Title: What Little Assassins Are Made Of
Rating: PG-13 for Schuldich's 'playful' suggestions...
Disclaimer: I OWN SCHU!!! ::Brandishes whip in the dominatrix manner and the said German promptly shoots my head off::: Okay, maybe I said that wrong. I want to own Schuldich, but I do... not. In fact, I don't own any of the pretty boys. ::: Goes to cry a river::::
Author's Notes: Does anyone remember the 'little boy' nursery rhyme ("Frogs and snails and puppy-dog tails. That's what little boys are made of.")?? Because that's where the title came from. Okay, I have no clue where this came from. I thought it up a couple days ago when I was daydreaming (like normal) and this situation just popped into my minds... Too much soda and candy apparently can make you a little silly... Please R&R and enjoy...
Blood and fears
And kitty-cat ears.
That's what little assassins are made of...
"Is some sort of a joke?" the lanky blonde gasped, eyeing the package carefully.
Another blonde - younger and much more bouncy - came into the room, sighing. "I think it's from our fans...," he muttered, rolling his bright eyes.
A cold redhead, in the corner of the room, was leaning against the wall, glaring. "Omi-kun, are you sure?"
Omi smiled grimly. "It passed all the tests... No explosives or anything like that..."
"Judging on the wrapping, it HAS to be from the girls!" a wide-eyed brunette exclaimed, poking a cautious finger at the 'it' in question.
All four of the boys were in the basement of their flower shop, gathering around a recently-delivered package. It had been brought by the mailman, who had a hard time concealing his amusement. Omi, the so-called 'Brains of the Operation' had ran it through many tests (metal detectors, computer scans, even a wave-frequency test...) and nothing had come up that could be a possible threat. There also wasn't any bugs on it. This information allowed them to scratch out Schwarz as the potential sender. And judging on the color... No, it certainly was NOT for Manx or Birman. They had a... ahem... 'interesting' choice of clothing, but they weren't completely color- blind. This left the fan girls that were constantly trying to suffocate them at work.
And if you could just see this gift, you agree that it was from the fan girls!
It was a small box (cardboard according to Omi's tests), wrapped in a shimmering PINK paper that bounced light off the package and on to the nearby walls. Stickers of butterflies, bumblebees, and kitties were posted all over it - all of them glossy, neon colors. Lime green ribbons with purple polka-dots were twirled around the box in a very 'pretty' manner, producing a fluffy, frilly bow. The card on it was a light pink and was scented with vanilla perfume. It read: To the boys. The rich script was wavy and smooth (Youji had suggest it had been written by a color-blind duchess). There was no signature, and as Ken put it, "That's a big surprise!"
"Should we open it?" Omi asked, edging slightly to the pink disaster.
"Probably," Ken answered, as the two younger ones turned Youji with puppy- dog eyes.
The playboy scowled. "No chance in heck. I'm NOT opening it!" he flat-out refused, ignoring the crestfallen looks on the others' faces.
"But Omi-kun said it was safe," the brunette reasoned, hoping to persuade the eldest.
"Then you do it" was the answer the soccer player received.
Omi and Ken lowered their eyes, both muttering something along the lines "Better you, than us..."
After minutes of careful consideration, the two young boys turned to their stoic leader, puppy-eyes intact. "Please....," mouthed Omi, putting up his best 'I'm-just-a-sweet-little-kid-and-if-you-be-mean-to-me-I'll-cry' face.
Aya sent a trademark 'Death Glare' at all three of them - Omi and Ken because they were annoying him, Youji because, well, he was Youji. Then he let out a snarl and stomped over to the package. Slender hands unwrapped the box carefully...
No explosions... No surprise attacks... No compact-sized Schreient girls jumping out at them (that tidbit had been a suggestion from the lovable Ken)...
Nothing, unless you see a normal, everyday, cardboard box as a death threat.
"There," huffed Aya, hands on hips.
The four men leaned over the package, all sitting in a small pow-wow around it. The parcel didn't move... Well, duh, thought Youji, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous they were all being. But regardless of their over-reactions, he wouldn't be the one to open it... Being an assassin in the underground organization Weiss had left all four of them very paranoid... The box, now undressed from that hideous wrapping, was plain and brown... and very, very boring.
"Uh... Aya-kun, aren't you going to finish unwrapping it?" Omi inquired slowly, preparing from another glare.
"Hn," the assassin replied, shrugging and glaring (no surprise there). Apparently not.
"Here, Ken-ken!" cheered Omi, quickly dropping the box in the soccer player's lap. Ken nearly screamed and covered his face protectively. After a breathless moment, Youji and Omi broke into a fitful laughter. Aya didn't even twitch, though his eyes looked amused. Ken blushed furiously, embarrassed. He had been afraid the darn thing would detonate in his lap...
"Okay, since I'm the only brave one here," Ken annoucned, his voice trembling slightly, "I'll open it."
Youji snorted at the 'brave' comment, then remarked, "I promise that I'll come to your funeral, Ken-ken... If I don't have a date, that is."
"YOUJI-KUN!" snapped Omi, coming to his pal's defense. "This may be the last conversation Ken-ken has with us, so be nice!"
Ken gulped, feeling his stomach suddenly take a giant drop. Hands pale and shaky, he pulled off the tape around the box and gradually opened it. "HUH?" gasped the brunette, eyeing the gift's contents. "How..."
The other three held their breaths.
"...cute!" Smiling triumphantly, he pulled of a pair of cinnamon-brown, furry costume cat-ears and placed them on his head. "These are cool!"
Youji blanched and roughly grabbed the box from the cat-boy. Peering inside, he found three other pairs of the cat-ears. THESE are the supposed bombs? he thought, eyebrows raising in disbelief.
Ken was prancing around, laughing his head off. It was certainly clear that he was extremely glad he hadn't blown up...
Shaking his head despite of himself, the eldest man handed out two of the three remaining gifts to his comrades. He gave Omi a pair that was creamy- yellow with faint tabby markings. Aya received a copper-colored paired that matched his fiery red. For himself, he reserved the leopard-print pair.
While Ken was busy praising life and kissing the basement's floor, the other three men glanced at the cat-ears in their hands.
"Do you think someone's taunting us...?" Omi whispered, subtly reminding his teammates that their codenames were cat breeds.
"Possibly," Aya commented, thinking it over.
"But... wouldn't I have a black ears then?" the youngest one reasoned, puzzling over the costume trinkets. "Aren't Bombays... black? That's what I thought..."
"I dunno," Youji murmured, shrugging. Then he threw the boy a flashy smile. "But those match your hair better than any black ones could."
The computer-whiz placed the ears on his head and went to look in the mirror. "Hey! You're right, Yotan!" he giggled sweetly, feeling the fake fur with gentle fingertips. "They do match my hair! Look -" He pointed to the costume ears. "-they look like they're real! It's like I grew ears!"
Youji chuckled, but Aya frowned.
"This doesn't feel right...," the redhead thought out loud, sending his pair of cat-ears the trademark 'Death Glare.'
Youji was placing his leopard ones on his head, making sure not to mess up his hair, when Aya said that. Along with the other two boys, he looked incredulously at their leader. God, that man seriously doesn't know how to have fun...
"You're right," Omi realized, comprehension dawning on his now-serious face. He rushed upstairs, leaving the other three in an impatient silence. Almost immediately, he came back, dashing down the stairs. Coming straight to Aya, he placed a bowl in front of their fearless leader. "Here. Now, that's better," the boy teased.
Ken and Youji howled with laughter, as Aya frowned at the dish in front of him.
Milk... He hated milk...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Meow, meow, meow," the scarred albino purred hoarsely, down on all fours. He rubbed against the stiff American's leg tenderly. The American didn't seemed surprised by this and continued to go about his business in the modern kitchen, reaching for coffee and a newspaper. As he sat down at the table, a frail Japanese boy made his entrance for breakfast. The "cat" scrambled on hands and knees over to the boy, fiercely pawing at the boy. "Meow, meow...!" the man voiced, nearly knocking the child down with his feline affection.
Bracing himself against the counter, the boy noticed the white, fluffy, costume cat-ears on the psychotic man's head. Clearing his throat, he discreetly asked the American, "Crawford, why is Farfarello meowing?"
"Ask Schuldich," replied the man, turning the page of his paper.
Just then the said German sauntered into the kitchen with perfect timing. The "cat' shuffled excitedly over to him, clawing at the redhead's pant leg.
"Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow! Meow!" Farfarello rambled off instantly, nearly choking himself from lack of air.
"Good kitty," drawled the German, scratching the man behind the (real) ears. Then Schuldich proceeded to pour milk into the unfamiliar bowl over by the wall.
If this had been any other family, the Japanese boy would have promptly called the local insane asylum. But it was just his luck that this family was HIS family, and this was a normal day for the four of them. Sighing, he tried to force the nagging question he had to stay in his throat.
"Curious, Nagikins?" teased the redhead, flashing a Cheshire cat smirk over to the boy.
"You should know," retorted the boy indifferently, scowling at the obscene nickname. "And my name is Nagi."
"God hates witches... Witches have cats... Therefore, God hates cats," the pale "cat" explained loudly, then dived into his bowl of milk, lapping up the sweet liquid.
"Farfarello's a cat now," Crawford sighed from the table, politely eating a bagel. It was just then that Nagi noticed the two unfamiliar appendages sticking out from their leader's head. They were furry and black and hopefully fake... A pair of costume cat-ears, not unlike the madman's pair.
Have they all gone mad? wondered the boy, eyes widened. If Crawford was playing along... Then this was WAY BEYOND their 'normal' insanity level... What has Schuldich managed to pull this time?
"Come on, play along," tormented the redhead, laughing in that bad-boy way of his. The Japanese boy noted the two tiger-striped ears that were protruding from the foreigner's head. "I found them at a lingerie-costume shop..."
"A lingerie shop? You went into a lingerie shop? Aren't those for women?" interrupted the child assassin, indigo eyes in shock.
Schuldich shrugged apathetically, then went on to say, "Yeah, a lingerie shop. The costumes that go with the ears are simply sinful! But Crawfish refuses to even wear his," pouted the German, casting a melancholy look at his superior. The 'Crawfish' returned the comment with a rather... ahem... rude gesture. "But I'm sure you'll wear yours..." There was a positive hint of a death threat in that. "After all, I spent all that money on them..."
"Meow, meow!" the Irishman agreed.
The redhead's eyes glittered. "We can throw ourselves a regular costume party tonight..."
Nagi choked down his fear. No way am I wearing lingerie, he thought. Curse that German sicko.
The German's smile widened.
Oh, God, he heard me, Nagi cursed inwardly.
"So you see," Schuldich enlivened the boy, "Farfarello believes his cat... He'll attack anyone who isn't." The ghost of a sly smile fluttered by.
"God hates mean animals," Farfarello assured the boy, eyeing the kid in a very 'I-am-going-mutilate-you-very-soon' manner. White teeth were bared threateningly.
The boy paled.
A pair of furry, bronze cat-ears were handed towards him. "Okay, okay," gasped Nagi, frantically placing them on his head. Farfarello smiled in approval and went back to licking up his milk. "Phew," sighed the kitty- boy, thinking, Why me...?
"That's a good Nagi," laughed the German, waltzing over and sitting next to Crawford. Nagi crept over to the two men, eyeing the psychopath warily. "You look so... appealing in cat ears... I'm sure you're going to look great in the whole outfit!"
Nagi cast a gaze at the madman on the floor, who was now sharping his favorite knife by the half-drank dish of milk. God, what have I gotten myself into?
"I can't believe you," the American hissed softly, his eyes narrowing on the newspaper.
"Aww... they're cute, though," Schuldich defended, patting the annoyed man on the top of the head. "I'm sure Weiss thinks so too."
"Weiss? What does Weiss have to do with this?" The American raised his voice slightly.
Both Nagi and Farfarello ducked underneath the table, taking refuge from the impending battle. (Crawford and Schuldich's fights were usually bloody and neither of the two assassins wanted to stain their clothes.)
"Nothing, nothing," replied the German, eyes flickering. He cowered slightly under the evil gaze that penetrated his being. Even so he still couldn't help but add, "I just hope that they enjoy the outfits that go with the ears..."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Hey, another package," Ken reported, walking downstairs with a the much larger, much more disgustingly fuzzy box. "Must be from the same people."
"Lemme see that," Youji growled, tearing the package open. Eyes widened in wonder, as Aya peered over the playboy's shoulder to see the contents. The swordsman's jaw dropped.
"What is it?" whined Omi, coming over to see, but Aya and Youji quickly covered the gift back up. "Hey, let Ken-ken and I see it...!"
"No!" the two men answered in unison.
"But why...?" sniveled Ken-ken, playing with his cat-ears (which he hadn't taken off since the incident of nearly being "blown apart"). "Come on! No fair - you have to share!"
"Maybe when you're older," Aya muttered, casting a side glance at the playboy.
Youji nodded, then whispered to himself, "...yeah, like twenty years older..."
Add sugar and spice,
Men of Schwarz and Weiss,
And you find what insanity is made of...
The End
Author's Notes: Fluffy and pointless, ne? Just some randomness for the record books (sort of like my Mistletoe Ramblings)! Please, please review with a cherry top!