The Killer Underneath
It's been a long, long, long time, babe
Title: The Killer Underneath
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz, Gravitation
Rating: PG
Brad knew Shuichi liked being harmless.
That couldn't really happen, of course, Shuichi being who Shuichi was, and what. That impossibility didn't stop him from trying.
Pink hair in cute bob cut, wide eyes, over-the-top childish reactions, loud and raucous. Shuichi knew he would never manage small delicate harmless, so he veered instead for small hyperactive inconsequential, and it worked much, much better. There's nothing better to get people to write you off than acting like an idiot.
But appearing harmless was never the same as being harmless. All Shuichi ever really achieved was the appearance.
It made Brad wonder, frequently, what made Shuichi try so hard even for that illusion. He never asked. Partly because he was afraid Shuichi just might answer.
He never asked. Even when he found himself almost jittery in curiousity about Shuichi's often purposefully Earth-Logic-Shall-Not-Pass reactions, the feigns of ignorance, the purposely shrill, brainless sounding voice. He never asked even when he was utterly flummoxed on how a medic of Shuichi's caliber came out from a bloodline of mercenary so infamous in their ability to kill and obliterate their target. He never asked even when he watched Shuichi squeaked and ran away from seemingly unfair ambushes he could actually handle with ease. He never asked.
In fact, he was happy to pretend along with Shuichi how harmless the younger man was.
But Brad never, for a moment, forgot the glint of sharpness within Shuichi's big doe eyes when he was not paying attention. That glint like flash of teeth, like claws of a sleeping cat coming out of velvet soft as it dreamed of killing.
What made someone dangerous was never what they can do, only what they will. And for all of Shuichi's effort to smother that spark under heavy preference of his Dream heritage, his medical profession--Hippocratic Oath or what not--and his bubbly-headed persona... Under all that was a killer, deeply buried but ready to sprang at a moment notice, like a langurous jungle predator soundly sleeping to stretch time and again, waking in impossible sharpness of normally wide doe eyes, disappearing the next second. And noting every single vital spot in reach whenever it break surface.
He wondered how anyone could have truly professed to know Shuichi, and be unaware, how Death hid soundlessly in that small, unlikely frame. Brad Crawford certainly could never forget.
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Goshdarned what have I been doing all this time?
Title: The Killer Underneath
Fandom: Weiss Kreuz, Gravitation
Rating: PG
Brad knew Shuichi liked being harmless.
That couldn't really happen, of course, Shuichi being who Shuichi was, and what. That impossibility didn't stop him from trying.
Pink hair in cute bob cut, wide eyes, over-the-top childish reactions, loud and raucous. Shuichi knew he would never manage small delicate harmless, so he veered instead for small hyperactive inconsequential, and it worked much, much better. There's nothing better to get people to write you off than acting like an idiot.
But appearing harmless was never the same as being harmless. All Shuichi ever really achieved was the appearance.
It made Brad wonder, frequently, what made Shuichi try so hard even for that illusion. He never asked. Partly because he was afraid Shuichi just might answer.
He never asked. Even when he found himself almost jittery in curiousity about Shuichi's often purposefully Earth-Logic-Shall-Not-Pass reactions, the feigns of ignorance, the purposely shrill, brainless sounding voice. He never asked even when he was utterly flummoxed on how a medic of Shuichi's caliber came out from a bloodline of mercenary so infamous in their ability to kill and obliterate their target. He never asked even when he watched Shuichi squeaked and ran away from seemingly unfair ambushes he could actually handle with ease. He never asked.
In fact, he was happy to pretend along with Shuichi how harmless the younger man was.
But Brad never, for a moment, forgot the glint of sharpness within Shuichi's big doe eyes when he was not paying attention. That glint like flash of teeth, like claws of a sleeping cat coming out of velvet soft as it dreamed of killing.
What made someone dangerous was never what they can do, only what they will. And for all of Shuichi's effort to smother that spark under heavy preference of his Dream heritage, his medical profession--Hippocratic Oath or what not--and his bubbly-headed persona... Under all that was a killer, deeply buried but ready to sprang at a moment notice, like a langurous jungle predator soundly sleeping to stretch time and again, waking in impossible sharpness of normally wide doe eyes, disappearing the next second. And noting every single vital spot in reach whenever it break surface.
He wondered how anyone could have truly professed to know Shuichi, and be unaware, how Death hid soundlessly in that small, unlikely frame. Brad Crawford certainly could never forget.
============
Goshdarned what have I been doing all this time?