Frailty

Chapter 3: Guilty Pleasures

(Part A)

Author's Notes:

Okay... so here's my dilemma. I promised an update by April 20th. Thought that wouldn't be hard to manage. And it's April 19th... close to midnight. XD If it weren't for TAKS, there'd be no way I could do this/make it, whatever. I just hope my mom doesn't wake up and discover I'm writing at this hour. Anyhow–the whole chapter is written. On paper. But not typed up. And it's way too long for me to type it all up at once. But I promised an update, and I do believe that if I don't, they're going to stone me. ("They" are really you guys out there reading this right now)

My only logical option is to compromise. I've just submitted a new fic for you guys (an FY/SM) that I started aeons ago and am loving, and I'm updating this one like I promised. Because of lack of time it'll just be an update done in installments... I realize that might be frustrating, but it's the best I can offer you. And since the installments will be shorter, (hopefully) I should be able to update more frequently. That would make you guys happy, right? Right? Anyhow. Wasted too much time on the intro. Let's go.

Disclaimer:

I don't own Sailor Moon or Weiss Kreuz. The plot is mine, though. If it inspires you to something, awesome, but don't you steal mystory or I will slaughter you. Thank you.

Warnings:

Fluff warning! And perverted thoughts. Well, this is Schu-Schu we're talking about here. Also... Thoughts and mind speech are in italics. Anything bold is either stressed or German. You should be able to tell which is which, though. ALSO–this is a Shu x Usa fic, and is Usagi centric. If that's not your cup of tea, now might be a good time to press the back button on your browser.

Usagi woke up slowly–the bright rays of sunlight wouldn't let her stay asleep any longer. Her body felt heavy and sluggish–it must have been noon or so, but she felt like she hadn't slept at all. Usagi blinked sleepily, and a sudden bolt of clarity brought the previous night's events back to her.

She flushed, more from happiness than shyness, and smiled to herself, stretching her stiff joints. How long had they simply laid on the couch together, simply enjoying one another's presence? That wasn't all they'd done–there'd been quite a bit of kissing, and it had gotten rather heated towards the end, but when it came down to it Usagi wasn't ready and he hadn't pressed her after she told him no. (1) That, all in itself, had to be love.

She couldn't remember coming back. She must have fallen asleep at some point... and so he must have carried her back. She grinned and yawned. How terribly romantic and yet completely out-of-character for him to do so. Rather, she felt instinctively that gentlemanly behavior wasn't his "sort of thing" in the same way that she sensed a lot of things about people.

Usagi showered quickly, enjoying the brief pleasure of hot water washing away the sand and salt from her skin and hair. She dressed simply–jean shorts and an over-sized t-shirt coupled with a pair of flip-flops–and went in search of something to eat. She found some fruit in the fridge–her mother must have gone shopping while Usagi was asleep.

As Usagi chewed on her green apple thoughtfully, she spied something of interest–a yellow sticky note was stuck to the fridge door. It was addressed to her and simply read:

Dear Usagi–

Tried to wake you up , but you wouldn't budge. We went to breakfast,

but we thought you'd rather sleep instead. We're going to the kids'

museum in town afterwards–thought you wouldn't care if you missed

that. We'll see you sometime later this afternoon-perhaps 2 or so.

Try to get to bed at a reasonable time tonight, okay?

Love,

Mom

Usagi smiled to herself. So she had a few hours to kill? She wondered... surely by now he had to be up, right? If even she was up by now, then he must be too, right? Maybe he'd be willing to have lunch with her? Her stomach growled in appreciation of that idea; apparently one green apple wasn't enough to suffice. She wondered if he'd mind taking her out... was she expecting too much?

More important, though, was that she didn't know where he was... right? She couldn't remember him informing her of a particular address or a hotel. Even so, she was fairly certain that she knew exactly how to get there, and the more she thought about it, the clearer the instructions became. Images of street signs and landmarks pointed to a hotel, and the number "725" was emblazoned within her mind. The room number, perhaps?

She had suspected ever since he managed to take her belongings to her that he was psychic–if she was really honest with herself, she'd always had a hunch that he was special since her childhood. Last night she'd found out for certain that he was capable of certain things. She was amazed at his abilities–to be able to draw her somewhere, convince her to come, and then to implant directions in her head? Usagi shook her head in amazement as she went out the front door; he was simply amazing. What else could he do?

Usagi wandered down the beach. It didn't seemed half so mystifying as it had the night before. It was just a stretch of tan sand that went on for miles, littered with broken sea shells and damp with sea water. The sky above was an innocuous blue, as though to suggest it knew her secret but wouldn't tell. To the west, she could see some darker clouds on the horizon–were they from the night before, or was it a new set of storms, she wondered. She hoped she wouldn't have to deal with that again.

Usagi continued on slowly, heading off of the beach and to the edge of the road that led into town. She stopped at a small coffee shop along the strand and dug through her wallet. She had just enough money for a small paper cup of hot chocolate. Sipping the sweet, rich drink Usagi continued on her way, turning left and then right and then left again until she came to a string of hotels.

So... you're in one of those, huh? Come out, come out, where ever you are, she called mentally, not expecting to receive an answer. To her half-relief and half-disappointment, there wasn't one.

She knew instinctively which hotel he was in–all she had to do was close her eyes, and there was the image of the building. Opening them again, Usagi spotted it–it was the huge, incredibly classy one. It was the kind of hotel that had three different swimming pools and luxury services for its customers. You could tell just by looking at the landscaping, what with all the pretty flowers and the perfect green grass and the towering, luxurious bushes and trees.

Usagi went up to it, feeling uneasy. It wasn't that she suspected that she was wrong, but... She just couldn't see herself fitting in, wearing only shorts and a t-shirt. Suck it up, she told herself, trying to summon up her courage as she pushed the revolving doors and was submerged in cold air conditioning. You're not a little kid anymore, you can do this much. And Schuldich doesn't care how you dress.

Usagi went over past the welcoming desk to the elevators. Two employees watched her go, dressed in clean, freshly pressed clothes, tight lipped and suspicious, but they didn't say anything to stop her. She pushed the "up" button, and it lit up. She watched the dial above the elevator light up as the machine passed the floors on its descent– 5... 4... 3... There was a moment's pause on 3, where passengers either got out or in. It then resumed its descent. 2... Lobby.

A small chime sounded the elevator's arrival, and the doors slid open. A pair of women breezed out and past Usagi, smelling of thickly caked makeup and expensive perfumes and too much hair spray. They were dressed in elegant, floor length dresses, decorated with tiny glittering beads positioned into intricate designs. Their arms and necks were adorned by jewelry, glittering and beautiful and almost gaudy from the sheer quantity.

Usagi realized that she must have been gaping and closed her mouth. She tried for a nervous smile, but they simply glanced at her with sly dark eyes. Their mouths were curved into perfect dark red smirks, coldly and vaguely and maliciously amused.

Usagi flushed, but simply walked into the elevator without a word of response. She pressed the button for the seventh floor, trying too cool her burning cheeks. The doors swished gently to a close. She relaxed immediately at the contraption began its ascent, and leaned against the metal bar separating her from the glass behind her. Her humiliation faded, left behind to wither and dissipate on the first floor. Still, she knew that she didn't belong in such a high-class place.

The bell rung again and the doors separated, revealing a stretch of plush, mint green carpet and cream colored walls. They were attractive, but it reminded her of ice cream, just a little. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she'd skimped on breakfast and on diner the night before, both of which were unusual things for her to do. She walked down the hallway, practically tiptoeing in her sneakers. She passed plenty of doors, but none of them seemed to feel "right." Usagi began to doubt her instincts. What if she'd been wrong and he wasn't here?

She continued on her way, feeling more uncertain as she went along. She hesitated when she reached a fork in the road, so to speak–she could go right, left, or forward. After a moment's thought she chose the left hallway. She'd just about given up on her intuition when a particular door–though no different than any of the others–caught her eye.

She stopped in front of room 725, staring at the gold numbers. She wondered if they were real, and raised her hand to knock. She rapped her knuckle on the mahogany door and stood waiting. There was no answer.

Usagi wondered again if she'd gotten it wrong, if maybe she was just being a dork, thinking that he'd "instructed" her to come here. Maybe he hadn't existed in the first place. Maybe it had all been some wonderful dream that she just didn't want to wake up from.

No, she told herself, shaking her head as though to send her doubts flying. No, that just can't be. Usagi knocked again, harder this time. She waited two more minutes and then began to pound carelessly on the door, not caring who heard or saw her. The thought that it might have been someone else's room entirely never even crossed her mind. She kept right on pounding the door, as loud as she possibly could. The door suddenly swung open and backward with violent force. Usagi narrowly missed striking the room's occupant.

He looked grumpy and disheveled. His hair was wild and tossled from sleep, his eyes flashed with molten fury, and a limp unlit cigarette dangled from between his scowling lips. His bed sheets were gathered and wrapped around his otherwise naked body, but they only covered his thighs and the lowest portion of his abdomen. Just enough to cover anything they wouldn't show in rated R movies.

Usagi felt the blood rise in her body, heating up her face and ears and her fingers. A strange, painfully-sweet tingling ache formed in her chest and radiated down through her stomach. No shirt, no pants, obviously no underwear–Usagi wasn't sure that her imagination could handle the fact that there was only a thin layer of haphazardly bunched sheets around his waist.

"Uhm," she murmured uselessly, looking away, trying to avoid looking at his chest and abdomen. I will not stare, and I will not drool, she ordered herself. I'm not a guy. "I don't... I mean, I didn't realize that this was a, uhm... a bad time." She put her hands up to her mouth and then to her eyes and then her cheeks, trying to cover her very obvious blush.

"Nonsense, nonsense, Geliebte," he told her, his frustration melting away. His posture relaxed and his voice took on a soothing, pleased tone. "I'm glad you accepted the invitation. I just didn't expect you so early." He adjusted his sheets, which had slipped low on hips and immediately began to sink again after the adjustment.

"Ahm. Well, it is the afternoon," she murmured, uncomfortable. Then it dawned on her– Schuldich was admitting– "So you did...?"

"I 'implanted information.' It's a very useful little trick," he told her. He absently took a strand of her hair and twirled it in between his fingers. He was watching her with the expression of a starved animal again, she noted nervously. "Why don't you come inside," he invited Usagi, dropping her hair and gesturing to his room. Her blush returned full force.

"You're... not dressed," Usagi stammered. Looking away again. Just look anywhere but at him, she instructed herself. The sad thing was that although she was embarrassed, a part of her–that small, shameless part of her–was curious. Yes, she wanted to look. Usagi's blush deepened further, if it was possible.

Schuldich grinned slyly. He knew perfectly well that he was underdressed, and he knew that he looked good. He also knew that Usagi liked it–though she'd never admit it out loud–and that alone stirred his ego in indescribable ways. It also made him want to finish last night's business very badly, but he knew she'd never agree. At least, not yet.

Schuldich couldn't help but revel in the awkward way she was reacting. "Ah, but don't you like it?" he purred, teasing her. He wouldn't mind tackling her to the floor right there in the hallway, except that he really didn't want to share her with some passerby who would either gawk or squawk at a couple doing anything more risque than holding hands. He took her hand in his and smoothed his thumb across the palm of her hand.

"Put some clothes on first," Usagi bargained stubbornly, still pretending that the ceiling was quite fascinating. She was also working very, very hard on ignoring the tingling sensations his touch sent up her entire arm. There is no way that I should be that sensitive.

Schuldich finally lost his patience and began to reel her in–she was unaware of it for the first few moments, and didn't resist.. Usagi squeaked in protest and surprise and growing fascinated horror. He'd left the sheet only half attended, and one side of it had managed to slip down far enough to reveal the curve of his waist, hip, and the upper curve of his butt. It also revealed toned, supple lower abs and perfect skin. Usagi closed her eyes, feeling like every nerve in her being had been electrocuted quite suddenly, and she could only pray that someday her blush would go away. Schuldich just laughed.

Schuldich closed the door behind them. Usagi stumbled away from him and sat down on the nearest surface she could find–his bed, no less–and buried her burning face in her hands. "I'm going to change," he told her. "You just sit and wait for me here," Schuldich instructed, not unkindly.

"You caught me a few hours early, Geliebte. I wasn't expecting you for several more hours," he admitted. His voice echoed from within the chamber of his bathroom. It was muffled just a little by the closed door.

Usagi looked around the room, slowly regaining her composure and taking in the sights. Dirty clothes lay in a disheveled, crumpled pile on the floor. The bed was also rumpled and unmade–the sheets were balled and wadded up; not even the coverlet was tucked in at the foot. His suitcases sat on the floor–he was partially unpacked, but it was obvious that some of his clothes were still in the bags. "Well, you didn't tell me when not to show up," she pointed out.

The door opened, and he came out in a loose, button up shirt. His hair had been combed back, and he looked a little more awake. He held a lit cigarette in his left hand. "That's true–but you're a teenager, you're supposed to sleep in ridiculously late. And I didn't think you'd be able to escape your family so early, either." He took a drag off the cigarette and then exhaled a plume of smoke. He noticed her incredulous stare. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Usagi shook her head. "Just... that," she said, pointing at the cigarette, feeling more than a little ashamed of herself. How childish of her... This was his room, after all. But she just hated the smell of smoke–once it got on you, it was extremely hard to make it go away. It clung to clothes, hair, and skin like invisible glue.

Schuldich blinked and looked at his cigarette. "What, this? You don't like cigarettes?" he asked, incredulous. The Usagi of the past had never minded it; smoking was predominant in those days and especially amongst the orphan children. They were constantly filching cigarette cartons from people on the streets, and Usagi had done so for him on more than one occasion. If it hadn't been for her health, Usagi probably would have smoked too, and most days she was just thankful that he was simply smoking a cigarette instead of taking something stronger.

"They just... I don't like the smell," she explained softly, obviously embarrassed. Usagi wished she hadn't said anything or acted like it was unusual; she was being a pain. "It's really not that big of a deal, though," she told him, trying to brush the matter off.

He smirked. "Maybe we could reach some kind of agreement," he suggested. Usagi blushed again... his tone! How was it that he could make the most innocent words seem rife with sexuality? "You do a lot of that, don't you?" he murmured thoughtfully, looking amused.

Usagi scowled; she wasn't hear to entertain him. Not like this, anyhow. "It only seems to happen around you," she pointed out, grumbling. An awkward silence took over, and Usagi felt a vague sense of disappointment; whatever she'd been expecting to happen hadn't. More than that, she'd been rude...

"Ohh, you want excitement, now, do you?" he asked, sounding eager himself. Usagi looked up with an expression of shock on her face; she'd forgotten that he could do that. "Now, how could you forget about my talents, Gebliete? Or anything about me, at all?" His voice and face were filled with mock hurt and feigned disbelief, but she could feel the humor behind it, and–again–she knew he was trying to subtly seduce her. He advanced on her. "Perhaps I should make your time here worth your while?"

(1) How can I say this... I want to make it very, very, very, VERY clear that although a lot of the scenes in this story are... well, they're "sexually tense," Usagi and Schuldich DID NOT sleep with each other in the previous chapter. I'm sure there was some people out there who might be grossed out by that, and although not having sex isn't exactly within Schu's normal realm of being, Usagi simply doesn't strike me as the kind of person to have sex with a guy after they've met for the first time in a very long time. I mean, she knows him but she doesn't–she knows her image of him, but she's not familiar with the "real" Schu.

Aaaaand this is where I'm leaving you guys. XD Oh, don't kill me. I gave you quite a bit, right? 5 or so pages? Granted, some of it was in the teaser... and 5 pages is really short for me... oh, god dang it. It was the best that I can do. There'll be more soon. Within the month, I should hope.

Anyhow... review, please, or send me an email! (You can find my email on my bio page.) I don't care if it's a flame, concrit, criticism, questions, comments, or praise... just let me know. And let me know what you think of the "installment" idea.

No time to respond to previous reviews at the moment... I promise to do so next time. It's almost one in the morning now, though. I'm only going to get four hours of sleep. Crap.

Also... no pun intended with the chapter title. ; I just realized that just now... oh, well. Anyhow, hope you all enjoyed. Sorry for your wait... hopefully I can pump the next piece out quick.