The Five Days of Schwarz
PART FOUR
The sun rises once more, its rays peeking through the slats of the blinds in the living room. Schuldig has spent the night on the couch. Again. Not because it was his choice, or that he enjoys doing so, but because Crawford decided to lock his bedroom door. For the second night in a row.
Either he really doesn't want me to know what he got me for Christmas, or the stock portfolio's worse than he imagined. Or he's just being a bastard.
He sits up, groaning at the aches in his back, and stretches to relieve the tension in his joints. The tree is still lit, and Schuldig knows that's probably a fire hazard but he doesn't care. Standing now, he heads to the kitchen to fix himself some coffee, hoping the smell will lure Crawford out of his room and then maybe they can have a conversation or a morning fuck against the countertop or something—he isn't too picky on what happens first or where. Drumming his fingers against the countertop, the coffee taking forever, Schuldig heads for the shower so he can look like his usual sexy self. That and he's still covered in glitter from last night, when he found out all Christmas decorations seem to have obscene amounts of sparkle on them.
It's Christmas eve, Schuldig remembers as he turns the shower on, making the water temperature as hot as he dares, and he still has nothing to give Crawford. Well, he has one thing to give Crawford, and he's not even sure he'll go through with it after all.
Should've gotten him that tie, Schuldig thinks as he lathers up his hair with shampoo. Should've played it safe. At least I know Crawford likes ties.
He'd never in a million years play anything safe. Schuldig is about as safe as playing with matches while doused in gasoline. That's not who he is. Crawford is the one who plays everything safe, the one who happily stokes a campfire using twigs and old Boy Scout techniques; Schuldig is the one who douses the campfire in gasoline and hopes he doesn't get burned.
Rinsing out his hair and adding in some conditioner, he swears he hears the bathroom door open. It's not unusual for Crawford to come into the bathroom while it's occupied. They're both grown men, after all, and are both equipped the same way. That and they've shared living quarters for a long time now, and even bedrooms—half of Schuldig's clothes are stashed in Crawford's closet, and Crawford's toiletries are always in Schuldig's bathroom, despite Crawford having access to a private bathroom he never seems to use.
Unless, of course, Schuldig is occupying it.
"Don't use up all the hot water," comes a voice, and Schuldig recognises it instantly as Crawford's. He could be deaf and still know it was Crawford speaking to him.
"If you want a chance at some hot water," challenges Schuldig, "then you'll have to jump in."
The door closes, the lock clicks, and a minute later Schuldig feels cold air and the feeling of someone's flesh against his own.
"You do know you have your own bathroom, ja?"
Crawford places his lips against Schuldig's neck, tracing the juncture of it all the way down his shoulder before biting the skin there.
"Yes."
"So why do you always use the one I'm occupying?"
Crawford shoves Schuldig against the shower wall, fingers threaded into Schuldig's wet, soaped up hair.
"You just answered your own question."
Schuldig claws at Crawford's back, uncaring if his soapy hands make his scratches sting, just as Crawford lifts Schuldig's leg and catches Schuldig's mouth with his own.
"Nagi's sleeping in the next room," Schuldig says against Crawford's lips, hands exploring the slick body beneath him. "We don't want to wake him."
"So don't be too loud."
Schuldig laughs. "I don't think that's possible."
Crawford enters him slowly, relishing the drawn out moan Schuldig makes deep in his throat.
"Try."
-x-
Nagi is pretty sure he hates snow. It snows in Japan, with Tokyo getting the so-called 'perfect' amount of it—enough to enjoy, but not enough to burden anyone. Usually. But here in Bavaria, there is a surplus of it, and besides, Nagi hates the cold. He turns away from the car window and towards the driver of the car.
"So why exactly did you want me to tag along with you?"
Nagi has the hood of his jacket up, hands in his coat pockets, as Crawford drives them over the border and into Austria, pausing at the checkpoint to flash his passport before continuing onwards.
"Because if I brought Schuldig along, that would ruin the purpose of this excursion," answers Crawford. "I'm shopping for his Christmas present, and I have no idea what to get him."
Nagi plays with his seatbelt. "And I do? I don't know much about Schuldig, save for his obsession with guns, beer, and torturing the innocents in the streets."
"I want to get him something special," Crawford goes on, as if he hasn't heard Nagi at all. "Every year I get him the same thing. He's got enough guns to create an armoury the size of Lichtenstein, and he only uses two."
"So engrave one. Make it special, make it something he'll want to use."
"I've done that in the past as well. The first gun he ever got was one I bought him for his eighteenth birthday."
"And the other?"
"For his twenty-second birthday."
Nagi looks outside his window again. He can't seem to sit still. Then again, he's never driven alone with Crawford before, and he finds it just a little stifling and awkward.
"So what were you thinking of getting him that was special this year?"
Crawford tells Nagi his plans in a way that makes it sound like a discussion about the weather, and the telekinetic's eyes widen and his jaw drops in reply.
"So it's basically an en—"
"Please don't call it that." Crawford's fingers grip the steering wheel tighter, the knuckles tinged white.
"Do you think Schuldig is going to go for something like that?"
Crawford narrowly misses getting into a traffic accident, but only because he's a precognitive and saw it coming two lights ago. Instead, the car attempting to tailgate them gets hit and crashes into a nearby lightpole.
"That's the problem. I'm not sure."
Nagi wants to bang his head against the window.
-x-
"Uncle Schuldig!"
Schuldig was not expecting to open the door and have three kids latch around his knees, nor was he expecting to be called 'Uncle Schuldig'. Then again, when you're used to living with a precognitive who can tell you what's going to happen in the next half hour or so, not knowing things makes Schuldig uneasy. Especially if they involve kids. Schuldig hates kids.
"You didn't tell me you were bringing the kids with you," Schuldig deadpans, unable to move. Sally giggles and cradles the infant in her arms closer to her.
"Jei is finding a parking space," explains Sally. "I would have thought that Munich was a little more..."
Schuldig finds the word hidden in the jumble that is her mind. "Rural. It would be save for that fact that Crawford likes to live in the heart of big cities and it's Christmas eve." He gestures inside. "I'd show you in, but I'm a little tangled up..."
Sally smiles apologetically and manages to usher the rest of her kids inside, freeing Schuldig in the process.
Suddenly I remember exactly why I hate kids.
"Where's Crawford?" Sally removes her scarf, a plain white thing with fringed yarn at the ends. Obviously homemade, Schuldig figures. Probably by one of her kids or even by her herself. He doubts it's made by her mother since no one from Rosenkreuz remembers their parents or cares enough to try to find them again.
"He's shopping with Nagi." Schuldig leaves the door ajar so Farfarello can come in when he feels like it.
"And who is this charming young lady?"
Tot is holding a cup of tea and staring at Sally as if she's got three heads and a pair of devil horns.
"That's Nagi's girlfriend, To—Nanami." Schuldig doesn't feel like making proper introductions.
"Who are they?" Tot asks in Japanese, gesturing to the three kids in front of the TV and the one in Sally's arms.
"The two red heads are Molly and Colin, the blonde is Moira, and the one in her arms is..." Schuldig can't be arsed to pull it from Sally's mind.
"Adrianna," Sally offers. "It's a favourite name of mine."
If that's what being married and having kids does to you, Schuldig doesn't want any part of it.
At least Farfarello still looks the same, Schuldig muses when Farfarello finally makes his entrance, silent as always.
In fact, Farfarello looks exactly the same, to the point where Tot, for a reason she can't comprehend, screams at the sight of him.
Oops, forgot Farfarello was the one who stabbed and killed her, Schuldig thinks, as if this type of thing is normal to think. Talk about an awkward family reunion.
-x-
"Why am I being dragged out with everyone today?" Nagi laments as Schuldig locks the door of the flat behind them. "First Crawford, now you."
"This is important," says Schuldig. "Crawford took you out so you could threaten our financial advisor with a floating paperweight." He ignores Nagi's look of confusion as they head to where Schuldig's Ferrari is parked. "I'm taking you out so I can get Crawford's Christmas gift finalised."
"'Finalised'?"
Schuldig slipped into the driver's seat and revved the engine, getting curious looks from girls who are probably old enough to be Nagi's schoolmates. He looks at them appreciatively, asking them in German if they'd "like to take a ride with me in my car". Nagi stiffens his collar and reluctantly gets in the passenger side, but not before a bunch of girls hand him phone numbers.
"Give them to him, ja?" the leader of the pack asks with a wink before leaving.
"You are despicable," says Nagi as he buckles himself in. "They're probably my age!"
"And how old are you again, Nagichen?"
"Twenty-one. They're probably eighteen maybe." He stares at the dashboard. "You're still despicable."
"You make me sound like I'm thirty-three instead of the sexy twenty-eight I am."
Before Schuldig shifts out of the parking space, Nagi mutters, "Crawford is thirty-three and you look at him like that."
"It's time you learned that I like older men."
Nagi's pretty sure Schuldig broke some speed limits. That is until he remembered Germany doesn't really have speed limits.
-x-
It's snowing again, typical for this time of year. The streets of Munich are a soft white, save for where the snow meets the streets, where it is a dingy, ugly slush that wants to claim Schuldig's boots. Schuldig kicks at it before walking onto the pavement, Nagi behind him.
"Where exactly are we go—" Nagi stops short of the establishment Schuldig's trying to get inside. "A jewelry store?"
"Crawford forgot to get cuff links," Schuldig lies with ease, as he peers inside. Reading the sign, he scoffs. "'Closed for the holiday' my arse. I see people inside."
"Those are the workers—"
Schuldig manages to get the door open; Nagi sighs.
"Guten Tag, sir," says one of the workers inside. "I'm sorry, but we're closed—"
"Oh, what a shame," Schuldig says, putting on his best act. Nagi recognizes that look in his eyes, the subtle darkening of Schuldig's eyes.
"See, I was under the impression that you were open…"
The man, under the influence of Schuldig's Suggestion, shows them both inside. "What can I do for you?"
"I'm here for an "Andreas Tillermann's" order. He'd like to pick it up."
Schuldig winks at Nagi, who merely sighs, as he is shown to the counter.
"You really are despicable," Nagi says when they walk out of the jewelry store.
"Ja, ich weiss, Nagichen, you don't have to keep telling me this." The slush underfoot goes squish as they walk back to the Ferrari.
"Is that the name Crawford uses now? 'Andreas Tillermann'?"
"No," Schuldig replies, unlocking the car. He pulls open the door and leans against it for a minute. "It's mine."
"Yours?" Nagi ducks inside the car now, scraping the slush and muck off his shoes before closing the door.
"Ja, Nagi." He climbs in and stares at the telekinetic. "You ask too many questions."
Suddenly, Nagi puts two and two together as Schuldig starts the car.
"Don't feel too proud of yourself," Schuldig answers in response to Nagi's thoughts. "It's not like you're the first to find out. Crawford found it first."
Nagi smirks. "And I bet he calls you awesome things like 'Andychen' in bed, doesn't he?"
Schuldig glares so hard at Nagi he hopes Nagi spontaneously combusts.
"Fuck you," is what Schuldig opts for instead of the spontaneous combustion. "For your information, Crawford calls me 'Schuldig'. He always has and he always will because he knows better."
"Is that what he says when you call him 'Brad'?" Nagi genuinely wonders. "Says 'fuck you'?"
Schuldig shifts the car into gear and nearly causes a traffic accident. He doesn't care, just flips them the bird and continues on his merry way.
"How the hell—"
"I heard you guys this morning. You were all, 'Ah, Brad! Tiefer, tiefer! Fick mir hardisch!' And even though I don't understand what any of that means, I do know that Crawford's name is 'Brad', and either that's a grievous slip of the tongue or—"
"Do you come with an off switch?"
"Are you—are you blushing?"
Schuldig stops the car short, nearly causing another traffic accident, and throws another "fuck you" at Nagi.
"You've gone soft."
"You do realize that I can—and will—shoot you and drive at the same time, right? And then leave your bleeding self on the side of the road."
Nagi says nothing further after that.
"Also, so help me God if you tell Crawford what I got him for Christmas, because if he doesn't shit his pants in surprise, I'm going to fucking kill you."
"Why would I say anything?"
"I have no idea. Just thought I'd throw that out there."