Treeeeeats
Happy Halloween again!
It's sort of a tradition, so I went for it.
I'm a bit stressed, so it might show in this, but maybe it's funny anyways =D
AND OMG IT'S MY 200TH SCHWARZ FIC. Give a few drabbles, or so. Bweeee. Exciting.
Hope ya'll are having a fightening day. Night. Thing.
Title: Horror Show
Fandom: WK
Pairings: mentioned Brad/Schu
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Halloween fic for all!
Summary: He had a bad feeling about this.
Crawford awoke to an empty bed.
This was not, in itself, an unusual occurrence. While Schuldig often fell asleep next to him due to pure exhaustion-from one cause or another-it was often than case that the redhead would vanish at some point. Schuldig would simply get up after a while and wander off. Sometimes it was to work, other times to carry out some household task only to fall asleep. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.
On one memorable occasion, Brad had sat down to breakfast only to find Schuldig sleeping under the table. A hazard of their erratic work and life style, he supposed.
This morning was different though. It felt…wrong. Off, somehow, in a way Crawford couldn’t begin to describe.
For starters, though, there was a grinning pumpkin on the pillow next to him.
For another, the bed seemed to be riddled with cobwebs. Cheap, itchy cobwebs of unknown origins.
Crawford half-expected to find a corpse hanging in the closet. That he could at least explain.
Glancing at the clock-also cobweb infested-the oracle noted it was far later than he usually rose and shone, late night at the office or not. Probably the resident telepath’s doing. Not to mention the muddled feeling in his mind, as if he was forgetting an important detail.
Rolling out of bed and somehow already regretting it, Crawford stuffed his feet into worn-out slippers and shuffled over to his chair. Grabbed a frayed plaid rove and slipped it on. He was slightly aggrieved to find orange and black glitter on it.
Stomping over to the door, whilst muttering about flaming telepaths, he held his breath and opened it with a slow suspicious creak. Horror music played in his mind. He readied himself for the unknown, half-flinching in the face of-
Nothing.
The hallway was dark, shadowed despite the approaching noon. Clearly the house’s blinds were all closed and yes, Crawford foresaw rain later in the afternoon. A thunder storm, to be precise.
Great.
Trepidation gnawing at his senses, the Schwarz leader carefully made his way to the living room. Peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of-
“It’s his fault,” Nagi suddenly said from mere inches way, startling Crawford enough to make the older man jump back. Nagi smirked. “Boo.”
Growling, Crawford straightened and came fully into the room. “What, exactly, is going on?”
Nagi snorted. “His fault, remember?” he repeated, waving a hand at a grinning redhead.
Who seemed to be wearing five-inch pumps, fishnets, shortshort-shorts, and a white pearl necklace.
Brad felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead, and he gave the room a cursory review, finding it much in the same state as the bedroom. “Schuldig, why are there cobwebs everywhere? And why are you wearing pearls?”
“Notice how he doesn’t question the heels,” Nagi snorted again. Terrible habit, that.
Scowling, the American revised his question. “Why are you in drag?
After all, it wasn’t the second Sunday of the month…
Rolling blue eyes, Schuldig walked with surprising ease towards his teammates, as graceful as a runway model. “Because it’s October 31st, you dolt.”
Crawford blinked, rubbed his brow. Blinked again.
“Halloween,” the telepath sighed, hands on his hips. “Party tonight? Ring a bell?”
“We,” the oracle scoffed, “are not going to that. Ever. I believe we had this conversation last year as well.”
Schuldig glared. “Jeez, did they remove your fun bone before shoving the stick up your ass?”
‘Who are ‘they’?” Farfarello wondered as he wandered into the room.
“GAH!” Crawford threw an arm in front of his eyes and staggered back. “Dear God, what are you wearing?”
Farfarello examined his costume and shrugged. “Schuldig’s fault.”
Said problem maker preened. Schuldig tottered over to Farf and draped himself over the Irishman. “I made me a man with….a yellow eye. And no tan.”
Farfarello pulled at his gold hot pants with a wry expression.
“Why?” Crawford choked.
“You didn’t have to spend the morning with them,” Nagi said with the air of someone past caring about life. “Schuldig scrubbed the floor on his knees. Farf changed a ceiling light. I despaired.”
“And what are you?”
The young telekinetic opened his button-down shirt, revealing a tank top with the word ‘Angst’ written across the front.
“Ah.”
Schuldig pouted. “He was supposed to be Eddie.” He was running a gloved hand over Farfarello’s exposed abs in a distracting manner. “You can just be Brad, Brad. See how I thoughtful I am?”
Crawford growled. “Stop…petting him. And don’t go out of the house dressed like that. You look like drag-queen reject.”
“Good,” the redhead beamed. “But I have to say, I think I look damn good.”
He posed like a pin-up model, making the oracle have to agree. Schuldig already had long, long, graceful legs. The heels only added to the appeal, disturbingly enough. And okay, Schuldig was hot despite the ridiculous outfit.
Because of it, even, which said more about Brad than Schuldig so he let that thought drop.
“Where did the shoes come from anyway?” Nagi asked, proving that he really did have no sense of self-preservation.
“Our neighbor is a stripper, sorry, exotic dancer. Candy…Brandy…something cliché like that.”
Nagi’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Oh, really…”
Unnerved and off-balance, Crawford coughed, turning to Farfarello and determinedly staring only at his face. “And you. Just…don’t leave your room. Please. I’ll pay you extra.”
“I was going to go to church later…”
“It’s okay, Rocky,” Schulding crooned. “I’ll keep you company, my dear creation.”
“No,” Brad corrected, “you are not.”
Schuldig raised a slender eyebrow, somehow making that single movement suggestive, smirk growing wider by the second-
“You’re going to change then go on a brief mission.”
-before it collapsed in on itself.
“Tch. Forget being Brad for Halloween. You can be a prick,” the redhead sneered.
Farfarello cocked his head. “He does bear a likeness.”
“Schuldig, just because you’re immature…”
“A giant prick, actually, not that you’d have experience with one of those-”
“You just insulted yourself, idiot!”
“-unlike Rocky here, who’s going to the party with me.”
Angst prevented the three men from managing to land any hits, bites, or girly slaps. “Gentlemen, please.”
The oldest members of Schwarz paused.
“I do make gold spandex look good.”
Crawford threw his arms up in defeat. “Fine! Do what you want! Just leave me out of it. And Schuldig, get Monster Mash out of my head before I shoot something.
Schuldig shuffled a foot, caught. “Alright. But Nagi already said he wasn’t going to play along, and we need three people for a good time, really.”
Nagi froze like a deer in headlights.
“Nagi, new order. Chaperone these two tonight,” Crawford said in his most stern tone.
Angst suddenly looked a lot more like Anger.
"Scary," Schuldig whispered.
Just before three-fourths of Schwarz made a run for it.
It's sort of a tradition, so I went for it.
I'm a bit stressed, so it might show in this, but maybe it's funny anyways =D
AND OMG IT'S MY 200TH SCHWARZ FIC. Give a few drabbles, or so. Bweeee. Exciting.
Hope ya'll are having a fightening day. Night. Thing.
Title: Horror Show
Fandom: WK
Pairings: mentioned Brad/Schu
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Halloween fic for all!
Summary: He had a bad feeling about this.
Crawford awoke to an empty bed.
This was not, in itself, an unusual occurrence. While Schuldig often fell asleep next to him due to pure exhaustion-from one cause or another-it was often than case that the redhead would vanish at some point. Schuldig would simply get up after a while and wander off. Sometimes it was to work, other times to carry out some household task only to fall asleep. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.
On one memorable occasion, Brad had sat down to breakfast only to find Schuldig sleeping under the table. A hazard of their erratic work and life style, he supposed.
This morning was different though. It felt…wrong. Off, somehow, in a way Crawford couldn’t begin to describe.
For starters, though, there was a grinning pumpkin on the pillow next to him.
For another, the bed seemed to be riddled with cobwebs. Cheap, itchy cobwebs of unknown origins.
Crawford half-expected to find a corpse hanging in the closet. That he could at least explain.
Glancing at the clock-also cobweb infested-the oracle noted it was far later than he usually rose and shone, late night at the office or not. Probably the resident telepath’s doing. Not to mention the muddled feeling in his mind, as if he was forgetting an important detail.
Rolling out of bed and somehow already regretting it, Crawford stuffed his feet into worn-out slippers and shuffled over to his chair. Grabbed a frayed plaid rove and slipped it on. He was slightly aggrieved to find orange and black glitter on it.
Stomping over to the door, whilst muttering about flaming telepaths, he held his breath and opened it with a slow suspicious creak. Horror music played in his mind. He readied himself for the unknown, half-flinching in the face of-
Nothing.
The hallway was dark, shadowed despite the approaching noon. Clearly the house’s blinds were all closed and yes, Crawford foresaw rain later in the afternoon. A thunder storm, to be precise.
Great.
Trepidation gnawing at his senses, the Schwarz leader carefully made his way to the living room. Peeked around the corner to get a glimpse of-
“It’s his fault,” Nagi suddenly said from mere inches way, startling Crawford enough to make the older man jump back. Nagi smirked. “Boo.”
Growling, Crawford straightened and came fully into the room. “What, exactly, is going on?”
Nagi snorted. “His fault, remember?” he repeated, waving a hand at a grinning redhead.
Who seemed to be wearing five-inch pumps, fishnets, shortshort-shorts, and a white pearl necklace.
Brad felt his eyebrows creep up his forehead, and he gave the room a cursory review, finding it much in the same state as the bedroom. “Schuldig, why are there cobwebs everywhere? And why are you wearing pearls?”
“Notice how he doesn’t question the heels,” Nagi snorted again. Terrible habit, that.
Scowling, the American revised his question. “Why are you in drag?
After all, it wasn’t the second Sunday of the month…
Rolling blue eyes, Schuldig walked with surprising ease towards his teammates, as graceful as a runway model. “Because it’s October 31st, you dolt.”
Crawford blinked, rubbed his brow. Blinked again.
“Halloween,” the telepath sighed, hands on his hips. “Party tonight? Ring a bell?”
“We,” the oracle scoffed, “are not going to that. Ever. I believe we had this conversation last year as well.”
Schuldig glared. “Jeez, did they remove your fun bone before shoving the stick up your ass?”
‘Who are ‘they’?” Farfarello wondered as he wandered into the room.
“GAH!” Crawford threw an arm in front of his eyes and staggered back. “Dear God, what are you wearing?”
Farfarello examined his costume and shrugged. “Schuldig’s fault.”
Said problem maker preened. Schuldig tottered over to Farf and draped himself over the Irishman. “I made me a man with….a yellow eye. And no tan.”
Farfarello pulled at his gold hot pants with a wry expression.
“Why?” Crawford choked.
“You didn’t have to spend the morning with them,” Nagi said with the air of someone past caring about life. “Schuldig scrubbed the floor on his knees. Farf changed a ceiling light. I despaired.”
“And what are you?”
The young telekinetic opened his button-down shirt, revealing a tank top with the word ‘Angst’ written across the front.
“Ah.”
Schuldig pouted. “He was supposed to be Eddie.” He was running a gloved hand over Farfarello’s exposed abs in a distracting manner. “You can just be Brad, Brad. See how I thoughtful I am?”
Crawford growled. “Stop…petting him. And don’t go out of the house dressed like that. You look like drag-queen reject.”
“Good,” the redhead beamed. “But I have to say, I think I look damn good.”
He posed like a pin-up model, making the oracle have to agree. Schuldig already had long, long, graceful legs. The heels only added to the appeal, disturbingly enough. And okay, Schuldig was hot despite the ridiculous outfit.
Because of it, even, which said more about Brad than Schuldig so he let that thought drop.
“Where did the shoes come from anyway?” Nagi asked, proving that he really did have no sense of self-preservation.
“Our neighbor is a stripper, sorry, exotic dancer. Candy…Brandy…something cliché like that.”
Nagi’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Oh, really…”
Unnerved and off-balance, Crawford coughed, turning to Farfarello and determinedly staring only at his face. “And you. Just…don’t leave your room. Please. I’ll pay you extra.”
“I was going to go to church later…”
“It’s okay, Rocky,” Schulding crooned. “I’ll keep you company, my dear creation.”
“No,” Brad corrected, “you are not.”
Schuldig raised a slender eyebrow, somehow making that single movement suggestive, smirk growing wider by the second-
“You’re going to change then go on a brief mission.”
-before it collapsed in on itself.
“Tch. Forget being Brad for Halloween. You can be a prick,” the redhead sneered.
Farfarello cocked his head. “He does bear a likeness.”
“Schuldig, just because you’re immature…”
“A giant prick, actually, not that you’d have experience with one of those-”
“You just insulted yourself, idiot!”
“-unlike Rocky here, who’s going to the party with me.”
Angst prevented the three men from managing to land any hits, bites, or girly slaps. “Gentlemen, please.”
The oldest members of Schwarz paused.
“I do make gold spandex look good.”
Crawford threw his arms up in defeat. “Fine! Do what you want! Just leave me out of it. And Schuldig, get Monster Mash out of my head before I shoot something.
Schuldig shuffled a foot, caught. “Alright. But Nagi already said he wasn’t going to play along, and we need three people for a good time, really.”
Nagi froze like a deer in headlights.
“Nagi, new order. Chaperone these two tonight,” Crawford said in his most stern tone.
Angst suddenly looked a lot more like Anger.
"Scary," Schuldig whispered.
Just before three-fourths of Schwarz made a run for it.