A Weiß Mary Sue
Written by Sakki
Remember, kids: kitties should not be in air vents.
Everybody go read 'A Weiss Mary-Sue: OC Intervention' by Keitalina 'Keiri' Shinra RIGHTNOW. It's the companion fic to this one and is highly highly amusing. So if you like seeing Aya be tormented in brilliantly disturbing dreams, go read it! Even if you don't, go read it anyway. Because if you don't read it I won't give you rabid BradxAya fans the special little extra secret side-story when I'm done with this fic.
~~~
Three days.
He had been waiting in anticipation for three whole days.
Three days to the hour.
To the minute.
To the second…two…three…four…
…for that dreaded moment when one of his teammates would burst in the door and scream, "Mary-Sue says you were making out with one of Schwarz!"
But it hadn't happened.
Yet.
In the meantime, he had been pretending to live an almost normal life in the flower shop while screaming into his pillow at night, or pretending it was Crawford – in which case he had to buy a new one. The girl at the furniture store seemed a little confused by the fact that Aya had come in three days in a row now, buying a new pillow and a new case. Sometimes he did it more than once in a day. Sometimes within five minutes of buying the previous one.
Fuck the system. He wanted to die.
Check that; he didn't want to die. He wanted Crawford to die. Die a very long, slow, and painful death. He also wanted to kill the birthmother of Mary-Sue except that the woman was probably already dead, according to Crawford. Killed in some overly-tragic accident that left her mauled and decapitated and most likely disemboweled while her tiny daughter cried next to her body, only to be taken away by a benevolent stranger who turned out to be a devilishly handsome man who wanted to train her to be an assassin and was cold as stone and tried to raise the girl that way but failed because of her naturally gentle ways, and fell in love with her as did she with him only to be shot in an attack on the girl's life, sacrificing himself to save her as she screamed his name and he fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood, and the attacker was stunned but then laughed, and after their one final kiss the girl leapt from her lover's body and decapitated the evil murderer with a conveniently located knife, and then realizing that her entire life was based on killing she had fled to Japan, where Persia had taken her under his wing and trained her, but she had been so excellent at her training that he'd let her be an assassin really damn fast, and now she was with Weiss and Aya had no idea how he'd gotten off on a tangent this stupid or how he'd managed to think of this massive run-on sentence without breathing, and then he remembered that one did not need to breathe in order to think of a sentence, although they did need to breathe to support that sentence, per say, but they didn't need to breathe in order to think of each individual word, but didn't they actually have to do that, and he finally decided to stop thinking because it was giving him a headache and he was quite sure that the reader was about to scream or possibly explode due to the massive size of the paragraph.
Well, it took up space, anyway.
Currently Aya was lying on his back on his bed with his phone sitting on his stomach. He felt that this would eventually wind up being a bad idea, but at the moment he didn't really care. If anyone called, he was going to pick up the phone. Mostly because if it was Crawford the rest of the team would get suspicious.
Not that Mary-Sue would be any more suspicious then she already was.
He had just been about to shut his eyes and get some well-deserved rest when the phone gave a startlingly loud ring, causing Aya to jump straight off his bed into the air.* He swore and grabbed the receiver from the floor where it had fallen.
"Hello?"
"Move your head."
"What? Who the – FUCK!"
"Somewhere around twenty," Aya heard as he rubbed his now bruised and possibly bleeding head. "That must be a walnut bed table if it didn't break."
"Fuck you," he snarled.
"I'll presume twenty-one, give or take a few."
"Why did you call?!"
"Because it's been long enough that we can make another move on the girl."
Aya twitched. He could tell that Crawford was irritated but highly amused at the same time, even though they were only connected by a phone line.
"Oh. I. See." Another twitch. "Right. Now?"
"I'm glad to see you're complying so easily. Be here in twenty minutes."
"What – wait! I wasn't - "
Click.
Aya stared at the base of the phone. Then he stared at the receiver.
That fucker just hung up on him.
"Twenty minutes, huh, Crawford?" he hissed, slowly putting the receiver back on the base. "Oh, I'll be there in twenty minutes, you bastard. I'll be there in my twenty minutes."**
Two minutes later, Aya was standing in front of Crawford's apartment building, wheezing due to a lack of oxygen. He would beat Crawford at one thing, at the very least. Even if it meant he got some sort of chronic breathing illness, he would do it. Weakly, he reached for the handle on the complex's door and headed inside.
Much to his dismay, the elevators were currently under maintenance due to some sort of crash that had taken place five minutes prior. He groaned and headed for the stairs, feeling suspicion build within him.
Four flights later he was finally on Crawford's level but could hardly breathe because of it. He staggered to the front of room number 422 and leaned over to knock on the suddenly open doorway.
"Fuck," he said quietly as he plunged into Crawford's casually waiting arms.
"Twenty-two."
~~~
…he felt hands slide up his sides, making him shiver, and land on his shoulders, where they began to rub the muscles…then he hissed and tensed under the rough touch, trying to ignore the pleasurable feelings that were coming to the surface…
"Are you awake yet?"
"Nngghfjghdkslag…"
"Partially is enough." He felt someone tap the side of his face gently. "Open your eyes."
Aya unwillingly complied, glaring into Crawford's questioning gaze.
"While I knew it was going to happen, what possessed you to run seventeen blocks in under three minutes and then four flights of stairs as well?"
"None…of your…fucking…bus…iness…"
"Ah." Crawford turned away from Aya and picked up a glass of water from the bed table. "Here, drink this. I have the feeling you need it."
The redhead managed to sit up and grab the drink, but he had problems drinking it because he didn't want to hold his breath. He managed to get it all down eventually, whereupon Crawford placed a palm on his forehead. Aya cringed.
"What the fuck…is this for?"
"You don't have a fever anymore. Good, I thought you were going to die."
"I wish I had."
"Your sister doesn't."
"…fuck you."
"Twenty three, or twenty seven if you count all the times you said it in your sleep," Crawford commented dryly, reaching to pull the sheets off Aya. "You have very interesting dreams."
"Excuse me?" Aya snapped as he slithered away from Crawford.
"You were twisting a whole lot, and seemed to be rather trapped. And you were blushing."
"Excuse me?!"
"It may have been the fact that you were already red from your running, but I'm pretty sure you were having a – "
"Don't you dare!" Aya almost screeched. "Say it and I will fucking hurt you!"
Crawford glanced at him, both eyebrows raised slightly. Aya glared back, not wanting to know what he was thinking.
Then:
"Are you sufficiently awake?"
"As awake as I can be."
"Good, then. We can practice."
"…wait, I'm feeling faint…"
"Nice try, Aya. Now stand up."
Aya groaned but stood up. He was dreading this. Oh, how he was dreading this. There would be no rest for him for at least ninety years.
"What do we have to…practice?"
"You did quite well with a normal kiss. Have you ever heard the term 'French kiss'?"
"…I hope my definition is wrong."
So. Hate it? Love it? Wish it would spontaneously combust? Either way imma keep writing it. AHAHAHAHAHAHA. HA. Ha. ha. ._.
* - This is physically possible. One of my friends did it when I screamed 'ACH YA' at her one night. She hates me for it. :3
** - Aya's X minutes = Normal X minutes divided by ten.