Breakdown

Chapter 11: Bradley

Crawford was giving Schuldig another chance, even though common sense screeched at him to give the German the ol' heave ho. Schuldig did at least deserve to be suspended, but Crawford would decide his fate later when he had a talk with the German. All he knew was that Esset wouldn't be getting their hands on him. His threat had been a scare tactic.

The truth was, Crawford hated Esset more than he hated Schuldig disobeying his orders. He would never willingly hand the German over to Esset's scientists. That would be torture beyond anything Farfarello could devise. Crawford just wanted Schuldig scared. He wanted the telepath to take him seriously. He wanted Schuldig to respect him just as he respected the Oracle on missions. Schuldig would never dare call Crawford anything but his codename on missions and that's the kind of attitude he wanted to keep up when they were not on an assignment.

Crawford hated being addressed by his given name. He was not Bradley to anyone but his mother. When Schuldig called him Bradley, it suggested that they had a closer relationship than Crawford felt they should have. Schuldig was not his friend. It was about time the redhead understood that. Crawford was a teammate and his leader, nothing more. Never anything more.

"Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"

Crawford frowned over the rim of his glass at the redhead sitting across from him. Abyssinian had been quiet up until now, watching him as he drank with wavering alertness. Crawford hadn't wanted to drink alone, but he certainly hadn't been looking for a conversation either. He thought the redhead would be quiet company.

"No," he shook his head. "I am not curious enough to care why you are here, Abyssinian."

"Ran," the redhead corrected. "Don't call me Aya. Everyone calls me Aya."

Crawford sat back and blinked. The Weiss kitten shouldn't have revealed his true name to his enemy, even if they had a momentary truce. Apparently the redhead was more of a lightweight than Crawford had originally given him credit for.

"I called you Abyssinian," he pointed out, "Not Aya."

Ran didn't appear to be listening to him. The Weiss assassin leaned forward and chinked his empty glass against the bottle of whiskey they were drinking, drunkenly asking for a refill.

Crawford frowned and pulled the bottle away, pouring himself another glass instead. "You've had enough whiskey. I'll order you something else."

Ran pouted and left his glass on Crawford's side of the table as he sat back. "What are you going to order? Poison?"

Crawford smirked. So Ran wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember he was sitting across from an enemy, but he was drunk enough to reveal his name. Interesting.

"No," he said, getting up from the booth. "I'm getting you a bottle of something else." Crawford returned a minute later and handed Ran his drink. The redhead turned his nose up at it, scowling.

"Water?" He asked incredulously. "I'm not drinking that."

"Yes you are. You need it, Ran."

"I do not….Hey!" the redhead's eyes narrowed. "How did you know my name?"

Crawford sighed. "Because you told me a few minutes ago. That is why you are going to drink the water. You need to sober up a little. I am still your enemy and you are foolishly revealing things to me, and then not remembering about it."

Ran continued to glare at Crawford and then his gaze fell to the bottle of water. His lip curled but he grabbed it and uncapped it moodily, downing half the bottle in one go.

Crawford sat back down. "Do I continue to call you Ran, or would you like me to forget that little bit of information?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink, "Or should I be like the others and call you Aya? Why do they call you Aya if your name is Ran, anyway?"

Ran scowled and stared at the table, looking as though he deeply regretted getting drunk. "They call me Aya because as far as they're concerned, that is my name. And call me Abyssinian."

Crawford nodded. "Very well, Abyssinian. Why did you choose to be called Aya in the first place?"

"Because I did," the redhead answered angrily. "The reason's none of your business."

Ran appeared to be sobering up fast, Crawford noted. The aggression was coming back quickly and in full force. He tilted his head and studied the redhead for essentially the first time. He'd tangled with Abyssinian before and had been up close, but he'd never actually paid attention to his looks.

Ran was a very pretty man, and his looks were androgynous enough that he could pull of dressing as a woman quite easily. Crawford thought that perhaps that was the reason for his wanting to be called Aya. Perhaps the redhead had aspirations of becoming a woman later on in life and was slowly working his way up to that moment. It would explain the gold, dangly earring he wore at any rate.

"Why the earring?" he asked curiously.

Ran drank the rest of his water and frowned across at him. "That's a personal question."

Crawford shrugged. "It isn't as personal as if I were to ask you when the last time you went to bed with someone was. Which would you prefer answering?"

Ran blushed. "Neither."

Crawford grinned and emptied his glass. "I thought so."

"What did you see?" Ran suddenly asked.

"See?" Crawford wasn't following. "When?"

"When your nose was bleeding before. What did you see?"

"Nothing," Crawford answered simply. "I did not have a vision then."

"So what was it?" Ran pushed, determined to get something out of the Oracle.

Crawford frowned. "A nuisance."

"The same nuisance that forced you to come here?" Ran asked, lifting and eyebrow, and Crawford smirked. The man was sharp.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Crawford replied, deciding that it didn't hurt to reveal something to the redhead. Every team has its issues after all. "Mastermind gets cranky when he's bored, you see."

Ran nodded his understanding. "Balinese is like that too," he sighed. "He's the reason I'm here."

Crawford smirked. "So we were both driven off by teammates and we both chose this…establishment to drown ourselves in drink. If that is not fate, then I don't know what is."

Crawford caught the flicker of a smile before Ran's mouth dropped back into a scowl. "Yeah, I guess," the redhead admitted quietly. "I don't' know why I came here, actually. It just happened."

"As I said, it's fate, Abyssinian. You aren't the bar fly type."

"No," the Weiss assassin shook his head. "You're right. I hate drinking."

Crawford nodded, grinning slightly. "I can see why. You're terrible at it. I'd stick to slicing up individuals with your kattana if I were you."

Ran mumbled his agreement and rested his head back on the padded headrest of the booth, looking drained. Crawford watched him silently and decided that it was probably time for both of them to leave. He at least had an appointment to keep with the telepath and Ran's teammates most likely wouldn't appreciate him being out all night.

Crawford got up and walked the few steps to Ran's side of the booth, Ran's tired gaze on him the whole time. "Let's go Abyssinian." He held out his hand.

Ran stared at it. "Go where?"

"Home," said Crawford, "Before you get too comfortable in that seat and pass out and one of these drunks takes advantage of you."

"That won't happen," Ran scowled.

"You're attractive, drunk, and your reflexes aren't what they normally are. It will happen. Now get up."

Ran blushed and since it didn't look like he was willingly going to move, Crawford leaned forward and grabbed him around the waist, hauling him out of the seat. The redhead snarled and swung out at him, but Crawford had always been faster than Abyssinian, and that was still the case, even when he was mildly tipsy. He leaned back just in time to avoid the punch and slammed the Weiss assassin into the thin wall between the booths, grabbing and pinning his arms at his sides. He held the rest of Ran's body in place by leaning into him, using his weight.

"There," he frowned, "You see how easy that was?"

Ran growled and wriggled, but couldn't free himself. Crawford was glad when he gave up because not only were they enemies and in a compromising position, but the redhead's struggling was creating friction where it shouldn't. Ran seemed to realize that as well as he suddenly looked embarrassed and ashamed.

Crawford let him go. "We're creating a scene, let's go." He took a few steps but turned back when he realized Ran wasn't following. "I said let's go Abyssinian," he growled. "If you want an escort, you have to come with me now."

Ran shook his head. "I…can't move," he said. "I'm...I think I'm gonna fall…"

Crawford rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. So the redhead wasn't quite as so sober as he thought. He stomped back over to Ran and wrapped an arm around his waist. Ran instantly blushed again but didn't try to move away.

"Do you…do you have to hold me there?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Crawford answered firmly and began steering him towards the door. The other assassin bumped into him a number of times during the short walk, his usual grace having flown straight out the window. Crawford thought it was sad, but Schuldig would have laughed his ass off for weeks if he ever saw Abyssinian in his current state.

Ran perked up a little when they got outside. The cooler air seemed to do him some immediate good. Crawford looked up and down the street for a taxi, and when he couldn't find one, he realized he'd have to call for one, unfortunately he didn't know the number. He'd left his little black book at home and he hadn't programmed the number into his phone.

He cursed under his breath and looked at the redhead beside him. "I need to go back inside to call for a taxi. Wait out here for me. If you see one, flag it down."

Ran shook his head. "I can walk."

"Only if I hold you up," Crawford argued, letting him go to prove his point. Ran stood on his own for all of two seconds before he swayed and stumbled back into the brick wall behind him. "See?" said Crawford, "You'd find yourself in the gutter or run over in no time. I'll be back."

Ran scowled and grabbed Crawford's sleeve as he made to go back into the bar. "Don't leave me," he said. That was the last thing Crawford ever thought he'd hear from an enemy, but the statement annoyed him more than surprised him. They were wasting time.

"I need to call a taxi, or neither of us is going anywhere, Abyssinian. Stop being a child." He jerked his sleeve back. "Wait here."

Ran frowned and dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged against the wall. "Hurry up then," he said moodily. His actions were so close to Schuldig's that it was unnerving. Crawford wondered if it was a redhead thing.

Even though it annoyed him that Ran had given him an order, he said nothing as he went inside the bar. He continued to keep his cool, despite the irritating amount of time it took to get the bartender's attention—Crawford supposed that the man could sense that he wasn't ordering a drink so he took his time walking over—but he nearly flipped when the bartender failed to provide him with a number for a taxi service. In fact, no one in the bar would give him one. Either the bar was filled with permanent patrons, or people drove home drunk. It was at moments like these that Crawford wished he were a telepath like Schuldig.

/Crawford? Where are you/

Crawford groaned and left the bar, Schuldig was right on cue. /You were meant to leave me alone until I returned, Sch…/ He trailed off when he stepped outside and saw no sign of Ran.

/…uldig/ The German thought he'd finish for him. /Or Honey Bun. I could go for that too/

Crawford knew that Schuldig was testing the waters with a joke. Of course he wanted to see if Crawford was still furious with him. And although he wasn't necessarily at the moment, the American knew that he could get to that point very quickly if Schuldig kept it up.

/Leave me alone Schuldig. I'm coming home/

/How? You don't have your car. I can't have you walking around drunk. Someone could take advantage of you before I get to./

Crawford growled. The Schuldig he knew was back.

/I'm not drunk/ he snapped /The Weiss Kitten is. I want you to tell me where he is/

/Why/ Crawford could feel Schuldig's pout.

/Because I said so. And after that I want you to pick us up/

/Nein/ replied Schuldig /I'm not driving just so you boys can get it on in the backseat/

/We won't. And I'd watch my words, Schuldig. Must I remind you how close you are to becoming Esset's lab rat/ Crawford growled.

Schuldig sent him a scowl. /I'm already their lapdog/ he countered /Being a lab rat isn't much of a step down/

/Schuldig, please just find the Kitten. We will discuss your situation later/ Crawford said desperately and stopped pacing along the sidewalk when he heard a groan from a nearby alley. He walked up to it and shook his head. /Never mind the Kitten. I found him. Just come pick us up. Read the Kitten's mind to know where we are/

/Why are you helping him? And why can't I read your mind/

/Because I am. And because you have no self control. Now get over here. You have fifteen minutes/

/Are you kidding? I need at least twenty to get there./

Crawford scowled and approached the fallen Abyssinian. Ran looked up at him dismally from where he was kneeling on all fours on the ground, another very compromising position to be found in. A pool of vomit was right in front of him. Crawford wrinkled his nose.

/You'll have no trouble getting her in ten Schuldig. I know how you drive. Just get here. Now./

/Ja ja. I'm on my way.../

The link closed and Crawford sighed, helping Ran to his feet. "Our lift is coming," he said quietly, deciding not to mention the fact that it was Mastermind who would be their chauffeur.

Ran nodded silently and made to wipe his mouth with his hand. Crawford grabbed his wrist before he could and pushed his hand back to his side. He reached into his jacket for his handkerchief. "Here," he said, offering the redhead the piece of cloth. Ran accepted it and wiped his mouth. Crawford made him hold onto it. He didn't want it back now.

"We're going to wait in front of the bar."

Ran followed along obediently, not that he had a choice in any case since Crawford was holding him around the waist again. He leaned into the taller man.

"When is the taxi coming?"

Crawford smirked softly. "Fifteen minutes at the latest if he knows what's good for him."