He was giving Nagi lessons in perfection.
"In this job, anything less than perfect means you're dead." A simple statement. He meant it. Crawford pulled out his gun, elegantly, not even bothering to be fast. His eyes don't change at all, but they never do. It's the same face he wears when he kills, another person's life doesn't matter to him. He received no thrill from it, he has no remorse. It's a fact, a reality, something casual he does when he's on the clock. Murder is not how he gets his kicks, murder is not where the action is.
Schuldich could easily remember that Crawford's addiction to perfection used to piss him off. But now, he had to admit, it was damn sexy.
"I'll never have to use a gun." Nagi said, completely sure of himself. He crossed his arms, and looked away.
Teenagers. Guns were not what Crawford was talking about.
Crawford glanced at Schuldich, his eyes were goldish-brown, mild amusement tugging at his lips. A strong, large hand reaches out, wraps around the back of Schuldich's neck, and he's drawn in for a kiss. It's light, and affectionate, and Nagi's lesson continued.
Schuldich reminded himself that Crawford's kisses did not mean affection. Crawford kissed him because kisses felt good.
"I'm going to be thirty soon, this is the height of my career. I am physically fit, but age will eventually slow me down. You've got to work now, on what you'll need later."
"That makes no sense." Nagi didn't really believe him. No one really did.
Crawford was going to be perfect until he died.
And the lessons continued, the long lectures on logic Nagi's been listening to since he was picked up by Crawford. Nagi was used to Crawford being there to take care of them, the team, everything. Schuldich was too. Crawford always insisted that they prepare for the future.
"Don't be an idiot, Nagi."
Schuldich was just watching. He didn't bother to contribute. Why should he? Nagi thought he knew everything Crawford was saying, and was completely missing the point. It's hard to teach Nagi to be a leader, he's so used to following.
An open field, the targets were lined up. Nagi telekinetically nudged the bullets at the paper hearts. Crawford launched into another lecture. Who knew what the future would bring?
Schuldich and Nagi laughed a little, looked away.
"Nagi, point and shoot." Crawford's voice was dripping in paternal scorn: It's that simple, why can't you do it?
Schuldich allowed himself a very small, prideful smile. He was one of the few people in the whole world allowed the dangerous privilege of knowing how to read Crawford's body language, his voice.
And Nagi aimed his 9 mm semi-automatic, and Crawford started to talk at him. Crawford was trying to distract him, divide his attentions. "You've got to be aware of more than one thing at a time, Nagi. If you walk around with a sack over your head you're going to die without me."
Schuldich hated when Crawford talked like this. He sighed, tuning out the lectures. Looked around. It was nice here. Japan made him more aware of open spaces.
Schuldich could tell it was going to end very soon. Nagi just couldn't do it. That was the magic of the team, wasn't it? Everyone had their place, their specialty. Each was perfect in their own post.
Schuldich felt a tug on his arm, a hand resting almost gallantly at his waist. "Why don't you show him?" Crawford was just tall enough look down at Schuldich. Was that a flirtatious smile?
Schuldich shrugged. The green fabric of his three quarter trench coat was starting to get fuzzy from feathery pollen. "Don't feel like it." He flipped the collar to his coat, to avoid the wind. The hand at his back pressed a little, their bodies were close.
It felt good - warm. Crawford leaned up against his ear and kissed it without saying anything, returned to teaching Nagi.
There weren't many people here at all. A few cars driving by, a few distracted, daydreaming minds. The sky was white with featureless clouds, and the wind was chilled. Fall time. Schuldich's least favorite time of the year.
He caught Crawford's eye, one more time. Crawford's eyes lingered a bit, but he kept on talking to Nagi.
It hadn't even been discussed, it was Nagi by default. When Schuldich asked "why" out of curiosity, Crawford said that it was likely Schuldich would die at the same time. Schuldich made a flippant comment about how romantic that was. He didn't really care. He wasn't a leader. He wasn't a follower. If he did somehow survive Crawford's future death, well, he'd probably just leave Farfarello and Nagi in the dust.
Take all his money and just leave.
Later, they'd probably talk about how to tell when a person is lying, how to look into a person's eyes. The dilation of pupils, where they were focused. A vocal tick, a reference to religion. Where your own attention is focused. Don't be too focused, don't stare at the left hand while the right hand prepares to slit your throat.
Schuldich kicked a pebble, wound up tearing some grass out with the toe of his boot. Crawford's fingers brushed some hair away from his cheek. Crawford was being very touchy today.
Several kisses and a lecture or two later, Schuldich realized something.
Recognized something, to be more exact.
It was a familiar pattern. Crawford would talk to Nagi, make some points, some criticisms, and almost randomly reach out and touch Schuldich, make eye contact, or smile. If he said something to Schuldich, it was often to make Schuldich laugh. When Schuldich finally recognized it, he felt immensely flattered.
It was nice, knowing he was still worthy of being seduced.
It's the hallway now, at their rental house, mid-afternoon. The long, soft, insistent kisses Schuldich was receiving right now were perfect.
Schuldich was pressed against the doorframe, outside their new bedroom. He swapped at the doorknob, he missed a few times. When he finally did catch it, he couldn't remember which direction to turn it, or if he should push or pull.
Neither Crawford nor Schuldich opened their eyes. Smoothly, without any visible effort on Crawford's part, he reached out and grasped Schuldich's wrist, guided his hand so it was resting in a much better place. Smoothly, and without any effort, he reached out, turned the doorknob, and pushed the door in.
Schuldich drew just enough away to smile, and mutter, "Show off."
White, rumpled sheets, and two men, not quite asleep, and not quite holding each other, laying on them. Schuldich has his neck resting on Crawford's arm, and Crawford is toying with the short, fine hairs behind Schuldich's ear.
They should have ordered supper hours ago. Maybe Nagi learned some initiative and ordered himself something to eat. Maybe he even remembered to feed Farfarello.
Schuldich closed his eyes, and thought to himself that Crawford was definitely a cat person.
At the computer, Crawford finally decided that they had had enough down time, and went through their various email addresses looking for the right job to take. He sat at the computer for a few moments, clicking on emails and emails, and sighed with a bit of irritation.
"Hm?" Schuldich asked from the bed.
"If I could kill the people who send us these advertisements, I would."
Schuldich laughed.
Sometimes, it felt as though work were actually interjected in their life, and sometimes, it felt the other way around. It's odd, that way.
The man at the desk was another example of the foolishness of businessmen who think they can handle the criminal life. He was absolutely sure of himself. He was absolutely sure he was dealing with brainless muscle men, he was absolutely sure every casual lie he told would go unnoticed.
Schuldich smiled, slid up to Crawford, and pressed his lips close. Exaggerated lover's embrace, "He's an idiot," He whispered.
Crawford smiled, and rubbed his cheek on Schuldich's hair.
"I know where she is." Schuldich draped against Crawford. "It's easy."
The foolish businessman made a face of revulsion. He'd had no idea he'd hired faggots to protect him.
Schuldich laughed, kissed Crawford's cheek, and let go of him.
It was simply a matter of acquirement. It didn't need to be bloody, this time.
Oh, but it was so much more fun their way.
"I like this..." Schuldich's voice didn't have much weight to it.
"I know." Crawford.
Schuldich pulled out a knife, leaned in close, and made eye contact with her, small smile on his lips, slightly arrogant and playful. He didn't blink. Farfarello moved in close at the exact same time, their expressions identical.
Mission accomplished.
The office was a nice place. Very "modern art". Crawford smiled smoothly at the man he was dealing with. He was in the process of realization, and it was written all over his face.
"So you see, it would be in your best interest." Crawford kept his voice even, smoothed out his slacks as he stood.
An aquarium that was placed in a recess inside the wall bubbled soothingly, and the rather obscenely formed goldfish swimming in the tank looked striking, with an orange curl of fin swaying lazily. The walls were charcoal, and the floor matched. The desk was a black, gloss with a single blotter on it and a computer. The businessman behind it was very still. It took a moment for him to figure out how to react.
Of course, by then it was too late.
Schuldich reached into his inside pocket, pulled out a mini-cassette player. Slid it across that high gloss black desk on its face. The very still businessman made no move to play it.
"Lies. You're lying. You can't do that. Not to me. I hired you."
Three minutes left. Crawford decided to place some trust on his team, and smiled. "If it's lies, then it wouldn't hurt to play the cassette." Perfectly polite, perfectly measured. He didn't bother with theatrical threats, they were all implied. The shift in power in the room should be obvious to anyone with a survival instinct.
Nearly two minutes, now.
The businessman reached down to the desk, and picked up the upside-down mini-cassette player.
The voice of someone desperate came out of the small speaker. Young, and female. Soft, and begging, nearly broken. The speaking voice turned into a scream, and the speaker lost audio resolution. Crawford gave the businessman a very polite smile, and gestured with his hand.
"You didn't seem like the paternal kind of man, but I suspect that this has an effect on you anyways."
So close now, very close. Just over a minute left. There was a tint of amusement to the whole situation for him now.
Behind him, forming a lopsided triangle, was Schuldich, Farfarello, and Nagi. Schuldich was wearing his loud, ugly green three quarter trench, and his white pants. Nagi was wearing regular street clothes, a pair of black jeans and a t-shirt that read, "I'm not in love". Farfarello looked, as usual, as though he'd just left a bondage club. In general, they probably wouldn't be noticed walking the street, except for Farfarello's slightly fanatical expression.
Very soon.
"Right." The businessman said. "Whatever you want, just give her back." He moved from behind the desk, and started to casually walk towards the aquarium. As he neared Crawford, Crawford turned away from him and started to walk away. He could hear the rustle of cloth, the gun that was being drawn.
At that exact moment, Nagi's mouth opened as he just noticed the motion, hesitated - and Schuldich pulled out his gun, and kicked at the man's stomach. He pinned his arm against a wall, he pressed the barrel to the man's palm, he pulled the trigger.
Crawford would have to talk to Nagi about that hesitation, later.
A loud sound of pain, and Schuldich let go of the businessman's arm. The man opened his mouth, choked back some noise, and clenched his teeth hard. The man finally let out a moan of pain, and hit the back of his head twice on the wall behind him. "God damnit."
Crawford flicked a look at Farfarello, who appeared to find the whole thing rather amusing.
But apparently Schuldich didn't quite have enough. His face and turned into rage, and he was about to swoop down and beat the shit out of the source of their next paycheck.
Crawford caught him, drew him back into an embrace. "That's enough." He said calmly. And Schuldich turned to look at him, his eyelids dipped lightly. It may have been described as 'sensuous' - but 'feral' may have come closer.
Crawford made certain not to let go of Schuldich. The contact would calm him.
"You see, we've got the upper hand here. I didn't want to insult your intelligence by saying so out loud, but it seems you've insulted yourself." Crawford absently hooked a thumb into one of Schuldich's belt loops, and tightened his arm as he felt Schuldich want to pry away.
What would happen if he let go? Inside his mind, a man lay, choking on his own blood, and the carpet was soaked in goldfish water and a few of the orange and red ones were twisting, dying.
He turned to whisper into Schuldich's ear, "He wouldn't have killed me."
Schuldich didn't take his eyes away from the man he still wanted to kill. "He would have died trying."
Schuldich had a temper, and was overprotective at best. But Crawford had decided a few years ago that it was healthy to allow Schuldich to act out every once in a while. If a client got injured - well, a dangerous reputation was usually the result. And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
They went to their new rental. Nagi sent the information to their client. They disposed of the girl's body, neatly placing it in two large boxes on her father's front porch. Schuldich suggested that the father be killed later, and Crawford agreed it would probably be wise. But that would be later, for now he wanted a cup of coffee.
First, he talked to Nagi. Then, he made sure Schuldich properly secured Farfarello. Then, he decided that coffee will just have to wait until after he got some sleep. It was almost five in the morning. He could get four hours of sleep and still have a relatively normal day. He did not bother to check the future.
Crawford yawned, and started to disrobe. He felt arms wrap around him, and the soft feeling of a nose against his skin and lips, and now a cheek. "Saved your life today."
Right, this game - Crawford smiled. "Oh, did you?"
"You haven't let me be top in ages." Without turning Crawford around, he put his arms around him and started to help him undo the buttons on his shirt. "And I demand payment."
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