WK fic: Why Not Sleep With the Best?
Title: Why Not Sleep With the Best?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Humor, which isn’t exactly in-character for Schwarz.
Word count: 1,700+
Summary: Weiss Kreuz, Crawford/Schuldig, Domesticity/Sleep - Mattress shopping with Schuldig becomes quite an adventure
Shogatsu - New Years Day in Japan
***
8:45 AM
Neither Nagi nor Farfarello bothered to hide their surprise when an alert, smiling Schuldig sauntered into the kitchen shortly before nine in the morning, giving both teammates a cheerful greeting while raiding the refrigerator.
“It’s a clone,” Farfarello declared, clearly not impressed. “Looks exactly like him, but the amiable disposition is a dead giveaway. Rosenkruez is run by amateurs these days.”
“No, too obvious," Nagi argued. “It’s more likely that Schuldig’s shields are damaged again, and he’s channeling the personality of old lady Yamaguchi from down the hall. The same thing happened six months ago, remember? I wonder if he’ll take up knitting again?”
Schuldig uncharacteristically ignored the comments.
“Not unless he hears the thoughts of dead people: I killed her last week,” Farfarello calmly answered.
Nagi stared at his teammate before releasing a heavy sigh. “Crawford’s warned you before about bringing work home,” he said. “Why her, of all people? She was quiet, minded her own business and even baked us cookies for Shogatsu.”
At this point Schuldig decided to join the conversation. “Does Farfarello really need a reason, Nagi?" he asked as he placed roughly half the food from the refrigerator onto the kitchen table. “We’re assassins. We kill people: for money, sure, but we’ve been known to do a freebie from time to time. Asking Farfarello for a motive is something I expect out of Weiss, not you.”
Farfarello watched Schuldig butter a muffin and take an enthusiastic bite before turning to Nagi. “She was just in the way: she had a long-term lease on that apartment, and I’ve been wanting my own place for a while now. I’ll be moving there in two weeks.”
Nagi just stared at Farfarello, surprised into silence, while Schuldig appeared nonchalant. After sipping at his milk, Schuldig inquired, “Two weeks, huh? That long?”
Farfarello gave them both a slight smile, and shrugged. “Paperwork. Plus, they have to remove all the bloodstains. You know, the usual bother.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Schuldig responded after finishing a second muffin, “Crawford handles the paperwork, and you manage the messier aspects of our job; Nagi and I deal with information gathering, assassinations from a distance and looking hot.”
Nagi stared at Schuldig. “You and I,” he announced testily, “are not comparable. I take my work seriously.”
Schuldig looked up from the apple he was slicing into pieces, his usual wide grin in place. “Just because I enjoy life, that doesn’t mean I’m not effective at my job. I will admit, though, you do have a point about us not being that similar: I am much hotter-looking than you are.”
“Well, that proves to me this is really Schuldig,” Farfarello said while stealing an apple slice. “You are, however, far too cheerful this early in the day. What have you done now?”
It was at this point that Crawford entered the kitchen with slow, shuffling steps, back slightly hunched over. His eyes appeared tired and puffy, and he barely held back a groan as he reached for a glass from the cabinet above the sink.
Schuldig’s eyes seemed to light up with an unholy glee: both Farfarello and Nagi cautiously backed their chairs away from the table.
“I,” Schuldig announced, “did exactly what Crawford asked me to, last night. Right, Brad?”
10 AM
It was only after Crawford’s pain medication took effect that he started answering Nagi’s questions.
“Yes, I hurt my back.”
“No, you don’t need to know how.”
“Yes, that loud noise you heard last night was my bed falling apart.”
“No, Schuldig was not disciplining me. What kind of manga have you been reading lately?”
“Yes, you can have Farfarello’s soundproofed room when he moves out. You can renovate it however you see fit.”
“No, you will not ask Schuldig for all the dirty little details. Not even telepathically: I’ve ‘seen’ it, and you would be traumatized for months. What you will do is remove every last bit of the wreckage from my bedroom before I return in a few hours: I’m going out to purchase a new bed.”
“Yes, you will stop laughing. You too, Farfarello.”
“No, Schuldig, I don’t need your expert assistance in picking out a new bed.”
11:30 AM
It’s no wonder he’s a workaholic, Crawford decided. It’s only when on jobs - during the planning, execution, and cleanup of each assignment - that he receives the respect and instant obedience he deserves from his teammates.
Sadly, purchasing furniture isn’t part of the usual job parameters, and Schuldig insisted on accompanying him on this excursion. At least the shopping won’t take very long, as Crawford considers himself to be an informed, decisive person.
How hard can it be to pick out a bed?
11:35 AM
“Welcome to Haiku Designs. How can I assist you today?”
“I am here to purchase a bed.”
“Excellent, Sir! We have a large selection of items for you to choose from: are you interested in a traditional Japanese Tatami bed, a European- or Japanese style Platform bed, the recently introduced Memory Foam beds or a Sofa bed? And I assume you will need accessories to match?”
“...”
“Oh, I think my American friend here will need to see each style: you offer a wonderful range of products, and how else can he make an informed decision?”
“Oh, yes, Sir!”
“Please, call me Schuldig... Yamaguchi-san, right? You are so kind, I know you will take good care of Crawford-san.”
“Yes, Schuldig-san! Right this way, gentlemen: we’ll start with the Platform beds, our most popular models: we carry over two dozen different styles from various countries.”
“...”
1:35 PM
“And in this showroom we feature our traditional Japanese Tatami beds. For this style there are only four different platforms to choose from, though all of the highest quality natural materials...”
Crawford gave a small sigh of relief.
“...But you can choose from a wide range of products to cover your frame: latex, Memory Foam, or futon mattresses, there are over fifty types available on-site, plus we have additional specialty pieces stored at our main warehouse. And then there’s the matching furniture...”
Crawford brushed his hand over the small pistol in his suit jacket. He’d killed people for far less reason.
2:28 PM
Crawford wondered why his foresight - usually so precise, especially in times of great danger - failed him today.
“Yamaguchi-san, you are so knowledgeable about your company’s products! I’m very impressed.”
It must be Schuldig’s fault, he concluded.
“But I do have some questions about the durability and quality of your merchandise.”
Schuldig’s spontaneity and his constant need for excitement and entertainment had affected Crawford’s well-planned schemes more than once before.
“What type of handcuffs would be best used on a Futon-style bed? I would really prefer to avoid damaging the frame. I’m thinking Crawford-san should choose a Platform bed.”
His visions obviously don’t warn him of death by embarrassment, he decided.
“And how would you get semen stains out of a Memory Foam mattress?”
Crawford wasn’t sure if the salesclerk would be the only person suffering a memory wipe by the end of the day.
“And do any of your pieces offer a vibrating bed plate as a custom option? My friend really likes the kinky stuff.”
Crawford knew he wanted his brain scrambled as well.
3:26 PM
“If you would please just sign here, Crawford-san. Since you paid extra for a rush order, your purchases will be delivered this evening, no later than 9 o’clock.”
Crawford signed the paperwork while Schuldig wandered off in search of new prey. Crawford paused for a moment while a sudden vision flashed before his eyes. It was one of the rare, non-life threatening visions that randomly occurred every few months or so.
He was very happy with what he saw, and gave the salesclerk a unusual, genuine smile.
“It has been a pleasure serving you. You have a very interesting friend in Schuldig-san.”
“Indeed,” Crawford replied, “but before we leave, there’s one more thing I need your help with.”
8:32 PM
Schuldig was laughing nonstop, tears welling in his eyes, during dinner.
“You should have been there, Farfarello: Crawford’s face turned so red, it looked like he was having a stroke!”
Crawford calmly ignored them, and swallowed two aspirin with some water.
“Nagi! Don’t ever buy a Memory Foam mattress: those things are a bitch to clean!”
Crawford rose from the table, and was nearly to the door when the doorbell chimed.
“I hate it when he does that. Hey, his bed is here!”
9:14 PM
Once everything was properly setup in Crawford’s bedroom, Schuldig sidled up to his side.
“So, Brad... want to break it in properly?” he asked.
“Not tonight,”Crawford replied. “I think it would be a good idea to wait a day, let my room air out. Who knows how long the bed and mattress were in some warehouse?”
“Good point,” Schuldig agreed, letting one hand slide down
Crawford’s back and then patting his ass. “If you like, you can room with me tonight: I promise to be gentle with you.”
Crawford rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond.
Nagi and Farfarello looked at one another, then went to their separate rooms to pack. Just as they were about to leave, Crawford joined them in the living room.
“I’ve booked you each rooms at The Palace Hotel. I’ve prepaid for two nights, but I suggest for your sanity that you add on a third,” Crawford said.
Schuldig called out, “Brad, I’m waiting!” from his room. Nagi and Farfarello shuddered simultaneously, and left immediately.
Crawford straightened his tie on his way to Schuldig’s bedroom. This was going to be fun.
11:03 PM
“BRAD! Harder! Yes! Yes!”
*Crash*
*Thud*
“OW!”
11:53 PM
“Here, take these. They will help with the muscle spasms.”
“You did this on purpose, bastard.”
“I,” Crawford announced, “did exactly what you asked me to. Right, Schuldig? You did say, and I quote: Fuck me into the mattress, Brad!”
“The mattress, not the frame beneath and the floor below, asshole!”
“The devil’s in the details, Schuldig.”
“You’re just like a devil, Brad.”
“The Devil? That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Shut up. You owe me a new bed.”
“You know you can always stay with me, and we’ll get another bed for your room... just in case.”
“This new bed of yours is the sturdiest, most comfortable one available, Brad. I don’t think we’ll be breaking it anytime soon.”
“True. That’s why I arranged for second one to be delivered for your room tomorrow.”
“Fucker.”
“Stop sweet talking me, and I’ll turn the vibrate feature on.”
“...”
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Humor, which isn’t exactly in-character for Schwarz.
Word count: 1,700+
Summary: Weiss Kreuz, Crawford/Schuldig, Domesticity/Sleep - Mattress shopping with Schuldig becomes quite an adventure
Shogatsu - New Years Day in Japan
***
8:45 AM
Neither Nagi nor Farfarello bothered to hide their surprise when an alert, smiling Schuldig sauntered into the kitchen shortly before nine in the morning, giving both teammates a cheerful greeting while raiding the refrigerator.
“It’s a clone,” Farfarello declared, clearly not impressed. “Looks exactly like him, but the amiable disposition is a dead giveaway. Rosenkruez is run by amateurs these days.”
“No, too obvious," Nagi argued. “It’s more likely that Schuldig’s shields are damaged again, and he’s channeling the personality of old lady Yamaguchi from down the hall. The same thing happened six months ago, remember? I wonder if he’ll take up knitting again?”
Schuldig uncharacteristically ignored the comments.
“Not unless he hears the thoughts of dead people: I killed her last week,” Farfarello calmly answered.
Nagi stared at his teammate before releasing a heavy sigh. “Crawford’s warned you before about bringing work home,” he said. “Why her, of all people? She was quiet, minded her own business and even baked us cookies for Shogatsu.”
At this point Schuldig decided to join the conversation. “Does Farfarello really need a reason, Nagi?" he asked as he placed roughly half the food from the refrigerator onto the kitchen table. “We’re assassins. We kill people: for money, sure, but we’ve been known to do a freebie from time to time. Asking Farfarello for a motive is something I expect out of Weiss, not you.”
Farfarello watched Schuldig butter a muffin and take an enthusiastic bite before turning to Nagi. “She was just in the way: she had a long-term lease on that apartment, and I’ve been wanting my own place for a while now. I’ll be moving there in two weeks.”
Nagi just stared at Farfarello, surprised into silence, while Schuldig appeared nonchalant. After sipping at his milk, Schuldig inquired, “Two weeks, huh? That long?”
Farfarello gave them both a slight smile, and shrugged. “Paperwork. Plus, they have to remove all the bloodstains. You know, the usual bother.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Schuldig responded after finishing a second muffin, “Crawford handles the paperwork, and you manage the messier aspects of our job; Nagi and I deal with information gathering, assassinations from a distance and looking hot.”
Nagi stared at Schuldig. “You and I,” he announced testily, “are not comparable. I take my work seriously.”
Schuldig looked up from the apple he was slicing into pieces, his usual wide grin in place. “Just because I enjoy life, that doesn’t mean I’m not effective at my job. I will admit, though, you do have a point about us not being that similar: I am much hotter-looking than you are.”
“Well, that proves to me this is really Schuldig,” Farfarello said while stealing an apple slice. “You are, however, far too cheerful this early in the day. What have you done now?”
It was at this point that Crawford entered the kitchen with slow, shuffling steps, back slightly hunched over. His eyes appeared tired and puffy, and he barely held back a groan as he reached for a glass from the cabinet above the sink.
Schuldig’s eyes seemed to light up with an unholy glee: both Farfarello and Nagi cautiously backed their chairs away from the table.
“I,” Schuldig announced, “did exactly what Crawford asked me to, last night. Right, Brad?”
10 AM
It was only after Crawford’s pain medication took effect that he started answering Nagi’s questions.
“Yes, I hurt my back.”
“No, you don’t need to know how.”
“Yes, that loud noise you heard last night was my bed falling apart.”
“No, Schuldig was not disciplining me. What kind of manga have you been reading lately?”
“Yes, you can have Farfarello’s soundproofed room when he moves out. You can renovate it however you see fit.”
“No, you will not ask Schuldig for all the dirty little details. Not even telepathically: I’ve ‘seen’ it, and you would be traumatized for months. What you will do is remove every last bit of the wreckage from my bedroom before I return in a few hours: I’m going out to purchase a new bed.”
“Yes, you will stop laughing. You too, Farfarello.”
“No, Schuldig, I don’t need your expert assistance in picking out a new bed.”
11:30 AM
It’s no wonder he’s a workaholic, Crawford decided. It’s only when on jobs - during the planning, execution, and cleanup of each assignment - that he receives the respect and instant obedience he deserves from his teammates.
Sadly, purchasing furniture isn’t part of the usual job parameters, and Schuldig insisted on accompanying him on this excursion. At least the shopping won’t take very long, as Crawford considers himself to be an informed, decisive person.
How hard can it be to pick out a bed?
11:35 AM
“Welcome to Haiku Designs. How can I assist you today?”
“I am here to purchase a bed.”
“Excellent, Sir! We have a large selection of items for you to choose from: are you interested in a traditional Japanese Tatami bed, a European- or Japanese style Platform bed, the recently introduced Memory Foam beds or a Sofa bed? And I assume you will need accessories to match?”
“...”
“Oh, I think my American friend here will need to see each style: you offer a wonderful range of products, and how else can he make an informed decision?”
“Oh, yes, Sir!”
“Please, call me Schuldig... Yamaguchi-san, right? You are so kind, I know you will take good care of Crawford-san.”
“Yes, Schuldig-san! Right this way, gentlemen: we’ll start with the Platform beds, our most popular models: we carry over two dozen different styles from various countries.”
“...”
1:35 PM
“And in this showroom we feature our traditional Japanese Tatami beds. For this style there are only four different platforms to choose from, though all of the highest quality natural materials...”
Crawford gave a small sigh of relief.
“...But you can choose from a wide range of products to cover your frame: latex, Memory Foam, or futon mattresses, there are over fifty types available on-site, plus we have additional specialty pieces stored at our main warehouse. And then there’s the matching furniture...”
Crawford brushed his hand over the small pistol in his suit jacket. He’d killed people for far less reason.
2:28 PM
Crawford wondered why his foresight - usually so precise, especially in times of great danger - failed him today.
“Yamaguchi-san, you are so knowledgeable about your company’s products! I’m very impressed.”
It must be Schuldig’s fault, he concluded.
“But I do have some questions about the durability and quality of your merchandise.”
Schuldig’s spontaneity and his constant need for excitement and entertainment had affected Crawford’s well-planned schemes more than once before.
“What type of handcuffs would be best used on a Futon-style bed? I would really prefer to avoid damaging the frame. I’m thinking Crawford-san should choose a Platform bed.”
His visions obviously don’t warn him of death by embarrassment, he decided.
“And how would you get semen stains out of a Memory Foam mattress?”
Crawford wasn’t sure if the salesclerk would be the only person suffering a memory wipe by the end of the day.
“And do any of your pieces offer a vibrating bed plate as a custom option? My friend really likes the kinky stuff.”
Crawford knew he wanted his brain scrambled as well.
3:26 PM
“If you would please just sign here, Crawford-san. Since you paid extra for a rush order, your purchases will be delivered this evening, no later than 9 o’clock.”
Crawford signed the paperwork while Schuldig wandered off in search of new prey. Crawford paused for a moment while a sudden vision flashed before his eyes. It was one of the rare, non-life threatening visions that randomly occurred every few months or so.
He was very happy with what he saw, and gave the salesclerk a unusual, genuine smile.
“It has been a pleasure serving you. You have a very interesting friend in Schuldig-san.”
“Indeed,” Crawford replied, “but before we leave, there’s one more thing I need your help with.”
8:32 PM
Schuldig was laughing nonstop, tears welling in his eyes, during dinner.
“You should have been there, Farfarello: Crawford’s face turned so red, it looked like he was having a stroke!”
Crawford calmly ignored them, and swallowed two aspirin with some water.
“Nagi! Don’t ever buy a Memory Foam mattress: those things are a bitch to clean!”
Crawford rose from the table, and was nearly to the door when the doorbell chimed.
“I hate it when he does that. Hey, his bed is here!”
9:14 PM
Once everything was properly setup in Crawford’s bedroom, Schuldig sidled up to his side.
“So, Brad... want to break it in properly?” he asked.
“Not tonight,”Crawford replied. “I think it would be a good idea to wait a day, let my room air out. Who knows how long the bed and mattress were in some warehouse?”
“Good point,” Schuldig agreed, letting one hand slide down
Crawford’s back and then patting his ass. “If you like, you can room with me tonight: I promise to be gentle with you.”
Crawford rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond.
Nagi and Farfarello looked at one another, then went to their separate rooms to pack. Just as they were about to leave, Crawford joined them in the living room.
“I’ve booked you each rooms at The Palace Hotel. I’ve prepaid for two nights, but I suggest for your sanity that you add on a third,” Crawford said.
Schuldig called out, “Brad, I’m waiting!” from his room. Nagi and Farfarello shuddered simultaneously, and left immediately.
Crawford straightened his tie on his way to Schuldig’s bedroom. This was going to be fun.
11:03 PM
“BRAD! Harder! Yes! Yes!”
*Crash*
*Thud*
“OW!”
11:53 PM
“Here, take these. They will help with the muscle spasms.”
“You did this on purpose, bastard.”
“I,” Crawford announced, “did exactly what you asked me to. Right, Schuldig? You did say, and I quote: Fuck me into the mattress, Brad!”
“The mattress, not the frame beneath and the floor below, asshole!”
“The devil’s in the details, Schuldig.”
“You’re just like a devil, Brad.”
“The Devil? That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Shut up. You owe me a new bed.”
“You know you can always stay with me, and we’ll get another bed for your room... just in case.”
“This new bed of yours is the sturdiest, most comfortable one available, Brad. I don’t think we’ll be breaking it anytime soon.”
“True. That’s why I arranged for second one to be delivered for your room tomorrow.”
“Fucker.”
“Stop sweet talking me, and I’ll turn the vibrate feature on.”
“...”