The light that came in and hit Schuldich's eyelids felt as though it were coming from the wrong direction, and he couldn't quite place why it was he wasn't entirely comfortable.
First he remembered they were still in the rental.
Next, he realized that he was sleeping partially on the wrong side of the bed.
Ah, yes, that's right, the argument.
He felt a weight on the bed, at that exact moment, lightly calloused fingers dragging along his jaw line.
"Morning." Crawford's perfect baritone.
"Yes, it is." Schuldich opened his eyes. Crawford still looked rumpled from sleeping in his work clothes. Crawford leaned over him then, kissed him on the lips.
This meant that they wouldn't talk about last night.
"A little make up sex?" Crawford offered.
"Oh, why not." Schuldich smiled a bit lopsidedly.
They started to undress each other, reaching for each other at the same time. Their hands for a moment brushed against each other, and they started to kiss. "What is it with you and morning sex?"
Crawford kissed Schuldich and smiled against his lips, "It's the only thing that can make mornings bearable."
Schuldich laughed, wrapped an arm around Crawford's shoulder and pulled him down. They resumed kissing, this time Crawford just supported his weight on his arms, as Schuldich unbuttoned his shirt. Finally his chest was bare, and Schuldich ran a hand up from his navel, to his throat, enjoying the feel of him.
And it felt good, sensuous. Rubbing hands along each other, kissing, sucking, clumsily undressing. Schuldich smiled contentedly, and closed his eyes. Schuldich pulled off Crawford's dress coat, and pulled off Crawford's dress shirt, both of them mostly white with brown dirt smudges on some of the creases. He tossed them on the floor without much thought where they landed. Crawford started to suck on Schuldich's neck, and Schuldich purred in warm appreciation. Crawford let the moist bit of flesh slip from his mouth, kissed up Schuldich's jaw and then planted a gentle kiss on Schuldich's lips.
Rotating their hips, grinding in close, the wonderful hardness of the pelvic bone through jeans and slacks, and the tingling hunger that grew as their erections rubbed against the cloth.
When Crawford drew away to take off his glasses, set them on the night stand, Schuldich very precisely, reached up and caught him, drew him back down. A wicked grin on his lips, which Crawford read as a playful and sexual smile. Schuldich licked his lips once, pulled Crawford closer, and with a great deal of smug pride, stated as clearly as he could, "I love you, Brad."
The reaction startled Schuldich, and perhaps even startled Crawford as well.
With a huge snarl, Crawford grabbed Schuldich by the hair and jerked him upwards, "God damnit, Schuldich, shut the hell up." And he slammed Schuldich's head back so hard it struck the headboard with a crack that made Schuldich temporarily dazed.
"Holy fuck, Crawford." Schuldich growled at him. And without pausing to think about it, attempted to slam his knee into Crawford's groin.
And Crawford reacted by slamming his fist into Schuldich's face before he could really set his mind to task. And suddenly he grasped Schuldich's throat, his eyes had gone sharp and dangerous, leaned in and said tensely, "I told you, to stop saying that." Each word was enunciated tautly, so tautly that you could feel that every bit of control behind the voice was about to snap and all hell was about to break lose. His right hand tightened to the point where Schuldich couldn't breathe. "I told you, to stop saying that, didn't I? Didn't I? God damn it, Schuldich will you stop testing me?"
Schuldich grabbed Crawford's gun from under the pillow, attempted to slam the butt of it against Crawford's head. Crawford deflected it before it could connect, and in the process the gun was lost.
And in the process, Crawford was forced to release Schuldich. Schuldich rolled out of bed as fast as he could, whirled around and faced him.
"You son of a bitch, are you trying to kill me?"
"Look, god damn it, I warned you, didn't I? I told you not to say that and you went and fucking said it anyways."
"I can't help it, I'm in love with you."
Too much.
Crawford was suddenly simply there, pressed against him again, with none of the familiar feeling of lust between them.
Once again, a hand around Schuldich's throat that was so tight he couldn't breathe.
"I... told you, not to say that." All semblance of perfect control was gone.
Schuldich smiled at him, and would have laughed if he had the breath.
Crawford's hand tightened again, squeezing harder and harder and harder, until at last he realized he was trying to kill Schuldich.
Before he could loosen his grip completely, Schuldich managed to slam a fist into Crawford's stomach.
"You like me like this, don't you? Don't you, Crawford? You like me fucked up in the head so I'm forced to stay with you, god damnit admit it."
"Admit what? What the hell am I supposed to do, Schuldich? Take you to a god damn psychiatrist?" he was still glaring, he still wanted to fight. "Oh, doctor, can you fix him? Only don't fix him too much, because I still want him to be able to kill in cold blood and make me a lot of money come September."
Schuldich laughed sharply, bitterly, and only once. "Go to hell."
And he turned to leave.
As far as he was concerned, forever.
And Crawford knew.
Crawford turned back to the bed, stalked over to the other side where the gun lay, and grabbed it.
He had absolutely no intention to let Schuldich go.
Out, to the living room. Out, to the front door, out and away from Crawford. Forever, if at all possible.
He heard the sound of gunfire, it didn't surprise him one bit. When he felt no bullets hit, he didn't question what that meant, only grabbed his jacket and the car keys, only checked to see if he had cash.
He needed away.
He needed away from Crawford.
If the whole world could cave in him right now, if the world could swallow him whole, devour his mind and leave him a breathing corpse, he'd welcome it, with open arms.
He couldn't live life like this for even one more minute.
Nagi was standing there, calmly, eyes downcast.
Crawford was looking at him, level.
Nagi finally lifted his eyes, met Crawford's sharp angry gaze.
If you can ever tell that Crawford is angry by looking at him, usually that means you were about to die.
Nagi sighed softly, and dropped his gaze again, "You'd have regretted it."
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