"What's in a Name"
Weiss Kreuz Fanfiction by Kasey
In Which I Attempt To Convince The Reader That Ken And Crawford Were Made For Each Other, Whether Ken And Crawford Agree Or Not.
This Fanfiction is rated MA for Mature Adult content, and Slash/Yaoi for stuff that makes people either say "Woot!" or "Bleargh..."
Brief Author's Notes: First of all I apologize if it seems like I mix up where and when Ken is "Ken" versus "Siberian." I have attempted to show the change in his dynamic between his daily life and his Weiss life, so he is "Ken" during the day and "Siberian" only on missions. Likewise, Crawford is only referred to as "Brad" in certain situations that will be made clear through the story. The same is true for the other characters. Also, this story is not primarily smut, mostly pre-smut which is really just as fun. Finally, I attempt to make up for some slight plot-holes by using descriptive chapter titles--Please take note of them!
Enjoy!
CHAPTER I: In Which Ken Tallies His Day And Crawford Makes A Suggestion
Ken was pissed off.
Very pissed off.
He'd been having a relatively nice day until Manx showed up. One of the children he had been coaching had finally made his breakthrough on ball-juggling, a feat that made Ken proud. His day at the shop was quiet and productive with no rushes or broken pots. And then Manx walked in.
That, in and of itself, deducted a few points from his good day. She was frowning, so he deducted another point for good measure.
Later, as he sprawled on the couch and listened to her outline the mission, he mentally withdrew another ten good-day points when she said, "Schwarz will certainly be there, protecting Este's interests."
Still it was not yet a total loss. This was his job, after all. He pulled on his dark clothes and special gloves, and drove out to the mission site.
The battle was a winner. He replaced a few good-day points in his mental tally when Abyssinian dispatched their target before Schwarz even entered the room. Rather than trying to rip information from the computer, Bombay ripped the computer tower from the wall and made his escape while Ken-as-Siberian and Balinese covered him.
Balinese went straight for Schuldich, the telepath. Abyssinian dodged Farfarello's throwing knives, then threw himself at the madman. Trying to decide which of his teammates needed his assistance more, Siberian saw Crawford pull his gun and aim it at Abyssinian. Punching-knives at the ready, he leaped forward.
He never expected to be able to hit Crawford, since he was certain that Schwarz's leader could see his every move before he made it. So he was't surprised when Crawford blocked his attack, and blocked each of his quick punches while still finding time to lay a few bruises on Siberian's own face and arms.
Growling, Siberian kicked him in the leg. Crawford looked surprised for a second as his knee buckled, then grinned as he recovered. The clairvoyant American delivered a swift, snapping kick to Siberian's side and punched him in the shoulder at the same time.
Siberian gasped, losing feeling in his arm. He got no chance to think, though, because Crawford had grabbed his other arm and bent his fingers back as he closed the space between them. Gritting his teeth in pain, Siberian looked up to see that Crawford had brought them nose-to-nose. He was about to head-bash the man's glasses when he spoke.
"Nicely done, Siberian," Crawford said, his accented voice dripping like poisoned honey into Siberian's ear. Siberian stiffened and struggled with one arm useless and the other immobilized. "I wasn't expecting that. Next time you should try a left uppercut, you know. I've never been good at them."
Blinking incredulously at Crawford, Siberian saw that the other man was grinning again. "...What the hell are you talking about?" he gritted out, but got no reply. Crawford had looked up, a glazed look in his eyes.
"Yes, of course," Crawford said, clearly not talking to Siberian. He released his opponent, dropping him to the floor, and turned to follow Schuldich and Farfarello, who, Siberian could see now, were running out of the building. He paused a moment, looked down at Siberian, grinned again and said, "It's just a suggestion," and ran off.
Later, at home in his apartment with his arm in a sling, Ken deducted a hundred points, called it a bad day, and went to bed.