A Weiß Mary Sue
Written by Sakki
Fanfiction.net may have eaten the formatting on this chapter. If this is so, and things transition suddenly or my asterisk footnote marks are invisible, please e-mail me and I will send you the full, un-eaten version of the chapter. Kthxbi. :D
Aya walked through the store, looking for duct tape. He needed duct tape for reasons he didn't want to think about. Duct tape could do anything – seal holes, hold together clothing, tie someone up, tape ducks…or keep someone's mouth shut. That last one was what he was aiming for. Because duct tape wasn't as painful as stapling his lips together. Duct tape would end all his worries.
Or wax. Wax was always a good choice.
He turned into another aisle and looked from side to side. Shampoo, conditioner, hair spray, styling gel, rootlifter, styling foam, pomade, conditioning fixative, hair repair, dye. Not a roll of duct tape. Aya scowled, avoiding the temptation to kick the stands. What kind of self-respecting store wouldn't carry duct tape on every shelf? It was unbelievable.
He turned another corner into another aisle and ran into another person, just like he'd done twice already. It wasn't as if he was paying attention; he was fixated on duct tape and duct tape alone.
Fate, naturally, had other things on its mind.
A hand caught his waist as he tried to slip by the other person, stunning him momentarily. He tried to push by again only to have the grip tighten.
"You should watch where you're going, Aya."
Duct tape was replaced with a voodoo doll.
"Not you," he muttered, pulling back in an attempt to free himself. The grip loosened and the hand fell away.
"Pleasure's all mine." Crawford waited while Aya stepped back and composed himself before speaking again. "What brings you here?"
"A desire to remove my mouth." Aya's ever-present glare hardened. "I know why you're here, so don't tell me."
"You know? Have you replaced Schuldig as the resident telepath?"
"I know how you work. You came because you saw me being here."
"You think so low of me," Crawford said, seeming genuinely affronted. "I am here for coffee. We just happened to run into each other."
"You wanted coffee, so you came to an out-of-the-way gas station that's closer to the flower shop than your apartment."
"Is there something wrong with that?"
Aya shoved past Crawford, and this time the American didn't try to stop him.
"You're full of it," he snapped, resuming his search for duct tape. "You've got coffee at your apartment."
"We ran out this morning."
"You should've gone shopping earlier."
"Had a mission."
"Gone to a closer store."
"Closed."
"Waited until morning."
"Chemical dependence."
"Made someone else do it."
"Don't trust them."
"Made your own."
"Far too difficult."
"Stolen some."
"Crass."
Aya turned to face Crawford, who gave him an emotionless gaze. For two full minutes they had a staring contest, Viking colors smashing against each other's wills. It would have progressed longer if they had been in a more private place, but they were in a gas station, and Crawford, not wanting to draw attention, broke eye contact first.
"What were you looking for?"
"Huh?" Aya had secretly been gloating over his first victory and therefore not paying attention. "Why do you care?"
"If you find it and I get my coffee, we can leave and talk somewhere less public."
"I don't want to talk to you."
"It deals with the future of your sanity."
"I have sanity?"
"Touché." Crawford pointed Aya in the direction of the back wall. "Duct tape is back there. I'll meet you at the register.
Aya stalked down through the aisle and was halfway to the back corner when he realized he had not told Crawford that he was looking for duct tape. That fucking liar, he thought to himself as he continued walking.
There were plenty of rolls of duct tape in the back, exactly where Crawford had directed him. He scowled and snatched one off its hook. Then, just for good measure, he grabbed a second. And a third. And a fourth for good luck.
Crawford was already paying for his coffee at the register, but there was no cup in front of him. Aya approached him warily and set his duct tape down on the counter. Crawford raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing.
The girl behind the counter approached them, holding a medium-sized brown paper cup. She set it down in front of Crawford, rang up the price for it and the duct tape, and gave them the total. Crawford paid for the coffee and the duct tape, purely to piss Aya off. At least, that's what Aya thought.
"Would you like a bag?" the girl asked. Aya didn't realize she was talking to him until Crawford nudged him in the hip. He blinked and nodded.
As they left the store, coffee and bag in hand, Crawford cast a glance at Aya.
"Overkill much?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. You seem like a very parsimonious person."
Aya ignored the comment. He didn't trust anyone who used words with more than ten letters in them. It just wasn't necessary.
Crawford took a sip of his coffee. Aya glanced over, did a double take, and stared. Crawford looked at him.
"Is something the matter?"
"Starbucks exists in Japan?"
"Of course. Starbucks is everywhere. It spawns wherever there is life." Another sip. "Much like McDonalds."
Aya glowered at the man's perfect mastery of English and looked straight ahead again.
"So where are we going?"
"Out for coffee, unless you have an objection."
"But you have coffee!" Aya said exasperatedly, motioning at the cup in Crawford's hand. "You don't need to get more!"
"Caffeine is a hard addiction to overcome." He tossed the cup into a garbage can, which cursed. "And now, I have none."
"You did that just to piss me off."
"No, I did it because I wanted to contradict your statement, and so I could get higher-quality coffee."
"That's the same reason!"
"Not exactly. Mine was more eloquently phrased." Crawford ignored the heated glare and looked down at the bag Aya was holding. "What exactly did you require duct tape for?"
"My mouth."
"Ah, yes. You mentioned you wanted to remove your mouth earlier."
"It's your fault."
"My fault?" Crawford looked hurt. "Why would you blame me?"
"I wonder," said Aya icily. "It's not so much as wanting to remove my mouth as…make sure nothing ever enters it. Again."
"Oh." Crawford grinned slightly. "So you can savor the taste, maybe?"
A nearby cat rocked through a window at the high-pitched screech emanating from the street.
"I thought so." Crawford rubbed one of his ears. "You have a surprising voice range for someone as old as you are."
Aya coughed.
"To the coffee shop, then?"
Aya coughed again.
"I remember what happened the last time we were here," Crawford mused as the two sat down at a window table. "You claimed the coffee was trying to kill you."
Aya attempted to respond, but his vocal cords hadn't yet recovered from their adventures in the land of estrogen. He settled instead for his Glare of Death™.
"This time I won't get you anything from a Germanic country." Crawford signaled a waitress over. Aya noticed she was overly cheerful and rather busty. Thankfully it was not Mary Sue – her hair was shiny black.
"Can I get you two something?" she asked sweetly.
No, we just asked you to come over so we could talk.
"I will have a triple espresso, black." The waitress blinked and paled.
"Uh…we don't serve that, sir."
"Really? Pity."
"Not since a customer collapsed. He had to have his stomach pumped, sir." She thought for a moment. "That crate that was with him seemed awfully worried."
"Crate?" asked Crawford.
"Yes, it was hovering over him all protective-like. I think he said…'sapient pearwood' before he went into convulsions." She shook her head. "Oh, sorry, I got off on a tangent. So what do you want instead?"
"A normal espresso."
"Mmkay. Black?" The girl scribbled on her pad of paper.
"Please."
"Ok. And what about you?" She turned to Aya, who was about to make the universal signal for 'nothing, please' when Crawford interrupted.
"He'll have a raspberry mocha. That'll be all."
"Really?" asked the girl, looking at Crawford. "Unusual taste." She scribbled it down and bustled off, unaware of Aya's horrified look. He tried to catch her but she was perkily quick. He turned the look on Crawford, now mostly rage instead of horror.
"I was thinking of last time," was the only explanation he got. Aya sat in sullen silence until the girl returned bearing the drinks. Crawford sipped his while Aya snatched a handful of creamer containers and dumped the contents into his drink one by one. He tried to ignore Crawford's somewhat surprised look. Then he stirred the drink, lifted it to his mouth, and took a mouthful.
Suddenly he was aware of what it felt like to eat sugar dipped in soy sauce.
He spat the mouthful back in the mug and repeatedly wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand. Crawford offered him a napkin, which he snatched and used promptly. A roll of duct tape was removed from his bag, and shortly thereafter Aya ripped off a piece and clamped it over his mouth.
Silence reigned at their table for a few minutes.
"You know, most people don't put creamer in flavored mocha," Crawford remarked, eyeing the roll of duct tape. "And while I don't understand why four rolls of duct tape are necessary for keeping your mouth shut, I'm thinking you have ulterior motives."
Aya glowered.
"You have no idea what I meant, do you."
Aya continued to glower.
Crawford set down his coffee mug and leaned in suddenly, pulling Aya forward by the collar of his shirt, and whispered into Aya's ear.
"Four rolls of duct tape could keep someone tied up for a long time, Aya."
Perhaps it was for the better good of the hearing of the rest of the customers that Aya's vocal cords were still sore, as his eyes widened and the mute equivalent of a scream radiated from the table. Crawford was promptly punched in the face and Aya slammed back into his chair, ripping the duct tape off his mouth.
"You are a fucking pervert!" he rasped, sounding like Janis Joplin early in the morning with a cold. Crawford rubbed his face irritably, inspecting his glasses for cracks.
"And you are clearly unable to have a sense of humor. Besides, it wouldn't make you so angry if you weren't so obviously intrigued by the idea."
Aya wanted to punch Crawford again but was stopped by the questioning look sent his way.
"Didn't that hurt?"
Before he could ask what the man was talking about, a searing pain ripped through Aya's face. He yelped as best he could and grabbed the aching skin.
"I hope that taught you something."
"Yeah." Aya coughed. "Never rip duct tape off skin."
"Good lesson, but not the one I wanted you to learn. Pain follows idiocy would be the main idea."
"Fuck off." Rubbing his face unhappily, Aya sat back and eyed his drink. No, he wouldn't trying that again. "You wanted to talk. Talk."
"Has she exploded yet?"
"Hu – no."
"Then we'll need to attack her again. Tell me, has she set up a routine yet?"
"Routine?" Aya thought back. "Works the shop…goes shopping…redecorates…breeds flowers…" He trailed off.
"When can we catch her alone?"
"Early morning, late evening, or whenever nobody's around." Aya coughed, the back of his throat feeling unbelievably dry.
"Call me when one of those is available."
"Just forsee it."
"I do not choose when my visions come to me." Crawford stood up and placed money on the table. "Make sure it's either today or tomorrow." Aya shrugged and rubbed his throat.
And as Crawford passed Aya, he reached over and took the roll of duct tape from the table.
So. Hate it? Love it? Wish it would spontaneously combust? Either way imma keep writing it. AHAHAHAHAHAHA. HA. Ha. ha. ..
- Proof that I was not meant to be a female: After shampoo and conditioner, I actually had to go to the Bath and Body Works website to find other hair products.
- I am not aware of the prices or monetary dealings in Japan, aside from the fact that the unit is yen. Therefore I will be vague.
- If you understand this, money will be sent to your home address. Or not.