Pull Strings
By: Joist
Summary: -Slight AU- People's minds are all games to Schuldich; they're all just puppets, nothing more. Unfortunately for him, puppet's can't love. But can Schuldich love one of his puppets? (Yaoi; SchuldichxYohji / YohjixAya)
Disclaimer: I don't own Weiss Kreuz, and I don't claim to own it. But the poem that appears in this story, "Make Me Dance" is copyright (©) to me.
~*~
Chapter 1: Reprimand I don't need someone to reprimand me…{Weiss}
When Yohji arrived early for the morning shift, which wasn't his, Omi knew something was wrong. And when the former detective further pursued to help open up shop despite Ken being their with the boy just furthered that suspicion.
It made Ken wary, as well, obviously. "What are you trying to pull, Yohji?" he asked, arching an eyebrow and stepping towards the lanky blonde. His arms flitted out as if he were going to check the man for injuries, or pat him down, but when Yohji stepped back eyeing the hand's guardedly, they fell back to Ken's sides.
"What do you mean…?" Yohji asked, slowly, carefully tearing his eyes from Ken's hands to look the man in the eyes; it helped pull him through loads of lies and bluffs through the years. Wait—what? Lies? Bluffs? What was there to lie about? Nothing…right?
"You never wake up before 'noon unless your on morning shift – which you're not today – and even then you're always ten minutes late."
Omi agreed. "He's right, Yohji-kun," he said, nodding. "Are you feeling well?" The last part was half-joking, half-serious. He stepped forward, brushing past Ken and doing what the older man had not completed. He put his hand on Yohji's forehead. He withdrew his fingers just as Yohji stepped back into the wall, almost frightened, and stared at the beads of sweat that had rolled onto his digits.
"Yohji-kun…?" Omi ventured, cerulean eyes worried and prodding. "Are you…feeling all right?"
Yohji swallowed, Adam's-apple bobbing with the motion slightly, and put his own hand to his forehead. He grinned, radiating the regular charisma he always felt, but inside his stomach that sickly-sweetness was churning and trying to escape; it disguised itself as butterflies, and tricked Yohji's body into thinking it was sick.
But…because of what he did…who he did "what" with…it made his mind sick, not his general person…?
"I~ dunno, Omi," Yohji said, words slurring in their regular, "I'm-too-sexy-for-you-youngins" manner, "I do feel a little hot – oh wait, that's just me on a regular basis." A wink was thrown, but it could hardly be seen behind his glasses.
And speaking of, they weren't hanging on the bridge of his nose that day; instead, they were pushed up to his eyes the way they were supposed to be. But, of course, with Yohji's luck today – or lack of it rather – Omi noticed, and promptly pulled them off.
"You've got them on wrong, I think, Yohji-kun," said Omi, smiling brightly, but with uneasiness resting in his eyes.
Yohji closed his eyes when the light assaulted the pupils, pretending to rub the sleep from them. "Hmm… Guess I did, wake up too early," he said, laughing the pain off, hoping Ken and Omi would do the same. He shrugged, taking away his hands and opening them carefully. His retinas burned, but if he could turn this conversation back to an easy way to slip into bed, all would be well. He had eye drops in his bathroom, if he remembered correctly – those would help…
Omi's eyes widened slightly, and Ken stepped away in surprise. "Y-Y-Yohji-kun!" Omi exclaimed, worry clearly evident in his face and voice.
Yohji blinked, wincing at the hurt that presented itself from the motion. "Ara…ne, Omittchi?" he asked.
"Your eyes! They're all red, and puffy, and—Yohji-kun…are you all right?"
The blonde took his sunglasses away from Omi – snatching them, rather – and pushed them hastily to their previous position. "I'm fine," he said, nodding. "So if there's nothing you guys need help with, then I'll be leaving." His voice had acquired a sharp tone; defensive. He turned, then left the shop, heading for his room.
Oh yeah, Yohji thought. He had almost forgotten: He had been crying when he was making his way back to the Koneko…
And the evidence still showed.
~*~
{Schwarz}
Schuldich woke from his slumber with an unwanted, invisible hand, shaking him.
"Crawford says to get up or you're not eating breakfast."
Schuldich dimly recognized the voice as Nagi's; annoying child. His loyalty to Crawford was unbearable most of the time – though it was tolerable, seeing as the loyalty was fake. They were Schwarz. The loyalties they had of each other were merely out of politeness, and betrayal was always around the corner for one from another.
They could betray each other, they knew they should, and one day they would.
"That day isn't coming anytime soon, obviously…" Schuldich moaned into his pillow as he rolled over, gripping the sides tightly; streaks of white lightning stretched in between his knuckles.
"What?" Nagi again. It was more statement than question.
~Nothing, Chibi,~ Schuldich yawned into the boy's mind. It was an odd sensation. ~Now scram, unless you wanna see me naked. Which you don't: for special people only.~
He had been called Chibi, Little, again; Nagi hated that. He usually would've continued that conversation via his thoughts Schuldich prodded, but because he had been insulted, he didn't give the German the satisfaction of his power over the boy.
"At least you're getting paid now," Nagi retorted smartly, glaring slightly, deforming his usually cool demeanor.
Schuldich smirked, arching an eyebrow. "Sie wünschen nur," he responded, clearly enjoying the puzzlement that represented itself – faintly – from Nagi's brain, as well as the confusion that flitted quickly over the boy's face. You only wish.
Nagi turned, not knowing how to respond to something he never heard, so to speak, opened the door and slammed it behind him – all without touching the wooden frame.
"Ah, children; what joys," Schuldich sighed sarcastically. "Ch. Yeah. Joys my ass." He finished that thought with a snarl, and dragged his legs to the side of the bed; he dressed accordingly to what activities – or lack of them rather – he was going to take part in. As he forced his fingers through his hair, damn telepath had probably stuck in a vent using his "special abilities" while Schuldich wasn't paying attention, his thoughts ran through the lively…events…of the previous night…
Hotels were mighty fun to vandalize.
Even more entertaining when he didn't pay for the soiled sheets; or apologize to their neighbors that beat on the walls when … things … got to loud and "festive" – so to speak.
The previous night had certainly been a wild one, one Schuldich wasn't in mind to forget, but there was a nagging ringing within his head constantly as he entered the kitchen ("Fancy seeing you up at this ungodly hour," Crawford sneered) – of what it was reprimanding him for, he had no earthly idea…
Yohji's thoughts were still infiltrating his mind though, and Schuldich was a bit smug about that. Only a chosen handful of his toys ever managed to get so far within Schuldich's memory; so far that their thoughts could be read constantly without having to be tagged specifically. And usually those were the toys that…enjoyed it. Enjoyed the violation the German induced upon them. The pain that they enjoyed so much.
On his bad-days he resembled Farfarello's sadism just a bit. On his good-days there was no doubt that the German needed more restraints than the resident psycho. And on his "horny, lazy, useless" (as Nagi so eloquently put them) days, as it had been the previous day, he was just downright… fiendish.
Not something most would be proud of, but when you were an assassin, you learned to take what praise you could get – even if it was coming from the "enemy."
So the nagging was still there, and Schuldich was trying his best to ignore it. But his best just plainly wasn't his best when he first woke up. Especially after a night of sex. Sex with Yohji, more importantly.
Thoughts weren't the only thing that…tasted like honey, if you caught the drift.
So was Schuldich going to let the kitten rest for a while…or was he going to pick him up again – and use him – soil him – today?
He decided on the latter.
~*~
AN: Yes, Yohji was crying. Terribly OOC, but otherwise I think I got him pretty…in-character? *insert nervous giggle here* Umm.. Yeah. Anyone confused yet? I'm not, because I'm the author, and I already know how this is going to END, and what the major climax (not that way you perverts) is gonna be! But if I was a reader with no earthly idea on how this was going to play out, I would probably confused. But I confuse easily, so… Yeah.
But if you wanna know what's basically going on, it's this:
Schuldich met Yohji somewhere (figure out later), and our resident German bad-ass toys with his mind, and eventually gets in Yohji's pants. And because Yohji doesn't want it, it's considered rape… And (just for all you little "sneak peak for all you I-got-a-stick-shoved-up-my-ass" lovers – you know who you are *coughs*) then…Aya decides he wants Yohji's ass too! Oi, Aya-kun. Libido getting the best of you…again?
**Oh, and that crack about Aya having a stick shoved up his ass…I'm sorry. Really. I'm a fan of Crawford. And he's worse than Aya. It's not a stick shoved up there. It's a whole damn TREE. …See? You Aya-fans got it easy; all Aya's partners gotta do is "remove the stick" *coughs*, but with Crawford yaoi fans, you've got to wonder how it's all gonna work. I mean… it makes you think if he's a good candidate for…shounen-ai stuffs…if you catch my drift. But then, how many fics with Crawford as a uke have you seen floating around? *grins nastily* That is for another time though…**
Check out my other Weiss Kreuz stories:
Cry Bittersweet (Schu-centric! YA!), Schwarz's Villa White (CrawfordxSchuldich (eventually… HUMOR!), and… uhh… Just click the link to my fanfiction, dammit. ^_^
*sweet smile*
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