AN: I forgot. And my version of Schuldig has green eyes. So sue me.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
***
Laying sprawled out in the middle of the common room floor, Schuldig tried to concentrate on the small print of the book that rested open beneath his folded arms. German words seemed to swirl all over the pages, he couldn't make his eyes stay on one word long enough to decipher the meaning. Voices continuously bombarded his mind from the outside world, so loud that he couldn't block them out no matter how hard he tried.
It was all finally coming together. Schwarz's goal, the scheme that had combined Nagi's vendetta against society, Farfarello's dispute with God, Schuldig's own sadistic lust for pain and torture; guided by Crawford's careful planning to form a perfect future for all of them. Atleast that's what was supposed to happen. The telepath could never have anticipated the overwhelming onslaught of voices that plagued him every waking moment, even in sleep he took on the nightmares of what seemed to be every sentient creature for miles around.
It was chaos. That was the only way he could describe it. The anarchy of the world right outside the front door, the disorder and turmoil that they had created themselves. Agonized thoughts and feelings, the tortured mental screams of those losing their life, or the life of a lover, mother, brother, friend; emotions that he had once relished in had become mundane and irritating.
He was becoming annoyed with the fools looting the shops, destroying property, taking lives. They disgusted him, so easily manipulated. Even worse, they all had to be so iloud/i about it, their minds were a swirling mess of greed and madness that irked him to the point of wanting to scream. It was like Farfarello a hundred times over.
Sometimes, the rare times he could even get his thoughts straight, he wondered if Crawford knew this would happen, he had to have known. He simply didn't care. That bastard never allowed ianything/i to interfere with his goals, surely a vision of his telepath slowly losing his mind as a result of their little 'game' wouldn't have stopped him.
Crawford.
Schuldig snorted, he was thinking about him again. Somehow, no matter how they started, all his thoughts eventually turned to the dark haired American. It was amazing and incredibly annoying, he had so little time to think yet he wasted it on that asshole in the business suit.
Finally deciding to give up on his reading -- he had no idea why he even bothered anymore, there was no way he could concentrate longer than a few seconds even on a igood/i day -- he stood up and stretched, yawning loudly. Massaging his temples in a vain
attempt to quiet the noise in his head, he padded towards his oldest teammate's room.
As soon as he stepped inside, he remembered why his feet always brought him back here. There was a hovering silence around the tall man. Just being within ten feet of him he could feel it, though of course it didn't quiet the other voices, not by a long shot. It still felt almost peaceful. The closest to quiet he had felt in months.
Crawford was seated in his usual place, at his desk in front of his computer. Probably the same place he'd find Nagi if he bothered to look, the similarities between his oldest and youngest teammates amused the German to no end.
"What do you want, Schuldig?" Crawford asked, not bothering to look away from the screen or even stop typing.
Schuldig was irritated as always by the American's lack of consideration, though he simply answered with an easy grin and another question,
"How'd you know it was me?" He spoke in fluent, lightly accented English. The entire household spoke English, they were all from different countries and it was the easiest language to settle on.
Crawford didn't need to answer. It was easy enough to figure out. But he decided not to miss the opportunity for a subtle lecture, even if he knew it would go in one ear and out the other.
"Farfarello does not come in here, and Nagi would iknock/i first."
Schuldig just laughed. It was a simple and universal reaction. It could mean nothing and everything at the same time. Fitting, Crawford found himself thinking, it suited Schuldig perfectly. Could represent sadness and happiness, love and hate, victory and defeat, all and none at once.
Slinking across the room with the grace of a cat, the redhead leaned over Crawford's shoulder, feigning an interest in whatever it was that he was typing, simply for an excuse to move closer. Crawford cast a brief glare at the obnoxious telepath, then went back to his work. Ignoring Schuldig always proved more effective than trying to beat him in one of his games.
The younger man was not about to be ignored, though, his arrogance wouldn't allow it. He grit his teeth irritably, Crawford's coolness pissed him off. Knowing that words now would simply be disregarded, Schuldig went for his next plan. Lazily wrapping his arms around the American's shoulders, he trailed hot, fluttery little kisses down the leader's neck.
"Schuldig. I am trying to work." Despite his curt tone, Crawford could not deny that he liked the touches; the tiny kisses were fiery and careless, just like the man who gave them. Which was exactly why this had to stop iright/i now.
"Stop, Schuldig." It was an order this time. The kisses slowed as Schuldig moved back up the Precog's neck, nibbling at his ear before he pulled away and offered his trademark smirk.
"You're no fun, Crawford."
"Then go away," he replied, knowing before he even said it that it would do no good.
"Ne~in, I like you anyway."
Standing up to his full height, the American looked down at his teammate, his constant indifference was hardened this time with a subtle but undeniable anger. Which of course, was answered with the usual smirk.
They stayed like that for a long while. Anger crossed with amusement. Schuldig really had no idea what to think of this change. Crawford had never shown him anything more than a mild exasperation or annoyance for all his efforts. He was torn between celebrating this new found emotion or running for it.
"Come here," Crawford ordered.
Schuldig obeyed simply out of curiosity and soon found himself pressed flush against the older man's body, Crawford's arms tightly encircling his slim waist as he kissed him deeply. Startled most by the intensity of emotion coming from the stoic American, Schuldig took a few moments before he was able to react. But when he did, he melted completely against the larger body; relishing in the tranquility that eclipsed a burning passion, letting it take control and distract him from the confused swirl of noise and unwanted emotion that awaited him outside this embrace.
The kiss barely lasted a few moments before Crawford broke it abrubtly, he could have seen the look Schuldig gave him afterwards a million times before and still been caught off guard by it. His eyes were half closed, emerald gaze veiled by thick, black lashes, darkened with the intensity of the emotions coursing through him. Schuldig was always a passionate person, his emotions whipping around as if they were part of a metaphorical hurricane running through his entire being.
His current expression was as if someone had suddenly slowed the winds, calmed the storm; the emotions were still there, and for how controlled they had become they were stronger than ever. His face was flushed, cheeks tinged pink and lips bruised from the force of Crawford's kiss; though the American could barely notice, all his attention was drawn to the complexity of feeling and emotion trapped in those eyes.
This time it was Schuldig who broke the contact, looking away from Crawford to regain his composure. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He was torn between angry at this man for getting to him, guilty and ashamed that he had allowed it, scared that he wouldn't be able to get away; at the same time he felt like he never iwanted/i to get away, he wanted to stay in this calm, comfortable hold forever. Where the voices couldn't get to him, where they were quiet and insignificant.
"...Schu--" Crawford started, but was cut off,
"Shut up," there was a very subtle hint of desperation in his tone that quieted Crawford instantly.
Schuldig started to squirm away, but Crawford held onto him tightly.
"Crawford, let me go."
"Oh, so inow/i you want me to let you go? It's not that easy, Schuldig. Don't start what you're not willing to finish," Crawford murmured against the redhead's neck, pressing small but deliberate little kisses across his throat. Despite the inner conflicts that this whole new situation raised inside him, Schuldig couldn't bring himself to make more than a weak struggle before giving in.
The kisses that were so sweet only lasted mere seconds before Schuldig was roughly pushed backwards onto the bed. He let out a startled yelp as he landed sprawled out on his back. He stared at Crawford, dumbfounded, as the older man smirked and crawled up next to him.
*******
With everything out of the way, the lovers joined in their erotic dance; letting carnal desires take hold and guide them through an eternity's worth of indulgence. Low moans harmonized with sharp cries as both voices grew louder with building passion. Bodies pressed close and fingers entwined, they came together.
The two clung to eachother for a long while afterwards, neither saying a word. Eventually their breathing slowed back to normal and their bodies cooled, it was then that Crawford finally let go and moved off of the smaller man beneath him. Schuldig lay there a few moments longer before silently standing and gathering his clothes.
With one last shared kiss and a fleeting smile, he left to face the voices again.
Until next time.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
***
Laying sprawled out in the middle of the common room floor, Schuldig tried to concentrate on the small print of the book that rested open beneath his folded arms. German words seemed to swirl all over the pages, he couldn't make his eyes stay on one word long enough to decipher the meaning. Voices continuously bombarded his mind from the outside world, so loud that he couldn't block them out no matter how hard he tried.
It was all finally coming together. Schwarz's goal, the scheme that had combined Nagi's vendetta against society, Farfarello's dispute with God, Schuldig's own sadistic lust for pain and torture; guided by Crawford's careful planning to form a perfect future for all of them. Atleast that's what was supposed to happen. The telepath could never have anticipated the overwhelming onslaught of voices that plagued him every waking moment, even in sleep he took on the nightmares of what seemed to be every sentient creature for miles around.
It was chaos. That was the only way he could describe it. The anarchy of the world right outside the front door, the disorder and turmoil that they had created themselves. Agonized thoughts and feelings, the tortured mental screams of those losing their life, or the life of a lover, mother, brother, friend; emotions that he had once relished in had become mundane and irritating.
He was becoming annoyed with the fools looting the shops, destroying property, taking lives. They disgusted him, so easily manipulated. Even worse, they all had to be so iloud/i about it, their minds were a swirling mess of greed and madness that irked him to the point of wanting to scream. It was like Farfarello a hundred times over.
Sometimes, the rare times he could even get his thoughts straight, he wondered if Crawford knew this would happen, he had to have known. He simply didn't care. That bastard never allowed ianything/i to interfere with his goals, surely a vision of his telepath slowly losing his mind as a result of their little 'game' wouldn't have stopped him.
Crawford.
Schuldig snorted, he was thinking about him again. Somehow, no matter how they started, all his thoughts eventually turned to the dark haired American. It was amazing and incredibly annoying, he had so little time to think yet he wasted it on that asshole in the business suit.
Finally deciding to give up on his reading -- he had no idea why he even bothered anymore, there was no way he could concentrate longer than a few seconds even on a igood/i day -- he stood up and stretched, yawning loudly. Massaging his temples in a vain
attempt to quiet the noise in his head, he padded towards his oldest teammate's room.
As soon as he stepped inside, he remembered why his feet always brought him back here. There was a hovering silence around the tall man. Just being within ten feet of him he could feel it, though of course it didn't quiet the other voices, not by a long shot. It still felt almost peaceful. The closest to quiet he had felt in months.
Crawford was seated in his usual place, at his desk in front of his computer. Probably the same place he'd find Nagi if he bothered to look, the similarities between his oldest and youngest teammates amused the German to no end.
"What do you want, Schuldig?" Crawford asked, not bothering to look away from the screen or even stop typing.
Schuldig was irritated as always by the American's lack of consideration, though he simply answered with an easy grin and another question,
"How'd you know it was me?" He spoke in fluent, lightly accented English. The entire household spoke English, they were all from different countries and it was the easiest language to settle on.
Crawford didn't need to answer. It was easy enough to figure out. But he decided not to miss the opportunity for a subtle lecture, even if he knew it would go in one ear and out the other.
"Farfarello does not come in here, and Nagi would iknock/i first."
Schuldig just laughed. It was a simple and universal reaction. It could mean nothing and everything at the same time. Fitting, Crawford found himself thinking, it suited Schuldig perfectly. Could represent sadness and happiness, love and hate, victory and defeat, all and none at once.
Slinking across the room with the grace of a cat, the redhead leaned over Crawford's shoulder, feigning an interest in whatever it was that he was typing, simply for an excuse to move closer. Crawford cast a brief glare at the obnoxious telepath, then went back to his work. Ignoring Schuldig always proved more effective than trying to beat him in one of his games.
The younger man was not about to be ignored, though, his arrogance wouldn't allow it. He grit his teeth irritably, Crawford's coolness pissed him off. Knowing that words now would simply be disregarded, Schuldig went for his next plan. Lazily wrapping his arms around the American's shoulders, he trailed hot, fluttery little kisses down the leader's neck.
"Schuldig. I am trying to work." Despite his curt tone, Crawford could not deny that he liked the touches; the tiny kisses were fiery and careless, just like the man who gave them. Which was exactly why this had to stop iright/i now.
"Stop, Schuldig." It was an order this time. The kisses slowed as Schuldig moved back up the Precog's neck, nibbling at his ear before he pulled away and offered his trademark smirk.
"You're no fun, Crawford."
"Then go away," he replied, knowing before he even said it that it would do no good.
"Ne~in, I like you anyway."
Standing up to his full height, the American looked down at his teammate, his constant indifference was hardened this time with a subtle but undeniable anger. Which of course, was answered with the usual smirk.
They stayed like that for a long while. Anger crossed with amusement. Schuldig really had no idea what to think of this change. Crawford had never shown him anything more than a mild exasperation or annoyance for all his efforts. He was torn between celebrating this new found emotion or running for it.
"Come here," Crawford ordered.
Schuldig obeyed simply out of curiosity and soon found himself pressed flush against the older man's body, Crawford's arms tightly encircling his slim waist as he kissed him deeply. Startled most by the intensity of emotion coming from the stoic American, Schuldig took a few moments before he was able to react. But when he did, he melted completely against the larger body; relishing in the tranquility that eclipsed a burning passion, letting it take control and distract him from the confused swirl of noise and unwanted emotion that awaited him outside this embrace.
The kiss barely lasted a few moments before Crawford broke it abrubtly, he could have seen the look Schuldig gave him afterwards a million times before and still been caught off guard by it. His eyes were half closed, emerald gaze veiled by thick, black lashes, darkened with the intensity of the emotions coursing through him. Schuldig was always a passionate person, his emotions whipping around as if they were part of a metaphorical hurricane running through his entire being.
His current expression was as if someone had suddenly slowed the winds, calmed the storm; the emotions were still there, and for how controlled they had become they were stronger than ever. His face was flushed, cheeks tinged pink and lips bruised from the force of Crawford's kiss; though the American could barely notice, all his attention was drawn to the complexity of feeling and emotion trapped in those eyes.
This time it was Schuldig who broke the contact, looking away from Crawford to regain his composure. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He was torn between angry at this man for getting to him, guilty and ashamed that he had allowed it, scared that he wouldn't be able to get away; at the same time he felt like he never iwanted/i to get away, he wanted to stay in this calm, comfortable hold forever. Where the voices couldn't get to him, where they were quiet and insignificant.
"...Schu--" Crawford started, but was cut off,
"Shut up," there was a very subtle hint of desperation in his tone that quieted Crawford instantly.
Schuldig started to squirm away, but Crawford held onto him tightly.
"Crawford, let me go."
"Oh, so inow/i you want me to let you go? It's not that easy, Schuldig. Don't start what you're not willing to finish," Crawford murmured against the redhead's neck, pressing small but deliberate little kisses across his throat. Despite the inner conflicts that this whole new situation raised inside him, Schuldig couldn't bring himself to make more than a weak struggle before giving in.
The kisses that were so sweet only lasted mere seconds before Schuldig was roughly pushed backwards onto the bed. He let out a startled yelp as he landed sprawled out on his back. He stared at Crawford, dumbfounded, as the older man smirked and crawled up next to him.
*******
With everything out of the way, the lovers joined in their erotic dance; letting carnal desires take hold and guide them through an eternity's worth of indulgence. Low moans harmonized with sharp cries as both voices grew louder with building passion. Bodies pressed close and fingers entwined, they came together.
The two clung to eachother for a long while afterwards, neither saying a word. Eventually their breathing slowed back to normal and their bodies cooled, it was then that Crawford finally let go and moved off of the smaller man beneath him. Schuldig lay there a few moments longer before silently standing and gathering his clothes.
With one last shared kiss and a fleeting smile, he left to face the voices again.
Until next time.