Chapter Two

"I think that Aya should have to do laundry," Ken proclaimed as the three of them wandered in the front door. "He splattered his clothes with blood. I mean, did you have to be so close when you killed him?" He gave Aya a skeptical look.

"Yes," Aya said evenly. "I wanted to see him when he died."

"He wasn't even a target!" Ken protested. "And wasn't he trying to be Prime Minister or something?"

"He was my target," Aya said. "And yes, he was trying to be Prime Minister."

Ken considered this. "I still say you have to do the laundry."

"You drew the short straw," Aya observed.

Yohji poked his head out from the kitchen. "Yo. How'd it go?"

"Well, we got the target," Omi told him. "Then Aya went off doing his own little thing." He sounded a bit testy about this. Yohji had declined the mission on account of there being no girls over eighteen involved, but the other three members of Weiss knew that it was just a joke. They all had off nights when they just didn't feel like killing people. Just like when Omi had to study and Ken had soccer practice early the next morning.

Aya never skipped missions. Omi found himself wondering if this was the reason why, and if so, if he'd start skipping missions now.

Aya and Ken were still bickering. Yohji turned to them and blinked. "What are you two arguing about?"

"Laundry," Aya said.

Yohji smirked. "I always liked the old rule, that whoever got messiest should have to do laundry."

"You only liked that rule because it was always me!" Ken protested.

"It's not my fault your choice in weapon is so . . . close up and personal," Yohji said, still smirking. "Besides, you should be grateful, because from now on it'd be Aya."

"It will not," Aya said calmly, pulling off his blood splattered coat and dropping it on Ken's head.

Ken yanked it off. "Why did you suddenly go ballistic and kill that guy? The target could have gotten away while you were off doing your own thing!"

"Isn't there anyone you just really want to kill?" Aya asked over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom, stripping off the outer layers of his clothes as he went.

"No!"

"Well, you're in luck," Aya said. "There's no one I want to either." He stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door.

"That was entertaining," Yohji said. "Who'd he off?"

"Takatori Reiji," Omi said with a shrug. He was still in his waiter's outfit, and was now taking off the tie and vest. "He should have told us who he was after; we could have helped. But I suppose that's not Aya-kun. Anyway, he's lucky; I'd heard that he was about to hire some really heavy duty bodyguards."

Yohji blinked at him. "Where do you hear these things?"

"I have my sources," Omi said with a cute little grin.

"You're too smart for your own good, Omittchi," Yohji said, ruffling his hair.

Omi swatted at him. "Stop messing with my hair. If I wasn't so smart, you guys would all get yourselves killed."

Yohji looked wounded. "No we wouldn't. Just horribly maimed and disfigured."

"For you, that'd be the same thing," Omi said.

"You're so cruel to me," Yohji said with an overdramatic sigh. "You need to find a nice boy to settle down with. That'd cheer you up."

"This from the playboy," Omi said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go write the mission report. And Ken has laundry to do."

Ken sputtered. "I thought Aya had to do it!"

"Only if we changed back to the old rule," Omi said. "Which we didn't."

Ken drooped. "Oh, man . . ."

"Think of it this way," Omi said. "If we change back to the old rule, I never have to do the laundry."

"Not true," Ken said. "There have been a couple memorable occasions on which you've needed to do hand-to-hand fighting."

"Just go do the laundry, Ken-kun."

"Listen to what he says, Kenken," Yohji said, nodding solemnly. "He's dangerous when he's trying to be in charge."

Omi lobbed his tie and smacked Yohji in the forehead with it. "I am in charge."

"Hai, hai . . ." Yohji sighed. "Ah well, you guys are back earlier than I thought you'd be. I'm going out. Ja ne."

Omi knew better than to question. He did not, however, know better than to lecture. "Don't come home too drunk."

"Yes, father," Yohji said, before ducking out the front door.

"Some people," Omi said, shaking his head.

Ken was glancing at the bathroom, where the sounds of water running had started. "Ne . . . do you think Aya's okay?"

"I actually have no idea," Omi said thoughtfully. "But I think I'm going to do a bit of research on Takatori, see if he was related to Aya-kun in any sort of way."

"Good thought," Ken said. He stared down at the pile of bloody clothes that Aya had left. Omi was unbuttoning his waiter's shirt to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. "You want me to wash those for you?"

"Nah, I'm just going to throw them out," Omi said. "We shouldn't need them again."

"Gotcha." Ken scooped up the clothes with a look of distaste. "Have fun with that mission report."

Omi rolled his eyes. "I'm sure it'll be a blast."

^^^^

Schuldig could tell the minute he got up that Brad was not in a good mood. He couldn't tell from Brad; it was more from the way he could feel Nagi cringing in his room. He sighed slightly. Nearly a year with them and Nagi was still expecting to get thrown out for the slightest transgression.

He got out of bed and crawled into his pajama pants, then left the bedroom to see what was going on. Nagi's door was still shut. Brad was sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. He was on the telephone, but not saying anything. Instead, he was just listening, with a slightly disgruntled expression on his face.

Schuldig bit back a grin. It wasn't often that he got to see Brad disgruntled. Instead of waiting, he went and knocked on Nagi's door, then stuck his head in. "What's with the tension?"

"Good morning to you too," Nagi said absently. He had his computer open and was poking around inside it.

"What are you doing to that poor thing?"

"Installing the second hard drive I bought last night for a backup. Good morning to you too."

"Good morning," Schuldig said. "So, what's with the tension?"

"I don't know. Crawford's been on the phone ever since I got up about a half an hour ago, and he doesn't seem happy. I decided to stay in here."

"Do you want breakfast?" Schuldig asked him.

"Not if it means being out there," Nagi said.

"It's not like he's mad at you." Schuldig pause. "Or, well, I'm ninety-five percent sure that it's not at you. If he was mad at you, he would have said something by now."

"That doesn't mean I want to be out there," Nagi replied.

"Why not?"

"He's cranky. It's weird."

"You can't just sit in here and starve because he's on the phone."

"So make breakfast and bring it in here," Nagi said.

"Okay, I am sure he has a rule about not eating in our bedrooms."

Nagi sighed. "You never let anyone win an argument, do you?" It's really annoying.

"Oh, Crawford wins arguments all the time. And it's my job to be annoying."

"Was it in your job description when he scraped you off the streets like he scraped me up?" Nagi asked.

"Yeah," Schuldig said. "Kill people, watch his back, be annoying. I had to sign a contract."

"Sure," Nagi said, closing the computer and standing up. "Well, are you going to cook breakfast or not?"

"Yes," Schuldig said, rolling his eyes. "What do you want?"

Nagi's lips twitched. "Turtle."

Schuldig gave him a friendly smack upside the head.

"Miso?"

"Ew. Sure." Schuldig turned and headed out to the kitchen, with Nagi trailing nervously behind him. Eggs and toast for him and Brad, miso and rice for Nagi. Honestly, he didn't know how Japanese people survived.

Brad was off the phone, drinking his coffee and studying the morning newspaper with a frown.

"So what's going on?" Schuldig asked, taking the eggs and bread out of the fridge.

"Nothing much," Brad said, keeping his voice neutral.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Schuldig asked. "And are eggs and toast okay?"

"Eggs and toast are fine, but I hope you're cooking something else for Nagi," Brad replied.

"Of course I'm cooking something else for Nagi," Schuldig said, watching Nagi flinch away from Brad's thoughtful gaze.

"Good." Brad held the newspaper out to him.

Schuldig took it and looked at the headline. The entire front page was about the abrupt assassination of Takatori Reiji at a club the previous night. "Weren't we supposed to be starting work for him at the beginning of next week?"

"Yes," Brad said.

Schuldig scanned the article. "That sounds messy."

"So I've heard."

"So what else have you heard?"'

"Nothing good." Brad sipped his coffee. "Are you making breakfast or not?"

"I'll be more inclined to make breakfast quicker if you give me a straight answer."

Brad looked at him over the rim of his glasses as Schuldig started to cook the eggs and set the ricemaker going. "We were going to be his bodyguards. Esstet wanted him for the future. They gave me a certain date to begin, and are now displeased that he met a rather messy end."

"What, is their precog slipping?" Schuldig asked. "I'd find that terribly amusing."

"No. He isn't. Apparently, they're assuming I am."

"Wait a minute," Schuldig said, turning around. "If they gave you the date to start, how is this your fault?"

"I should have seen it coming and been there to prevent it. Just because we hadn't formally started work yet was no reason to let this happen."

"That's it," Schuldig said. "I think they're going senile."

"It was a test, Schuldig," Brad said irritably. "A test that we failed. They're not pleased."

"So . . . what's going to happen now?" Schuldig asked, trying not to sound nervous.

"We'll be getting a new set of orders soon and our fourth team member by the end of the week. I think they'll be letting us go free lance for a while." Brad didn't state the obvious; that in this case 'going free lance' meant being cut off from Esstet until they had been judged useful again.

"Oh, that's just no good," Schuldig said.

"Which part?"

"Well, definitely the free lance and I'm getting the impression that you're not happy about this fourth person."

"I'm not passing judgment on the fourth person, and as for going free lance, we have plenty of talent to keep us until Esstet has another job for us."

"Well, it's not our financial state I fear for," Schuldig said.

Brad raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't even like Esstet. One would think you'd be pleased to be out from under them for a little while."

"I don't like them," Schuldig confirmed. "But I'm smart enough to know that if you think this is a bad thing, it's a bad thing. We're not out from under them. We're just on probation." /And tell Nagi you're not angry at him for any reason,/ he added mentally. /He thinks you're going to throw him out if he makes the wrong move./

/How do you know he's wrong?/ Brad replied.

Schuldig gave Brad a dirty look. Then he started the toaster.

"Don't worry," Brad said. "We're not in serious disfavor yet."

"Okay," Schuldig said. "You'll let us know when we are?"

"Maybe."

"Sometimes I just don't feel safe here," Schuldig said, shaking his head.

Brad raised an eyebrow again. "You're safer here than you could be."

"Well, I suppose, yeah, if I pissed you off I could be unsafe here. But the odds of that happening? Slim to none?"

"As long as you keep cooking. It's so amusing when you try to be domestic."

Schuldig sputtered. "You can't cook at all! I've tried to eat things you make."

"Well, of course." Brad smiled slightly as Schuldig dished him some eggs and toast. "Why do you think I've kept you around so long?"

Schuldig held the plate over Brad's head. "I thought it was my good looks and charm."

Brad glanced up at the plate, which was tipping ominously. "Of course it was, Schuldig."

"Ah. The right answer." Schuldig put the plate in front of him with a thump. The toast bounced and nearly fell off the table.

"What, no jam?" Brad asked.

"Not unless you want to wear it."

Brad paused to consider this as Schuldig finished the miso and dished Nagi some rice. "No. I don't think purple would match this shirt."

"It'd make you look gay," Schuldig said.

Brad sipped his coffee and started buttering his toast. /How do you know I'm not?/

Schuldig got some ketchup for his eggs and sat down, pointedly not getting Brad's jelly even though he had opened the fridge. /I don't know either way, but I didn't think you wanted to look gay./

Brad let out an amused snort. Then he stood, without having eaten a single bite of his breakfast, and left the room.

"Get back here and eat that or I'm giving it to you for dinner!" Schuldig called after him.

Brad came back and picked up the plate. "I think I'll eat in my room."

Schuldig threw a piece of toast at his head. Brad ducked. "Asshole."

/You know you can't live without me./ Brad walked out of the room, carrying his food with him.

"That doesn't mean you're not an asshole!" Schuldig yelled. A few seconds later, they heard the door to Brad's office close. He started to eat his eggs, annoyed. "Fucker."

Nagi continued to eat his rice.

"And you really think he's going to throw you out?" Schuldig asked skeptically.

Nagi flinched. "No. What makes you think that?"

"I'm a telepath," Schuldig reminded him.

"Oh. Right. I forgot that you don't know the meaning of the word 'privacy.'"

"Have I ever walked in on you naked?"

Nagi gave him a cool look. "Not yet."

"You're too young for me."

"And here I thought your taste was indiscriminate." Nagi was rather proud of himself. He had totally steered Schuldig off the subject.

"It's not indiscriminate, just no gender bias. And you shouldn't have thought about steering me off the subject."

Nagi sighed and finished off his rice, then stood up. His bowl of miso soup was still half full.

"Really, he's not going to throw you out. He wouldn't have picked you up if he didn't intend to keep you."

"I know that," Nagi snapped.

"Then why so nervous?"

"It's ingrained." Nagi dumped the rest of the soup in the sink.

"Okay, I can understand that," Schuldig said. "But try to learn to relax."

Nagi gave him a look. "Maybe you can give me lessons now that we've got all this free time suddenly on our hands."

^^^^

Omi sat back from his computer and paused in thought. After a minute, he stood up and wandered down to the kitchen. Ken was working, and Aya had been locked in his room ever since last night. Stupid Aya.

Yohji was sitting at the kitchen table with his feet up on it, eating a bowl of ice cream and reading a magazine.

"Get your feet off the table." Omi pushed them off before giving Yohji a chance to obey.

Yohji smirked at him. "Bad day?"

"Confusing day. It doesn't mean you can put your feet up on the table, no matter how good my day was."

"Confusing how?" Yohji asked, ignoring the comment about the table and his feet.

Omi got himself a mug of tea and plunked into a chair. "Well, go ahead. Take a wild guess about Aya-kun. Pick something, anything."

Yohji blinked at him, a spoonful of ice cream halfway to his mouth. "He's really a woman?"

"Frightfully close, but not quite."

"An alien on the run from the Yakuza?"

"Totally wrong."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Also totally wrong. I think he's straight. Like really straight."

"Well, he doesn't even laugh when we joke, so maybe he's straight because of the stick wedged up his ass." Yohji shrugged. "Anyway, I give up."

"I've caught him laughing every now and then," Omi said. "Quietly. Behind his hand."

"Are you going to tell me what you're babbling about or not?"

"Well," Omi said, "I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, but he has a sister." He paused. Yohji looked totally unsurprised. "Named Aya."

Yohji blinked. "Well, his parents were unoriginal."

"His name is Ran."

"Oh."

"As far as I can tell, Takatori is responsible for his parents' rather messy death and his sister's coma, which is how he wound up in Kritiker and why he killed Takatori."

"Ah." Yohji took another bite of his ice cream. "My sob story is much cooler than that."

"Well, tell me yours," Omi said with a grin. "I'll compare. I can be objective."

Yohji smirked. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours . . ."

"Yohji-kun. I don't remember mine."

Yohji shrugged. "It still sounded good. So is Aya going to keep being a member of Weiss now that he splattered Takatori all over the front page? Or are we back down to three members?"

"I think he'll stay," Omi said. "As long as he works for Kritiker, they take care of his sister."

"How do you know all this?" Yohji asked curiously.

"I have my sources," Omi said.

"You were hacking into Kritiker's mainframe again?"

Omi looked vaguely guilty. "I have to do something with my free time."

Yohji shook his head. "Sad, Omittchi. You need a social life. I'll have to take you with me next time I go out."

"Okay," Omi said. "Seriously, I'm kind of worried about Aya-kun. Reason for living and all. Or at least part of it."

Yohji glanced at the ceiling. "Oh, what makes you say that? Just the fact that he hasn't come out of his room since last night?"

"Yeah," Omi said. "It tipped me off."

Yohji shrugged. "He'll be okay. He's tough. He just needs time to adjust, that's all."

"I hope so," Omi said. "If he's not out by dinner, one of us will have to drag him down here."

Yohji snorted. "I nominate you."

"But I'm the smallest!"

"Okay, I nominate Ken."

"I think it should be you."

"Me? Why me?"

"'Cause Ken got all testy last night. You weren't there, so you weren't mad at him. And his clothes were a mess."

"Ken's not mad. He's just worried. He's about as good at dealing with it as we are."

"You two can draw for it."

"Why don't you have to draw?"

"'Cause I'm in charge and I give the orders."

"Okay, for one thing, this is not a monarchy and you are not dictator. Secondly, no. Just no."

"Damn," Omi said, still grinning.

^^^^

Omi had to admit that Yohji could be pretty devious when he put his mind to it. He had walked into the kitchen at five thirty to find Yohji cooking. This wasn't an ordinary circumstance, but it wasn't really eye-poppingly strange, either. Aya seemed to like to cook, so he often did it, and the other three traded off when he wasn't there or didn't seem to care.

He nearly burst out laughing, however, when Ken walked in and Yohji said, "Ne, Kenken, since I'm cooking, why don't you go get Aya?"

Ken blinked and looked puzzled. "Uh . . ." He glanced at Omi, who had hurriedly started to set the table. "Sure, I guess." He wandered out of the kitchen.

"Nice with the chopsticks there," Yohji said, smirking at Omi.

"I thought it was rather quick thinking myself."

Ken headed up the stairs and knocked on Aya's door. There was no answer the first time, so he tried again. Still no answer. Frowning now, he gave the door a gentle shove. Sometimes they kept their apartments locked, but apparently Aya hadn't thought of it.

Aya had one of the apartments that was one large room, so Ken could see as soon as he went in that Aya was asleep. Upon a second, closer look, Ken realized that he was curled up in bed with . . . no, that couldn't possibly be a stuffed animal. Ken rubbed his eyes, disbelieving.

One thing occurred to him. Aya would kill him if he knew Ken had seen him asleep with a stuffed animal. So he hastily backed out and shut the door, going back downstairs.

"Ken-kun?" Omi asked, when he went back into the kitchen. "Where's Aya-kun?"

"He's asleep," Ken said. "I figured I shouldn't wake him."

Omi gave him a look. "He hasn't had breakfast or lunch."

"I'm not waking him up," Ken said firmly.

"Why not?"

"He'll kill me." Ken nodded seriously and sat down. "I'm not risking my life so he can have dinner. You care so much, you go wake him."

"You've never been afraid to wake him up before," Yohji pointed out, taking dinner off the stove. "Anyway, it's ready, so someone has to go let him know."

They all looked at each other.

"Draw straws?" Omi finally offered.

This was agreed upon, and Omi drew the short straw.

"Okay, okay," he sighed, and went up the stairs. "But before I go, why wouldn't you?"

"You'll see," Ken said.

"I'd prefer not to be surprised."

"It's not a bad surprise."

Omi sighed and went up the stairs. He looked into Aya's room, then went back downstairs. "That has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Well, hell, now I have to go," Yohji said, and went up to take a peek.

"You have to wake him up," Omi called. "You're the last one."

Yohji came down a few seconds later. "You two are wimps."

"Did you wake him up?" Omi asked.

"No."

"So are you, then. Why didn't you?"

"Didn't feel like it until I had gotten my camera." Yohji winked and left the room again.

"Smart man," Omi said.

A few minutes later, there was a bellow from upstairs that indicated that Yohji had, in fact, woken Aya up.

Thud. Thud. Crash.

"Gimme that camera!"

Crash. A door slamming.

Aya walked into the room, looking dishevelled and disgruntled. "I don't think Yohji will be joining us for dinner," he said.

"Did you kill him?" Ken asked.

"Unfortunately, no." Aya sat down at his place and dished himself some food as if this was all perfectly ordinary.

Omi and Ken decided to play along for their health, though Omi found himself hoping that Yohji remembered to lock his door that night.

Aya ate Yohji's share.

^^^^