Ran Fujimiya, although he rarely thought of himself as Ran these days, had a fairly good life. You wouldn't think it to see his scowl as he angrily chopped the new shipment of baby's breath to shreds, but it was true. Okay, so his parents had been murdered, his name was besmirched, his sister in a coma, and he was currently sharing a flat above a flower shop with three other men. Three of the most nerve grinding, impossible, irritating men he had ever met. An ex-detective who could track a person all across the world but couldn't step on the balcony to smoke, a soccer coach who aimed perfectly unless he was trying to piss in the toilet which was apparently beyond his capabilities, and a chibi who masturbated far too frequently for his own well being yet still hadn't discovered the joys of pillow biting which might allow his teammates to get some sleep as well.
Omi was by far the most annoying of the three and many a time Aya had been so tempted to stuff a sock in the boy's mouth and tape his lips shut. Aya refrained, partially because Omi might cry and Aya wasn't entirely certain he could handle that, but mostly because it would anger Ken which would open a whole new set of problems. For some reason the soccer player was unusually protective of Omi, and they could be seen whispering back and forth on the couch or in the shop all the time. Aya thought the closeness was strange but then again Ken did choose to spend all his time with kids so it only made since that he would be like a big brother to Omi.
Okay, so maybe great wasn't the word. His life was just...strained. You see, people commonly make the mistake of believing Aya is frowning, when he is in fact concentrating, or attempting to, on how wonderful his life is right now, which takes a good deal of effort since so few good things happen to him...thus all the frowning. He did have a good thing though, a really big good thing, or more literally a very very small chibi sized good thing named Nagi. How everything had happened was still a little confusing, and to this day Aya wasn't sure who had really approached whom. He kept meaning to bring it up, but their time together was rushed and when you had those warm lips pressed against yours, those smooth pale thighs circling around your hips, and only an hour to enjoy them, talking seemed like the stupidest idea.
So he was confused. He didn't mind really, because confusion was such a low price to pay for the way long fingers gripped his hair just so when he pressed his tongue to that smooth down covered abdomen, and the way his name fell from those lips over and over again. Aya Aya Aya...
"AYA!" Oh God it was the chibi. Aya groaned in frustration and calmly set the shears down and slid them across the table so that if he did decide to go in for the kill at long last at least the boy would have a chance to run. He opened his eyes to face the inevitable; sure enough, there they were. Those bright blue eyes were wide and brimming with tears at the annoyance on Aya's face. How he wondered had a 17 year old boy perfected the kicked puppy dog look. He schooled his face into a mask of calm curiosity, and then closed his ears as the boy began speaking. Omi took a deep breath before he began and it took all of Aya's self-restraint not to reach for the shears. This would take a while.
When he laid down in bed that night Aya was still trying desperately to block the little of Omi's rant he had managed to hear. Basically Omi had yelled at him for killing the flowers and being mean, Ken had yelled at him for making Omi yell, and Yohji had blown cigarette smoke in his face to be funny. Aya didn't think he was funny at all. When he went in the back room to put the shears away, unfortunately he hadn't cut anyone's head off with them, Omi and Ken were talking. Omi got all flustered, and was still so angry with him that he wouldn't meet Aya's eyes. Ken muttered something about helping Omi put his contact in, but Omi didn't wear contacts. How stupid did these people think he was? Aya knew exactly what was going on. Omi and Ken had been whispering about him. It did seem somewhat strange that Ken had his arms wrapped around Omi, but he was probably just trying to steady the wobbly shelf Omi was sitting on.
He didn't care, let them talk. In a few days he would pay Nagi a visit, and it was with that thought in mind that he drifted off to sleep.
Meanwhile...
Schuldig and Brad were standing outside of the Koneko. The back alley was filthy, and reeked of rotting flowers, but Schuldig was pinned between the wall and Brad's chest with a hot moist mouth on his adams apple so he didn't complain. He was torn between the desperate need to rub himself off on Crawford's thigh, and the fear that Crawford would magically transform into the heartless American bastard who fucked at 2 cm an hour until you screamed then laughed in your face, just to remind you who was in charge. The German decided it was worth the chance and slowly ground down onto the warm cloth covered thigh between his legs, and Brad Crawford's head snapped up. 'Oh big big mistake.' The German saw stars as his face was pushed into the brick wall which had been behind him only seconds before. Large rough hands tugged his pants down over his hips, exposed his ass to the cool night air, but leaving all of, what were in his opinion the important bits, trapped. A quick kiss to his neck and next thing he knew Schuldig had Brad Crawford, all 11 inches of him seated firmly inside of him. God he loved this. He almost wished an elderly woman or a small child or maybe even the Weiss chibi would happen along, just so they could be scarred for life. Well actually, he wasn't to sure about the Omi boy. For all his seeming naivety, he and the Weiss soccer fanatic were awfully close.
Ten minutes later with 11 inches of cock inside him, Crawford's teeth sunk into his shoulder, and an image of Omi being reamed until he passed out by a very dirty soccer coach, Schuldig came. Although truthfully had had better recently, the splattering of white he wiped on Brad's shirt after cleaning his pants more than made up for it.
"Schuldig" Crawford said, calmly zipping his pants, "we should hurry. You know what Farferello can be like when he's made to wait."
By the time Nagi woke again it was dark. After much hesitation he drug himself from the warm inviting bed, and down the hall towards the kitchen area. The kitchen was the most unnerving room in the whole apartment; Well, second most if you counted Farf's room, but Nagi didn't really, because while the man himself was very much a part of Schwartz, his bedroom was so strange that it felt completely removed from everyone else. With someone of Farferello's mental...instability around, you expected things like eyeballs in jars under the bed, or bloody knifes lying about, but that wasn't what his room was like at all. The Irishman's room was (Nagi wanted to shudder at the word) normal.
All of his many weapons were carefully stowed away in what Schuldich had lovingly deemed the "playroom", along with bits and a straight-jacket or two, and although Nagi knew he killed for amusement in his spare time, apparently Farf didn't bother with keeping trophies, because their were never random peices of flesh or organs lying about. He remembered being a small boy, about 11 years old, and seeing that bedroom for the first time. He had spoken with Irishman very little during his few weeks as a member of Schwartz, and was completely unprepared for the soft blue bed that was perfectly made, or the light cream color of the walls, but the most shocking thing of all were the books. There were cherrywood bookshelves lining the walls, all packed with books. Nagi felt certain that the other boy had more books than anyone else on the team, except perhaps Crawford-san whose room he had been forbidden from entering except while under direct orders to do so from Crawford himself. That had been before Nagi had learned that Brad Crawford didn't read. Their leader would look over the occasional file or two sent from Essett, but no longer bothered to pick up a novel, as he usually predicted the outcome before the first chapter ended.
But for a boy used to living a vagrant life, this many books in one room was bliss. Nagi had gone close to read the titles, thinking that perhaps it would make more sense if they were volumes on making bombs or accounts of famous serial killers, but no they weren't. Instead there were volumes on every topic: philosophy, astronomy, divination, religion, history, politics, poetry, mathematics, hobbies, and lauguage. And these books weren't just written in Nagi's native Japanese, mind you, or the very confusing German which he had been forced to learn during his 4 year stay in Rosenkruez. No, these were books from France, Italy, Greece, China, Russia, and even some more modern radical works from the big cities of America. Nagi had been shaken from his reverie, when Farferello (who was at this point siting lotus style on these bed, looking serene as any yoga student) commented, in German, that if Nagi were going to work on his language skills, which he strongly suggested the boy do, that he work on Italian or Spanish, because English was very poorly constructed and very slow to learn. The mental image of Farferello doing something as common as reading during his lucid hours had unnerved Nagi at first, but forced him to look at the Irishman differently from that day on.
Assuming though, that you didn't know Farferello, or for some reason could not fathom why such an ordinary room was frightening, then the kitchen won. It was blindingly white, from the gleaming floor tiles to the sparkling ceiling, and clean to the piont of being sterile. No one except Crawford seemed to enjoy the room very much, and usually if you went to grab food, it was done very quickly.
It was this monstrocity of a room that Nagi had been walking to when Farferello reached out, and layed his hand on Nagi's shoulders. Once again, like the bedroom, this might seem a normal enough occurance to a stranger, but anyone who knew Farferello knew how dangerous it was. Touching meant keen intrest on his part, and intrest could eaily lead to obsession, which almost always led to mutilation. Trying his best to come up with a quick save Nagi began mentally screaming for Schuldig to come out of his room and help.
"Their not here you know, so there's no point in trying to call him". Sometimes the Irishman's ability to read people was as accurate as Schuldich's, and also just as frightening.
When he backed away, causing the hand to fall from his shoulder and sort of slide down his upper chest Farferello made no move to stop him, but smiled one of those small crooked smiles that said he knew something you didn't. Farferello had smiled like that the night they had brought Nagi to live with them, and again when he had seen Nagi sneek out one night against Crawford orders. That smile was as sure a sign of trouble as Schuldig's stupid little cackle. "Where are they Farf? How long are they gone for?", he asked, and the smile grew wider, though whether it was from the actual question, or the crack in his voice Nagi couldn't tell. "Oh just out, Crawford had an errand to take care of and whore wanted to tag along. They won't be back for quite some time. You should sleep". Nagi nodded his assent and hurried to his room as fast as he could walking backwards. It amused the man, and he knew it did, but he wasn't going to risk turning his back on Farferello while they were alone. Once he was back safely in his room Nagi bolted the door and put his heaphones back on. If anyone tried to come through the door he would hear it headphones or no, but if Farferello was going to hover outside his room, he didn't want to hear it. With that last thought, he lay back and let the music pull him under.
Aya awoke suddenly. He had heard a noise, he was sure of it. There was someone in his room. If Omi had come back to have another one of those midnight heart to hearts the boy was so fond of Aya would strangle him. he opened his eyes to a dark room where a figure stood beside his bed. Before Aya could reach for his Katana something struck the back of his head, hard, and Aya fell back on the pillow. The last thing he remembered seeing was a shock of bright orange in the darkness.
Schuldich smiled as Farferello opened the door for them. He smiled wider as the Irishman talked about the boy running into him before he had left to come here. So the chibi was scared? Good, he should be. Crawford dropped the pale figure over his shoulder on the floor. Even without a telekinetic there was really no need to tie the man down, and it was so much more fun when you could watch them run. He gently stroked the other man's mind, taking a few minutes to try and wake him, because Crawford had hit him very hard after all. The violet eyes blinked a few times, before widening in shocked recognition. Schuldig delighted in all the horrible tortures the redhead's mind conjured. A wide smirk split the German's face. There little kitten had no idea what was in store for him.