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This one in his bed, was too short. His eyes didn't have the sheen of someone who knew their own worth. He was too full of self-doubt. He was too safe. And this new one, he was too slim, completely lacking all the athletic grace of a person who trained for three hours a day to maintain a perfect physique. This one, was too dark. Dusky skin, black eyes, black hair. He preferred a fairer skin tone, creamy and delicious to taste and touch, stretched over muscle. And this one, was too dull. He wasn't very smart, and didn't have a sense of humor. She, was female. He liked men better. She, had low self-esteem, and kept trying to cover herself up with the sheets. She had no sense of humor, and everything she said was soft, as if he were about to yell at her - as if yelling was all she heard all her life. And she, was greedy in an amusing way, but her price was far too low. She was far too delicate for his tastes, too pliant and soft. She had a temper, which he liked, but it seemed to be ungrounded in logic, pointless and vague. He tried them all on, for size. One at a time, a new one slipping between the sheets with him. Each one was measured, weighed, and found lacking. And every time, after they had sex, Crawford would lay back and think to himself, that sex has never actually been disappointing to him before. A warm, receptive body in bed. Arching backs and muscle. Enough. It should be enough. The sheets that were white, the dusky light and the strange angles of the room. It should be enough. The strangeness should be alluring, should be erotic. The fantasies should be part of the fun. Anyone he wants in bed, right? If it's just sex, then anyone should do. She hunched a little, she was a demure little thing, a little nervous, a little gun shy around him. She was acting as if he were about to attack her, all the time. And maybe he might, if she kept that up. "Did you like it?" "No." "Oh…" And she cast her eyes away. "I'm sorry, I-" "I don't care." "Is there anything I can do?" She looked nervous. "I mean, I could -" "I don't care." He said slowly, just so she'd understand, her need to please him starting to anger him. He got up to shower, feeling completely dissatisfied. And for every little diminutive move she made, he felt more dissatisfied. He was very relieved when he immerged from the bathroom to see she'd left. He slicked back his wet hair, walked over to the bed and contemplated for a moment. Logic had always been his strong point, the ability to reduce the situation to variables, create plans, set them in motion, ensure that they were successful. This situation had more variables than he would like. For instance, it involved emotion, emotion was fickle as all hell and unpredictable even at the best of times. Also, there was the fact that it involved his emotions. The odd fact that he hated this situation completely… that he wanted the correct person back in his bed. The odd fact that it wasn't even really Schuldich's body he missed, although that was a part of it. It was laughing, it was having Schuldich just hover around him making his smart-ass comments, it was having Schuldich physically close and comfortable. It was… having an equal around. Crawford looked for his cigarettes, lit one and sighed. So, he supposed, it actually didn't require all that much logic to solve this problem. It was perfectly obvious. He made a decision, and acted on it. He looked at the phone for a moment, debated his next move. He pulled out the phone book from the dingy night table, looked up the necessary phone number, and dialed it. A few frustrating minutes on the phone reserving the room, giving credit card information, exercising patience, and his plans were set.
He walked in the front door. Lounging there, in beautiful arrogance, was what he knew he really wanted: red hair, fair skin, acrobat's build, perfectly dangerous. "Schuldich." Schuldich lifted his eyes up to meet Crawford's. "What?" He knelt down, next to Schuldich at the couch, caught Schuldich's wrist and drew it up to his lips. He felt the smooth scar, lightly, letting his lips drift in a circle. Schuldich's face, for a moment, was like it used to be - open, and only to him. It shuttered. "Haven't had enough for today?" Crawford's hair was still wet. "Not nearly enough." And he leaned down and kissed Schuldich on the lips. It felt good, and Schuldich looked dubious for a moment before looping his arms around Crawford's neck and smiling up at him. "Get ready." Crawford said. "I'm always ready." "To go out." "Out?" "Yeah, out." He had to smile a little, it was amusing. How dubious Schuldich looked, when he said that. "'Out,'" Schuldich asked back at him, "What do you mean, 'out'?" Crawford grinned at him, "I mean out. Get up, get ready, we're going out." "No." "I made reservations already, I'm not going to just not go. If you don't want to change you don't have to." Crawford plucked at his dirty t-shirt, "But this wouldn't be terribly appropriate." Schuldich sat up, raked his hair back and tiled his chin. "So what would be appropriate?" He asked, drawn mostly by curiosity. Crawford sat back, got up, and started to walk away, "Something nice." Schuldich paused, shrugged his shoulders, and went to go change. 'Something nice' was vague enough. They fought over who got to drive. Crawford won through logic, "You don't know where I'm taking you." "Well, you'll just have to tell me." "Just let me drive for a god damn change of pace, then." "Irritable." Schuldich muttered, and climbed into the passenger side. They climbed into the car silently. They never played music - it usually caused too many fights. "I like driving." And he leaned back and lit a cigarette. "You've been smoking too much." "No, I haven't." "Yes, you have. I don't want you wheezing on the field." "Oh, with all the jobs we've been having lately, I can see what you mean." They haven't had any jobs since Schuldich came back from jail. A sharp exhale to punctuate the sentence. "I'm so out of shape." And then he cracked his neck. Practice told Crawford that the best way to make sure that this did not turn into an argument, was to just not talk about it. So he didn't answer. Schuldich had chosen a simple outfit, wore his favorite black leather jacket. He leaned back in the leather bucket seat, looked at the ceiling of the car. "So, where we going?" he asked in the air. "It's a surprise." "'Surprise.'" Schuldich muttered. "Pleasant surprise, I hope." Casually, with all gall of someone who didn't quite care anymore, "Not 'bullet in the head' surprise or 'hey, I got someone new' surprise." He drew the cigarette away, let out a puff again, "Or, 'I've sold you into slavery' surprise. Or 'I'm really straight" surprise." Another inhale, another exhale. "'Hey, Schuldich, I signed you up for a sex change.'" "Schuldich." He put just enough warning into his voice. "What?" "It's a pleasant surprise." "Huh." He sat up, and knocked some ash into the car's ashtray and leaned back again. It was a nice car. But of course, they had expensive tastes in everything. Rich clothing, rich food, cars they went through by the handful, selling them off and getting new ones as the whim hit them. They'd had this one for almost a year, which was quite unusual for them. But it was comfortable, and luxuriant, and it drove down the road swiftly and smoothly, like silk thread through a needle. Enough quiet later, Crawford sighed, "Give me one of those." Schuldich arched an eyebrow, and lit a cigarette for him. He leaned forward, and put it between Crawford's lips. "Stressed?" "No." "Of course not." Schuldich's voice was bitter for just a moment, and then he leaned back in his chair again. "I hate the passenger side. Nothing to do but smoke and yell at the other drivers." "We're almost there." "And where is 'there'?" "You'll see." "Pleasant." He said at Crawford, he found it more and more doubtful. "Yes, pleasant." "You're sure." "Of course I am." "Of course you are." Schuldich leaned back again, stretched. "And you're always right." "Not always." "That's new." "But definitely most of the time." "Christ, you're so arrogant." "So are you." Schuldich smiled and smoked. He had to admit, he was having fun already. They arrived at the hotel room at the expected time. Checking in was quick, with all his information already on file. The room keys were simply handed to them, and they walked to the elevator. Schuldich spent a moment amused at the concierge, who found it mildly shocking that he'd reserved a hotel room for two men. Two minutes to the elevator, four minutes up to the floor the room was at. Voluptuous interior, splashed with pearl light, and gold wood walls, lacquered and shining. It was not a hotel of modern sophisticated beauty, it reveled in that old world feel, that sort of decadence that was so common then. They entered the room, took in it's sprawling accommodations, and Schuldich whistled appreciatively. It was a rich room, exactly suited to their tastes. A plush, cream-colored carpet, a tv, living room furniture, a sprawling bedroom, even a jacuzzi. "Wow. Now I feel like a high priced whore, instead of just a budget whore." Schuldich slid up to Crawford, put his arms around Crawford's waist and kissed him. They swayed for a moment in the kiss, and Schuldich tilted his head to kiss Crawford's neck, and began to sink to his knees. "Stop that." Crawford pulled him up and pushed him a little away. He hissed in frustration. "Fine." And he turned to walk away. Crawford caught his arm and drew him close. "Have a drink with me." Schuldich allowed himself a moment to feel miffed. But after weighing in the fact that Crawford had reserved the hotel room and paid for it in advance, decided that he wouldn't be pissed off quite yet. "…. Alright." And he followed. Crawford mixed a drink for him, gin and tonic. And Schuldich spun in a circle in the room just to get a feel for where everything is. "Nice here." He muttered vaguely and then sipped his drink again. "I thought you'd like it." "Lots of people here." Schuldich shrugged. "I think I'd have preferred to stay at home." "Just because of the people." Crawford was making himself a drink, "You'd ditch the whole hotel?" "Just because of the people, I'd set it on fire." Crawford smiled just a little bit. "For someone so charming, you're very antisocial." "Thank you." They spent the evening in the room, drinking together. An hour of drinking liquor and talking, forty minutes of necking after that. Schuldich kept on sliding his hands over Crawford as if to take it further, take off his clothes, take him to bed. Crawford seemed to always stop him just as it started to get good. Half an hour in the hot tub, trading kisses and sips. They ordered dessert and fought over who got to eat what, before they wound up sharing. "We fight a lot." Schuldich stated, half way through the crème burlé - he stopped and held out a spoon for Crawford to eat. He smiled a little half smile, playfully baiting Crawford. He knew this made Crawford feel awkward. "We do." Crawford agreed evenly, leaned forwards and ate the scoop from the spoon. They made eye contact over it, and Schuldich bit his lower lip to try and force some of the smile down, made a half attempt to hide how amused he was. "Nagi thinks we have an 'Italian romance'." Crawford only raised his eyebrows once, "Oh?" "Yeah. He thinks we fight to make up." Crawford made no comment, but drew Schuldich close again and kissed his throat. Schuldich leaned into it, enjoyed the skin contact. "Making up isn't fun at all." Crawford said into his shoulder. "I know. But after that part is done, the sex is pretty damn good." It was turning out a lot more fun than Schuldich thought it was going to be. They have been at the hotel room now for nearly three hours, and Crawford had made no move to take him to bed yet. Which was a little strange to Schuldich. "Don't get drunk on me." Crawford stated, "I want to make full use of this room before we leave it." "Sir, yes sir." "I hate it when you do that." "I know," and Schuldich smiled with some satisfaction. "Make me another drink." Crawford only raised his eyebrows at him. "So, now I'm your servant?" "Well, I sure as hell am not yours." "Why don't you make me a drink?" "I'm not into servitude." Crawford looked up at him, a light smile at the corner of his lips. "Okay, maybe, sometimes, I'm into the fun kind of servitude…" Schuldich grins, "But so are you. Now, make me a drink." Crawford got up, and made Schuldich a drink. "You know, I think, perhaps, I should have just killed you when I had the chance." "If wishes were fishes," Schuldich kicked back on the couch, "eh, Bradley?" he took the drink from Crawford now, and sipped it, "Besides, without me, you, a) wouldn't have a reliable lay, and b) wouldn't be able to control Farfarello." "I don't need you to get laid." Crawford sat down next to him, their bodies were flush together, and Crawford put his arm around Schuldich's shoulders. "And I don't need Farfarello, and I could probably easily control him without you." Schuldich tilted his head to one side, looked at Crawford, and then smiled sensuously, "Well, then. I guess I'm screwed." And he leaned forwards, and started to bite at Crawford's neck, daintily. Crawford ran his fingers through Schuldich's hair, kissed the top of his head lightly. "Sometimes I swear you have an oral fixation." "If you're complaining -" "I'm not." "I'm actually having fun." Schuldich said, kissed his throat again. "Me, too." And Crawford forced Schuldich to look up, so that he could kiss Schuldich on the lips. Schuldich slipped him some tongue, and smiled against him. "I think it's the booze." Schuldich said with a smile. "I think, if we were more sober, we wouldn't be touching." "You are drunker than I think you should be." "Right, I care." And Schuldich started to suck and bite at Crawford's neck, pushed him down onto the couch. "You're going to leave a mark." Schuldich stopped long enough to respond, "Good." They stayed that way, with Crawford on his back and Schuldich sucking on his neck, for a few minutes before Crawford pushed him off. "What?" Schuldich sounded annoyed. "Let's save that for later." Schuldich pulled away from him, looking pissed. "What do you mean, save it for later? We've been here for three hours, Brad. It's a hotel room. You rent rooms like this to fuck in." Crawford gripped Schuldich's shoulder, started to calm him down. Schuldich smacked his hand away. "Don't try and soothe me like I'm a god damn horse." "Calm down -" "So fucking condescending, will you ever stop treating me like I'm some kind of woman?" "Schuldich." "No, god damnit, Brad. I am not your bitch." "Schuldich." He stressed his words, he shook Schuldich a little. "I just want to have fun here, like you." He leaned forwards, kissed Schuldich roughly, and pulled back, "You aren't having fun anymore?" Schuldich was glaring at him. Crawford stroked him, his hair, kissed him again. "Alright, let's go to bed then." "Appeasement tactics." Schuldich stated. But he followed, anyways. At 1:40AM, Crawford took him to the bedroom and they started to kiss. Schuldich started to undo Crawford's shirt, unbuttoning the small buttons and nudging aside the dense, expensive cloth as he went down. Crawford threw aside the blankets, pushed Schuldich back onto the bed, finding a spot on Schuldich's neck that he liked. They fell into a more familiar sexual play, something they were used to, something that made them laugh and shudder. And it felt good, and it was familiar, and for the mean time, they both of them forgot they were arguing. Schuldich was just a little drunk, now, but that just made him more relaxed, made it all the more enjoyable. He ran a hand across the flat of Crawford's stomach, "You're gorgeous." Schuldich whispered at him. "So are you." Crawford made a fist in Schuldich's hair, kissed his jaw lightly. He touched the small of Schuldich's back lightly, light pressure with the palm of his hand. He drew the backs of his fingernails across Schuldich's skin, pressed kisses to Schuldich's inner thigh. One measured touch, a stroke upwards from Schuldich's thigh to his armpit. They smiled when they kissed. Schuldich felt wonderful so long as he just enjoyed the touching, felt wonderful so long as he didn't think of anything beyond that exact moment. Twining nude limbs around nude limbs, Schuldich sighed, the corners of his lips were upturned, he nuzzled the curve of Crawford's neck. Schuldich arched his back, pressed his front to Crawford's body as he slid his fingers in. "Ah, that's good." He laughed comfortably, kissed Crawford's face. Crawford kissed back, rubbed his cheek against Schuldich's. They spent a moment like that, Crawford rubbing inside him and Schuldich just pressed against him, before Crawford pressed his lips against Schuldich's ear and asked simply, "How many?" "Hm?" Schuldich smiled again, wrapped his arms around Crawford. "How many what?" Crawford examined Schuldich's face, pressed just a little harder inside him, "How many others?" Schuldich immediately stopped having fun. "Does it matter?" Crawford pulled away from him. "Yes, I think it does." "Well, it doesn't." "How many?" Schuldich looked up at him for a moment, trying to interpret what was going on. Then Schuldich laughed once, reached to touch him, "Oh, come on, Brad. Stop it." "No, I mean it. How many others?" he pushed Schuldich's hands away. Schuldich sat up and looked him in the eye. "I don't get it. Why ask?" "Just answer." Schuldich lost all amusement, now, and even started to feel slighted, angry. He'd been stupid enough to actually have fun. He should have known that there was something else going on. "Three." He picked a number at random. "Three." Crawford's voice was measured, he reached out and laid a hand on Schuldich's chest. "Three people touched you here…" and he kissed the place where his hand was. And then it became a blur again. "And here…" another kiss. He was allowing himself to be possessive, touching and reclaiming everything. Nothing rough, nothing that would spoil the mood. "You're acting strange today." And Schuldich kissed him again. Because it felt good, because Crawford wasn't yelling or being mad at him, because everything still felt friendly, he started to enjoy himself again. "Three. You're sure it's three? You left more times than that, wasn't there a new one every time?" They were bodies twisting together in shadow, warm and comfortable lovers. The words Crawford was speaking barely made sense. Schuldich pressed the palm of his hand on Crawford's back, drew him closer, not wanting to let go of the heat. "Yeah. None of them were anywhere near as good as you…" "So why'd you leave?" and he pressed his lips to the crook of Schuldich's arm. Schuldich laughed, rolled on top of Crawford, and braced his arms on either side of Crawford's head. "Because…" and he kissed Crawford, "…I" and he kissed Crawford again, "Couldn't…." Kiss, "…stand you." Crawford smiled up at him, "Really, now?" He put his arms around Schuldich's waist. "Yeah. Really, now." They rolled over, so Crawford was on top of him. "Why, is that?" and he reached for the nightstand. Schuldich liked feeling Crawford's weight on top of him. "Because." "'Because'? That's the best explanation you're going to give me?" Schuldich blinked when he felt something soft at his cheek. He smelled something sweet. Schuldich was surprised, "Roses." "Roses." Crawford agreed. "You were never one to like flowers." "Italian relationship. We love to make up." Schuldich pressed at Crawford's shoulders, sat up and looked confused at his shadow in the dark. "What's going on?" Crawford didn't say anything. "Why the hell are you treating me like a woman?" "What?" "Why the hell are you treating me like I'm a god damn woman? Fucking pretty hotel room and dessert and flowers. What's next? Jewelry?" "I was trying to be nice, god damnit." "Crawford. Never, ever treat me like I'm your bitch." "I wasn't treating you like that." "Yes, you were." Schuldich hissed, and started to get out of bed. "You were treating me like a woman. Like something you own. You were treating me like -" "Oh, for fuck's sake, Schuldich. Can't you for once just shut up and enjoy it?" He grabbed at Schuldich's wrist, jerked him back into bed. "Let go of me." Schuldich tried to pull away, but the momentum of being pulled back into the bed was still against him. "No." Crawford forced him down so that he was laying on his back. "I paid for this hotel room, I bought the god damn flowers, I talked you into coming here. I fucking planned out this whole thing and you're going to stay here and enjoy it." "Go to hell." "Schuldich. You're mad at me for being nice to you." Schuldich was silent for a moment. "So then, why are you being nice?" Schuldich still sounded pissed off. Schuldich still wanted to be pissed off. "Because I fucking hate it when you're condescending, Brad. It just pisses me off, and I hate it even more when you do it in bed and I'm in the middle of actually having fun." "How the hell was - never mind. I don't care. How you managed to get 'condescending' out of flowers and a hotel room, I don't know." "So why were you asking about the others?" "I wanted to know." "But why?" Crawford didn't say these kinds of things out loud, Schuldich should know better. "Damn it, just for once, tell me." "Because you're mine, and I wanted to know how many others had you." Anger. "Yours." Schuldich grit his teeth. "Oh, right. Yours, I forgot, I belong to you, right?" "Yes, you belong to me." "No, I don't, Brad. I don't belong to anyone." "You do belong to me." "No, I don't." Schuldich wanted to yell and throw things, Schuldich wanted to destroy the hotel room, beat the hell out of Crawford. "You belong to me because you're in love with me." It was like a kick in the stomach, it felt like Crawford wasn't playing fair. "So." Schuldich's voice lacked conviction, "What if I stopped loving you." And he smiled, his cockiness returning, his arrogance. "What if, I decided, 'Oh, well, that Crawford is a bastard, I can find someone nicer.' What if, I just stopped?" "You can't." "Yes I can. I can leave you. I can stop loving you." Schuldich felt like laughing. This was hilarious, now. This was god damn wonderful. He's been in love with Crawford longer than he was aware he even knew how to fall in love, and here he was telling Crawford to kindly go fuck himself. None of this made sense. He wanted a drink, he wanted to run, he wanted to make a joke out of the whole thing. "Stop saying that." Crawford put a hand on his shoulder. "Why not?" Schuldich grinned hugely. "Last time I told you I loved you, you tried to kill me and I ran away from home, remember?" He laughed a little raggedly. "Like a kicked bitch, I ran away from home." "Stop using that word to describe yourself. Yes, I remember." Crawford hated this. "I remember, and I missed you when you were gone." "What?" Stop lying. "I missed you." "Shut up." "Schuldich-" "Stop saying that!" Schuldich got out of bed. "That's it. I can't take it. You're fucking lying to me and I'm leaving." He couldn't find his clothes. He couldn't think quite clearly. All he knew was that he wanted to get the hell out of the room and leave Crawford behind. "Schuldich, god damnit, sit down and hear me out." "No. Where the fuck did you put my pants?" "Schuldich, don't you dare go." "I can go if I want to." He found his pants, started to pull them on. Crawford came up behind him, suddenly, grabbing him and forcing him down onto the bed. Crawford grabbed his wrists and pinned them down and they started to fight. "Get the hell off of me!" "God damnit, calm the hell down." "No. Fuck you. Go to hell. Leave me alone." Schuldich managed to pull out from underneath Crawford, who actually wasn't holding him down very hard, he pulled his pants on the rest of the way, started to storm out without the rest of his clothing. He wasn't thinking clearly, he didn't care about all that. He just wanted to get away from the confusing lies. There was no way Crawford had missed him, there was no way at all. Crawford did not have emotions. All of this, this was some horrible lie Crawford was constructing. He felt Crawford's hand close around his elbow before he could reach the bedroom door. He felt a wrench in his shoulder joint, as he was pulled back hard. He was pushed up against a wall. He could see Crawford's eyes, now, the outline in the shadow, catching the light. The emotion there was almost frightening. "Don't you dare leave" Crawford's voice was almost a whisper. "Don't you dare." "I can leave if I want to." Schuldich matched him tone for tone. "I don't have to stay here. I don't have to be with you." Crawford's arm was suddenly pressing against Schuldich's throat, pressing down hard as if to collapse his trachea. "Don't," He paused, "don't you dare leave me." Schuldich glared at him, Schuldich felt nothing but anger, hate, boiling inside of him. Schuldich didn't understand any of this. He pushed Crawford just enough away so that he could breathe again, and couldn't push the arm away anymore than that. "Don't you dare." Crawford whispered. "don't you dare leave me. You can't leave me." And Crawford removed his arm, laced his fingers through Schuldich's hair. "You won't leave me." "I'm leaving you." "You can't." "Yes, I can." And Schuldich started to feel his defenses weaken, started to feel the anger wear off just enough to know he didn't mean what he was saying. "I can leave you whenever I want to." He was starting to hurt all over, he was starting to give in to it. "I can leave you. Why are you doing this? I don't matter to you, Brad. I don't matter to you at all. You don't love me." He felt Crawford press closer. He could see Crawford's eyes glinting in the dark. He could feel the heat of breath and skin, he wanted to melt against it. "Schuldich…" His own name was going to be his undoing, he could tell already. He knew that Crawford was leaning closer to kiss him. He knew that when they kissed, Crawford was going to win. He knew that he wasn't quite strong enough yet to walk away from something so unexpectedly tender. The inevitability of it made him actually feel just a little afraid. Their lips touched. Schuldich's arms went around Crawford's neck, clutching him closer, tighter. He found that he almost wanted to cry. They pulled each other roughly towards the bed, each of them trying their best to get Schuldich's pants off before Schuldich got annoyed enough to push his hands away to undo it himself. And this is Crawford having a break down. Crawford drew away, just enough to talk. "Say it for me." His voice was tight with emotion he didn't like expressing, couldn't contain. Schuldich bit his lower lip, closed his eyes, and gave up. "I love you." Crawford pressed his forehead to Schuldich's exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath all this time. "And you aren't going to leave me." The way he whispered it, low, breathless, words only meant for Schuldich to hear, words meant for someone who was so close that lips touched skin as they moved to enunciate. "I'm not going to leave you." Schuldich arched back and let out a sob. It didn't hurt, it wasn't pain, but it was overwhelming. Everything they did was just a little too much. A little too tight, a little too fast, a little too reckless, a little too desperate, a little too hard. Every part of him was touched, grasped hard, kissed, he touched back, he reclaimed as much as he could. Schuldich bit his lip until it bled, and Crawford sucked the bloody cut. He tightened his arms til they were pressed as close as they could get, he whispered so close to Crawford's face, the words became lost inside Crawford's mouth, muted against his lips, his cheek. Schuldich heard himself, at one point, just saying it over and over again, "I love you… love you… love you…" and he was aware that he was crying, clinging, and being held and kissed as though he were absolutely wanted, absolutely needed. Crawford didn't get mad at him for saying it.
It was morning, and it was awkward. Schuldich woke up feeling a little sore, all over, and not quite certain how that happened. When he remembered, he just wanted to fall back asleep again. He was wary of consciousness. So he just lay there, pretending to be asleep, rather hoping that Crawford would get up and leave, as though Crawford were another one of his one-night stands. "I know you're awake." Crawford's voice was even, and calm, and gorgeous. "Can't a person fake sleep in peace?" He drawled sarcastically. They both got quiet again. And Schuldich just lay there and remembered last night. He let out a heavy sigh, and was forced to admit to himself that he actually felt better this morning than he had in a very long time. The night before had been cathartic, except that now he wasn't sure what to do. He wanted more of it. More of Crawford's emotions, more of that jealousy and possessiveness. He wanted to feel Crawford actively wanting him. He wanted to feel that touch against his skin, that fooled him into thinking there was something of passion behind it. He didn't quite care anymore if it was a lie or not, all he could think of how wonderful it had felt. "Schuldich…. " Crawford let it die out. "What would you like for breakfast?" And Crawford started to sit up in bed, move towards the phone to order food for their room. He was stopped by a hand on his arm, Schuldich pressed close, gave him an old smile, and they kissed each other once. "This has been fun." Schuldich said just a few inches away from Crawford. "Haven't done this in a while." He couldn't quite get all his mirth to come through, he couldn't quite enforce the devil-may-care attitude that Crawford found so attractive. "We haven't." Crawford agreed, started to pull Schuldich off of him. "You aren't hungry?" "I like this." "So do I." They looked at each other, awkwardly, and Crawford turned and ordered them both breakfast and then lounged back in the messed up bed. "Didn't hurt you, did I?" Crawford asked, not making eye contact. "Little." Schuldich said, "but… I liked it." And he smiled again. Crawford had a sudden, slice of the future. Just enough to know, just enough to be prepared, just enough to steel himself for it, just enough to avoid it. And he sighed, and he could feel it, and he could choose one path or the other. And he opened his eyes, and looked at Schuldich. Schuldich looked less than himself, looked tired, bruised. Choices like this should be easy. Take it or leave it. Simple. Life would be easier without it, more managable, more predicatable. But he studied it for a moment, with a sort of removed interest, before he leaned towards Schuldich, and drew him so they were touching. He turned his head, so that his forehead was resting against Schuldich's temple. He sighed, and Schuldich shivered as Crawford's breath stirred the hair by his ear. Crawford tightened his arm around Schuldich. Looking at this with scholarly interest, looking at this logically, looking at this through examination… it was still ridiculous. He couldn't get the words right, in his head, no matter how hard he tried. Mentally, he changed the word order, rearranged the emphasis. He thought of a few witty things that simply sounded idiotic, he thought of a few romantic things that really just felt out of place, he thought of it all, until at last he gave in to his nature, and followed the direct route. "Schuldich, I can't say I love you." Schuldich closed his eyes, smiled. "It's alright." "But I think I could love you." Schuldich's world froze just a little bit, and for a moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't concentrate, couldn't move. Lies. How dare he lie like that. How dare he. "Don't lie to me." He pushed Crawford away. "Don't you dare lie to me, god damnit. It's bad enough that I have to deal with you every god damn day treating me like -" "Schuldich, I'm not lying to you." "Bullshit!" and he pushed Crawford away. "You're lying to me to control me." And he turned and started to get out of bed. "You lying bastard. You're just lying to me to control me." He could see Crawford's face pull away from being slightly vulnerable, move into an expression of almost amusement, of superior arrogance. "Schuldich, I don't need to lie to you to control you." Schuldich shifted his weight from one foot to another, felt uncertain, was completely unprepared. He bit his lip, looked up, turned his back to Crawford. "I can't believe you." Schuldich couldn't believe the situation at all. "Just like that, huh? Boom, you think you may love me. Just like that, you can do that?" Crawford smiled a slightly weary smile, "'Just like that'? Schuldich, we've been together for almost ten years now." Schuldich's eyebrows knit, and he looked away from him, around the room, the noise of the hotel getting louder. Crawford laid a hand at his cheek, leaned close, kissed him on the lips. He felt an arm wrap around his waist, pull him close. "Just stay with me, Schuldich." He felt lips at his shoulder. "And we'll see." He turned half way around, pressed close to Crawford, and sighed in resignation. He couldn't stop doubting. He couldn't believe what was going on. He couldn't believe that Crawford was capable of love. He couldn't believe that it could happen, just like that. But he held tight. And "maybe" was more than he thought he'd ever get. They went to bed.
Brad, you've asked me sometimes, why I fell in love with you. You said I wasn't playing fair, you said I knew why you loved me. You told me everything, already. You value me, I'm a good worker, I'm fun, I'm good in bed, without me you aren't less, but with me you are more. I know that, Brad. So, let me tell you then. You made me a monster. I'm not going to go to hell. I don't believe in it. Oh, sure, when I die, we'll see who's right, me or Farfarello. But til then, I'm a monster. I'm a myth. I'm a fairytale. This world is one great story, I think sometimes. It's made up of Heroes, and Villains. It's made up of all those little people who don't help the story along at all, the victims that the Hero saves and the Villain puts in peril. Without you, I turned into just a bit player. Just a killer, someone that can be ignored. On my own, I can't pull off the hero bit. I like money too much. I wouldn't save a baby from rolling down a hill. Fuck that. I'd sooner hit it with a truck. I don't even call them by male or female whatever…. I call them "it". That's how much I care for the common man. So I can't be a hero. And if I can't be a hero, I want to be a villain. I never want to be shoved into the background, Brad. I never want to be forgotten in the story. You made me a Fairytale Villain, a monster. And I know I'm going to be defeated eventually, but till then, I'm going to be perfect. All of Schwarz owes that to you. Oh, yeah. And you're fun, and you're good in bed, and you're gorgeous, and you're smart, and you're arrogant, and you're just fucking wonderful. You save me. But that's the easy stuff. And you know that. We're never going to have happily ever after, Brad. We'll go down in flames, we'll die with a mythic sword in our chest. We're going to symbolize good over evil. I like that. I like being a bad ass. I think it's cool. I like the power. I don't mind going down in a fit of tragic glory, as much as I'd prefer to win. I like that. And I love you. Feel better, Brad? You made me a monster, and I love you for it. |
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