CRAWL
A/N: The song "CRAWL" by Yuuki Hiro amuses me. Why? It starts with "Je t'aime, je t'aime", which is French. It can be translated as one of four ways: "I like you, I like you," "I love you, I love you," "I like you, I love you," or "I love you, I like you." This is amusing to me, because it's the same verb. ^^ (Coincidentally, the phrase "Il a volé l'aeroplane!" *also* amuses me, because it means either "He flew the plane!" or "He stole the plane!" And yes, I find this funny, for I am a horrible person. XD)
Those of you who care will note that I like the translation of "I like you, I love you" the best, because it seems sweeter to me. And to think, it's the same verb... XD
Disclaimer: Not mine. XP
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CRAWL
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"Je t'aime, je t'aime... "
The music was too loud, and too ironic. Nagi Naoe glowered at the radio alarm clock, dearly wishing that crushing it would solve his problems.
Damn the French.
He knew the words, and he knew what they meant. Oh, yes, he was Japanese, all right---but there was a majority of the culture, *his* culture, that spoke that language. Americans, even, had been invited to his school for the sole purpose of speaking that damned language.
And he despised them all.
At least Crawford didn't speak that language, of that the boy was quite glad. It would have been another straw on the camel's back to have a leader who spoke *those* words.
"Je t'aime", the immortal joke of the universe.
They were words he might have liked to have uttered to Tot, the only person he could really say he cared about, or even loved. The double meaning of the phrase would have delighted her beyond words, and it would have been so true. To like or to love---did it matter? It would have been the one thing he could have said to her that wouldn't have resulted in any lingering resentment or hate from his team.
Not that it mattered now, anyway.
He'd woken alone, cold, and wet. Cold and wet were just asking for trouble, but it was the lonesome part of it that struck him the worst then. Tot---where was she now? Was she still alive?
He'd braced himself for the worst that day. She was dead or gone forever, and something inside of him died.
And that same something was dying again with the words to the song.
He sent the machine another glare, and it cracked in half, crushing in on itself. He gave it a small smile of victory, his only signal that he'd won again. There was no clock that could control him.
His footsteps made little sound on the floor---he wasn't, afterall, a very large person (a fact that didn't go over well with many of his classmates at school). He was antisocial and the forever-wallflower, and all because he refused to be anything he didn't want to be.
Not that it went over well with his teammates, either.
"Nagi, you shouldn't destroy those things as often as you do," the lazy, nasal voice of the resident telepath greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen area. "Especially if it's just over some damn song."
The boy's blue eyes narrowed further as he saw that the German was laying on the couch, enjoying some random shoujo anime.
"What would you know, anyway," Nagi grumbled, walking past briskly. The dining room was his target, not an argument with the telepath.
"Nagiiii," the German taunted, waving his hand over the top of the couch. "Crawford wants to see you as well. I wouldn't advise making him wait, either."
The boy frowned. "See me about *what*, Schuldig?"
"He probably foresaw you destroying yet another radio. You know how he is, Nagi," explained Schuldig, never looking away from the television set. "He doesn't appreciate it when you destroy things that he has to pay for."
Nagi was impassive. "Then perhaps it's time he learned not to purchase more ineffective radios."
A snort followed. "Try telling him that. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
'I'll teach *you* a miracle,' the boy thought as the German began to hum that same old song. For a moment, he wondered if crushing his windpipes would be too much---and, deciding that it was, moved on to Crawford's study. He let out a long-suffering sigh before rapping his knuckles on the door three times.
"What do you want, Crawford?" he asked blandly, trying to tune out the off-key German. He really would end up killing that man one day, if things continued in this direction.
"Ah, Nagi," the American's voice drifted out from behind the closed door. "We were just talking about you."
"'We'?" the teen repeated incredulously. "You mean there's someone else I have to talk to as well?" Well, wasn't this day turning out lovely.
He heard the American let out a short laugh, and then a small sound of protest that was immediately silenced. The boy frowned. This wasn't like Crawford at all---then again, when wasn't Crawford being the constant enigma? Selfish, too, at times, as Nagi felt he was being at the moment. He didn't know who the 'mystery guest' was, but chances were, he ought to. And Crawford would make him feel like an ass later, for not knowing now.
"Yes, Nagi," Crawford answered, "there are two of us who wish to speak with you at present." This statement made Nagi frown once more---a simple 'yes' would have done.
The brunette knew better than to push his luck, however, especially where Crawford was concerned. It was always better to resign to defeat and let the American win---he'd win eventually *anyway*.
"What is it you want to say to me, then?" he asked, and he heard---no mistaking---a giggle come from Crawford's room. The boy stared at the doorway in bewilderment. Something was horribly *wrong* with that---moreso than Crawford having a girl in his room. Crawford and a... *bubbly* girl? Gods, but that just didn't add up, no matter *how* you did the math.
"Crawford, you lolita-loving freak," Nagi hissed, trying not to shudder in horror or let himself be heard by his leader. Not that it mattered, of course---Crawford would know what he said one way or the other. He was just like that.
In fact, the boy could very nearly hear the frown that came across the older man's face as he spat out an indignant, "Naoe, you're wearing my patience. If you don't wish to do this, you can always---"
"I never said I wasn't willing," the boy stated quickly. He wasn't in the mood for any of Crawford's 'alternatives' to speeches. They always involved cleaning up after a certain someone's messes, for some reason, which was none too pleasent when there was actual work to be done.
He heard Crawford smirk, and the laugh that followed. "All right then."
Silence followed. A silence in which Nagi started to get terribly mad. He was being made to wait for nothing, or so it seemed, and his patience was starting to wane.
Mentally, the boy cursed loudly. He had better things to do with his time than to stand around all day and wait for Crawford and his lady-friend to decide that they were willing to talk to him. Though, even the thought of Brad Crawford, in a room with a girl, alone... Far too creepy. Especially when he was just *outside* that room, too...
Nagi could even hear the two whispering---or, to be more precise, he could hear the *girl* whispering and Crawford 'hm'ing and 'ah'ing at what she was saying. The only real thing Crawford said was something like, "No, no, more like... " and then his voice had quieted again.
It was all becoming too much again.
He spun on his heel to turn away---the giggling too much for him, and too painful a reminder of what he'd lost---when he heard Crawford start clucking his tongue like an old mother hen. Which was also wrong, in Nagi's opinion.
"Now, Nagi," he said slowly, and the boy heard the sound of chair legs scratching on the wood floor. Crawford stood and slid the door open, probably smirking. "Your behavior is quite rude. Perhaps you need to have a lesson on manners again."
The boy scowled and turned around, not surprised to see Crawford's bulk of a being in the doorframe.
"I know more about manners than you do, Crawford," Nagi snapped, his voice level. If that was the only thing he had going for him, at least his tone would always stay neutral. "You're the one who could do with a few lessons."
The American cocked a brow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"
"Many things."
Crawford then shook his head, letting out a small laugh. "You truly have no idea, do you, Naoe?"
"I don't know," replied the teenager coldly. "Should I?"
"You tell me."
The boy's eyes narrowed even further. "I thought that was what you were here for, Crawford. Or do you have to have a middle man to say everything for you? A translator, perhaps?"
Crawford shook his head again. "Tsk, tsk. How sad---are you still truly that naive on the ways of the world?" A giggle resounded from behind Crawford, and Nagi saw a flash of something pink. He gave a slight shudder, not even wanting to think about what the girl acted like if she was banging *Crawford*... "You need another lesson in reality, Nagi."
"Reality is what people know as conformity and interdependence, that which thrives off one thing so long as every day is a cookie cutter of the last," the blue-eyed boy rattled off. He'd long since memorised his theory, as Brad had told him more than once that he needed to 'come down off his high horse' and return to the false sense of security that everyone else loved and called their reality.
Suffice to say, Nagi was *not* that pleased with the way his life was orchestrated.
"I don't suppose you'd care to test that theory?" the American voiced, looking half-way amused. Nagi raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what the suit had in mind.
"Is this your reality, Nagi?" the man asked, and the boy made a slight face.
"It is," he said. "Why?"
The American smirked, and did not answer the boy's question. Instead, he met it with another one of his own.
"And are you satisfied with your reality?"
Nagi made a face. He knew something was up now. "What do you mean, 'satisfied'?"
Crawford paused slightly. He held one hand out, trying to word his thoughts exactly, and without giving anything away.
"Is this a reality you desire, live for?" he asked, glasses catching the overhead light. "Does it invoke any pleasure out of you whatsoever?"
Nagi stared at the older man blankly. Good Gods above---had the girl had that much of an effect on him? Maybe it wasn't an improvement, entirely, but it was certainly a change.
"I find nothing wrong with it at present," the boy responded, careful to keep his gaze from staring at the shadow of the girl in the other room. "Does it matter?"
Crawford shrugged lightly. "It all depends on how you take things, I suppose."
"I take different things in different ways," the teen countered. "You, yourself, would react differently to someone attempting to mug you than to a person whom you loved accepting your proposal of marriage."
"I don't believe I would," the American replied, still fairly amused. "I don't intend to ever meet a person who would accept any proposal of marriage I would make, as I don't believe I ever shall make one."
Nagi shrugged. "Bully for you, then."
"Or for *you*, for that matter," the dark-haired clairvoyant said, startling the boy slightly. He'd not been expecting such a response from the man, and it was fairly surprising.
Before he could ask what the leader of Schwarz had meant by that, the American gave him a slim smile and tilted his head back towards his study.
"What does anything mean, Nagi?" he asked, and the boy could not answer immediately. Understanding that those few seconds of confusion were golden, the man continued forth with his speech. "What is right for some is terrible for others, as you already know. And it stands to reason that reactions are in the same accord, does it not? You, for instance, take things in a different light than Schuldig or Farfarello, though Schuldig knows and views the same thoughts as you do. Do you understand, then, the differences between every person here?"
"Yes, of course," the telekinetic replied, "but what's that got to do with---?"
And then the American truly surprised Nagi by stepping aside. One of his hands rested on the frame of the otherside of the door, like some sort of bridge. Nagi started to open his mouth when a very bright pink flipped underneath Crawford's arm and popped up on his side, smiling up at him as if she had done no more than to duck under a low ceiling.
"'Lo, Nagi-kun!" she chirped brightly, and the boy's eyes grew wide.
"Tot?!" he gaped, finding it hard not to stare at the spectacle in front of him. Indeed, there stood the youngest member of Schreient, giggling like mad and cradling her old toy rabbit to her chest like a small child. Crawford, bemused, looked on, his glasses catching the light.
"How did you---" he began, but was cut off once more---this time by the girl.
"I don't know," she marvelled in a sing-song voice, "but I know Step-Papa wasn't very nice. And then he came---" (she pointed at Brad, who only rose an eyebrow) "---and now Tot's here!"
"Here... ?" Nagi repeated, not quite understanding.
"It's not a permanent fixture, mind you," Crawford called to them, and when Nagi looked, the American had moved away from them and out, away from the dining room area. "She just needed a place to stay, and I recalled you saying something about her once or twice." He glanced over his shouler, smug gaze catching Nagi's bewildered one. "Not so far off, now, was I?"
The brunette continued to stare at the American, and shook his head with vigor after the blue-haired girl wrapped her arms around his. He sent her a warm smile and placed one of his hands over hers before looking at the American's retreating figure. He gave his head a slight shake and looked back to the girl, who was positively beaming.
"Not permanent, hm?" The boy managed a small smile. "No matter. Come along, Tot," he called, tugging at the girl's hand. "We have some catching up to do, I believe."
The girl grinned and hugged Nagi's arm a little tighter, and he smiled right back at her.
So, *this* was that sweet night in question...
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A/N: I want a collective "awww" from the audience right now. And if I don't get one, I'm fully prepared to sit around and wait.
...
...
...
Four people will care that I waited. T_T Two more will understand the references I made to "CRAWL", and one just won't care. HI KOZUE!! *waves as if stupid* *coughs* Ah well. It's been awhile since I wrote something pointlessly cute and totally Nagi/Tot, so I had to do it. ^___^ And on another note, there is another way to say "I love you" in French, which is why I like the "I like you, I love you" translation. That other way is "Je suis amoreuse du toi" or "Je suis amoreaux du toi", depending on your gender. Ahh, the bloody French and their masculine and feminine words...
And wasn't Brad funny in this? He was to me. My Brad doesn't think so, but then again, he never does.
And for those interested, YES. My Schuldig *loves* Wedding Peach. It's kind of scary at times.
---Gangsta Videl
A/N: The song "CRAWL" by Yuuki Hiro amuses me. Why? It starts with "Je t'aime, je t'aime", which is French. It can be translated as one of four ways: "I like you, I like you," "I love you, I love you," "I like you, I love you," or "I love you, I like you." This is amusing to me, because it's the same verb. ^^ (Coincidentally, the phrase "Il a volé l'aeroplane!" *also* amuses me, because it means either "He flew the plane!" or "He stole the plane!" And yes, I find this funny, for I am a horrible person. XD)
Those of you who care will note that I like the translation of "I like you, I love you" the best, because it seems sweeter to me. And to think, it's the same verb... XD
Disclaimer: Not mine. XP
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CRAWL
**********
"Je t'aime, je t'aime... "
The music was too loud, and too ironic. Nagi Naoe glowered at the radio alarm clock, dearly wishing that crushing it would solve his problems.
Damn the French.
He knew the words, and he knew what they meant. Oh, yes, he was Japanese, all right---but there was a majority of the culture, *his* culture, that spoke that language. Americans, even, had been invited to his school for the sole purpose of speaking that damned language.
And he despised them all.
At least Crawford didn't speak that language, of that the boy was quite glad. It would have been another straw on the camel's back to have a leader who spoke *those* words.
"Je t'aime", the immortal joke of the universe.
They were words he might have liked to have uttered to Tot, the only person he could really say he cared about, or even loved. The double meaning of the phrase would have delighted her beyond words, and it would have been so true. To like or to love---did it matter? It would have been the one thing he could have said to her that wouldn't have resulted in any lingering resentment or hate from his team.
Not that it mattered now, anyway.
He'd woken alone, cold, and wet. Cold and wet were just asking for trouble, but it was the lonesome part of it that struck him the worst then. Tot---where was she now? Was she still alive?
He'd braced himself for the worst that day. She was dead or gone forever, and something inside of him died.
And that same something was dying again with the words to the song.
He sent the machine another glare, and it cracked in half, crushing in on itself. He gave it a small smile of victory, his only signal that he'd won again. There was no clock that could control him.
His footsteps made little sound on the floor---he wasn't, afterall, a very large person (a fact that didn't go over well with many of his classmates at school). He was antisocial and the forever-wallflower, and all because he refused to be anything he didn't want to be.
Not that it went over well with his teammates, either.
"Nagi, you shouldn't destroy those things as often as you do," the lazy, nasal voice of the resident telepath greeted him as he stepped into the kitchen area. "Especially if it's just over some damn song."
The boy's blue eyes narrowed further as he saw that the German was laying on the couch, enjoying some random shoujo anime.
"What would you know, anyway," Nagi grumbled, walking past briskly. The dining room was his target, not an argument with the telepath.
"Nagiiii," the German taunted, waving his hand over the top of the couch. "Crawford wants to see you as well. I wouldn't advise making him wait, either."
The boy frowned. "See me about *what*, Schuldig?"
"He probably foresaw you destroying yet another radio. You know how he is, Nagi," explained Schuldig, never looking away from the television set. "He doesn't appreciate it when you destroy things that he has to pay for."
Nagi was impassive. "Then perhaps it's time he learned not to purchase more ineffective radios."
A snort followed. "Try telling him that. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."
'I'll teach *you* a miracle,' the boy thought as the German began to hum that same old song. For a moment, he wondered if crushing his windpipes would be too much---and, deciding that it was, moved on to Crawford's study. He let out a long-suffering sigh before rapping his knuckles on the door three times.
"What do you want, Crawford?" he asked blandly, trying to tune out the off-key German. He really would end up killing that man one day, if things continued in this direction.
"Ah, Nagi," the American's voice drifted out from behind the closed door. "We were just talking about you."
"'We'?" the teen repeated incredulously. "You mean there's someone else I have to talk to as well?" Well, wasn't this day turning out lovely.
He heard the American let out a short laugh, and then a small sound of protest that was immediately silenced. The boy frowned. This wasn't like Crawford at all---then again, when wasn't Crawford being the constant enigma? Selfish, too, at times, as Nagi felt he was being at the moment. He didn't know who the 'mystery guest' was, but chances were, he ought to. And Crawford would make him feel like an ass later, for not knowing now.
"Yes, Nagi," Crawford answered, "there are two of us who wish to speak with you at present." This statement made Nagi frown once more---a simple 'yes' would have done.
The brunette knew better than to push his luck, however, especially where Crawford was concerned. It was always better to resign to defeat and let the American win---he'd win eventually *anyway*.
"What is it you want to say to me, then?" he asked, and he heard---no mistaking---a giggle come from Crawford's room. The boy stared at the doorway in bewilderment. Something was horribly *wrong* with that---moreso than Crawford having a girl in his room. Crawford and a... *bubbly* girl? Gods, but that just didn't add up, no matter *how* you did the math.
"Crawford, you lolita-loving freak," Nagi hissed, trying not to shudder in horror or let himself be heard by his leader. Not that it mattered, of course---Crawford would know what he said one way or the other. He was just like that.
In fact, the boy could very nearly hear the frown that came across the older man's face as he spat out an indignant, "Naoe, you're wearing my patience. If you don't wish to do this, you can always---"
"I never said I wasn't willing," the boy stated quickly. He wasn't in the mood for any of Crawford's 'alternatives' to speeches. They always involved cleaning up after a certain someone's messes, for some reason, which was none too pleasent when there was actual work to be done.
He heard Crawford smirk, and the laugh that followed. "All right then."
Silence followed. A silence in which Nagi started to get terribly mad. He was being made to wait for nothing, or so it seemed, and his patience was starting to wane.
Mentally, the boy cursed loudly. He had better things to do with his time than to stand around all day and wait for Crawford and his lady-friend to decide that they were willing to talk to him. Though, even the thought of Brad Crawford, in a room with a girl, alone... Far too creepy. Especially when he was just *outside* that room, too...
Nagi could even hear the two whispering---or, to be more precise, he could hear the *girl* whispering and Crawford 'hm'ing and 'ah'ing at what she was saying. The only real thing Crawford said was something like, "No, no, more like... " and then his voice had quieted again.
It was all becoming too much again.
He spun on his heel to turn away---the giggling too much for him, and too painful a reminder of what he'd lost---when he heard Crawford start clucking his tongue like an old mother hen. Which was also wrong, in Nagi's opinion.
"Now, Nagi," he said slowly, and the boy heard the sound of chair legs scratching on the wood floor. Crawford stood and slid the door open, probably smirking. "Your behavior is quite rude. Perhaps you need to have a lesson on manners again."
The boy scowled and turned around, not surprised to see Crawford's bulk of a being in the doorframe.
"I know more about manners than you do, Crawford," Nagi snapped, his voice level. If that was the only thing he had going for him, at least his tone would always stay neutral. "You're the one who could do with a few lessons."
The American cocked a brow. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"
"Many things."
Crawford then shook his head, letting out a small laugh. "You truly have no idea, do you, Naoe?"
"I don't know," replied the teenager coldly. "Should I?"
"You tell me."
The boy's eyes narrowed even further. "I thought that was what you were here for, Crawford. Or do you have to have a middle man to say everything for you? A translator, perhaps?"
Crawford shook his head again. "Tsk, tsk. How sad---are you still truly that naive on the ways of the world?" A giggle resounded from behind Crawford, and Nagi saw a flash of something pink. He gave a slight shudder, not even wanting to think about what the girl acted like if she was banging *Crawford*... "You need another lesson in reality, Nagi."
"Reality is what people know as conformity and interdependence, that which thrives off one thing so long as every day is a cookie cutter of the last," the blue-eyed boy rattled off. He'd long since memorised his theory, as Brad had told him more than once that he needed to 'come down off his high horse' and return to the false sense of security that everyone else loved and called their reality.
Suffice to say, Nagi was *not* that pleased with the way his life was orchestrated.
"I don't suppose you'd care to test that theory?" the American voiced, looking half-way amused. Nagi raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what the suit had in mind.
"Is this your reality, Nagi?" the man asked, and the boy made a slight face.
"It is," he said. "Why?"
The American smirked, and did not answer the boy's question. Instead, he met it with another one of his own.
"And are you satisfied with your reality?"
Nagi made a face. He knew something was up now. "What do you mean, 'satisfied'?"
Crawford paused slightly. He held one hand out, trying to word his thoughts exactly, and without giving anything away.
"Is this a reality you desire, live for?" he asked, glasses catching the overhead light. "Does it invoke any pleasure out of you whatsoever?"
Nagi stared at the older man blankly. Good Gods above---had the girl had that much of an effect on him? Maybe it wasn't an improvement, entirely, but it was certainly a change.
"I find nothing wrong with it at present," the boy responded, careful to keep his gaze from staring at the shadow of the girl in the other room. "Does it matter?"
Crawford shrugged lightly. "It all depends on how you take things, I suppose."
"I take different things in different ways," the teen countered. "You, yourself, would react differently to someone attempting to mug you than to a person whom you loved accepting your proposal of marriage."
"I don't believe I would," the American replied, still fairly amused. "I don't intend to ever meet a person who would accept any proposal of marriage I would make, as I don't believe I ever shall make one."
Nagi shrugged. "Bully for you, then."
"Or for *you*, for that matter," the dark-haired clairvoyant said, startling the boy slightly. He'd not been expecting such a response from the man, and it was fairly surprising.
Before he could ask what the leader of Schwarz had meant by that, the American gave him a slim smile and tilted his head back towards his study.
"What does anything mean, Nagi?" he asked, and the boy could not answer immediately. Understanding that those few seconds of confusion were golden, the man continued forth with his speech. "What is right for some is terrible for others, as you already know. And it stands to reason that reactions are in the same accord, does it not? You, for instance, take things in a different light than Schuldig or Farfarello, though Schuldig knows and views the same thoughts as you do. Do you understand, then, the differences between every person here?"
"Yes, of course," the telekinetic replied, "but what's that got to do with---?"
And then the American truly surprised Nagi by stepping aside. One of his hands rested on the frame of the otherside of the door, like some sort of bridge. Nagi started to open his mouth when a very bright pink flipped underneath Crawford's arm and popped up on his side, smiling up at him as if she had done no more than to duck under a low ceiling.
"'Lo, Nagi-kun!" she chirped brightly, and the boy's eyes grew wide.
"Tot?!" he gaped, finding it hard not to stare at the spectacle in front of him. Indeed, there stood the youngest member of Schreient, giggling like mad and cradling her old toy rabbit to her chest like a small child. Crawford, bemused, looked on, his glasses catching the light.
"How did you---" he began, but was cut off once more---this time by the girl.
"I don't know," she marvelled in a sing-song voice, "but I know Step-Papa wasn't very nice. And then he came---" (she pointed at Brad, who only rose an eyebrow) "---and now Tot's here!"
"Here... ?" Nagi repeated, not quite understanding.
"It's not a permanent fixture, mind you," Crawford called to them, and when Nagi looked, the American had moved away from them and out, away from the dining room area. "She just needed a place to stay, and I recalled you saying something about her once or twice." He glanced over his shouler, smug gaze catching Nagi's bewildered one. "Not so far off, now, was I?"
The brunette continued to stare at the American, and shook his head with vigor after the blue-haired girl wrapped her arms around his. He sent her a warm smile and placed one of his hands over hers before looking at the American's retreating figure. He gave his head a slight shake and looked back to the girl, who was positively beaming.
"Not permanent, hm?" The boy managed a small smile. "No matter. Come along, Tot," he called, tugging at the girl's hand. "We have some catching up to do, I believe."
The girl grinned and hugged Nagi's arm a little tighter, and he smiled right back at her.
So, *this* was that sweet night in question...
*********
A/N: I want a collective "awww" from the audience right now. And if I don't get one, I'm fully prepared to sit around and wait.
...
...
...
Four people will care that I waited. T_T Two more will understand the references I made to "CRAWL", and one just won't care. HI KOZUE!! *waves as if stupid* *coughs* Ah well. It's been awhile since I wrote something pointlessly cute and totally Nagi/Tot, so I had to do it. ^___^ And on another note, there is another way to say "I love you" in French, which is why I like the "I like you, I love you" translation. That other way is "Je suis amoreuse du toi" or "Je suis amoreaux du toi", depending on your gender. Ahh, the bloody French and their masculine and feminine words...
And wasn't Brad funny in this? He was to me. My Brad doesn't think so, but then again, he never does.
And for those interested, YES. My Schuldig *loves* Wedding Peach. It's kind of scary at times.
---Gangsta Videl