Chapter Twenty-One – Breakfast at Crawford's
I'm going to make you wait a bit longer. Evil, aren't I?
Brad had a hangover. It was coming to be a regular occurrence. He had a suspicion that the hangover was going to be the least of his problems today. On his bedside table were a glass of water and a handful of aspirin, laid out the night before not so much a result of a vision as common sense, and a yellow post-it note stuck to the glass. It read 'Today you are going to have sex with Schuldig. You can't go back on your word.'
Brad read it with a grimace. He hadn't needed the reminder, but it did make it more real, some how. Downing the aspirin and water, he climbed out of bed and wandered into the main room. Asleep on the couch was Schuldig.
Brad frowned. He couldn't remember going to bed last night. He could remember Schuldig kissing him, and lots of flirting and touching and general 'acclimatisation', as Brad now convinced himself it had been, but the actual going to bed… Schuldig shivered. Brad poured himself a bowl of museli and watched the younger man sleep. He was aware that had Schuldig fallen asleep first, and Brad put him on the sofa, he'd have covered him with a blanket. So, logically, Brad must have fallen asleep first.
Schuldig yawned. "Kippers," he said.
"Kippers?"
"'Gotta have 'em in Texas, everyone's a millionaire'. Or something like that."
"Quite."
"So, when'd you get to quit the dining hall?" Schuldig rolled off of the couch and crawled across the floor, hair sticking out like a porcupine that'd had an electric shock. "Coffee…" he growled.
Brad smiled, and poured them a mug each. Schuldig used the table leg to pull himself up and seated himself opposite Brad. He managed to down the entire mug, then yelped as his throat caught fire. Brad watched him with amused detachment, noticing that he couldn't see Schuldig's eyes behind the firewall of hair. It seemed Schuldig was having a similar problem, as he kept brushing it out of the way only to have it collapse back in front of his eyes again.
"I know," he said before Brad could comment, "I look like cousin It. Do you have any idea how many sexual favours I have to exchange to get enough hair spray to tame it? And then it goes all sticky and clumps together and it's just not pleasant, you know? Umgh, more coffee." He got up and made his way to the percolator, bumping into things on the way.
"Caffeine is addictive, you know," Brad smiled. "But after years without it in that canteen, I know how you feel."
Schuldig yanked the entire machine out of the socket and dumped it on the table, and grabbed several more mugs. He filled all of them, placing them in a row in front of him.
"Mine," he growled possessively when he saw Brad looking. "So, seriously, how'd you get an allowance?"
"They think I'm going to die," Brad smiled, "and they can afford to give a dead man a pittance."
"We'll show them. You remember last night?" Schuldig asked suddenly, terrified that Brad would have forgotten and the whole thing would be off. He hadn't realised just how much he'd wanted it until it was offered. It was like the coffee, in that respect, which Schuldig was jealousy hoarding.
"Yes. I'm not going to go back on my word, Schuldig. Just, don't get your hopes up, okay?" There was a deep sympathy in Brad's voice, which unnerved Schuldig. It was new, and reminded him more of Bradley than Crawford. "It's just one night."
Schuldig smirked. "That's what you think," he grinned. "Let me tell you, once you've had Schuldig, you don't want nobody else."
"Double negative," Brad frowned. "We really do need to work on your grammar. I suppose your spelling is still equally dire?"
"More so," Schuldig grinned. "You don't speak spellings. At least I get to practice the grammar stuff."
"Haven't you got lessons today?" Brad hinted.
"I'll skip."
"What?" Brad stared at him, horrified. "I can't sleep with you if you're in the ward."
"Cool it," Schuldig said, secretly flattered by Brad's self-motivated concern for his body, "I'm indispensable, remember? It's just me and Greg left. Besides, I get to miss half the lessons anyway. I'm too skilled with weapons and unarmed combat, and there's no one who can actually train me in my gift. So, since you're practically on the teaching staff, you get to spend the day teaching me stuff, like we used to."
"Do you miss that?" Brad asked abruptly.
Schuldig considered. Shyly, he looked up at Brad, "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes."
"You miss me," Brad murmured.
Schuldig nodded.
Throughout Rosenkreuz, the sounds of a new day were beginning to arise. There were faint moans and groans from the other inhabitants of Brad's corridor, the sound of banging pipes as almost all of the showers in the place came on at once, birds singing outside of the compound, and the first early morning screams from the Laboratories. Schuldig drank his coffees and Brad finished his damp cardboard-like museli.
"So, what are we going to do today?" Schuldig asked.
"Well, I'll have to inform people that you're going to spend the day in one-on-one tuition, and that that was what I summoned you here last to discuss. You're lucky I'm not required to do voluntary work today. Then, we will actually do some work." Brad smirked at the crestfallen look on Schuldig's face.
"No day-long foreplay?" he asked regretfully.
"No." Brad frowned suddenly, "I thought you'd have rather got straight to the sex? I thought that that was what most men liked."
Schuldig gave him a scornful look. "'Most men?'"
"I see."
Schuldig chucked at Brad's choice of phrase. "I was a prostitute, Brad. Most guys don't want foreplay, so it's always been straight to the sex. Except Greg, who convinced me he cared by drawing out the foreplay until I was absolutely certain I wanted to." Schuldig held up a hand to forestall Brad's objections. "I know, you think it was just lust, and he didn't care a bit. May or may not be true. Beside the point. I cared about him."
"So, you equate caring with foreplay?" Brad asked rhetorically.
"If I knew what 'equate' meant," Schuldig grinned. "Remind me to go and find Nagi during the break. He needs to know the plan is off. Do you know how to say that in Japanese?"
"No, but I can get you a Japanese to German dictionary."
"Fine, do you know how to say that in German?" Schuldig joked. "Teach me to read my language, and I'll teach you to speak his."
"Why?" Brad looked perplexed. "Of what use is he to us? He's just another telekinetic."
"Ah, see, I've been eavesdropping on Frau Dubois's visions. Me, you, Nagi, and some other chap. That's why they haven't just killed you. They need to know who else might be involved and whether it might happen without you. Besides, you have no idea what that kid is capable of."
"If I wanted a telekinetic, I could find an experienced one-"
"He caused an earthquake when he was eight."
"-Or I could go for raw power and choose him. What else can he do?" Brad leant forwards, suddenly interested.
"Dunno. Don't understand a word he says, or thinks. He's fucking smart though. Learnt more German than I have."
"So can most birds, Schuldig," Brad said disparagingly. "Speaking of which, let's start now." He put the mugs and bowl in the sink and started to search the cupboards for pen and paper. A noise distracted him, and he turned around. Schuldig was sprawled across the couch, watching television.
"Schuldig…" Brad said in a warning tone.
"Look, real people, and no voices!" Schuldig beamed at him. "I like TV!"
Crawford sighed, and sat down next to him. "Fortunately, it's mostly kids shows in the morning, and most of them are educational. Come on, let's find a 'schools' channel."
Schuldig looked shell shocked. "You're going to let me watch television?" Schuldig kissed him suddenly on the cheek. "You're a great guy!"
"Really?"
"You'll be an even better guy if we can 'snuggle'," Schuldig purred suggestively.
Brad opened his mouth, and stared at the television screen. "Not while Sesame Street is on," he said slowly. "That's both sacrilegious and creepy."
Schuldig stared at the disproportionately large puppets. "I do see your point."
The day progressed, Schuldig learning that a blue whale's penis is six feet long, that the Americans originally thought everyone in Monty Python was gay, that yak's milk is pink and that Brad's ears were sensitive in the best possible way.
* * *
Nagi sat silently through the day's lessons, understanding more than he had yesterday but less than he would tomorrow. He was ignored, mostly. He could just about read and write, in his own language, but they didn't care.
"I'm a weapon," Nagi sighed to himself. "A blunt instrument. My purpose is to smite those who stand against Estet." He stood in the courtyard and kicked at the wall. "A tool. I don't want to be a tool!"
"Would you rather be a cog?" a sultry voice purred. Nagi's head snapped round. Someone spoke his language? Where was Schuldig?
"I would like to be me," Nagi said in a small voice, looking wildly around for his usual protector. Until he knew more about this guy he wanted someone around to explain that any attack he made was provoked.
"Not going to hurt you," the voice said, amused. Stepping out of the shadows came a young Indian man with a turban offsetting the austere uniform. A telempath, Nagi guessed correctly. "Don't be afraid. My name is Rammi."
"How come you speak Japanese?" Nagi stuttered. "Why haven't you come to me before?"
"I learnt Japanese so I could speak to you, Nagi. It's been an awkward process." Rammi smiled, bright white teeth glowing in contrast with his darker skin. He caressed Nagi's cheek. "You are entrancing, you know that?"
"You speak Japanese very well, if you haven't been learning long," Nagi told him, wishing all the more fervently for Schuldig.
"I am a fast study, and I have a knack for languages." Rammi gave him another disarming smile. "Am I making you uncomfortable? I am sorry. I have been trying to get you alone for a long time now, so we can talk. Your German companion does not take kindly to strangers viewing what he considers to be his property."
"Property?" Nagi frowned. Did Schuldig really think of him like that?
"Yes. He can be… shallow, I suppose is the word. You are a stunning boy, Nagi, and I think the two of you have a lot in common. But also, you have a great deal of raw power. He wishes to worm his way into the respects of Crawford-san, who has a great deal of ambition. He will give you to him, to be used as a weapon, as you clearly do not wish to be." Rammi ruffled Nagi's hair friendlily.
"If I could speak German…" Nagi trailed off, "it wouldn't make an ounce of difference," he finished with a sigh, seeing the look on Rammi's face. "So, what is different about what you want?"
"I want to be your friend, Nagi. We all need friends here. Yes, your power is useful; you could be a great protector to me and those like me. And as I am the only one who can speak Japanese, it is in your interest to cultivate this friendship as well. I am your passport to greater recognition, Nagi."
"I've seen what happens to those who get recognition," Nagi growled. "They die. Painfully."
Rammi conceded this with a grin and a shrug. "You do have a point. Okay, I can help you learn. You want to learn, don't you? Your gift frightens you, you understand nothing of what's going on, and you are terrified of getting into trouble because you have misunderstood something." All true, Nagi thought. "Come on, let's help each other."
"Maybe," Nagi said. "I do need help. If you can provide it, who am I to say no?"
