidaka? Of everything that you've ever had with him for something that may not even exist//
Schuldich walked over to the coffee table, plucking from its surface a chipped crystal paperweight. He tested its weight in his hand, then held it up against the dying sunlight to catch the final rays of the day in it. He tiled the crystal at an angle – the sunlight filtered through it to concentrate on Ken's face, causing the boy to grimace as he moved out of its way. Schuldich smirked but said nothing; he continued to admire the oval-shaped decoration, and only when Ken met his gaze did he replace the paper weight before stating:
// This is an exchange that you will regret. //
He did not need his Gift to read the boy's reply – it was evident in his coiled, tensed muscles.
It was Ken who made the first move – a sharp, jabbing punch thrown at Schuldich's smug face. The German easily dodged the attack before grabbing Ken's arm by the wrist, having read ahead of time the sequence of movements that Ken had plotted out in his head. And he thought that the boy would have known better by now after having witnessed his comrades toyed with by the German's vastly superior speed.
Rage – it stole from Ken his cool, and fuelled by the failure of his first strike, threw forth another punch. This time he aimed lower, hoping to pinpoint a crippling blow against Schuldich's abdomen. This too Schuldich saw from Ken's mind, and this time he captured the fist in the curve of his palm before squeezing around it.
Trapped.
Ken would have utilised a lower limb then, but found the pants tangled oddly around his lower half. So he had to settle for leaning in towards Schuldich, breathing fury towards him in shallow, quick breaths.
"You can't fuck with my head, Schuldich," Ken hissed through gritted teeth, "I am my own person; I do not need anyone to decide for me where my future lies. Even Crawford knows that he doesn't own me – that's why he called for you."
// You are wrong. // Dark anger glared down at the boy, the next thought was silent and only for Schuldich's own mind.
He did it because he cares too much for you.
Whether it was an opportunity presented by Schuldich's blinding anger, or an opportunity created by Ken's continued shoving – Schuldich's back-stepping left foot slipped. In an attempt to steady himself he loosened his grip on Ken's arms for a fraction of a second. It was just long enough for Ken to pull free and jump backwards, creating a bubble of space between them as he adopted battle stance. Turquoises watched the German intensely, their owner now reminded of Schuldich's lightning-fast movements.
Schuldich took his time to adjust his posture while re-aligning his equilibrium. He looked up, levelling Ken with a bemused gaze while placing a hand on his hip.
Then he started laughing.
Ken allowed himself a blink in surprise, but continued to hold his stance – muscles tightening and readying themselves for that instant release. Schuldich seemed to not be having any of that, however, given how he was now doubled over with laughter.
It annoyed Ken immensely – "What the hell is so funny?"
A raised hand as Schuldich swallowed the last few gasps of laugher before he straightened himself up. Then he lifted a finger to point at Ken.
"Get some decent pants, will you? I cannot fight a person seriously when his parts are showing."
Confusion, then a flush of heat as Ken made a fumbled grab for the oversized pants which was just hanging off his left hip. He glared at Schuldich, as if daring the man to poke further fun at him.
Schuldich, however, became bored by then and had his head turned towards the closed bedroom door. He was puzzled, to say the least – under normal circumstances, Crawford would have burst out onto them the moment Ken begun his attack and threatened them both with physical violence. But all was quiet behind the wooden door.
// Crawford//
The reply came quickly enough, though not as fast as usual - // Yes//
// Nothing. Just checking in to see if you are done crying your eyes out yet. // Schuldich tried to jest, a little too relieved to learn that Crawford was still more or less himself.
// Run over your search process with Ken, Schuldich. Tell him whatever he wants to know. I'll have the travel documents ready soon. // The American seemed to have completely missed Schuldich's insult, something which he would not have allowed Schuldich to get away with on any other day.
// Whatever you say, boss. // He cast a disinterested glance at Ken who was apparently coming up with some fairly creative ways of keeping his trousers up - // Whatever you say. //
"Hey."
Schuldich grimaced at the muttered sound – he would have to teach the boy some manners. Preferably out of Crawford's view.
"Hey to you too, Hidaka," he replied sourly, giving Ken a quick glance before turning his head away.
Ken took no insult at the man's actions, instead going straight to his question:
"Is he okay?"
The German blinked almost stupidly at the enquiry, running Ken's words through his head several times over before deciding that he had indeed heard the boy correctly. Finally, he turned to Ken, lips curled upwards into a feline smile – "Why don't you go ask him yourself?"
Ken crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows knitted at the man's quick-fire change of attitude. If he was really to travel with Schuldich to England, he decided that learning the German's temperament was going to be his key to an uneventful trip rather than one ladened with threats of violent disembodiment exchanged.
"I guess I'll do that," Ken spoke the words with only the barest traces of uncertainty.
Schuldich said nothing; only stepping aside to give Ken a clear path to the closed door.
"Brad."
Crawford squeezed his shoulders together momentarily at the utterance of his name, then spoke in an annoyed tone – "I thought I said to never call me by my first name."
"Well, this isn't exactly the moment for surnames either, Mr. Crawford." The reply was devoid of malice, filled instead with a suggestion of weariness. A soft click: the door is shut from the inside.
The man half-turned around to look at Ken who remained stationary in front of the door, talking over his own shoulder – "What is it that you want?"
"Request," Ken muttered, "I've a request to make."
"This is not a song dedication channel, Hidaka. I suggest you try..."
"Oh, just fucking stop it, Crawford," a snarl as he advanced towards Crawford, stopping just within reach of the man, "I want to ask you to do something for me, okay?"
Crawford raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned his whole body to face Ken. The brunette noted from the man's nearly arranged features that Crawford was in a calculative mood. Crawford might have been wondering if he was going to ask for some credit, or perhaps some arrangements to be made for him and his cherished old comrade – it was an expression common to that of businessmen on the verge of closing a large deal.
Ken exhaled, "'that'."
The response earned him a long, hard stare from Crawford before the man deemed it necessary to seek further clarifications.
"'That' can mean many things, Ken."
He tried not to look pleading or awkward when drawing out his words, but he succeeded in doing both all the same with his slightly slouched form and tapping feet:
"Can you do 'that thing' again, Brad?"
Crawford betrayed no surprise at the raised request. In fact, he looked positively bored. It left Ken wondering if the man would oblige him the intimacy sought.
His answer came in the form of a raised hand, lifting forward to gently brush fingers against his forehead. They rested there for a moment before being dragged quietly through a mess of bangs, stern ambers following them along. A line was drawn from the centre of his forehead to his right ear. The movements halted briefly before resuming in a curve that glided over the back of his ear. Crawford's fingers dragged warmth against him, the heat leaving behind a tingling trail of sensitised skin.
Crawford did not move his hand away from the underside of Ken's earlobe, instead using the moment to cast a glance towards the boy. It was with mild annoyance that he noted that Ken had dropped his head - an action which the boy repeated consistently whenever he touched him so.
Fingers sprang to life again, caressing softly down the side of the boy's cheek. They dropped to tease a path along the underside of Ken's chin; still the boy did not react.
Their gazes only met when Crawford pressed his thumb to Ken's chin, raising the boy's eyes to meet his.
The usual defiance was absent for once. The only language left between them was but of the lips – a tantalising, hot touch that was over in a flash. Or it would have, if Ken had not snaked his arms around Crawford's neck, effectively holding the man against himself.
No further breaches were made beyond that of the outer lips – anything more and it would have felt like a common violation; a cheapness even. Jerky breathes continued to wash over the tender flesh even as contact broke, the moment of silence being anything but in the questioning gazes that each had for the other.
It was Crawford who broke the intensity of the moment, choosing then to gently but firmly pull back against the boy's lingering hold on him. Ken did not make the effort to keep his arms around the man either.
And so the spell broke.
Crawford wondered if the boy ever had a gesture between him and the one named Fujimiya that might be appropriately named 'that thing'.
Ken wondered if the slight glint behind Crawford's monocle was something more than just a trickery of the light.
As if reading Ken's thoughts, Crawford adjusted his monocle, a finger brushing over the corner of his eye absentmindedly. Only after he drew away his hand did he give Ken his full attention, ambers cool once more.
The glint was gone; like nothing more than an illusion.
"Bon voyage." The overused phrase felt anything but when spoken by Crawford in that firm, unyielding tone. It sounded raw around the edges – as if the man had never used those words before.
Turquoises darted away as if ashamed; nearly looking up when Crawford placed his hand on Ken's bared shoulder. He felt a squeeze – neither affectionate nor reprimanding. Virtually inquisitive, rather.
Ken swallowed, running his tongue over his lips briefly before speaking in a whisper, "I don't belong here, Crawford."
In Crawford's mind, he heard something less kind.
Politely, he removed his hand from the warm skin, instead lowering it before extending it out to Ken once more. Ken noted the shape that Crawford's hand took; he reached for it without questioning the gesture.
A firm handshake, one marred only by a slight jolt which was communicated to the boy's palm. Turquoises followed the length of the sleeve up to Crawford's shoulder where it was apparent that a certain old injury was acting up for the man once more.
"You should see a doctor," Ken commented, his grasp tightening for a second when another tremor rode its way down into their hands.
Crawford glared down at him, eyebrows knitting as if Ken had just said something insulting – "I do not see a need for that suggestion, Hidaka."
"I care," Ken growled back. He could feel his ears turning pink at his declaration; he was not used to admitting to such emotions.
"But not enough."
It could have been a cutting slap across the face, or a sharp blow to the stomach: all those carried the same blunt weight that Crawford's reply held.
Ken paused, bit down on his tongue briefly, then more defiantly forced out, "I care."
Crawford did not reply, simply turning his attention towards the window, his gaze fixated on sometime beyond. When it became apparent that he was not going to add to Ken's statement... declaration... whatever, the boy took it as a sign to leave.
Opened the door, threw a quick glance backwards: still no response from Crawford. It simultaneously filled Ken with anger and disappointment. The anger he knew the source of, the disappointment... well, what was there for him to be disappointed about? He was going to leave behind the hellish memories of Japan, he had a whole new future out there, he was going to find Aya.
He was going to find Aya.
And he was going to leave Crawford behind. Maybe forever.
As he slammed the door shut behind him, Ken was barely able to make out Crawford's still form against his own water-blurred vision.
- Finale
Author's note: Crawford/Ken - still my OTP. I was planning to post this on V-Day, but figured that it would be too cruel to do so. I realised that the ending is not a happy one, and quite abrupt to boot. But I think, in a way, that this is just the way they would have ended up. Something sudden, a sense of permanent loss.